On the Lost Continent

by Andrew Novak

  Hell, it was not as nice as Jack had imagined when he’d planned his operation. There was no joy, but there was a calm sense of satisfaction. To hell with justice, Brandt said before they fought. So it is. There is no justice in this world. Brandt was dead, but nothing had changed, and Lisa was still gone. No, there wasn’t and never would be. And was there much left for Jack himself?

  The fight of his life was coming and that battle would be no less difficult than Brandt’s murder. No, the battle with fate would be much more difficult. The only good thing was that it wouldn’t be long. The life in Jack was too little. Everything would be decided very soon. Either he would make his way to New Atrium and find a way to be cured, or very soon this game would be over.

  He heaved himself to his feet and poked Brandt’s body with the toe of his boot. Ready. Whatever happened next, at least this quest was closed. Steps and muffled voices were heard on the stairs. Jack thought he recognized Peter’s voice. He couldn’t wait and decided to intervene. Jack stepped toward the window. Through the doorway, he saw Carl climbing up the stairs. The big man had been ordered to go first.

  Carl also saw Jack. And Brandt, lying in a red puddle. The big man stomped up the steps faster, but Jack didn’t wait — he jumped up, picked up the gun from the floor and threw the backpack on. He ran to the window, jumped onto the windowsill and leaped down — into the pile of mattresses.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Another world

  A CLOUD OF DUST enveloped him. A sharp pain pierced his leg. Jack instinctively waited for the information window to pop up, reporting the figures of the damage received. But this was still reality, and falling from the second floor was much more painful than he’d thought it would be.

  Jack smiled at no one in particular. His plan had worked again! Almost all of Peter’s team were inside now, cramped on the stairs. There were only two of his people in front of the building. They stood with their backs to Jack, bending over a motionless body.

  The purpose of their work was clear. They were dragging the dead into the basement of the Presbyterian Church. Shifty Peter didn’t leave witnesses of his betrayal.

  The two lifted the dead man and dragged him to the door. The hand of the deceased bobbed and swayed in synch with their footsteps.

  It was the sight of this swinging arm that had spurred Jack better than any obvious threat. He jumped up, and ran aside, limping. The man who was holding the deceased by his feet looked around, saw Jack, but didn’t do anything. He didn’t have orders for this kind of situation.

  Desperately limping on his damaged leg, Jack hobbled past the ruined houses. As soon as the entrance to the labyrinth of ruins had appeared, he turned into it. A single thought pounded in his head, it’s done, it’s done. Regardless of whether Sartorius’ plan would succeed or not, Brandt Ironfist was finished. It was over. Do you hear, Lisa? I killed the monster who cut your life short. And Clive, too.

  He managed to outdistance his pursuers by several blocks. As he passed them, Jack heard the shouting and the crunching of rubble under their feet. He had to run faster but his body was exhausted by the disease. He had no strength left. He could only hope that he would get to Newtown Creek and dive into the fog before he was noticed.

  Jack zigzagged amid the crumbling, cracked walls, listening to the sounds of the chase. Finally the residential quarters began, filled with noise. Jack had to keep on his toes so as not to miss seeing any of Peter’s people in the crowd.

  When the stench of swamp rot finally hit his nose, he cheered up. The damp haze enveloped him, hiding him from view. A familiar whispering silence hung over Newtown Creek. Vague shadows wandered in the gray veil of the swamp fumes. Jack himself turned into one of the shadows. His boots squelching in the mud, he hurried to cross the swamps.

  Greenpoint was calm. Omegas roamed about, minding their business and trying to get out of Jack’s way. Now, of course, he looked like the type no one wanted to meet — limping, in a dirty jacket sprinkled with Brandt’s barely dried blood. But Jack himself hurried to get out of the inhabited quarters. Omegas just couldn’t help themselves. If Peter appeared and asked them about Jack, anyone would be happy to point him out just to expose a stranger. They’d do so joyfully because doing crap to your neighbor was one of the few pleasures of living in reality.

  He had to be twice as cautious and go in circles to prevent anyone on his trail from second-guessing his destination. That way, even if they told Peter where the fugitive was going, they’d gain nothing by that.

  Jack had almost reached the deserted ruins on the shore when he heard Peter’s familiar voice ahead,

  “Watch out here, he may show up in this area.”

  Jack leaned against the sun-warmed wall, pulled out Brandt’s pistol and froze. The voices sounded very close.

  “What’s he doing here, Chief?”

  “I’ve no idea but the last time we met was not far from this place,” Shifty answered. “Do you remember, Carl?”

  “Yeah,” the big man said. He’d never been the talkative type.

  “So that’s where we met. I don’t think Jack followed me on purpose. He just noticed us. His lair must be somewhere nearby. He must be heading there now.”

  Whoo. Jack hadn’t expected this. Peter was smarter than he thought. He’d figured it out… which meant that while Jack was hobbling and limping, Shifty came right here because he knew where to look. A lousy deal.

  Jack backed away. Now he’d have to somehow bypass Peter and his people. He dived into the ruins of a destroyed building, crept through it in the half-darkness and looked out onto the street. No one. He straightened his backpack and crossed the open space at a run. Once again he plunged into the ruins when voices came from behind,

  “I saw him! There’s someone here! There, he dove in there!

  “Follow me!” that was Peter.

  Jack threw caution to the wind and ran as hard as he could. The trouble was, he didn’t have much strength left. And what he had wasn’t enough. Another ravaged street, another leap over the collapsed walls…

  “Jack, stop now! Stop or I’ll shoot!”

  Jack stopped and turned around, wheezing. Shifty Peter, Carl and three others stood about a hundred feet away. Two of them had knives, and Peter had armed himself with an emitter. Well, well, well.

  “You can’t shoot,” he pushed out with a force. “You need me alive.”

  “I’m going to shoot at your feet,” Peter said calmly, raising the gun.

  “So what? I have nothing to lose. I’m dying of radiation, you know. You won’t take me alive. But I’ll fill you full of holes on my way out of this world,” Jack showed his weapon. “So?”

  Peter’s people lost their confidence. The ones without guns backed away.

  Something rustled and crumbled in the ruins on the opposite side. Both Jack and his pursuers glanced simultaneously. No one.

  From the height of the second floor Juan barked:

  “Get back! There are a lot of us here! We’ll make quick work of you!”

  A shot whipped the dust. A bullet clinked on the stones about fifteen feet from Peter’s shoes.

  “A warning shot, so as not to hit anyone,” Juan said calmly. “And now it’s aimed at you. Better get out. You’ll be safe, and we will save bullets. No profit in all this shooting.”

  Somewhere nearby, a cartridge dropped to the ground and the bolt clanged as Juan reloaded the weapon.

  Peter looked at the wall of the house where the shooter was hiding. Of course he must have realized there was only one man. “There are a lot of us” had been a scare tactic.

  But at this distance, one would be enough to land a shot. Plus Jack was also armed. Peter appeared to be considering it.

  “I’ll send you a message in virt,” Jack said. “I’ll tell you where I’ve hidden what you want to get. Now go.”

  Silence fell. Peter wrinkled his forehead but said nothing. It was hard for him to decide. If he made a move or shouted out an order to attack
, a shootout would begin. But he couldn’t leave Jack with his secret. After all, Shifty knew perfectly well that Jack was dying from radiation sickness. Let him go now, and a second chance may not present itself. And Shifty wasn’t the kind to trust anyone’s word.

  Then, when the pause was already unbearably long, a whole crowd poured out from behind the corner.

  This place was quite crowded, wasn’t it?

  The new arrivals, he recognized immediately. Romeo, his gang and the prisoners captured in the Presbyterian Church. Apparently, they’d been released.

  Romeo stopped and raised a hand, motioning everyone to slow down. They didn’t need his signals, though. Their body language and the weapons in their arms spoke for themselves. It was pretty clear to them that Peter and his companions were against Jack.

  Under other circumstances, Romeo certainly would not have jumped in, but now his prestige demanded that he stand up for Jack whom he’d himself admitted he owed. He couldn’t do otherwise in front of his people. Omegas had their own ideas about dignity. Some, perhaps, didn’t care about these rules, but the mob boss should be a model of what was considered noble in the ghetto.

  “Jack, are you in trouble? Maybe you’re lonely and need a little company?”

  “Not too badly, but it wouldn’t hurt,” Jack agreed.

  Romeo took a cautious step forward. “What happened?”

  “He killed Brandt!” Cried Peter. “My friend!”

  Of course. There were Brandt’s boys standing in the crowd behind Romeo, those captured in the church. Peter was showing off in front of them: like, he was the innocent one here, he was even chasing Brandt’s killer.

  Very well. Jack could play along, couldn’t he?

  “That’s right!” Jack shouted. “I killed Brandt! Here is his gun, in my hands!

  He stared at Peter in the eye. Look, I helped you. Everything’s fair now. Now no one can say that you’re a traitor. I ‘ll take all the blame.

  Peter lowered the emitter, then slowly put his hands behind his back and thrust his weapon in the belt. He raised his splayed hands in the air and slowly went to Jack.

  Romeo didn’t say anything. The fact that Brandt was dead made him quite happy, and the rest he just didn’t understand. So he waited to see how it would all work out.

  Jack also lowered his gun but didn’t put it away. Shifty stopped at six or seven feet in front of him.

  “Jack,” he said slowly and quietly, so that no one else could hear him. “What messages in the virt? We have an agreement. And I fulfilled my part of the deal. You don’t know what it cost me. Brandt was my friend, and I…”

  “And now that he’s kicked the bucket, you become chief in your little gang of conspirators. Don’t give me that shit. You’ve lost nothing. You wanted to be in charge.”

  Jack didn’t know for sure but the expression on Shifty’s face showed him that the guess was right. “All right, listen. The toy is hidden where Carl met me last time, before you and Brandt sent me to death.”

  “I really didn’t know…”

  “Don’t interrupt. You are an old liar. You knew everything. But I’m not offended, you see, I even took the blame for the death of Ironfist. Now Brandt’s people have seen that I killed him and you, as always, have nothing to do with it. You always stay clean, right? So Carl brought me your message and hid it in an old bus at a crossroads a couple of blocks from my shack. There, under the seat, I hid the toy, in the second row on the left.”

  “At the crossroads?” Peter narrowed his eyes. “You’re crazy! Anyone can see it! Anyone can climb in that bus!”

  “There are thickets there that will keep people out. And anyway, this is the best I can offer. As they say in our line of trade, you either pay or get out.”

  “My trust in people will be my ruin,” Peter muttered, backing off.

  When he was gone, Jack waved to Romeo and turned to the ruins in which Juan was hiding.

  * * *

  Juan appeared as if from nowhere. He just stepped out of the shadow under the wall. Jack had just checked that particular corner but hadn’t noticed anything. What could he say, except Egghead knew how to get himself the best of everything? Including servants.

  Jack stepped aside. Juan slid past him and peered out from behind the wall.

  “They’re separating,” he said. “They’ll clear out right now, and I’ll get your parcel. It wound up being a big bag. I had to hide it so my hands would be free. If I get it out now, it’ll make a lot of noise, so let them all disperse. I don’t like it when others can hear me.”

  “For your hands to be free? To do what? You knew that you’d have to shoot?”

  “Master knew everything, as always. He said, They’ll be chasing Jack.”

  “Did he say exactly what would happen? Or just guessed?”

  “What difference does it make?” Juan looked around, gave Jack a long look, then began peering at the sun-drenched street again. “The main thing is, he always knows in advance. It’s pretty convenient to be with such a person. He’s not like all of you constantly fussing and poking around. Tell me honestly, did you lose the knife again?”

  It seemed that some of the fat man’s clairvoyant abilities had rubbed off on his servant.

  “It’s not lost,” Jack explained. “I swapped it for the gun. Why, is it so bad?”

  He raised his trophy and checked the clip. Seven rounds. Not much.

  “Not bad, no,” Juan shook his head. “The street is empty now. Wait, I’ll be right back.”

  He ducked into the shadows under the collapsed wall. Jack heard the rustle of gravel where the bag was buried.

  Juan dragged the bulky sack into the light,

  “Here’s everything you might need. At least that’s what the master said. Only he doesn’t know how to use this, so I’m not sure if everything works.”

  “How come you don’t know?”

  “I didn’t even look in that bag. Well, good luck to you. You’re a good customer, so master says. And I’m going while the street is empty.”

  Jack watched him leave, then threw the bag over his shoulder and limped toward the ship. His head was empty. Brandt was dead. His life had lost purpose. Nah, not lost, no way. A new goal awaited him in New Atrium with another one looming on the horizon. The Dark Service which would lead to the solution of Alterra’s Great Mystery! Its greatest secret was a thing worth living for. Live and take risks, otherwise life gets boring.

  Impatient, Goodwin went out to meet him. He looked at Jack who was limping and sweating under a rather light burden and pulled the bag towards him:

  “Come on, I’ll carry it for a bit. Are these the aqualungs?”

  “I didn’t have time to look. They said that this was everything we needed. Why didn’t you ask me about Brandt? Is it possible to forget about an old friend in danger?”

  “You’re alive, you’re here, that’s enough,” Goodwin growled. “I know you well, Jack the Tramp. If Brandt were alive, you wouldn’t have come here. So it’s done then.”

  “Yes, it’s done.”

  Goodwin carried the bag to the deck. The light from the Barrier and the sparkling towers of New Atrium shone brightly. The old man began to unpack the contents of the bag, pulling out the contraptions the purpose of which Jack could hardly guess. And how would he? In the Blighted Wasteland, he didn’t need anything.

  Finally, he lost patience, “Well, what do you say? We have less than an hour before the appointed time.”

  “I’m finishing now… here, it looks like the gauge is acting up,” the old man pulled out the last pieces from the bag. “The rest, probably, is in order. Whoever kept this stuff knew what he was doing. Strangely enough, everything looks good.”

  Jack only blinked his eyes looking at the fins, the brightly colored cylinders, the tangled belts and ribbed tubes.

  “Look, there are even waterproof bags here,” Goodwin added. “You can pack stuff in them and it won’t get wet.”

  “Ah, that’s right.
”

  Jack began to empty his pockets. Not much in them: the heaviest thing to be packed in the bag was the gun. Although, of course, it made sense. What did he have that couldn’t be found in New Atrium? After all, they had abundance and wealth. There was everything there, a wonderful technology on a par with Alterra’s wonders, some bio-farms where they grew plenty of grub… But a gun could only be found there as an entertaining trinket from the past.

  “Come on, I’ll help you get this gear on,” Goodwin said. “Get up… take off your upper clothes… now raise your hands. Once underwater, watch me and do as I do. It might feel strange at first, but you’ll manage.”

  Muttering the instructions, Goodwin quickly and rather deftly outfitted Jack with all the equipment, tightened the straps, showed him how to use the regulators and explained the use of fins. Then, he quickly equipped himself.

  His confidence gave Jack hope that they would succeed. To be honest, only now he truly believed that Sartorius’s idea to get him to New Atrium via the East River would be successful.

  Goodwin looked at his watch for the last time before packing it in the waterproof bag.

  “It’s time,” he announced. “You can’t look at the clock under the water but it would be unreasonable to postpone it further. It’s better we wait for the opening of locks already in place.”

  They descended into the hold of the old vessel. The setting sun shone in through the numerous holes in the stern. The hold was full of water, about knee deep. The two waded through it toward the stern.

  “Are you ready?” Goodwin asked. “Do you remember how to breathe properly?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Then I’ll wait for you below.”

  The old man peeked out cautiously at the silent bulk of the Barrier, then dove through a hole into the black water of the East River. Jack followed him.

  * * *

  The cold water embraced him, closing over his head. In the river, everything was different, unusual, strange even. Anywhere he looked, all he saw was a wall of greenish darkness. He squinted and didn’t see further than a couple of dozen feet. The collapsed sections of the Williamsburg bridge stretched in the dark like a bumpy road. The underwater plants swayed on their concrete slabs just like snakes lifting their heads. The setting sun painted the surface of the river red while the bottom of it was dense blackness, and between the red and black the green twilight reigned.