by Imran Siddiq
Hands flung over his face, Diego whined, “They never said there was a code.”
“Incorrect attempts exceeded. Target acquired.”
Darts harpooned from the upper corners of the room giving Diego no chance to dodge them. Fingers reacting to reach the gush of blood from his neck stopped midway. The recruit dropped dead.
The room’s voice spoke, “Energy Barriers shutdown.”
Zachary backtracked to the first door. “It’s going to come down.” The sound of machinery powering down filled the chamber. “Dad, there’s loads of them out there. You won’t stand a chance.”
Yellow light reflected upon his dad’s dilated eyes. Screams came and went from IOTians running amok. Explosions. Whirring noises. Something whistled overhead. Then, the dreaded bullets.
“Dad, get out of here.”
Marcus thumped the door with his shoulder. “I’m not leaving you.”
Zachary’s heart plummeted. “Hide! I need you!”
Sadness filled his dad’s face. “No – it was me who needed you.”
The chamber rocked. The second door whooshed upward behind Zachary. Marcus’s bloodied hand slapped the porthole. Like a hungry predator, a Rock-Walker emerged from black smoke filling the area. Bullets sprayed from his revolving arms onto the chamber.
DAD!
Cowering, eyes locked on the door, Zachary held his face. No – it can’t have ended this way. His dad would’ve evaded it; he had to have. The chamber rocked again. He crawled backward, wondering why the firing hadn’t stopped. His dad hadn’t been brandishing a weapon, but what did the soldiers care? They’d massacred innocent people in the streets and had now taken the most important man he’d never understood as well as he should have. Zachary eyed Diego’s corpse. How could his scavenging partner have deceived him?
“Look at what you’ve done! You helped them kill my dad. That was my dad. You could have made him come with me. You could have trapped us both. But you didn’t.”
Zachary raised his elbow, ready to bludgeon the recruit. Was that remorse he saw in Diego’s empty face?
“You shouldn’t have done this,” he whispered. “We were friends.”
Two blue glowing lights motioned outside the first door’s porthole. “We’ve got the area covered. It’s safe to come out.”
Zachary sat, startled, unsure of how to respond.
“Come on – open up,” said the soldier.
Zachary shook his way to the wall-mounted button that Diego had used earlier. Upon pressing it the first door unbolted upward. Fire raged deep into IOTA beyond the two soldiers entering full of confidence with their wide-legged swaggers. Nowhere behind could he see his dad.
An aged man, without a helmet, in thinner body armour followed. He slid fingers along a palm-shaped device. “Identify yourself.”
Zachary eyed the dead recruit. Were the Snakes such a secret that nobody knew their identity? In times when a threat was real, survival became the single option.
He straightened himself. “Diego Reyes. Snake Seven. Code 8-0-A-7.”
The aged man smiled. “Congratulations, Seven. You’re a hero.”
Chapter 14 - Into The Wall
Zachary didn’t flinch from the old man’s scrutiny.
“I heard of them starving the corporals, but they certainly went to work on you.” The old man pushed a button on his padded collar. “Commander Paver here. District One’s been taken. Minimal inhabitant survivors. Low casualty count to the units.”
Zachary bit his lower lip to hide the scowl begging to be released. Was this the man that Diego had spoken to earlier about his sister?
Paver paused. “Absolutely, I agree, sir. He’s here now. As you wish. The General credits the valuable Intel you provided. Panthers, escort Snake Seven to Rendezvous Point Three.”
Zachary’s heels pressed down, trying to counter the shaking in his legs. So far, the army had fallen for the trick, though it couldn’t last long with all of the devices that they possessed. Wrong build. Wrong voice. Wrong face. Add to that, the dangerous sounding nature of Rendezvous Point Three.
Dread swamped Zachary’s thoughts as he followed the Panthers out of the main room. Why couldn’t the lobby have been longer; any delay to what was coming next would be a blessing. Empty, charred boots lay on the smoking ground. Tongue clenched between teeth, he stepped out. It couldn’t have been worse. Black crust covered a man with his tortured front upwards and fingers distorted beyond curled arms resting on his chest. Gut wrenching emotion swayed Zachary sideways. Knees thumping the ground, his hand caught the corpse’s brittle vest.
The nearest Panther kneeled. “Are you okay?”
Marcus’s chest hadn’t lost its warmness. Was that from the blast or did his heart contain faint hope?
Zachary sucked back the onslaught of heavy air building below his cheeks. “He helped me to get into District One. He shouldn’t have died. He never did anything wrong.”
“Is there a problem?” asked Paver from behind.
“No, sir,” replied the Panther, bolting up.
Paver passed them. “I hope your time in the gutters hasn’t established feelings towards the cockroaches? Letting them live would’ve given them a warrant to breed.”
The relationship that Zachary believed to exist with Overworld disintegrated. With no opportunity to negotiate as had been stated, Underworld had fallen to the sick plans of their rulers. It was true; Underworld defined waste in Galilei.
Terrified fingers hovered over Marcus’s face. Zachary wanted to be sure that his dad’s eyelids were shut, but the crust above them appeared thick. “What will you do to their bodies?”
“We incinerate them for fuel, or we eject them into space. Fuel appeals more.”
Of all the injustice, that comment pulled Zachary’s eyes in, ready to unleash anger boiling though his fingers and aching muscles. If only the Panthers weren’t present, he’d have snapped Paver’s wrinkled neck. How dare they burn the bodies?
Zachary glanced to his left, seeing the rear thrusters of the Muirne lying like shreds of a home demolished. In Underworld, the dead weren’t buried. Some were discarded in the black lakes, and others pushed to the depths of the cracks in the ground that nobody delved into. Were the Overworlders worse?
A Panther lifted Zachary. “I don’t want to be here when the incinerating starts.”
After a final look at his dad, Zachary began to walk alongside the soldiers. Mounds of dead bodies smoked next to the gate, battered off its hinges. Corrugated sheets of steel, ripped apart as if made of cloth, littered the area.
The Panther’s speedy pace took them east along the beginning of the residential section of District Two. Zachary spotted a single tower standing in Shantytown. He couldn’t take anymore. Eyes closed, nose sniffling, he counted the short seconds between each explosion.
Beyond the dipping banks another crack in the Far-Wall was present.
“I bet you’ll be glad to be back in your own slacks,” wheezed the first Panther.
Zachary scraped skin off his lips. “I can’t wait.”
“And I can’t wait to hear what tales you and the other Snakes have to tell.”
Unease fluttered in Zachary’s stomach. Great – there were other Snakes.
“Snake Three’s already checked in at the R-point,” continued the first Panther. “Two more signalled their positions in D1, but they were dead by the time we reached them. Seems they weren’t good at staying hidden. How long have you trained for this?”
“For a while.”
“You thin soldiers actually came to some use. It makes sense why you were chosen. In fact, do we even know each other?”
There were no numbers or symbols on the uniforms to distinguish between the Panthers. “I don’t know?”
The soldier’s flat mouthpiece detached downward like a ramp while the upper section separated into three panels. The head of a blond-haired soldier, not much older than Diego, emerged and smiled. Were all of the soldiers so young
?
Zachary returned a blank stare.
The helmet closed returning the wheezed voice. “Ah well, at least you know me now. Believe me, when the General is done with you, you’ll be on every device by nightfall. How many of you were there?”
Paired soldiers gave Zachary a clue. “Eight, two per District.”
“Didn’t one in D3 call in as Snake Ten?” mumbled the second Panther.
Baring uneven teeth, Zachary scowled. “I don’t know the exact number. They didn’t tell me everything. We were meant to be a secret, remember.”
“Fair enough,” shrugged the first Panther. “Right, we’re here. I suggest you stay close and don’t go wandering off. I don’t want to have to explain to the General why you took a bullet to the head.”
At least a hundred blue eyes displayed between trucks that chugged along inside the wall’s space. Men in armoured trousers and grey vests aimed telescopes toward District Two. Messages about measurements and damage details were broadcast across the hum of large screens glittering above hubs.
Metal grated against metal on the northern side of the inner wall where a lift ascended, carrying grey-suited people.
“First things first. The Disinfector. Hold on when it starts, or you’ll be knocked back to the sewers,” said the first Panther pointing to a circular ring of high panels with a wide doorway in the centre.
Water sprayed out of nozzles along the enclosure’s inner surface onto standing soldiers. When the water stopped, the soldiers shook then left with wisps of steam floating off them.
“Go on, Three’s just coming out,” said the first Panther. “Best place for a reunion, wouldn’t you say?”
A short man wrapped a large towel over himself. Zachary couldn’t let Snake Three’s sight fall on him; a single accusation and he’d be primed for target practice. He jogged past Snake Three without stopping to exchange words, not that the infiltrator appeared bothered to participate.
Within the enclosure, Zachary’s lungs reeled in the humid air. He wondered how this thing worked? Was it automatic? He pushed the red dial protruding about waist high. Blistering water pulsated outward like bullets. Gasping, arms stretched, he blinked. Faster spurts thumped his body. Zachary batted away the tickling water that brought a strong alkaline taste to his mouth. The sting set in his eyes. He turned, and pulled the dial out to end the water.
The rush of heat startled Zachary. Taking the fluffy towel handed to him by a nearby man, he wrapped it around himself quickly and pulled the hood down.
“He’s just here, General.” With an open helmet, the first Panther beckoned Zachary to a table with the blue-tinted image of a tall, wide-shouldered man hovering above it.
Masim Sokolov’s chin turned before the rest of his frame. Hands clasped across his waist with his thumbs pressed, he nodded. “Your actions have impressed me.”
The Russian accent made Zachary shudder with displeasure.
“The House of Representatives gives you respect. You shall be decorated for your efforts.” The General stroked his chin. “You would make a fine bodyguard for Ambassador Kade’s daughter when they return to Assayer.”
Rosa.
“Continue to demonstrate courage and you’ll be duly assessed as a suitable candidate for the Souls Programme. Until we meet.”
The transmission switched off.
“Is that it?” asked Zachary.
“Yup – you’re clear to go, and, once you’ve freshened up, make sure you attend the party we’re holding.” The Panther gripped his arm. “It’d be wrong to dance without the chief guest.”
Zachary’s boots squeaked on approaching the lift. Snake Three, a young man, sat on the floor running hands through short hair. Not a good situation.
“And here comes the hero,” sang a spiky-haired soldier on the lift’s platform. “You two are the only ones to make it back. I’m glad I wasn’t desperate enough to put my hat into a suicide mission. Number Three’s told me he did it because he’s worthless up there, but, now, you can be proud of being worthless.”
Diego’s reason struck Zachary; he’d done it for his sister, someone he cared enough for to put himself at risk of being caught. Would he have done the same for Rosa?
“Do you two know each other?” asked the soldier.
“I didn’t bother with anyone when they selected us.” Snake Three kept his head down. “I just want to go home. I’m tired.”
“Tired? Of what? All you did was mix with dirt,” scoffed the soldier.
“That was enough.” Compassion filled Three’s tone. “They weren’t bad people. They didn’t deserve this.”
The soldier typed on a display screen attached to the platform. “I’m sure you won’t say that when a couple of chicks jump on you. Right, let’s get going.”
“Wait!” A man in grey overalls ran to them, waving a hand-sized bag. “I need this to be examined, immediately.”
The soldier groaned. “I haven’t got time. We’re off to see the General.”
“Make time,” said the grey man. “We found it on a District One resident who’d stolen it from one of the Snakes. I want full diagnostics of any communication made in and out of Underworld.”
The soldier pulled a circular screened-device, the size of his hand, and an Intercom from the bag. “Seems like one of your Snakes got sloppy with losing his Intel-Depository. I wouldn’t want to be in his dead shoes.”
Zachary gazed at the intact Intercom. The Raptor’s wet parts crumpled with a rummage of his pocket. If he could get the new Intercom then he had the chance to repair his Raptor. But doing so would jeopardise General Sokolov’s wish for him to guard Rosa. Who was he trying to convince; the moment he reached the top, he’d be dead.
The platform jumped up an inch into a slow ascent amidst the metallic grind. Open pipes within the wall passed them. Above, Zachary saw a grated platform littered with figures. Lots. More soldiers. Bigger guns.
Now what? Think! Knock the soldier over. Grab the bag. And what about Three? Little threat appeared in the glazed look of the other Snake. Zachary had to take the chance. Fists tensed he strained a stare at the soldier.
“What?” scowled the soldier.
Zachary jumped, wrapping the towel over the soldier’s head, then pulled him down. Giving Snake Three a cautious look, he snatched the bag off the platform. In a second, he’d enter a part of Galilei that he knew nothing about and might regret.
The next open pipe approached.
“What the hell!” The soldier spun Zachary round.
Punching with the bag clasped in his hand, he sent the soldier rocking backward onto Snake Three, who hadn’t moved.
Zachary dived into the open pipe.
A shot echoed behind.
Something smacked Zachary’s back sending him onto his front.
Chapter 15 - Relationships
Adrenaline pressurised Zachary’s head. Eyes widened, he blinked off the blurs and touched his damp back. He arched upright in the large pipe to inspect himself. A small hole in the bag indicated the bullet’s path. Unclipping the top of the bag, he heaved a sigh at seeing that the bullet had scuffed the edge of the Intel-Depository.
Outside, from higher up, the soldier from the lift called for attention.
Zachary’s palm skated along the moist pipe as he ran, hunched. Pockets of steam ejected in short bursts overhead. Coughing, he heard a humming noise drawing close. The lift was returning. Zachary ran deeper into the curved pipe. Where did it lead?
A thud behind him sent chills down his spine.
“I see him,” wheezed a voice.
Zachary bounced off a hard dead-end in the pipe. His kick reverberated instead of shifting the panel.
Damn.
A water droplet trickled onto his nose. Zachary looked up at the small hole above him. It’d be tight. Leaping up, he squeezed into the upright tunnel. Steam tore at the skin of his neck. Why did the steam here prove so toxic compared to the slush he’d waded through in the Wastelands? He conti
nued upwards towards an opening.
Not slowing after he passed through it, Zachary moved to another dead-end with a hole leading down. He pressed his temples. If correct, then this would bypass the last path and place him close to the lifts. Was that dangerous? What if the soldiers had predicted his route? Maybe the soldiers assumed his movement to be forever up and so to go down would seem … stupid.
Boots sliding, Zachary landed into a new pipe. Whirring sounds muffled his movements. Loud bangs pounded in a sequence with second-long gaps. Crawling under the thickening white smoke, a thirty-foot grate presented passage over a deep chasm. Zachary rushed forward. Jolting, he stayed on course and dived into another pipe, without smoke, but a dead-end soon arrived. He gasped in shock that he’d made it alive. Not a single soldier was in sight. Yet.
Zachary removed the Intel-Depository from the bag. He guessed it to hold important information. Could it provide something for him to use? A sparkling circle illuminated in the centre followed by the buttons of a keyboard appearing under four empty boxes, and the words, ‘Enter Password’.
Zachary smacked the dead-end wall.
Taking the Intercom from the bag, he suspended his thumb over the recognition-pad. He had no idea of the password he needed to operate it, and he didn’t want the device to lock. Zachary pushed into the rear-grooves of the Intercom’s underside, removing the lower shell. Intact inner components glistened at him. Although this wasn’t a Raptor, the green circuit boards appeared the same. He pinched between two layers to remove a red chip – the identity of the Intercom. With light prodding, he separated the crumpled components of the broken Raptor out of his pocket. There he found a bent, but similar, red chip. Zachary blew flakes off the chip’s mangled edges. The Raptor’s chip slipped into its new home.
Zachary rubbed the pad. “F – A – I – L.”
A vibrant flash of blue ejected from the Intercom, then it shut down. The same outcome followed on his second try.
“No.” Zachary drifted onto his side, stroking the Intercom.
Did wanting to tell Rosa that he was alive too much to ask for? Shivering, he imagined her lying on her bed in a similar pose, grasping her own Raptor.