As they ascended the hill, their elevated position allowed Marcie to finally make sense of the woman’s pessimism. At least forty buggies, tanks, and trucks, all of them moving at a pace equal to theirs, if not quicker. Like the spiral-faced lunatics surrounding her, this militia had its own look. They all had mohawks and tattoos along the sides of their heads. They were too far away to make out what the tattoos were. As armed as the spiral faces, they outnumbered them at least five to one. The woman was right; they were screwed.
Marcie twisted again. If anything, the ropes tightened. The Eye’s buggy pulled level with them, throwing sludge away from its spinning tyres. Recognition passed across the Eye’s face before it vanished again.
“What do we do?” the woman beside Marcie yelled to those on the Eye’s buggy. But the exhausts drowned her out. If Marcie could only just hear her, those on the other buggies stood no chance.
The buggy braked, the bars sore against Marcie’s back from the sudden halt. The roar of more engines in front of them.
“Fuck it!” the woman said. The colour drained from her face as she turned from side to side. “Tell them we surrender. No way can we fight them all. No way.”
The buggies chasing them hit the bottom of the steep and muddy hill, now no more than fifty metres away. The woman beside Marcie jumped to the ground and raised her two-handed axe. Those on the backs of the other buggies did the same. What else could they do? Best to go down fighting. At least they might get a quicker death.
One of the mohawks’ vehicles looked like an old truck like Marcie had seen in picture books. Thick tyres, it had a cab with a driver and passenger in, the back of it open and filled with soldiers.
The whine of the engines died down as the mohawks decelerated, rolling to a halt thirty metres away. The truck stopped in the centre of the pack. The passenger door swung open as a man no taller than five feet six inches stepped out. Dark skinned, he wore jeans and a waistcoat made from animal hide like many of the militia. If the cold bothered them, they didn’t let it show. He had his hair shaved at the sides like the rest of them. He walked forwards, the broad-shouldered leader of the spirals coming down to meet him.
They were too far away to hear over the engines, but Marcie could now make out the man’s tattoos. Circles along either side of his head. The largest ones at his temples, they got smaller as they streaked back over his ears.
“We’re fucked,” the woman next to Marcie said again.
“Who are they?”
“Another gang.”
“What do they want?”
The woman looked to either side at the buggies flanking them. “Our buggies, our prisoners, our farm, and our lives.”
“And there’s no room for negotiation?”
Instead of responding, the woman raised her axe and yelled as she charged.
Marcie switched off the targeting in her eyes.
The mohawks met the advancing spirals with their own cry. While most of the mohawks jumped from their vehicles, several of them climbed higher and drew crossbows from their backs. The leader of the spirals received the first shot, the bolt travelling through her head and out the other side. She stumbled for several more strides, her momentum then throwing her against the muddy ground.
Maybe thirty bald spirals charged. Within seconds their number had been halved.
If any of the mohawks were hurt in the exchange, Marcie missed it.
Before the spirals had gotten close enough to use their weapons, they were all down, the battlefield decorated with their bodies. Blood mixed with the dark mud, the mohawks picking their way through the fallen, cutting the heads off those who lay there. Alive or dead, they clearly didn’t want to take chances. It took several hacking swings to decapitate each spiral. Marcie’s stomach turned as blood sprayed back at the grimacing executioners.
The leader stepped from the crowd and walked up the muddy hill. His feet twisted on the slick ground with his steps. As he closed in on the Eye, the Eye shook as if he could wriggle free of his bonds. And maybe he could.
The mohawks’ leader grabbed a loose strand of hanging rope, wrapped his hand around it, and tugged, pulling it tighter before retying it.
The pause lasted an age, the man with the circles on his head staring at the Eye while the albino man struggled.
Clearly satisfied he’d tied the rope tight enough, the leader then headed over to Marcie, the rumble of the exhaust between her legs, the steady hum of the engines all around her. The man’s face blank as if he felt nothing from the slaughter. Marcie remained dead still on his approach.
Like he’d done with the Eye’s bonds, the leader tugged on Marcie’s. He then grabbed the back of the buggy and pulled himself up next to her.
He leaned so close, he smothered Marcie with his dirty reek. He sniffed her left ear, inhaling deeply before probing her with his tongue as if trying to taste the wax. The intrusion turned the backs of Marcie’s knees weak and snapped her shoulders into her neck. She gasped stuttered breaths.
The leader then jumped from the back of the buggy, landing with a squelch before holding his arm up and circling it. The gang responded, half of them charging forwards.
Marcie winced as the mohawks approached. But the soldiers ran past her, her buggy shaking from where one of them jumped into the driver’s seat.
The exhaust between Marcie’s legs kicked out a large cloud of smoke. It tightened her lungs and left a taste of burned plastic in her mouth. They moved off slowly. Hard to know much of anything at the moment, but she’d be very surprised if they weren’t about to enter a situation a whole lot worse than the one they’d just been hijacked from. She’d just witnessed what the mohawks did to their enemies. She and the Eye were about to find out what they did to their prisoners.
Chapter 20
The militia might have called it a farm, but it looked more like a prisoner-of-war camp. A compound surrounded by chain-link fences topped with barbed wire. Several large barns and many more smaller buildings. Some used for storage, some used as dorms. The ground slick with mud, the buggy’s thick tyres kicked up sludge, flecks of it spraying Marcie’s face. Water pooled as puddles in the uneven ground. Maybe the fading light played tricks with her. Maybe the standing water didn’t have the red tinge of blood.
They might have slowed down to negotiate the buildings, but the loud exhaust still made Marcie’s ears ring. The buggy with the Eye on the back had been next to her for most of the journey. For what good it did. Since they’d been captured, he’d retreated into himself, muttering as he viewed the world through a shocked glaze.
The ropes still held Marcie in place. If anything, they’d pulled tighter on the journey. But at least the knowledge of her abilities had died with the spiral-tattoo gang. Other than her eyes, she could pass as an organic.
The doors hung open on many of the huts and barns. They passed another smaller shed. It had several empty beds inside. A barn on their left, its doors were also spread wide. Marcie shrieked when they drew closer. Six people had been strung up. Ropes tied around their necks, wrists, and ankles, they were spread out like starfish. Gashes had been ripped through their naked bodies, the deep cuts the dark red of exposed flesh. One of them had a wound up their middle, the skin on their back the only thing holding them together. A strong wind would rip her in two. All of them had spiral tattoos on their faces, which remained untouched as if to send a message to any that remained.
Many more savaged corpses covered the ground beneath the ceremonial executions. The barn belched red into the standing water of the complex. More cold splashes against Marcie’s face, she pressed her lips tight to prevent it getting in her mouth.
The Eye’s stare remained as wide, his jaw as limp. He continued to gaze into space, seemingly unaware of the massacre.
Now clear of the barn, the buggy stopped. They might have cut the engine, but Marcie’s ears still rang. Most of the convoy ahead out of sight, she tracked their movements by the squelch of people landing in the mud and w
ading through it. The short leader appeared in front of her.
Marcie clamped her jaw so she didn’t say something stupid. A woman on either side of him, the leader flicked his hand to gesture for them to cut her down. She landed on her feet with a squelch and waited for them to do the same to the Eye.
One of the leader’s women levelled a long blade at Marcie, the tip hovering just centimetres from her neck. Had Marcie not turned the targeting in her eyes off, this woman would be encircled in a large red ring, but she hardly needed an alert to the shit they were currently in. Up to their necks in it, how would they be aided by a flashing warning?
A young lad no more than about eighteen years old led the Eye over. He’d stripped him of his fur coat, the garment swamping his slight build. The Eye looked through Marcie. Had it even registered that he’d just lost his microchip? The thing they’d risked their lives for in the Blind Spot.
The woman with the blade moved fast, driving a stinging slap against the side of Marcie’s head with the flat side of her sword. Of course Marcie had seen it coming and could have stopped it. But that would have shown what she could do. There would be a time to play her hand, and it certainly wasn’t now.
Her ears ringing louder than before, Marcie bit back her retort with her grinding jaw and followed the woman’s lead away from the buggies.
A wooden cage no more than about four feet square stood in the centre of the farm. The cloying ground tugged on Marcie’s feet as she waded through the mud, avoiding the tens of mohawks gathered there. Her heart sank when they got closer. The cage had been built in a pit of water. Two bald heads floated in it. They shivered and gasped. The telltale O on their foreheads.
One of the guards opened the gate while the woman with the sword jabbed the tip of it into Marcie’s ribs, encouraging her forward. Before she did anything, she needed the Eye back onside. At least ready to run. If she kicked off now, they’d be overwhelmed.
Marcie submitted to the woman’s prodding and dropped into the freezing water, gasping as she fought against her body’s natural reaction to go into shock, even with her cybernetics. But at least it gave some relief to the burn on her right shoulder.
The Eye plunged in a second later, his glaze finally breaking as his mouth spread wide. When he looked at her, drawing deep barking gulps, it was like he’d seen her for the first time since they’d been captured.
“Calm down,” Marcie said. “Everything’s fine. It’s cold, but you’re going to be okay. Just try to relax.”
The Eye splashed and thrashed.
“Deep breaths,” Marcie said. “In and out. In and out. Come on.” She held his hands under the water and pulled him closer so he had to look at her.
It took a few minutes, but she got through to him, helping him ground his panic. “Are you okay?”
Tears ran from his eyes and he shook his head.
“We’ll get out of here, I promise.”
“You don’t know what they’re like.”
The crowd gathered around the cage stood too far back to hear Marcie. “They don’t know what I’m like either, remember?”
There were platforms in the water pit, and when Marcie found one, she guided the Eye over so he stood on one too. The night closed in, the sky growing darker. If they remained in the pit too long, they’d both get hypothermia.
The Eye twitched, sending out a splash as he looked down. “What the fuck’s that?”
Something brushed up against Marcie’s leg, and she pulled away from it.
“What is it?” the Eye said.
They’d ignored the obsoletes and the obsoletes had ignored them. The woman of the two said, “Eels.”
At any other time that would have been enough to send Marcie over the edge. The Eye splashed and kicked, but even he halted when Marcie said, “Karla?”
The obsolete stared at her as if she didn’t understand, so Marcie turned to the Eye. “It’s her.”
The Eye stopped splashing. “Shit, it is. And Bruce. How the hell did you two get here?”
“Who are Karla and Bruce?” the woman said.
“Damn.” Marcie shook her head.
One of the mohawks came over to the cage, unlocked it, and held a pole in Karla’s direction. She grabbed the end and he dragged her from the pit. She waited for them to pull out Bruce before they both walked over to a nearby mohawk.
The leader of the mohawks, the short man with the waistcoat, walked over to the cage. “We’ve held these people for two days. We knew about obsoletes, but I suppose I never really believed it. I can now say, after freezing half to death, these two have no idea who they used to be. They can’t tell me anything.”
While he spoke, several mohawks held both Karla and Bruce while the leader’s two women put knives to their throats.
“They’re useless to us,” the leader said.
The women slit their throats at the same time. Both Karla and Bruce clapped their hands to their necks and gargled while gasping for breaths they’d never get. The men holding them shoved them forward, and both fell to their knees in the mud, blood raining from their wounds before they finally fell limp.
The leader waited for them to expire before he turned back to the watery pit, pointing down at Marcie and the Eye. “You both need to prove to me that your lives are worth something.”
As the leader walked away, Marcie reached beneath the water and held the Eye’s hand again. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she said. “Trust me, I’ll get us out of here. They don’t know what I can do, and when the right moment comes, believe me, they’re going to find out.”
Chapter 21
“How do you know you’ll get us out of this?”
At least the Eye had come out of his funk. Marcie shivered, the flaming torches stabbed in the ground around the cage giving off light, but the fire did nothing to warm her bones. They had a few guards there still, but many had retired to their huts for the evening. “They’ll have to pull us out of this pit at some point.”
“If we don’t die of hypothermia first.”
“We’ll be all right.”
“I’m not convinced my body is as resilient as yours.”
“Just keep moving.” The platform helped against exhaustion at least. Marcie bounced on her toes to keep herself active. Another eel brushed her leg. She’d looked down several hours previously with her X-ray vision and seen at least thirty of the things, some of them as long as she stood tall. Sometimes her enhancements only made things worse. When the Eye asked, she’d told him there were only one or two in there. Small ones at that. So far she’d gotten away with the lie because many of them stayed lower down.
“I’ll need to get that coat back,” the Eye said. “It has the microchip in it.”
“And I don’t know where my bag or glasses have gone.”
“But you have the credit card still?”
Marcie ran her fingers around the card in her top pocket and nodded.
Pale skinned at the best of times, the Eye had turned shock white, and his lips were blue. He shook his head. “I’m not going to make it through the night.” He pulled on the cage and shouted, “Guard?”
“What are you doing?”
One of the guards came over. “This best be good.”
“Get the boss for me.”
Marcie’s heart quickened. “What are you doing?”
“Are you taking the piss? He’ll kill me if I disturb him.”
“He’ll kill you if you don’t. Trust me.”
A second passed where the guard paused as if playing out the dilemma. He finally tutted, shook his head, and walked off, squelching through the mud.
“What are you doing?” Marcie said.
But the Eye turned away from her as he watched the guard vanish into the surrounding darkness.
“This best be good,” the short leader said. “You interrupted me.”
“What would you say if I could give you ten thousand credits just to get me out of here? I could also tell you how to ge
t ten times that amount.”
“What the hell?” Marcie said.
The leader’s glare flicked between Marcie and the Eye, his face sharpening to the focus of a predator. “Go on.”
“She has a credit card on her, loaded with ten thousand credits.”
“And why are you selling her out?”
“I won’t last the night in here.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Marcie said. The cybernetics in her arms twitched, daring her to drag him under.
The leader nodded at the guard beside him, who opened the cage door and let the Eye out, reaching a hand down to him to help him climb from the pit. Once the albino had been dragged clear, the leader reached a hand down to Marcie. “Hand the credit card over.”
“I don’t have one.”
“I will leave you to die in here and then search your corpse.”
“I’m dead anyway.”
The Eye interrupted. “I’d advise you to keep her alive. She’s the daughter of the man who runs the Blind Spot.”
The leader shrugged. “I’m not afraid of anyone else’s authority.”
“And you shouldn’t be,” the Eye said, “but Wrench will pay handsomely to have his daughter brought back to him alive. She’s worth so much more to you with a pulse.”
“Is this true?”
Marcie fixed on the Eye. “You’re a fucking snake, you know that?”
“I’m doing what I can to stay alive.”
The mohawk leader took Marcie’s credit card and locked the cage door again. “I’m going to get a group of drivers together. I’ll be back for you soon so I can collect my ransom from Daddy.” He turned to the Eye. “You say I’ll get one hundred thousand credits?”
“I can’t put an exact figure on it, but she means the world to him.”
The leader smiled and shook the Eye’s hand. “Welcome to the gang, my friend.”
Chapter 22
Maybe the same buggy that had taken Marcie to the farm, maybe not. Hard to tell. They were similar. Not that it mattered. They’d made the Eye tie her to the back of the vehicle, and he’d refused to look at her for the entire time. He’d refused to acknowledge his own shame, the fucking snake.
Prime City: A Science Fiction Thriller (Neon Horizon Book 2) Page 8