by Mark Lingane
She reached up and slowly unclipped an explosive from her harness. As long as she could keep them all facing each other … She engaged the explosive, dropped it, turned, and ran.
Sebastian smiled as he patted the front of the steambike. They’d been through a lot together. The turbo furnace was roaring. All he had to do now was replenish the tank. The time it took to start the bike had always been its downside. Water always took so long to boil.
Above him, Memphis screamed. Moments later, she charged out of the stairwell and slammed the doors closed behind her. There was a loud explosion above that nearly forced the doors open again.
“Quick,” she shouted. “We’ve got to go. I found a drone nest.”
There was a loud buzzing sound and a crash against the other side of the doors, which shook violently.
“I thought you said they only worked at night.”
“Not if you wake them up,” Memphis said, pushing back against the buckling doors. “In their nest.”
“Hang on.” Sebastian poured water into the tank and sealed it. He focused his mind on the water and twisted the electrons. He could feel the liquid begin to boil. He revved the engine and jumped on the seat. “Let’s go. Get on behind me.”
Memphis glanced back at him and then at the pounding doors. The doors burst open and the drones swarmed out. She sprinted after Sebastian as he revved the motor. She leaped on behind him, wrapping her arms around him. He accelerated out the front doors and straight into the middle of the Chargers’ recovery team.
The receiver pointed at them and shouted. The men dropped into formation and targeted the bike as it soared through the air. It landed heavily and threw up a shower of sparks as metal scraped against the ground. Within moments, they were past the soldiers.
Sebastian and Memphis kept their heads down as bullets flew around them. The drones poured out of the building behind them and engaged the Chargers. Half the men fought back and the rest chased after the steambike.
Sebastian slid the bike around one corner, then another in quick succession. The Chargers were left behind in their lumbering exosuits, but they could still hear shots being fired, and mortars exploded against the buildings beside them.
They rounded another corner and came face to face with a Charger spider-tank that was aimed directly at them. It fired.
Sebastian twisted the throttle and the bike shot forward. The missile rocketed over their heads and flames erupted above them. The round hit one of the surrounding buildings, which collapsed into the road, sending a sea of bricks, dust, and debris toward them.
Sebastian aimed directly for the sliding pile of rubble. Memphis screamed. The bike bounced up the avalanching bricks and he twisted the throttle again, urging the bike upward as the rubble continued to slide down the alley.
The spider-tank stepped forward. One of the tank’s legs crunched the rubble and slid across the unstable surface. The leg bent and the tank tipped forward. It fell to the side, crashing into another building. The rest of the legs lost their grip and the tank came crashing down onto its side. The tank unit detached from the legs and fell onto its base with a deafening thud. The sound of twisting, tearing metal rang through the air.
The sides of the spider-tank slowly rotated, revealing a set of treads. The tank’s engine roared and the treads spun furiously. Debris cascaded off the sides as it powered forward out of the rubble. It aimed and fired a missile at the steambike. Sebastian was still frantically trying to climb the continually avalanching building debris. The missile exploded next to them and rubble rained down around them.
Sebastian turned the bike and began to slide back down the rubble. He twisted the throttle to maximum and charged directly toward the tank.
The spider-tank bounced awkwardly as it tried to stabilize and aim at the steambike, but the turret was weaving randomly in the constantly falling rubble. It fired again, but the rocket went wide.
Sebastian stopped against a wide steel beam. He fought with the bike against the downward flow of the avalanche, and bounced over it until he was lined up. He twisted the throttle once again and the bike launched off the beam, over the tank, and down onto the other side. He brought the bike to a sliding halt.
Memphis looked at Sebastian. “And this is powered by water?”
The tank was trying to turn, fighting against the tide of the avalanche. It bucked and crashed into the surrounding buildings, and slowly pirouetted until it was facing them.
“Yup.” He gunned the bike away through the streets as the spider-tank roared after them in pursuit.
12
Q-BACKER CHARLIE Baxter sat in the command chair glaring at Matthew, the young tesla. Charlie was seething. His jaw was clenched, as were his fists.
“Why were you sent here?” he bellowed. He slammed his fist down on the desk. The tesla shrank away from him, looking down at the ground, afraid to face the Charger q-backer. “No one comes here without our authorization. Who authorized you to come?”
Matthew huddled in the corner. He looked up at the roof and twitched nervously.
“Do you come to undermine us, to take what is ours? Do you lead an invasion? Are you preparing the way for an army?”
Matthew held his hands in front of his face. “I can’t say.”
“And I can’t live like this without knowing. And if I can’t live, then you definitely can’t.”
“That’s fine. Please,” Matthew responded.
Charlie shook his head in disbelief. He walked over to Matthew and stared into his face. “You prefer to die than talk to me?”
Matthew nodded.
Charlie took a step back, his face turning red. “I’ve reached the end of my tether. You’re of no interest to me. I’ll arrange for you to go to the Church of Truth. They’ll know what to do with you, and it will involve your death.”
Matthew exploded in a cacophony of wails and pleas. “Please, don’t send me there,” he repeated over and over.
“Why? What’s so terrible about the Church?”
“You don’t understand. The pain. The pain.”
“Don’t talk to me about pain. You …” Rage overtook him. Charlie picked up the chair and threw it across the room. He upended the table and kicked it until it broke. “You don’t get to talk about pain.”
He picked Matthew up by the throat, the metal fingers of his exosuit closing in tightly, making Matthew fight for air.
“You cower before me after taking them from me and doing this,” Matthew said, indicating the exosuit. “After leaving me with a broken body. And you still refuse to tell me. If you have one ounce of humanity in you, one shred of decency, you’ll tell me why you’re here.”
“I’m part of a weapon,” Matthew said. “One that’s so terrible the warning for it comes across time.”
“What kind of a weapon uses a tesla?”
“Not a tesla. Many.”
The infected creature padded through the building. It stepped silently into the middle of the group of scavengers and exhaled. Green mist spread over them. The scavengers scattered as the deformed green infected took swings at them, then the gas overcame them and they fell unconscious. Some managed a few paces, reaching for their homemade weapons, but within seconds, the creature had slaughtered them. It stepped around the unconscious bodies and dragged its sharp nails across their skin, digging down until they bled.
The infected looked at the dead bodies and leaped upon them, ripping them apart and feasting.
The steambike roared through the streets, leaping over some obstacles and ducking under others. The tank barreled recklessly behind them, crashing through everything that stood in its way in its manic pursuit. Missiles exploded on both sides of the bike and occasionally ahead. Sebastian ploughed through the raining rubble, which bounced off them and the bike.
“Really, this bike is powered by water?” Memphis shouted. She was clinging to Sebastian desperately, her hands interlocked tightly across his stomach.
There was another roar from behind as the tank
launched another rocket. Sebastian twisted the bike and the missile went wide, sailing past them and into a wall ahead of them, where it exploded. The wall collapsed, blocking their escape route.
Sebastian brought the bike to a skidding halt, the rear wheel bouncing along the ground. He circled the bike around, looking for an exit, but they were trapped. The tank slowed as it approached. The turret swung around. The gun on the weapons station swiveled and tracked their movements. Sebastian searched frantically for a way out.
They could hear the click of the rocket being loaded into the gun chamber.
They could hear the slam of the seal on the barrel, the lock being engaged.
They stared down the dark barrel aimed directly at them.
A shadow appeared that covered the bike and the tank. Sebastian and Memphis looked up. A helicopter was hovering directly overhead, kicking up dust. Another appeared beside it, both creating such a wall of dust and sound that no one saw the interceptor crawl in. It burrowed under the tank, tipping it over onto its side.
“We’ve been saved,” Sebastian said.
Memphis looked up at the insignia on the helicopters. Her heart fell as she recognized the familiar shape. “I don’t think so. That’s a Forty-ninth helicopter. We’re in Forty-ninth Division territory.”
SAN FRANCISCO
13
SEBASTIAN FOUND THE journey from Los Angeles to the 49th Division base in San Francisco breathtakingly exciting. He’d flown to North America in the zeppelin, but he hadn’t really experienced a sense of flying. Crashing, yes. He wouldn’t forget that in a hurry, but he’d felt disconnected from the flying part.
Now, in the helicopter, he could see the ground rushing past as they soared across the tops of the buildings. He sat with his back to the bike, smiling, as he looked out the side of the chopper.
Memphis was very unhappy; they had confiscated her weapons and explosives. They didn’t seem to recognize her security uniform. She hoped not. If they knew who she really was, it would be far worse. She tested the handcuffs. They were steel and short chained. She had no chance of twisting out of them. The lock pins were in her back pocket, and she couldn’t reach them.
She looked at Sebastian. He was smiling. He gave her a manacled wave. She scowled back at him. She turned and looked away, hiding her own smile. It was hard to stay mad at Sebastian with his infectious enthusiasm.
The helicopter flew in low over the walls that protected the great city of San Francisco, which stretched as far as Sebastian could see. In the distance were hills, and in the extreme distance—if he squinted—he could see what looked like mountains, and they were white. He wondered if this was the “snow” Memphis spoke of.
To the north, a series of large pipes disappeared into the distance. The sea lay to the west, expansive, glistening, and covered with a greasy sheen.
The chopper flew over a large inlet that contained several small islands. Sebastian looked down on a landscape that was viciously hilly; the roads on many of the hills zigzagged their way up and down, obviously to make it easier for people to negotiate them.
They flew directly to one of the small islands, which was connected by bridges to the mainland on both sides. The helicopter touched down on the southern tip of the tiny piece of land.
They were hustled at gunpoint toward a huge metal shed, vast sections of which were red with rust. Several other helicopters inhabited the shed, along with many other military vehicles that looked so old Sebastian wondered what was holding them together.
One of the 49th soldiers turned to him. “Welcome to Treasure Island. Island: yes. Treasure: no.”
Sebastian had the feeling it was the man’s only joke. He gave him a brief smile of acknowledgement.
A few minutes later, there was a shout as a senior officer approached. The man wore the same red-and-brown uniform as the other men, but the gold insignia on his armband gleamed in the gloom of the shed. Sebastian thought red was a strange color to use for uniforms, unless it was to hide blood. Or maybe the uniforms had to blend in with the rust.
“Center Williams, sir,” the receiver shouted from the chopper. “We caught these two being chased by the Chargers.”
“Really?” Center Brad Williams approached the two teenagers. “Why would the Chargers be chasing you?” he said. “They rarely take a break from warring with us.”
Sebastian and Memphis said nothing.
Brad looked Sebastian up and down, then Memphis. “Throw them in the cells until I’ve got time to deal with them,” he told the receiver.
“Yes, sir. Their possessions are on the table,” the receiver said, indicating a trestle table and handing the center a few hastily written pages explaining the events.
Piled up on the trestle table were Sebastian and Memphis’s weapons, Sebastian’s gas mask, and their personal items. The steambike stood alongside, looking worse for wear.
“As a bodyguard, I’m not sure you’re doing the best job,” Memphis whispered to Sebastian.
“Quiet,” shouted the receiver. “No whispering.” He prodded them with his gun.
Two other soldiers joined the receiver, and Sebastian and Memphis were directed toward the door.
Brad flicked through the pages of notes, and then examined the steambike and weapons. He picked up the automatic rifle and checked the number of rounds in the clip.
“Wait,” he shouted. The receiver stopped Sebastian and Memphis. “Bring them back.” When they were standing in front of him, he said, “Which one of you does this belong to?”
Memphis raised her handcuffed hands tentatively.
“This weapon is outlawed.” Brad shook the rifle at her. “Receiver, take them to the high-security cells and put them under suicide watch. We’re dealing with enemy agents.”
“What!” Sebastian started to protest, but one of the soldiers pulled him away.
“If you think we’re enemy agents, why did you rescue us?” Memphis shouted. She fought back, trying to hold her ground.
“We didn’t,” Brad said. “We patrol Los Angeles and the south constantly, as is our right. It continues to have strategic significance. The Chargers strayed into our line of fire. But, to me, it looked like you led them there, giving them an excuse to try and capture it. You looked like danger, which is why we seized you.”
“That’s not true at all,” Memphis said. “The Chargers were trying to kill us.”
“Really? Tell me why they would want to kill you. You don’t belong with us. And you don’t look like outlaws.”
“We just arrived in the area and they decided not to like us.”
“People don’t just arrive in enemy territory,” Brad said. He looked them over. They were so young. It was difficult to believe the enemy would stoop so low as to send almost-adults to do such despicable deeds. “Convince me you’re not spies.”
“How do you convince someone you’re not something?” she said. “That’s impossible. How would I convince you I’m not hungry?”
“You can prove you’re not ten feet tall, can’t you? I’ll leave the philosophical conundrum to you. We’ll reconvene this evening and see what you’ve been able to … postulate in the meantime.”
A soldier approached. “Center Williams, sir.”
Brad turned to face the soldier, who halted, saluted, and stared straight ahead. “Q-backer Finchley would like to see you directly.”
Brad sighed and raised two fingers to the other men. “Two hours, men. Let’s get this sorted out by then.”
Memphis sat on the bed in her cell. She had one irrefutable piece of information that would prove beyond doubt she wasn’t a spy, and that the Chargers wanted her dead more than the 49th Division did, but there was no way she was going to tell them.
She got up and tested the bars. They were old but solid. The whole world seemed old. She felt old. She longed for a clean life, free of a past that continually rose up out of the mud and tried to claw her back down into the muck.
Handing Sebastian over to t
he Master was the key. She had to get to Denver and make the trade. Then she would be free. But she was beginning to feel a little guilty about it. Sebastian hadn’t done anything wrong, and she knew the Master was going to put him through hell. He put everyone through hell.
She lay down. Not as comfortable as the bed in the Chargers’ base, but still better than her normal one. Fewer insects, too.
An hour later, a guard approached and handed her a plate of food. She looked at him suspiciously, but he just slid it in and walked on. She sniffed it, and then wolfed it down.
Sebastian tested the bars of his cell. They were old and didn’t present much of a challenge to him, but he didn’t think escape was a good idea. Nothing said guilty quicker and more certainly than running away. He sat down and went through the facts that he could tell the 49th Division.
He was a tesla. But that hadn’t gone down too well with the Chargers.
He was from another country. But strangers were definitely looked down on here.
He sighed.
Could he offer them anything? It wasn’t even worth surrendering the bike and sword. Anyway, they sort of had them already. He wondered if he should unlock the cell door and stay where he was. No. They’d probably just think he was too stupid to escape.
All he could do was tell the truth when the time was right. Most of it, anyway.
He lay on the bed. Not as comfortable as the bed in the Chargers’ base, but still better than a steel floor on a crashing voidship. Fewer insects, too.
An hour later, a guard approached and handed him a plate of food. He looked at it suspiciously. It was all green. He sniffed it, then pushed it away.
Sebastian woke with a start as a guard shook him.
“Boy, can you sleep heavy,” the man said.
“Who … where … I didn’t do it.”
“Tackle Rice wants to see you.” The guard pulled Sebastian to his feet, struggling under the weight of the solid teen. Still groggy, Sebastian tried to remember where he was.