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

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Prime City: A Science Fiction Thriller (Neon Horizon Book 2) Page 4

by Michael Robertson

Best not give him a chance to refuse. They didn’t need the argument here. Everyone knew what crossing the wastelands meant. The door around the next corner had a metal bar running across it. Marcie slammed her palm against it with a loud clack! The door flew open and crashed against the wall of the dark alleyway.

  The Eye wrapped himself in a tight hug, his skinny frame skinnier from how he held himself. Clouds of condensation billowed out in front of him. Gooseflesh lit up his pale arms.

  When Marcie stopped and slipped her bag from her shoulders, the Eye said, “I thought we needed to get out of here urgently?”

  “I’m getting you a coat.”

  “After spending time locked in that room, the last thing I want to put on is a girl’s coat, thank you. I’d rather be cold.”

  A dead end to their left, Marcie shook her head and turned right.

  “And what’s taken you so long?”

  “Jeez. You ever heard of the word gratitude? I had a few things to do. I had to get the money. I had to pack my bags. I went to your workshop.”

  “Why?”

  “To get the cloaking device so I could go and see Sal. But I didn’t find it, and your bloody workshop nearly killed me in the process. What the hell was that last question about anyway?”

  “You needed to get two out of three correct. I changed it before they locked me up because I knew you’d know the last two answers.”

  “Where are you from?” Marcie broke into a jog.

  “That’s a story for another time. Look, I need to get some stuff before we leave.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “So you’re allowed to run around the place and get everything you want?”

  “Not everything. I didn’t get the cloaking device. I didn’t get to see Sal.”

  “I need to get to my workshop.”

  Cries from the main street. An X-ray view showed Marcie the number of people in the fight had already doubled.

  “I can’t survive without some bits from my workshop.”

  “We won’t survive if you go back there.”

  “You’ve been there yourself. Was anyone watching it?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  “And the fight we’re running away from is to get to me, right? If they think I’m in there, this is the perfect opportunity.”

  As they reached the end of the alley, Marcie blocked the way with her arm.

  A narrowing of his red eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Look.”

  The Eye peered into the main street. When he pulled back in, his face had turned several shades paler. “All that to get to me?”

  “People loved Horace.” The crowd fighting the guards comprised working men and women from the red-light district. Most, if not all of them, had turned out for this war.

  “What are we going to do?” the Eye said, his bottom jaw shaking from the cold. “No way am I going out there. They won’t just kill me, that hate mob will tear me limb from limb.”

  Chapter 9

  Marcie leaped onto Madame Fiona’s roof and jumped across to a neighbouring building to give her a line of sight on the war below. She dropped into a crouch to remain hidden, her legs twitching, stimulated by the adrenaline coursing through her. Many dead bodies lay sprawled out in the road. A disproportionate number of them were women, many dressed for work. Regardless of the clear shortage of weapons, the women had got behind the cause. One of the fighting pimps raised his gun, his eyes wild, his jaw set. Although he managed to pull off a shot, his head snapped back, a cloud of red mist exploding behind him as he crumpled to the ground. Several close to him yelled, one of the women retrieved his gun, and they charged forward with another attack.

  Returning to the edge of Madame Fiona’s roof, the Eye—who remained in the alley about four metres below—threw his arms up in a shrug. How the hell did she plan on getting him out of there?

  Marcie emptied her rucksack on the roof. Cans of food and water bottles fell out with her clothes. She caught a tin before it rolled off the edge. She didn’t need to be knocking the Eye out with falling missiles. She also didn’t need to be dealing with his questions as to why she had such supplies. Scala City had everything they needed, so why take anything other than credits and a change of clothes? Better to have the conversation about where they were going when he had no say in the matter.

  After tying her clothes into a rope, Marcie tested the knots by tugging them. She dropped one end to the shivering albino man below.

  The Eye picked it up, but he didn’t climb.

  Marcie wrapped her end of the rope around her right wrist and moved backwards, dragging the skinny man up to join her.

  The rope several metres long, Marcie reached the edge of Madame Fiona’s roof and widened her stance, pulling the Eye the rest of the way with her left hand while wrapping the slack fabric around her right wrist. The power in her arms reeled him in with the efficiency of a winch.

  His white hair appeared first, followed by his furrowed brow. When he’d climbed up onto the roof, she wrapped the rest of her clothes around her right arm. No point in putting them away. They’d need them when they wanted to get down again.

  The Eye peered at the street below before stepping back from the edge. “We put so much effort into preventing a war, and now we’ve caused one in our own home.”

  “Dad will get on top of it. He knows what’s happening, and if this is the only price we pay for preventing total annihilation, then I’d say it’s worth it.”

  “But this isn’t about preventing total annihilation,” the Eye said, “this is about saving me.”

  “You’re the reason we avoided the war with Scala City.”

  “And the reason they’ve now all got the Pandora hack. Are you sure we’ll be welcome there?”

  “Come on, we’ve got to get moving,” Marcie said. Before he could ask anything else about where they were heading, she added, “Now we’ve established you can’t climb, can you at least run?”

  “Not all of us have strength and power sponsored by Daddy, you know?”

  “Can you run? Can you jump skinny alleyways?”

  “I still need to get to my workshop.”

  “I wanted to say goodbye to Sal.”

  “Your point?”

  “We don’t always get what we want.”

  “Look, kid—”

  The muscles in Marcie’s shoulders tensed.

  “If you want to take me to Scala City without my supplies,” the Eye continued, “then you should have left me in that room down there. At least it would have been quick when Becky and Pierre came in and cut my throat.”

  “They were talking about poisoning you.”

  The Eye’s lips pulled tight.

  “Although your stomach rupturing and drowning in your own bloody vomit would have been better than what Pierre really wanted to do. He talked about removing your skin an inch at a time. He wanted to wait for one patch to scab over before he moved on to the next. At least now you have a chance. Supplies or not.”

  They were too far back to see the war below with the naked eye, but Marcie’s X-ray vision showed Pierre’s army were making headway. “They’re getting closer to the room you were in.”

  “Well, stop being an arsehole, then.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You’re not denying it though, are you?”

  “Dad said we need to get out.”

  “When have you ever listened to your dad?”

  “Low blow.”

  “Look, Marcie, I don’t know what’s gone on with you since I’ve seen you last, but you’re losing your head.” The Eye walked away in the opposite direction to the tunnel. “The only way you’re going to prevent me from going to my workshop is if you knock me unconscious and carry me to Scala City.”

  Or Prime City. “I could do that, you know.”

  The Eye took off and jumped a small alley, leaping from the roof of their current building to the next one.

  Marcie muttered, “Prick,” and
ran after him.

  Chapter 10

  Marcie tied her makeshift rope to the fire escape on the opposite side of the slim building. The zigzagged metal staircase groaned and shifted when she tugged on it, but it held. It could support their weight.

  The Eye waited for her on the other side, the dark alley leading to his workshop about five metres below. When she dropped her rope, the heavy knots dragged it towards the ground, the end falling about two metres short. “You can drop the rest of the way.”

  Shaking as he leaned off the building, the Eye held onto the edge and hung down, his legs flailing for a few seconds before they caught the rope. He reached one hand down and grabbed just above a thick knot. Gasping as he let go, he caught the rope with his other hand and slowly descended. Pulses ran twitches through Marcie’s legs and arms, her heart quickening. They were running out of time, but if she told him to hurry up, he might fall.

  About three metres from the ground, one of the knots slipped. The Eye yelped and landed on his back with an oomph!

  “What the hell?” The Eye stood up and dusted himself down. “Where did you learn to tie knots?”

  “You say that as if I should be highly skilled in the art.”

  “That microprocessor in the back of your head can help you fly through Scala City, making perfect calculations at speed, but it can’t help you tie a knot?”

  From the way he hopped around and flapped his arms, his ego had clearly sustained more damage than his body. “And you left my workshop open.”

  “Forgive me, but I didn’t want to get dragged in by it again. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I kinda had more pressing things on my mind. Like saving your life.”

  His face puce, condensation billowing in front of him, the Eye drew a breath as if to come back at her. But then he sighed and shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry. Thank you for busting me out. I’m being a dick.” His voice broke. “I was really scared when they had me locked up. I knew it would only be a matter of time before Pierre found me. It was almost as if I could hear a ticking clock in my head. I shouldn’t take it out on you. Sorry.”

  The sound of war two blocks away, Marcie jumped down into the alley and pointed at his workshop. “Just get what you need so we can get the hell out of here.”

  The workshop responded to the Eye’s entrance, the place lighting up, guiding him in. Although the walls were a chaotic mess of multicoloured wires and screens, he clearly knew the location of everything. Marcie flinched when he plunged his hand into one of the walls, her pulse quickening. Because of all her enhancements, she’d not been overpowered often. If she never entered the Eye’s workshop again, it would be too soon.

  The Eye came out with a small chip and the cloaking device held aloft. “This is all I needed.” Yet he returned to his old home and plunged his hands into the wires on the opposite side of the workshop. A slight click and half the wall moved outwards. A hidden cupboard.

  Even with the sound of gunfire in the distance, Marcie smiled.

  “What?” The Eye wriggled into his large brown fur coat. “It’s cold out there.” He showed her a tiny inside pocket, which he used to hide the small chip. “And it’ll make this much harder to find unless you know what you’re looking for.”

  Marcie continued to smile at him.

  “I’m not a fashion icon.”

  “I can see that. Now are you ready?”

  The slightest glaze covered his crimson stare. “I’ve spent a lot of time in this place.”

  Screams filled the air near Madame Fiona’s. “I’m sorry,” Marcie said, “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but …” She flicked her head in the direction of the sounds.

  “Yeah, sorry.” The Eye nodded as if to motivate himself and raised his voice. “Jasmine.”

  The screen lit up and spoke with the thousand shrieking voices it used when it had Marcie trapped. “Hi, honey.”

  Marcie stepped back another pace.

  The Eye screwed his face up. “Urgh, stop that, will you?”

  A softer, singular female purr. “I’m sorry. This better?”

  “Much.”

  “It’s time, isn’t it?”

  A tight clench to his jaw, he nodded.

  “It had to come sooner or later, right?”

  “I hoped not. I’ve taken all my data. When I get to Prime City, I’ll rebuild you. For now, my love”—he pressed his hand against her screen—“take care.”

  An emoji of a tear on the screen, the Eye backed away from it.

  A fizz pop sent Marcie back yet another pace.

  Flames burst from the console beneath the screen. While the Eye exited his workshop, more fire spread across the other side of the room. The plastic coating on the wires melted, bubbled, and turned into black smoke.

  His shoulders rounded, the Eye dragged his feet as he approached Marcie. She moved towards him to hug him, and he tensed. She rubbed the top of his right arm instead.

  Clothes lay on the ground from where Marcie’s knot had failed. She picked them up. “I’ll go back up there and tie these again so we can get out of here.” But before she jumped, she switched on her X-ray vision. “Shit!”

  “What?”

  “Madame Fiona’s is on fire. We’ve not got the time to go that way now.”

  “Which way do we go, then?”

  Marcie looked up the alley.

  “Through the streets? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Can you climb walls?”

  The Eye’s bottom lip protruded and he said, “I’m guessing Madame Fiona’s is on fire because they’ve worked out I’ve escaped?”

  The mob were heading their way, red rings in Marcie’s vision targeting the front runners. “Come on, the longer we argue about this, the less time we have to get away.” She halted at the end of the alley.

  His breaths quick, the Eye said, “Take this.” He threw her the cloaking device.

  The cans and water bottles in Marcie’s rucksack pressed against her back when the Eye jumped on her. She twisted and turned to get more comfortable, but they didn’t have time to do anything about it. The bodies were closing in, the cries and shouts of a hate mob coming straight for them. She pressed the button. Click. “Now what?”

  “Get out of here.”

  “And you’re sure you’re invisible on my back?”

  “No. But let’s hope so. If nothing else, we can’t afford to be caught in this narrow alley.” He kicked the insides of his feet against her hips as if he’d just jumped on the back of a stubborn mule. “Now hurry.”

  Chapter 11

  Sex workers, dealers, and pimps headed up by Becky and Pierre came forwards in a swarm up the red-light district’s main road. A motley crew with more street smarts than the rest of the Blind Spot and Scala City combined. The Blind Spot’s accountant in the lead, Marcie clenched her jaw, grinding away the desire to swing for him. She’d had Becky’s number from the start. A beautiful woman with a vicious tongue. So cliché she bordered on boring. But could she really blame either of them? Their brother had been murdered, after all.

  The Eye’s ridiculous fur coat doubled his weight, and every time he shifted, a bottle of water or tin jabbed into Marcie’s back. Sure, she had a strong spine created by the Blind Spot’s finest, but she still retained some feeling along either side.

  Wincing through the discomfort, Marcie stepped to the left away from the crowd. She pressed her back against a wall, a red neon glow spilling into the street from a full-length window beside her.

  Becky and Pierre continued to lead the fast march. In the next minute or two they’d be in the dark alley containing the Eye’s workshop.

  The Eye’s warm breath tickled Marcie’s ear when he leaned close. “Thank god they can’t see us.”

  Leaning back, she pressed him against the wall.

  “Are you trying to crush me?”

  “I’m trying to take some of the pressure off my back. You’re hurting me.”

  “And hurting me in return is helpin
g how?”

  “I’m not trying to hurt you. Don’t be so dramatic. I’m trying to let you lean against the wall rather than me for a moment. It’s not like I can put you down, is it?”

  Although what did it matter? A moment’s respite wouldn’t help them get out of there, and they didn’t have any more time to waste. Marcie sidestepped along the wall, the space clear from where the crowd marched down the centre of the road. They needed to get as far away as possible. Things would turn even more sour when Becky and Pierre saw the Eye’s burning workshop.

  The crowd following Horace’s siblings had been dense, but it had nothing on the second wave behind it. “Oh shit!” the Eye said.

  A colourful and motley mob, they blocked the wide main street from one side of it to the other. Marcie quickened her pace and ducked into a nearby alley, nipping in seconds before those at the front of the raucous crowd passed.

  “It’s a dead end,” the Eye said.

  “You think we’re better out there with that lot?” Many of the crowd passing the end of the alley were armed. They carried blasters, grenades, and knives. One or two had bats with nails sticking from the end.

  “Well, I guess they were ready for a war with Scala City,” the Eye said.

  Marcie shook her head. “And now you’re the focus of their unspent rage. Great.”

  A single male voice called from the front of the crowd, “He’s not here!”

  A woman backed him up a second later. “We’re too late. He’s gotten away.”

  For the second time, the Eye kicked his feet against Marcie’s backside. “That’s our cue to get out of here.”

  “I can see why you’re celebrated for your brains.” Marcie shook him on her back. “Do you have anything more practical than that? And if you kick me like I’m a horse one more time, I’m going to buck.”

  Several fire drones hurtled down the street, water splashing from their sides as they passed.

  There were still people in the main road, but the crowd had thinned. They wouldn’t get a better chance than this. Marcie slipped from the alleyway. The combined reek of perfume formed a noxious cloud that made the air hard to breathe. The Eye squirmed on her back and stifled a cough.

 

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