Prime City: A Science Fiction Thriller (Neon Horizon Book 2)

by Michael Robertson

  Even with the power off, Marcie’s eyes were still blocked in this place. Her timer remained, but she had no night vision, no X-ray … Feeling her way in, she ran her hands over the wires, screens, and keyboards. How the hell would she find the cloaking device in the darkness? And how would she find what she thought the Eye might want? Hard enough to guess what that would be when she could see.

  Eighteen minutes left. She could get to Sal and back in ten. If she had the cloaking device.

  The wires beneath Marcie’s right hand shifted. She reeled away, slamming into the other side of the workshop. Surely she’d imagined it. But then the wires beneath her left hand moved as if they’d gained sentience. A serpentine twisting beneath her grip. Before she could step back, they came from the floor and wrapped around both her ankles.

  The wires tightened around the lower halves of her legs and wrists, rooting her to the spot. They crawled from either side, swarming around the bottoms of her legs, wrapping tight enough to cut her circulation were it not for her cybernetics.

  The only light came in through the open door. An overcast day and faraway neon. It offered little guidance. The shifting wires turned over one another as they worked together to pin her to the counter, moving up her arms, weaving sleeves of restraint.

  Her breaths quickened and Marcie tugged again. But the wires had nullified her power. The timer flicked to seventeen minutes.

  Chapter 5

  Marcie shook, twisted, and tried to lift her legs. The wires gripped on tight, and she could barely turn her head. The alleyway leading to the workshop was still abandoned. Would there be any point calling for help?

  Before she got her words out, a monitor on her right burst to life, glowing in the darkness. The lenses in her eyes adjusted to the sudden change in light. No more than thirty centimetres square, a picture of an eye with a red iris dominated the small screen. Layers of voices came from it as if the machine hosted hundreds of already captured souls. The ones who hadn’t made it. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  The screeching wail scrambled Marcie’s thoughts. She shook her head as if she could rid her ears of the sound. Sweat ran down her face as a result of her futile battle against her environment. “I should be here. Please. I’m a friend of the Eye.”

  “The Eye has no friends.”

  “That’s not true. I’m his friend.”

  The wires halted. “Who are you?”

  “Marcie Hugo.”

  “We know no Marcie Hugo.”

  “The Eye’s in trouble, and I’m trying to help him. He’s going to die if I don’t break him free.”

  Marcie’s dad had always described the hackers as spiders who stretched their webs through the Blind Spot, receiving and interpreting the vibrations that came back to their lair. Could he have picked a more apt description? Trapped in a web of wires, would she ever see her dad or the Eye again?

  Something light brushed against Marcie’s stomach and lower back. She sucked in. It felt her midriff, at first with tickling caution, testing where to guide the next set of multicoloured tendrils. A few thin cables at first, they laid down the path for the others to follow.

  “Please.” Marcie chased her quickened breaths. “Please!”

  “Please isn’t a command we understand. We have no time for human emotions. If you want out of here, you must communicate better. Our current assessment is you’re telling us lies.”

  The word rang through Marcie’s skull as if the voices now occupied her mind. “They’re not lies!”

  More wires wrapped around her torso, pressing her backpack against her. They brought the promise of squeezing the life from her.

  “What would you have me do? Help me. Give me something.”

  Fifteen minutes remained.

  “Prove you know the Eye like we do.”

  “I will. What do you need to know?”

  “Where is he from?”

  The tight wires restricted her breaths. “The Blind Spot.”

  “Before the Blind Spot.”

  “I don’t know.”

  The grip tightened and the voices grew louder. A harsher screech. “If you know him so well, how do you not know that?”

  “I never asked him.”

  “Some friend you are.”

  “We were putting all our effort into stopping the war between the Blind Spot and Scala City. We didn’t have time for anything else.”

  “What’s his favourite flower?”

  “A rose?”

  The wires paused, and the multi-voiced wail of torment hissed at her, “Lucky guess.” It clearly wanted to add another voice to its chorus. The wires tightened a little more. They had the power to crush her. “Last question. You get it correct, you’re walking out of here. You get it wrong and you’re coming with us.”

  How many people were in there? Had the Eye worked out how to digitally hijack people, or was it all for effect? And how the hell could she answer a question about a man she didn’t really know?

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Marcie said. Fourteen minutes remained on her timer. “Just get on with it.”

  “She was the brightest light in the Blind Spot. She outshone them all. Who was she?”

  “What?”

  The wires tightened. “I need her full name.”

  Quicker than they’d moved at any other time, the wires snapped a hard grip, forcing a winded bark from her. “Uh …” Marcie said.

  The machine’s chorus grew louder. “Full name!”

  Who else would it be? Her throat sore, her temples stinging, Marcie said, “Joni Miranda Hugo.”

  The screen turned black, plunging the workshop into darkness. Marcie’s heart beat so fast it slammed through her, rocking her with every pulse. “Well?” She fought to pull in a breath. “Did I get it right?”

  The wires around Marcie’s wrists, ankles, and stomach tensed as if reminding her of their power. They then eased, the strength leaving them as they slid back, pulling away from her.

  By the time all the wires had fully withdrawn, twelve minutes remained.

  A series of lights burst to life, streaking down either side of the narrow workshop. Marcie’s timer turned to eleven minutes. She had one minute to find the cloaking device if she had any chance of seeing Sal. She had to say goodbye to him. She owed him.

  But where to start?

  Marcie spun on the spot several times and tugged on screens and wires, but nothing came free. Nothing for the Eye and no cloaking device. Just nine minutes remained. She could maybe get to see Sal in that time without being invisible. If Frankie let her in and didn’t ask questions. Yeah, right! Maybe she could at least get something for the Eye. His most valuable computer? Whatever she took, they needed to travel light.

  The hinges on the metal hatch in the floor creaked when she lifted it. The reek of damp dragged her back to sharing the dark space with Horace’s corpse. But why go down there? How do you find something when you don’t know what you’re looking for?

  Eight minutes.

  Whatever he had in here, he’d have to remake it in Prime City. They had no time left, and she had no idea what to take.

  Marcie let go of the hatch too early. It fell with a loud crash that made her jump. The clattering slam tore off down the dark alleyway. She had no time left.

  Aching around her middle and empty-handed, Marcie exited the Eye’s workshop, jumped from one wall to the other in the tight alleyway, caught a roof at the top, and dragged herself up. Her cybernetics did the work for her. The grey clouds remained unbroken. She’d failed in everything she’d set out to do. No money. No cloaking device. Nothing for the Eye to take with them.

  Just before she jumped the alley on her way to Madame Fiona’s, she moved towards one of the larger streets in the red-light district, facing in the direction of Sal’s house. Could she get to him and back in five minutes? Maybe. But what would she do when she got there? Without the cloaking device, it wasn’t like Frankie would be pleased to see her. And w
hat if the Eye died because she didn’t get back to him in time?

  Two voices from below forced Marcie back from the edge of the roof, but not so far back she couldn’t see. Both of them walked at a fast march, the clip of their heels playing an eerie synchronicity, a familial interconnectedness. Pierre and Becky. They must be on their way to Madame Fiona’s. They were early.

  Marcie jumped the next alley and tore across the roofs towards the upmarket brothel. Whatever else happened, she couldn’t let the Eye perish.

  Chapter 6

  Even if Pierre and Becky ran, Marcie had the beating of them. The most direct route over the rooftops, she continued in a straight line towards her destination. Clouds of condensation billowed in front of her. The roofs in the Blind Spot were unlike those in Scala City. Uneven and loosely tiled, she scanned for weak spots: skylights hidden from sight, poorly maintained patches, damp beams bowing from where they were about to collapse.

  The skylight she’d climbed from when avoiding Pierre up ahead, Marcie cleared another wide alley in a single leap. There were several people in the street below, but none looked up. Dropping into a crouch on Madame Fiona’s roof, she tugged on the window. It held firm. She tugged again. It must have fallen shut when she left it last.

  Marcie did a heat scan of the street by the entrance. There were too many bodies to ascertain which ones were Pierre and Becky. But if they weren’t there already, they’d be there soon.

  A better quality construction than many of the surrounding buildings, Marcie tugged on the skylight again. The frame squeaked, but it held fast. She had the power to tear it free, but there had to be a subtler way.

  Maybe Marcie needed to let go of stealth. She’d have to fight the guards to get the Eye out of there anyway. The roof around the window tiled, she wriggled one free. Her heart beat in her throat before she dashed the tile against the window, a loud splash from the shattering glass.

  Marcie kicked out the sharp needles protruding from the frame and dropped down onto the bed below. A red ring pulled her attention to the shower. She froze when the lock on the door clicked free. Her jaw dropped as the man emerged. “Dad?”

  Chapter 7

  “Hello, sweetheart.” Wrench—fully clothed—ducked so he could exit the shower, standing to his full height on the other side of the doorway.

  “What the hell?” No one could prevent her from freeing the Eye. She owed him. She might have failed in everything else she’d tried to do so far, but she wouldn’t fail in this. She wouldn’t let him die no matter who stood in front of her. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Shank told me.”

  “The snitch!”

  “I’m glad she did.”

  “Look, Dad, as much as I’d love to stand here and have a heart-to-heart with you, now’s not the time. I have to go. I have to save the Eye.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “What?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I think your days of keeping me locked away have passed, don’t you?” Marcie’s heart beat so fast she gasped to keep up with it. “Besides”—she stepped towards the door, crunching a large chunk of glass into the carpet—“I don’t think you understand how little time I have.”

  “I think I do.”

  Marcie pointed in the direction of the door. “Pierre—”

  “And Becky are on their way here to poison the Eye. I know. So when they meet the guards at the entrance where I’ve stationed them, and they tell them he’s been moved, that’ll get rid of them.”

  Some of Marcie’s tension left her. “Okay, that could work. Also, I found out that Pierre’s skimming credits from the washing machines.”

  His shoulders as wide as Marcie stood tall, Wrench shrugged. “It’s a perk of the job.”

  “Huh?”

  “Every accountant takes a bit for themselves. So far, Pierre has taken less than most, so I figure he’s worth holding on to. But I keep it in my back pocket just in case.”

  “I’m not staying in the Blind Spot. No matter what you do, I’m not staying. I can’t. I can’t let the Eye live a life of incarceration, and even if you do get him back on the streets again, he won’t last five minutes with Pierre’s and Becky’s connections. He deserves a better life, and I’m the reason he’s in this shit. If I have to fight you, I will.”

  Wrench’s red eye fixed Marcie with the cold detachment of an assassin. That, she could cope with. The warmth in his organic eye forced her back a step as if his love had a physicality. She pressed her hand over her heart, but it did nothing to slow it down.

  “I trust you in whatever you decide to do,” Wrench said. He held out a bronze key, the small object appearing even smaller in his large hand.

  “W-what’s that?”

  “It’s the key to the Eye’s room.”

  Her throat tightened, and Marcie shook her head as she took it. “I told you I wouldn’t move to Scala City, and I meant it, but I wasn’t totally up front with you. I’m sorry. I will return to the Blind Spot, but I have things I need to do first.”

  The glaze covering Wrench’s organic eye shimmered before tears ran down his cheek. A usually stoic man, Marcie stepped back from him. His chin wobbled when he spoke, his words erratic. “You have a wise head on your shoulders. Whatever choices you need to make, make them. You’re smart like your mum. And you care like she did. She always believed in helping those who needed it, even to her detriment. Whatever you decide, you have my full support. But please try to remember to look after yourself in the process. And please …” He lost his words, inhaling so his large chest swelled, and blowing out again before he said, “Take care in the wastelands. I’ve never tried to cross them, but we’ve all heard the stories. They’re about as dangerous as it gets.”

  There were screams outside in the hall. Marcie’s temples stung and her throat burned. She switched to X-ray vision. Two figures had drawn guns. Two bodies lay on the ground from where they must have been shot. “That has to be Pierre and Becky, right?”

  Wrench moved towards the door. “They clearly didn’t believe the guards.”

  The sound of blaster fire. Another person buckled where they stood. Several more figures joined the fight, halting Pierre and Becky’s progress.

  A tight grip on Marcie’s shoulders, Wrench leaned down and forced eye contact with her. “There’s a back door leading out into an alley. Go and get the Eye and use it. As much as I want to stay here and stop Pierre and Becky, I can’t be seen getting involved. If you plan to leave the Blind Spot, do it straight away. The second Pierre finds the Eye missing, this place will go into lockdown. It’ll have to.”

  Marcie nodded. “Will you say goodbye to Sal for me? I wanted to get to him, I’d planned to, but …”

  “Not everything goes according to plan.”

  “Right.”

  Wrench held a credit card towards her in a shaking hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “A credit card.”

  “I can see that, but what’s it for?”

  “It has ten thousand credits on it. It should be enough to set the Eye up in Prime City and to get Sal’s lungs.”

  Marcie opened her mouth, but she couldn’t get her words out.

  “I want you to remember you owe me nothing,” Wrench said. “Not with how I’ve been since Mum died. Be free, little bird, and come to see me when you can. I love you. More than I’ve loved anything on this planet.”

  Marcie groaned as if she’d let off a pressure valve on her grief. Somewhere between a wail and a bray, she fell into her dad’s strong arms. If only she could stay.

  After kissing the top of her head, Wrench gently pushed her away and whispered, “Be free.”

  Chapter 8

  Were it not for the small war raging in the entrance to Madame Fiona’s, Marcie might have given herself the moment she needed. It had been years since she’d been in the same room as her dad and yearned to stay longer. But more time might have made her question her choice,
and the fact remained, the Eye needed her now.

  Her nose running, her chest tight, Marcie leaned against the heart-shaped door, gripping the handle. She nodded at her dad, who dipped a stoic nod in return, the room a mess from where the smashed window had landed on the bed. She snapped the handle down and fell out into the corridor.

  The guards outside the Eye’s room had joined the battle closer to the entrance, giving her a clear run. The key from her dad in a pinch, she hit the metal plate around the lock several times, her hand shaking like a slack-jaw’s returning from a heavy night out. On about the sixth attempt, she slipped the key in and turned it, flinging the door wide as she burst in.

  The Eye lay handcuffed to a pink heart-shaped bed. Covered with a fluffy pink throw, he had stuffed toys lined up along either side of his slim body.

  “What?” the albino man said, his brow furrowed, his teeth bared.

  “I must say, the decor brings out the colour in your eyes.”

  “Fuck you, princess.”

  Marcie smiled. “Aren’t princesses supposed to be the ones in need of rescue?”

  “I don’t need rescuing.”

  As another wave of laser fire and raised voices called at them from down the corridor, Marcie shrugged. “I think you do. Now come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  The key to his handcuffs on the bedside table, Marcie freed the Eye.

  “How did you get in here?” the Eye said.

  “Dad gave me the key.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “We need to get out of the Blind Spot. Now.” The fight continued down the corridor. The two sides had reached a temporary stalemate, both of them holding their ground. “The second they know you’ve gone, the whole place will go into lockdown, and we’ll never get out.”

  Marcie led the way out of the room and in the opposite direction to the blaster fight. “I’m going to get you somewhere safe.”

  “Where?”