by Derek Gunn
As with everything, though, those who lived closest to the hubs seemed to feel that they were of a higher class than others who lived further away. Added to this was the fact that the southern hub, designated Liberty, could only be connected to the other two through the sewer system as it was just too far to construct anything large enough to accommodate the number of people who needed to use it. This led to the inhabitants of this hub, and anyone connected to it, to be referred to as ‘shitkickers’ and nothing the community had done had been able to change this unfortunate labelling.
As they approached Harrington Plaza, Emma was forced to move to within a few feet of Lohan as bodies pressed around her. Lohan worked just off the main hub and she would continue on this tunnel for another thirty…
Lohan turned a sharp left and disappeared from the stream of people. Emma gasped as the woman suddenly disappeared down a side walkway that was barely visible among the throng of people. In fact, if she had not been almost in touching distance to the woman she would have passed by oblivious to it and lost her again. Emma’s heart began to beat faster as she forced her way through the throng of people and finally pushed through into the empty space of the small corridor.
It was a hastily constructed narrow corridor fashioned out of corrugated steel. It was narrow and only stretched some fifty feet before it seemed to disappear into the shadow of a small building ahead. Cold air seeped through the many gaps in the steel and she shivered. This must be a little-used path as the workers hadn’t bothered to seal the metal properly.
Emma caught sight of Lohan as she disappeared into the gloom at the end of the path, and then the darkness seemed to envelope her like a cloak. Emma began to run but she was forced to slow her steps as her shoes thudded loudly on the metal floor and the noise would announce her presence as surely as shouting after her quarry. She groped for her walkie-talkie and told the others what was happening. Everyone would remain with their own targets but they did have three on reserve for just such an occurrence. One would run to get Father Reilly and the other two would try to work their way ahead of Lohan and pick her up from the other direction.
Emma’s heart thumped in her chest. Had they found the traitor? Was this it? Was she ready for this? The questions flooded her mind but she forced her doubts aside as she passed into the gloom of the building ahead and strained through the darkness to see Lohan.
There was no lighting in the building as she passed from the metal of the tunnel to cold concrete, and her initial relief as being able to walk quietly was immediately replaced by a sudden fear that she had lost Lohan again. Thin streams of light seemed to filter through cracks in the boards which covered the windows. Why would anyone want to block out the light in here, she wondered as she strained her eyes and ears for some clue as to where Lohan had gone. It made no sense to darken a building that was used merely as a walkthrough for the tunnels, someone could break a leg. There was definitely something underhanded going on. Emma felt the darkness suddenly loom around her and she felt very exposed silhouetted in the light of the tunnel behind her.
She moved further into the gloom, straining for any clue. The sudden loud squawk of her walkie-talkie sent panic flooding through her as she groped for the machine as she searched desperately for the mute button. Shit! Had she been heard? How could she not have been? Emma forced one foot in front of the other and continued to make her way through the darkness when, suddenly, she heard a low murmur to her left. Voices. She turned abruptly and began to follow the low murmur of the whispering ahead of her. Her heart seemed to beat like a bass drum and she was certain that whoever was ahead of her would hear each thump. She moved carefully, one step at a time, as she waved her hand gently in front of her to avoid walking into anything.
The whispering stopped for a moment and she heard a strange fumbling. What was going on? She heard another stream of whispered words but their tone was strange; hurried, urgent. And then they were cut off abruptly. The noises were coming from just in front of her.
She pressed on and stopped as she heard more rustling. She heard a low moan and her face suddenly grew hot as she began to suspect what was happening. She had heard enough passionate exchanges when her mother had ‘entertained’ to know the urgent, breathless sounds of passion. It seemed Ms. Lohan had red blood running through her veins after all. She felt relieved as she realised what was going on, and then a little guilty for being there. She was about to move away when a thought struck her. Why all the cloak and dagger secret meetings? Why hide a relationship? The corridors were filled each night with people moving between bedrooms as they sought comfort. She had seen them herself every time she had been sent out for a walk by her mother during her many ‘gentleman visits’.
Most of the people made no secret as to their destinations. Why would Lohan go so out of her way to be secretive? Emma stopped again and turned back toward the sounds of passion behind her. She felt dirty somehow as she moved closer, but she had to know why Patricia Lohan was being so secretive. That was the only way they could strike her off their list and concentrate on the others.
The low moans were becoming more urgent now and Emma’s heart beat faster. It seemed that her heartbeat was almost in time with the urgent moans from ahead and she felt strangely fascinated for a moment. She moved closer and could see two vague shapes just ahead. Thin tendrils of light filtered through a nearby window but only managed to illuminate the figures as silhouettes.
She strained though the darkness and saw one of the figures rise up and shake their head as they cried out. Oh my God. It all fit. Emma had seen enough. She rushed as fast as she could back the way she had come. The light of the tunnel ahead seemed like a beacon that drew her on and promised to cleanse her. She hurried on as her mind swirled. The figure she had seen outlined in the pale light had had long hair. No wonder Lohan was being secretive about her affair. Emma reached the light of the tunnel finally and ran down its length, heedless of being heard. At least they could scratch her from their list of suspects. Though how she was going to explain what she had seen to the others she did not know.
Of course, it also meant that their main suspect was not the traitor and they now had to start all over again.
Chapter 19
Peter Harris looked over his entourage with a heavy heart. It had taken them over a day to get this far and things weren’t improving any either. He had been shocked to see how badly the whole team had been mauled and he felt a deep guilt and anger at himself for leaving them so exposed. Denis would be fine, it seemed. He still grew dizzy after walking for extended periods so there was no telling if any serious damage had been done at this time. With no x-rays or other medical equipment, it was a matter of wait and see unfortunately. The deep furrow on his skull looked nasty but at least it had stopped bleeding.
Benjamin was getting worse from what he could see. The wound itself wasn’t the problem, it was the fact that they couldn’t get the bullet out and the area around the wound couldn’t be cleaned properly until the bullet was out. If left much longer it would go bad and he could lose the arm. Unfortunately, they were still a long way from home, especially with their serum-induced charges.
The boy Ricks was the worst, though. He had taken three bullets in all. None had lodged in his body, though each had torn out a sizable chunk when they had torn free and he had lost a lot of blood. Without a transfusion he would die, but giving him the wrong type of blood could kill him just as effectively. He was at a loss as to what he should do. They had travelled the first fifty miles in the truck, racing over the main roads as fast as they could to get as far from the explosion as possible.
They had allowed three hours to get clear before the timed explosions had been set to go off. Anymore and they risked the thralls finding them and disarming them. As it was, three hours was still taking a big risk. They had hidden the explosives really well and were counting on the thralls securing the area and leaving it alone until qualified people could be brought in to ensure the tank could
be moved safely rather than stumbling clumsily around the wreckage.
If all went well the explosions should happen anytime now. They would have to ditch the truck now, though, despite their dire need for fast transport. They were just too visible otherwise. They had rescued twelve prisoners from the patrol, but all were doped up on the serum so they were difficult to move with any speed. They would have to move at night as the prisoners just couldn’t react quickly enough if a patrol came along and would be a risk to everyone. Travelling at night left them susceptible to any passing vampires though. It was a matter of choosing the least threatening path at this point, and there was no doubt in Harris’ mind that the thralls posed the greater threat as they would be actively looking for them after the attack. There was no reason to suspect that the vampires would be out in any force so the odds were slightly better for travelling at night – he hoped. That meant they had to hide during the daylight hours. And all the time they waited their wounded grew steadily worse.
There was just no upside to this situation, he realised. Even if everything went to plan the best they could hope for was spilling toxic waste over a large area of the state and possibly killing those innocent prisoners who were still left in the area. Their deaths weighed heavily on him; yet, their deaths would provide a much needed diversion to help save many others. Did this justify their horrible deaths, though? It seemed that every day that went by a little more of his humanity was being eroded away.
Jake Warren cursed as the truck thumped over the uneven surface and rattled his teeth for the umpteenth time. He still had no clear understanding of what was happening. Twenty minutes ago he was just recovering from another ‘red line’ incident. This had been the longest yet and he had been seriously worried that the dial would never come back into the relative safety of the black area. He had tried in the last week to research what might be causing the incidents but the manuals he had found might as well have been written in Arabic for all he could understand.
Obviously something wasn’t right but, up till now, the plant’s own safety systems were handling the situation. But for how long? It certainly wasn’t a good sign that the ‘incidents’ were taking longer to recover. It was only a matter of time before the safety systems couldn’t handle the problem any more; and then what? Would the plant actually blow or would it merely shut down? Not that it mattered much; he’d be dead either way.
The thralls had rushed him from the plant into a truck with no explanations. In a rare moment of mad courage he had considered refusing to go until they had told him where they were taking him. Adrenaline had flooded through him and he had felt almost light-headed with his new-found courage. One look at the anger on their faces though had evaporated the small kernel of resistance he had managed to foster and he had allowed himself to be led out without a word.
Now, twenty minutes later, they were speeding across country and every bone in his body was being shaken. Why weren’t they using the roads, he wondered? What was the big hurry?
Finally, they began to slow and he looked out ahead of the truck to see why they were slowing down. He could see a truck on its side and another lying in a ditch to the side of the road. An accident, he realised. But why would they bring him? He wasn’t a doctor. And then his heart dropped as he saw the huge tanker on its side with its squat concrete load beside it. Oh shit!
He looked around frantically for some way to escape. There were too many thralls around the site, treating wounded or laying out bodies in a line on the road. He wouldn’t get more than a few feet, he realised. Was it already too late? Was the radiation corrupting his body even as he looked at it? Why me? The thoughts tumbled through his mind moments before the explosives hidden under the casket counted down the final seconds.
He saw a thrall suddenly run from his examination of the casket. He was shouting something to the others and everything suddenly seemed to stop for a moment. Then he heard a roar and the casket suddenly belched up into the air. He didn’t even hear the explosion before he felt the heat of the blast and then everything went mercifully dark.
Carter waited impatiently as the sun burned into his shoulders. It was still cold but the sun’s glare was surprisingly strong and he shifted uncomfortably. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back and was well aware that only some of it was from the sun. Where were they? he wondered for the umpteenth time. He had stood in the middle of the road now for a full five minutes and no one had come forward.
If they had wanted to kill them then they would have opened fire by now. But why wait so long to come forward? They held all the cards. He could hear nervous muttering behind him and he knew that the thralls in his patrol were on a knife-edge. If something didn’t happen soon then someone might panic and set off a fire-fight.
“Easy.” He turned toward his men as calmly as he could and grinned with what he hoped was confidence. By the time he returned his attention to the front there was movement ahead.
At last.
Phil Regan’s knees wobbled as he walked toward the enemy thrall. They had barely gotten here in time at all after all their arguing. In fact, some of the others were still deliberating back in the council chamber, but Regan had acted on an impulse that he still didn’t fully understand. Corelli had raced ahead with a small team, and they had arrived in time to see that the thralls had advanced far quicker than they had expected. They were already at the city limits and Corelli had taken a reckless chance.
Before anyone could stop him, the boy had grabbed an RPG from one of the men and sent a warning shot to slow the thralls down. If the thralls had been here to invade this would have started a conflict that they would have had no chance of winning. However, it seemed that these thralls were here to talk and the warning volley had worked. The thralls had stopped and their leader had come forward to talk.
Of course, it had taken him and the others another ten minutes to get into position and he was out of breath as he now approached the thrall leader. He really wasn’t adept at this sort of thing. He wasn’t good at conflict, preferring to work through others to achieve his goals. But, despite what others might think, he did care what happened to the community. Yes, he enjoyed power and wasn’t beyond playing a little dirty, if required, but he did genuinely believe he was the man to lead these people. However, leading people in wartime was very different to the politics he was used to.
Everything had seemed so much easier before news of the serum’s fatal properties had escalated the danger to them all. And now they had a traitor amongst them and an invading force to repel. His mind raced as he strode toward the thrall leader. Would their traitor take this opportunity to betray them all and reveal their deception? Would this thrall leader believe him and go away or merely slit his throat and step over his corpse. God, I wish Harris was here, he thought and then couldn’t help letting a grin escape as the irony of his situation hit him.
Carter saw the thrall approaching him grin and he felt his own smile slip slightly. This commander was obviously very confident of his position. And why wouldn’t he be? He held all the cards. Carter began to wonder if he had made the right choice coming here. He began to run through what he was going to say and suddenly realised that what had made perfect sense back in his headquarters didn’t seem quite so compelling now.
He raised both arms to show his peaceful intentions and moved forward to meet the commander with more than a little nervousness.
Regan finally stopped in front of the thrall commander and wondered what he should say. His legs shook and threatened to buckle on him as he looked around at the other thralls on the road. They were very well armed and there were more of them than he had realised when he had started walking toward them. Some of the jeeps had heavy machine guns secured on plinths in the back and he paled as he noted the large bullets trailing down to the bed of a jeep. God, those things could cut me in half. Regan glanced at the commander again but he couldn’t raise the courage to look him in the eyes so he moved his attention back to the thra
ll forces.
This is a cool one, Carter thought as he appraised the commander in front of him. He had walked very slowly up to this point, and now he spent his time casually marking his forces positions and taking in the whole scene. He hadn’t even said a word yet. He was obviously so confident he was happy to strut here on his own and totally ignore Carter as he surveyed what he was up against. Maybe he had made a mistake coming here, after all.
The silence seemed to grow more palpable the longer it went on, but, while the other commander seemed oblivious to the pressure, Carter was not. He felt a sudden urge to explain himself.
“This isn’t exactly as it looks,” Carter broke the silence, but his voice was dry from the journey and he sounded apologetic rather than confident.
The other commander took his time to respond and Carter felt the sweat rolling down his back.
God, what do I say? Regan knew that he had to respond to the thrall commander, but the entire fate of the community rested on his ability to bluff this thrall, and his mind was a total blank. He desperately wanted to say something clever, something that would convince this thrall that he was the confident thrall commander that he appeared to be. Words swam in his mind but none of them seemed to coalesce to form a full sentence. The more he looked at the thrall the more his thoughts seemed to scatter, so he looked away again as he surveyed the high incline to the side of the road. God I wish we had had time to put some men up there, he thought.
“So what exactly is it then?”