Deadfall: A Post-Humans Story

by Bassett, Thurston

  Matt was ready. He had the silencer screwed onto his own gun and a steady hand.

  There was a hiss and the gangster across the street fell to his knees and then his masked face hit the asphalt.

  A gangster on their side of the street only noticed his comrade hit the asphalt half a second before he felt a vice like grip on the wrist of his gun hand .

  He glanced at the soft feminine fingers for only a moment before pain exploded around his brain.

  As he faltered Cynthia pulled him back into the alcove.

  Matt guarded the street with gun ready. The others would come quickly, when they realized that two of their own were out of action.

  Cynthia pried the gun from the man’s fingers as she pulled him from the street. The gangster groaned with pain, his head rolling about. “Hurts…”

  Cynthia pulled the clown mask from his face.

  He was young, maybe her age, or younger. His blonde hair was tied back in a short ponytail and his grey eyes fluttered as he battled the pain.

  “Who sent you?” Cynthia had a single finger on the man’s neck, around the fingertip his veins were risen and throbbing. “Do I need to hurt you more?”

  “Hmm, no…p-please.” The gangster sobbed.

  “Then answer.”

  “Here… He’s here.” The man lifted a shaking hand to point in the direction of the top end of the street.

  Cynthia couldn’t see anyone obvious amongst all the commotion.

  “I need a name.” She increased the pain with only a thought and the man’s eyes went wide and he gasped. “A name,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

  Matt looked back at her. “They are getting closer.”

  Cynthia nodded to him and turned to the gangster she was interrogating. “A name and you live.”

  The man’s eyes tried to focus on her. “Go and ask…” He tried to smile.

  Cynthia narrowed her eyes at the man and his grew wider.

  She lifted her finger and the man slid down the wall with his mouth agape and his lips pale.

  He was dead.

  Cynthia slid her glove back on and tapped Matt on the shoulder. He turned, eyebrows raised.

  “No name, but he said that ‘he’s here’.” She nodded toward the top of the street. “Up that way.”

  Matt nodded and leaned out to fire a couple of shots down the street. The silencer now removed so the sound of gunfire might send the gangsters looking for cover.

  They made a break for it.

  Cynthia limped quickly up the street in the direction that the gangster had pointed. Matt followed close behind firing his gun when he saw the gangsters trying to shoot at their backs.

  The further they went up the street, the more panicking pedestrians they encountered.

  “Which way?”

  “They’re everywhere!”

  “They are going to kill us.”

  “We are all going to die!”

  A gang moving through a crowd like this was something straight from an action film. It was a sight that was surreal and terrifying to the Melbourne pedestrians.

  From amongst these panicking pedestrians Cynthia and Matt could finally see the gang herding people from the opposite end of the street.

  Matt counted. “Four. Armed.”

  Cynthia squinted at a strangely dressed one at the front. He was wearing a black leather bodysuit with sections of bulletproof padding all over it. He looked like a knight in black armour. His face was concealed by a black vinyl fetish mask that had a zip across the mouth.

  “He has to be the leader,” she said as she squeezed her aching thigh.

  “I think you are right,” Matt said, nodding and reloading his gun.

  The man in the padded black ‘gimp suit’ surveyed the crowd casually, almost daring someone to attack or try and break free.

  The crowed of people were now corralled into a tight group of about two hundred or so. They milled about, not knowing which way to look.

  The man in the black leather outfit paused his leisurely approach and stood swinging an aluminum baseball bat. He was watching the panicked crowd, nodding with satisfaction.

  “Get on the ground!” He swung the club up behind his head and rested it on his shoulder. “Now!”

  The people in the crowd begrudgingly got to their knees or laid on the asphalt.

  “Here.”

  Cynthia looked about frantically.

  She and Matt looked at each other, puzzled.

  The voice hissed again from their right. “This way.”

  A young Asian man was inside the front door of the restaurant.

  “Here!” He said again, waving his hand toward the open door where he was hiding.

  Cynthia and Matt crept back in the alcove to where the young man was waiting.

  “Come in here. I know a way out. Follow me.” The young man gestured toward the restaurant door.

  “Wait, who are you.” Matt said in a low voice.

  The man looked out at the crowd, to see if anyone had noticed them. “My name is Ryan Chen, my family works for Mr C.”

  Matt nodded.

  “Wait,” Cynthia said halting both of them. “We need to see a little more of what’s going on. Please.”

  The young man looked pained, but nodded his understanding.

  Cynthia crept forward and peeked out from behind the pillars that hid them.

  The man giving the orders was pacing now, trying to make people obey.

  A man in a suit began to argue with the gang leader swung his bat into the suited man’s shoulder sending him tumbling to the ground.

  It was then that a woman in a business suit limped out of the crowd toward the gang leader.

  Mirage, Cynthia thought. “That’s her, Matt.”

  Matt nodded, he’d seen the limp and deduced that already.

  The woman stood in front of the leader and spoke quietly to him before limping over to one of the other gangster for support. The gangster slid the gun into the back of his pants and lent the woman his shoulder to lean on. He glanced back at his leader before leading the limping shape changer back up the street.

  The gang leader stood in front of the crowd with a maniac’s confidence. A mere look from the dark eye slits of his mask silenced anyone who dared to speak out. He proceeded to step between some of the people, forced them to their knees as he went.

  Then he stopped.

  There were four armed men behind the crowd and another three at the front.

  The crowd could see that they had to comply or they would be hurt. Most knelt on the asphalt, the stubborn ones were kicked to the ground, pistol whipped or punched.

  “Listen!” The leader yelled over the drone of mumbling people. “I’m called Ace of Clubs.”

  Matt and Cynthia glanced at each other.

  “Spread the word.” The leader swung his bat in circles. “From now on I’m running this town. Consider this my first public appearance.”

  “The police will take you down, scumbag!” A young man in the crowd yelled.

  “No, they won’t.” Ace of Clubs stared down at the young man for a moment before swinging his bat in a swift arc to the side of the young man’s head. There was a loud metallic crack, and the young man slumped to the side. Gasps and whispers erupted from the crowd and as they began to panic.

  “As I was saying. You privileged people are the first to see me because I’m here looking for some people.” He turned to watch Mirage limping away leaning on the shoulder of a masked gangster. “One I have, but I have been told that there are two more. They are among you. They will be dressed in long jackets, like a pair of undercover cops. One, a man answering to Claire,” Ace of Clubs scanned the ranks of frightened people and began to pace again. “The second is a blonde chick that calls herself Deadfall. She’ll have her hands covered.”

  The people whispered to each other and looked about to find the two people the gangster had mentioned. They were afraid, but they would obey, if it meant that their lives were
spared.

  The young man, Ryan, who stood behind Matt and Cynthia grabbed at Matt’s sleeve. “Now, is a good time to live here.”

  “I agree,” Cynthia muttered as she turned back to the restaurant door that Ryan held open for them.

  He peered outside at the crowd. “They are looking for you and they will give you to them. Australian’s do not see guns like this. They fear for their lives and will do what they are asked to escape alive.”

  Matt ran his hand through his short hair nervously. “Well thank goodness for you then, Ryan.”

  “I am just doing my job. Follow me.”

  They were led passed tables and chairs toward the kitchen.

  “I’ll lock the door. Someone would have seen us leave the crowd.” Cynthia said stepping back toward the door.

  “Wait!” Ryan hissed from the kitchen doorway. “Do not. If it is locked they will search this place. If we leave it they will search all the buildings and not suspect our escape.”

  That made sense to Cynthia, but she still felt nervous about leaving the door unlocked behind them.

  “Besides,” Ryan gestured to the kitchen, “we are going a secret way.”

  They followed the young man through the restaurant kitchen to an alley at the back.

  The alley was fairly safe and enclosed and it looked like some of the locals were using it to hang their washing. An old woman sat washing some bottles by hand and Ryan greeted her in Chinese. She smiled and nodded to the trio.

  Ryan moved one of the old tin rubbish bins revealing a rusty steel trapdoor.

  He slipped his fingers into the finger holds and lifted it. Beneath it were a set of stone steps and darkness.

  Ryan spoke to the old woman again in Chinese. Her face was serious as she glanced back towards the restaurant door. She called back to Ryan and gestured to the dark opening of the trap door in front of them.

  “She will hide the door and she will lie for us.”

  Matt and Cynthia nodded silent thanks to the old woman who smiled back.

  “She was an immigrant when she was young. She grew up in a dangerous part of Shanghai. She is still suspicious of everyone. Luckily she trusts me.”

  “Well we are grateful. I’ve never seen a sewer access like this before, where does it go?” Matt said as he patted down his pockets looking for his trusty little torch.

  “Was built before the Chinese were here. Not sure who did it.” Ryan began his descent. “I suspect criminals or rich merchants that needed to keep their stock hidden.”

  “And no one has come forward looking for it?” Matt followed him into the dark.

  Cynthia followed at the back, easing the door down behind her. She could hear the old woman shuffling over and dragging the bins to cover it.

  Cynthia stood at the bottom of the stone steps looking about at the vast space around them.

  Matt’s little torch flashed about frantically, scanning the graffiti that covered the walls.

  She stepped carefully across the rocky floor to where the two men stood. “This looks like a storehouse.”

  “It has been, at different times. And some children have played here,” he gestured to the marks on the walls, “as you can see. Where we are going, though, even fewer have been.”

  Ryan took some keys out of his pocket and fumbled till he found an old fashioned one. He gestured for them to follow him to an ancient iron door at the far end of the room. The colour of the door was basically the same as the walls around it, making it almost invisible. Ryan asked for Matt’s torchlight as he searched for the keyhole.

  “How’d you come across the key for this?” Cynthia asked as she watched him fumble the key about in the hole.

  “Well, Miss Abell, I was one of the children who played here. A group of us when we were eight or nine found three rusted keys in the dirt on the floor. Two of them opened this door, the third didn’t open anything down here.” There was a grinding sound, and then a click as the old lock opened.

  Ryan pushed the door outward revealing yet another dark passage.

  He took his key out and slid it into his pocket.

  “This is the old sewer.” Ryan held out a hand implying that Matt should lead the way with the torch.

  “Why are you going to this trouble to help us Ryan?” Cynthia said looking at the young man in the dark.

  “I am helping you because I work for Mr C, like you do. I was close by.” Ryan watched the torch lit floor in front of them.

  “But you could have escaped. There were others employed by Carlyle out there, they felt no obligation to help us the way you did.”

  “You are right. There is more to this rescue than just my loyalty to our employer.” Ryan pointed to the direction they needed to take. “I am looking for my sister.”

  Cynthia leaned on Ryan’s shoulder to take the weight off her sore leg. “How did you lose her, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “It is a long story Miss Abell.”

  Cynthia laughed. “I think we have time Mr Chen. We are taking a long walk in the pitch black sewers.”

  Ahead of them the tunnel kept extending further and further. Matt’s small beam of torchlight flashed about over the brick walls highlighting the few pieces of graffiti and the bags of rubbish that blocked the flow of the water.

  “This is true, Miss Abell. I have a safe house we can get to, but we have a few more city blocks to go.”

  Matt looked back at Cynthia and Ryan. “If I knew we were doing this I would have brought a bigger torch.” He smiled. “You may as well tell us that long story you mentioned.”

  Ryan nodded, “Very well, Mr Claire.”

  Chapter 17

  Eight months ago.

  Ryan Chen had died yet again. No matter how many times he tried to reach his objective he would end up using all the ammunition he had and get shot for his trouble.

  He would just need to try again.

  Ryan hit the start button on the controller and waited for the new game to load.

  He was distracted by a vibrating sound coming from close by; it was his phone, still on silent from the night before.

  Ryan hit the pause button and searched for his phone. He found it among some papers on the kitchen table.

  He was not a tidy person and he didn’t need to be. He lived alone and worked most nights in Chinatown overseeing the receipt of products to the different business there. Most products were just imported stock for shops while some of the other stock was illegal.

  He was good at his job, and he was well respected by the shippers and dealers.

  One new message.

  It was from an unknown number.

  He stared at the simple text and scratched his chest under his t-shirt as he tried to remember if he had seen the number before.

  Are you Ryan Chen?

  Ryan was nervous about how, or if, he should respond.

  Another message flashed up on the screen.

  This is the last time I am going to ask. Are you Ryan Chen?

  Ryan took a deep breath and typed his response. How bad could it honestly be?

  Who is this first?

  There were a few minutes of nothing. He grabbed himself a glass of water and returned to the couch and was tempted to call a friend to ask for a number trace when a response came through.

  Savage Dragon.

  Ryan felt his stomach in his throat. He found it had to breathe. That was the last gift his mother had sent him from Hong Kong. A tiny gold dragon with its mouth wide and its claws ready for battle. He knew that it couldn’t be his mother, she had died earlier in the year. There was only one other person that would have known about the gift, his sister.

  He rubbed at his chin, as he stared at the text. He couldn’t think of a way to respond. It had been so long since they had seen one another. The last time Ryan had spoken to her, was when she had sent him an email out of the blue and he had replied several times. She didn’t email back.

  He slowly typed the response.

 
Kara?

  When his family had lived in Hong Kong he had been seven years old, Kara was five.

  Ryan came to live in Australia when his father had died. His father had thrown himself under a moving train and his family was ashamed of the way he had taken his life, abandoning his wife and two children. But Ryan was too young to understand. He didn’t really know his father, but he missed him. When the family fell on hard times financially, Ryan was forced to live in Melbourne with his successful uncle and aunt. They had a business in Chinatown and would import goods from a family business back in Hong Kong. Ryan was destined to grow up and inherit the business from his uncle because they had no children of their own.

  His sister Kara had stayed in Hong Kong with his mother.

  The phone buzzed again.

  I am in Melbourne.

  Ryan’s eyes were wide as he stared at the paused screen of the video game. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know his sister; she was so young when they were separated. Something inside him said, that if he didn’t take this opportunity now he might not get another chance.

  He began to type a message.

  We should meet.

  Kara’s response was fast.

  I agree. 12. Melbourne Central, food court. Today.

  His hand was shaking as he typed his message. He was actually going to meet his little sister after fifteen years.

  See you then. Looking forward to it.

  He had two hours to get ready.

  The food court was crowded with shoppers and loitering teenagers. This was not a place that Ryan would ever frequent. He liked to buy things as much as anyone else, but he preferred to buy his things online. He didn’t like dealing with checkouts and carrying things around.

  The noise was almost deafening.

  The chatter, the mall music and the low hum of hundreds of air conditioners.

  He stood next to the pillar where he could see most of the tables in the court. His plan was to scan the faces for a twenty-year-old Chinese woman and go and introduce himself, but he had underestimated how multi-cultural Melbourne was. The faces at the tables were from every race he could think of. He was not going to find one Asian girl in this crowd. He had no idea how she looked now. Would he know her if her saw her? Or would he need to call the mysterious number to ask her what table she was at?