by Ben Chaney
“Sounds good!...Which floor are we on?!”
“Uh...fifteenth from the top, I think! Elevator should be further in...up those steps!” Matteo pointed. At the end of the dining hall, two curving staircases swept around a crystal replica of Sedonia Tower. Tall, silver elevator doors shone above it on a thick marble balcony.
“Keep low and move!” Jogun said. The two of them took off toward it as the shock troops bore down on the fountain. The hailing gunfire dug melon-sized pits out of the replica tower and stairs, missing the brothers by inches. Jogun went left. Matteo right. Matteo bounded up the exploding steps, vaulted over the block marble railing, and punched the button on the elevator. A tiny blue light started moving along a line above the doors, creeping closer to the enlarged number ‘285’ etched in the metal. The two of them took cover behind the marble railing as it chipped away in flying chunks.
“It’s takin’ too long! We gotta go!” said Jogun, checking the ammo left in his uzi mag. He reached over the wall and sprayed down toward the soldiers. Recoiled instantly. The barrage didn’t skip a beat.
“Stairs!” Matteo said. On either side of their balcony, modest hinge doors were set into the walls.
“On my back!” Jogun shouted. Keeping low, Matteo climbed on and wrapped around his brother’s torso. A ridiculous smile crossed his lips. Jo had carried him like this all the time when he was little, dashing across the Rasalla rooftops to run errands. It had always felt like freedom. He squeezed Jogun’s chest tight as the high-pitch whine keyed on. Jogun launched through the air, swung his legs forward, and drop-kicked the door flat off its hinges.
“Holy shit!” Matteo laughed. Jogun sprang up without effort, Matteo and all.
“I know, right?!” said Jogun, “These things are balls-out crazy!” The distorted voices of the soldiers closed in behind them, barking orders. Matteo and Jogun looked down the spiraling staircase. The floors stretched to infinity, fading out of sight into blackness.
“Fifteen down from here?” Jogun asked.
“Yeah!”
“Aight then, hang on!” Jogun cleared the first flight in a single jump, then the second, then the third. Matteo struggled to hold on and keep watch behind them. They got a floor and a half down before the soldiers filed into the stairwell. All five jumped across the center gap in unison and turned their guns.
Jogun planted a boot on the railing and launched across the gap. Matteo’s stomach dropped as Jo’s feet almost missed the railing on the other side. Landed safely. Again and again they jumped across the bottomless pit, matched step for step by the descending soldiers. On each landing, Matteo scanned for numbers. ‘280.’ ‘279.’ ‘278.’ Missed three or four. ‘273...’
“Next one!” Matteo shouted in Jogun’s ear. After landing, Jogun spotted the door across the pit. He leaped hands first, planted them on the railing, tucked his knees, and shot forward. The door broke off with a snap. But they didn’t land. They fell through empty space. The concrete deck rushed up to meet them. Jo took the first impact with the boots, but the two of them bounced. Flipped. Matteo lost his grip. Smashed back-first into a rear windshield.
The safety glass saved him when it didn’t shatter. It buckled, cradling his ragdoll body. He groaned as he forced himself up. Shook his head. Jogun, stirring slightly, lay face down on the deck as the troops came through the door and marched down the side-facing stairs. Matteo leaped off the car and sprinted to Jogun’s side. Picked him up under the shoulder.
“Come on, man, almost there! I’m not losin’ you this time!” said Matteo, dragging Jo up as the first of the bullets flew. Jogun groaned and clutched his side. They limped behind a concrete pillar. Matteo quickly took in the surroundings. It was a wide, single-level deck with a panoramic opening to the sky at the end. The relaxed, elegant shapes of Sedonia City leaned toward it. The way out.
“You go find a car...I’ll hold ‘em off,” Jogun said.
“I ain’t leavin’ you here! You don’t have to save me anymore!” said Matteo. Jogun reached into a cargo pocket, took out a high-velocity ammo mag, and clicked it into the uzi.
“Who saved who?” Jogun said, smiling sadly. Chunks of cement exploded from their column.
“I’m crap at hot-wiring anyway, go man!” shouted Jo, “Pick a fast one!” Jogun rolled to his stomach and stretched out with the uzi. He fired controlled bursts at the soldiers’ blank masks. They barely left a mark, but it seemed to at least stagger them. Matteo looked at his brother one last time. Breathed into his belly. Breathed out. Turned to scan the garage.
Not much to choose from. Most people must have bugged out after the attack and headed east. What was left, though, didn’t disappoint. There were two or three government-issue sport-utility transports, the bulky kind people could take over-land, underwater, wherever. Bulletproof too, but slow. There was a Pulsar Carbon, a luxury sedan with real leather seats and a galaxy of convenient gadgets, but again...Slow. Then there it was. The Solari F5. It crouched at the far edge of the garage like a stalking cat, shining orange and sleek with sharp black accents. Zero to 100 kph in 2.8 seconds...
“You still here?!” Jo yelled. Matteo snapped out of analysis and took off, weaving through the pillars and sculpted dividers. He slid around the edge of one of the SUTs. Whatever ammo the military used, it punched right through the bullet-proofed windows. Matteo heard shots detonate close behind him as he reached the Solari. A chunk of rebar served to smash the window and set off the wailing alarm.
He crawled inside and yanked open the panel under the wheel. It looked like techno gibberish inside. Stacks of circuits and wire intestines. Hell of a lot easier to just unhook it and sell it... But as he stared wide-eyed into it, the patterns emerged. Wires leading to the ignition sensor, interfacing with pin connectors. His hands darted to work, stripping wires, finding leads, and rerouting connectors. The Solari’s alarm clicked off. Okay, close! He tapped a couple contacts together. Nothing. Switched a few out. Nothing. Switched again. YES! The Solari hummed to life with a cascading vibration.
“YES! YES! YES!” he hammered the ceiling with his fist. Stilled himself as his hands drifted down. One to the wheel. One to the gears. Jo... His sweaty palms slipped the Solari into reverse and he gunned it out of the space. A few bullets punched the rear body as he turned to face the exit, shifted to drive, and darted out into the Sedonia sky. The shooting stopped.
“Okay,” he said, puffing the air from his lungs. He air-braked into a one-eighty degree turn then laid on the gas. The shock troops had no time to react. Matteo flew straight at them, banked hard right, and flashed them with a full blast from the hover engines. Parked facing the exit.
He punched a button on the center console and watched as the passenger door hissed up and open. Jogun, head slumped, sat back against the ruined column. Blood trickled from a gouge in his side.
“JO!” Matteo called out. Jogun heaved his head to look. His mouth moved but the voice failed against the storming hum of engines. Matteo threw open the driver door and scrambled around the front end. Behind them, the soldiers started to rise. As he reached his brother, Matteo squatted, scooped under Jogun’s knees and back, and lifted him like a half ration of rice.
“Never could tell you anything...” Jogun rasped. Heartbeat drumming in his ears, Matteo carried Jogun to the seat and set him down. As the door slammed shut, high-pitched whines sounded off. The first shots fired as he dove away onto the hood, swung his legs around, tucked through the driver’s side door, and dropped in the seat. He rammed the throttle to maximum.
They fired out of Sedonia Tower like a cannon shot, shoving them both deep into the upholstery. The Tower shrank in the rear-view, fading to a silhouette in the hazy dawn. No one followed. If they even could... The pressure stopped as the Solari cabin adjusted to the speed. The ride smoothed, sailing over the Center Ring like a knife through water. Jogun gasped and coughed, clutching his torn flank. His breathing stuttered and heaved.
“Come on, man, into the belly,”
Matteo said, “Told me to do it enough times, you think you’d remember...”
Jogun shivered as he pressed his lips together, taking slow, bumpy breaths one by one. Jo rolled his head to the side. Looked down out the window.
“I-it’s over...” Jogun said. They crossed above the City skyline at blinding speed, passing from Center to Inner Ring in seconds. Fires raged everywhere, stippled throughout the monumental angles, platforms, and curves. Heavy gunships took crowds of prisoners some places. Fought fever-pitch battles in others. Giant Federal command ships hovered amongst the clouds like angry Gods. Through the windshield, Matteo saw stray rounds streak up to the sky, most disappearing into the dawn drenched fog of smoke. The quiet rang in his ears.
“Matteo...” Jo cringed in pain. Continued. “You did good...on your own...just like you always said you would.”
“Jo, I never meant—” Matteo stopped as Jo kept talking.
“I think I was scared you were right. That you didn’t need me. That—that—I was alone... That I should be,” Jogun stared out of the window, “I never told you the truth because I knew you’d leave...but you deserved to know, you always deserved to know...”
“Quit talking like this, man, we’re gonna find Utu!” Matteo ground the ball of his foot into the accelerator. The Solari shuddered as it reached top speed. The first squat apartments of the Outer Ring appeared under the horizon. Matteo poured sweat as he forced the wheel steady. He felt Jogun’s hand gently rest on his shoulder.
“It’s-o-okay,” Jo said, sucking short breaths, “It’s okay...you’re strong. You can choose for yourself now. You got this...” The hand slipped off Matteo’s shoulder.
“No, no, no, no, NO! Come on, Jo, I need you, man, I need you!” Matteo clutched Jo’s hand, “I’ve always needed you, you’re my— You are my brother. Rasalla’s our home. I can’t do this without you, now please just...just stay...stay—.” The sadness settled over him as the Solari boomed over the Outer Ring. Past the ruined Border.
Tracing due East from the Rasalla River, Matteo recognized the Healing Quarter. The Temple of the Wheel sat at the far end of it with strings of prayer flags blowing in the scorched air. Scores of the wounded, dying, and dead lined the grounds, tended by fluttering blue shapes. Matteo brought the Solari down in the only open patch he could find, feeling a twinge as those who could walk scattered to hide. He powered off the engines and released the doors.
“I’m one of you! Scrap! Ashes! Dirt!” Matteo shouted, waving his arms, “Get Utu!”. He ran around to the passenger side, took Jogun’s body from the car, and turned. Stopped. Jogun’s eyes gazed at the sky, unblinking as ash-colored raindrops wet his face. Before the tears could come, Matteo looked around him. The Blue Ladies, wounded dwellers, T99s, others strange to Matteo...they crowded together, heads bowed. All at once, they dropped to their knees. Bowed. An old woman stepped forward with two young helpers. Dressed in temple blue, bits of copper and tin rattled on long necklaces around her thin neck and shoulders. She lifted a withered hand to Jogun’s forehead.
“The Healer has gone home,” she said aloud, “We will take the machine from his flesh and send his body to the Earth as it came. Place him here.” The two helpers laid a blanket of heavy Rasalla cloth on the rain-dappled ground. Matteo stepped forward and knelt. Lowered Jogun’s broken body to the blanket. Reaching forward, he closed his brother’s eyes. The old woman placed her hands over her heart. Raised her tiny voice to the crowd.
“When the hour is dark, do not despair.
For He is with us.
Begging his children to find their path.
Blessed are those who do, following unto its end.
Blessed are those who find faith, not only in God, but in themselves.
Blessed are those who show the way of Love, of Sacrifice, and of Peace.
Do not despair.”
Matteo blinked back tears. His path was clouded. City. Slums. The world? Who knew what it would mean from here. He looked one last time at the peace on Jogun’s face. Over the swirling chaos in his mind, Matteo heard his brother’s clear voice. ‘You got this.’
48
Stepstones
Weeks later
LIANI FIDGETED WITH her kevlar Press helmet. She wished she would have tried a few more on before stealing this particular one from the GloboMetro field HQ. The pinching straps worked at her frayed nerves as she approached the City-side checkpoint to the Outer Ring. Kilometers of razor-wire fence had been rolled out to form a new Border, thirty meters high, guarded by legions of government troops and patrolling aircraft. Liani glanced up. The Federal command ships hadn’t moved since the ‘Intervention,’ hovering high above Sedonia City with an ever-present hum. Liani felt tiny. Exposed. The Narayana’s supposed to be twelve times the size of one of those... She wondered where it might be.
The Aug-troops at Access Point Charlie each stood taller than an average gigantic human, decked out head to foot in heavy Augmentor rigs. She felt their eyes glaring at her from behind those smooth, blank masks as she walked up to the gate. Thankfully, a regular size officer in a helmet and fatigues seemed to be in charge of clearance, checking a cargo manifest of a ground truck. He waved them through and turned to Liani.
Okay...showtime. Liani threw on her cutest smile and batted eyelashes over her brown, color-corrective contacts.
“Hello,” she said with a sly pitch. She rolled up her sleeve, gulped a lump in her throat, and held out her upturned arm.
“Evening, ma’am,” said the officer as he took her hand and waved a scanner baton over her arm. Concealer cream covered the tiny scar on her smooth skin. He didn’t seem to notice it. This better work... The technician working with Doc Utu had called it a ‘Bounce Chip.’ It would detect the scan, block communication with the main City server, then reroute the query to their server back in Rasalla. New picture, name, date of birth, social security number, current employer, political affiliations, and detailed family history. All of it had to gel, or she’d go away for identity theft. Not a healthy idea in the Post-Intervention world. The scanner beeped, stopping her heart. Liani watched as the officer read through the information on his private Neural display.
“Thank you, Ms. Deckard...Sorry if we make you nervous,” the officer released her hand, “I know it looks like some kind of alien invasion around here.”
Liani laughed, bleeding the pressure.
“Yeah,” she said, “At least they give us a human face to talk to, Officer...?”
“Corporal Schilling...and I gotta say, your face is a sight for sore eyes,” he said with a smile. A loud throat clearing behind her made Liani jump. She whipped around and scowled.
“What?” Corey said, “This thing’s heavy.” He set the blocky gray case down in the dirt then rose to stretch in his white medical Augs. She could kill him all over again. That ‘thing’ happened to be a stolen Hi-Band Broadcast Unit.
“You crew with her?” asked Schilling.
“Obviously,” said Corey. Liani made no secret of punching him in the shoulder...forgetting about the healing gunshot wound there. Corey yelped. The Corporal tensed and rested a casual hand on his sidearm.
“There a problem?” asked Schilling.
“No!” Liani and Corey said in unison.
“I got shot...in the...Whitlatch attack,” said Corey, rolling up his left sleeve. Schilling studied the bandage as he stepped forward with the scan baton. Swept it over Corey’s forearm.
“Heard about that...we should’ve been there. Damn bureaucratic—-wait, says here you live in Shibuya.”
“I do, uh...” said Corey, stumbling, “She lives in Whitlatch...”
The Corporal lowered his head and turned away. He pressed his throat mic. Murmured something. Corey and Liani exchanged looks.
“Okay, you guys are good,” said the Officer, “But if you’re headed into the Hostile Zone, you’ll need to get an escort. Look for Sergeant Yeighman at the border tent, he’ll set you up.”
“Thank you
very much, Corporal Schilling,” said Liani sweetly. Corey picked up the case with a grunt and forged ahead, pushing Liani through the open gate.
“Hey!” the Corporal called out, freezing the two of them in their tracks. Shit! Liani turned wearing her best innocent face.
“You guys be safe out there, okay? Media likes to paint Dwellers as ‘just people,’ but they’re desperate people. Desperate people do crazy things.”
“We’ll be careful,” Corey said flatly. They turned and walked briskly toward the rift in the Border. Tanks, armored trucks, and squads of soldiers crowded the central avenue. Through brute force, they occupied the war-torn Outer Ring, pumping power rations into the City like life support. Fenced-in tent villages had also cropped up. The news didn’t have much to say about them. Watching a wounded plant worker get dragged from his tent kicking and screaming, Liani realized why.
They skipped the border tent and Sergeant Yeighman, tagging along instead behind another group of press and their three-man Aug-troop escort. After a quick scan, Corey and Liani were part of the group.
“Okay folks!” shouted one of the soldiers through his mask, “Please walk two-by-two! Please keep between me and my associates at all times! Do not deviate from this little tour of ours...the enemy would be more than happy to get their hands on a couple City reporters! Let’s go!”
Just like that, they walked through the Border. The charred canyon stretched a hundred meters above them on either side. Corey, following suit with the others, snapped pictures rapid-fire.
“Hard to believe...” Corey said.
“No kidding.” Liani looked out over the Slums. Utu had described them to her, but she’d never seen them in person. The rusting towers, the stacked containers, the criss-crossing catwalks and bridges, the shanties in the street...all of it full of hidden people. Few dared show themselves with the Aug-troops around.