Before they could be noticed, she slowed, landing gracefully on a nearby building, high enough that she could observe without being seen. She dropped Uriel and Rodrigo, and the men fell in unison, both gulping for air. “Where do you think they’re going?” she muttered to herself while removing her earbuds, a sober feeling washing over her. Scanning the street below, she could see it was choked with broken-down vehicles, a sea of abandoned yellow taxicabs punctuated by the occasional private car of some poor soul who thought driving in Manhattan was a good idea back in the day.
Beside her, Rodrigo pursed his lips, a crease appearing on his high forehead. “Cardinal Washington was in contact with a team that we have in the city, trapped since the early days of the war. They reported, a few months ago, drones such as this,” he began, pulling his robes tighter. “Sinful things, made by Satan himself. When they get close to a man’s skull, they explode. The holos we saw were inhuman.” Gwen couldn’t help but smile as he spoke. His Italian accent was melodic, jubilant even, as he spoke about the most horrible thing.
She nodded, crossing her arms as she watched the drones move out of her field of view, their buzzing fading into the distance. Her thoughts drifted to the team trapped since the start of the war. How could anyone survive that long in this mess? “Are they still alive: the team, I mean?”
“Sì, yes, at least a year ago. From the last report I was present for, they had recruited a substantial militia from local survivors and established a base of some kind, although I could not tell you where.”
“No power, no heat. Winters are brutal in the Northeast. I’m sure they’re long gone or dead by now,” said Uriel, tiny comets of gold and silver appearing above his hands, expanding outward like a light breeze to encompass the three of them, making the cool spring air feel like a hot summer's day. She raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was doing. He simply shrugged, palms out. “What? I hate the cold, ever since I was a kid.”
Rodrigo gave him a smirk and she could only smile. “Why not,” she said before returning her focus to the task at hand. “Why didn’t we come and get them: this team, I mean? With what you can do, Rodrigo, it wouldn’t have been hard for you to get them in and out over a few days.”
“I had made the suggestion, several times. This would have been nothing for me, like walking across a room once I knew where to go, but the cardinal insisted they stay in place and that my talents be used for…other purposes,” he said, looking away, heat in his voice.
Gwen hesitated, not sure what to say. Clearly he disagreed with the dark-skinned cardinal’s decision. She knew everybody had a limit to how much bullshit they could take when it came to right and wrong, and clearly leaving people to die struck a chord with the acolyte. “Alright, where is our target? Arthur has a lot to answer for, and my fists are gonna do the questioning,” she said, letting go of the subject seeing how uncomfortable it made him.
“He is not far,” he said, looking back at the tablet, pointing to where the drones had gone.
Gwen felt her breathing grow short, fearing the machines had gone to eliminate him or one of the few remaining pockets of resistance in the city. “Well, someone survived. Those drones don’t look like they’re going out for a pack of smokes. They’re on the way to fuck somebody up…and we’re gonna stop ’em.”
Beside her, Rodrigo let out a deep sigh. “Mios dio, this is not the plan. We are to find the traitor and return him, preferably alive,” he said, mumbling to himself as he tapped his screen.
“Why didn’t we do this to find him before?” said Uriel, moving to stand beside the tall Italian, sunlight glinting off the lines of gold and silver of his face. “I mean, he ran off days ago.”
Frowning, he shrugged. “This technology is not reliable. He appears and vanishes. I imagine he has tried to avoid us, but this is impossible. The nanos are part of him.”
“Yeah, but Arty’s not stupid. He usually plays a few steps ahead before most people even know they’re playing the game.”
The acolyte shook his head, his dark eyes meeting Uriel’s gaze. “This boy is weak, a coward running away from his responsibilities. He will be punished as an example and put on the front lines as fodder.”
“He managed to beat you, didn’t he?” said Uriel with a smirk. “I’m not sure how they patched you up—don’t you remember Arty giving you a new blowhole the last time you met?”
Rodrigo cocked his head, his brows narrowing. “What’s…no, I met the boy only once, when he first arrived at Iron Mountain. I challenged him, and he backed down like the coward I knew he was. Stop telling lies. It’s sinful.”
“Let it go, Uriel. We have other problems,” said Gwen with a sudden cough, her throat feeling raw again. She wished she had brought the other doses of D she’d squirreled away. The last thing she wanted was for her nose to start bleeding in front of Arthur. “We need to follow those drones, stop them if—” She raised a hand to silence Rodrigo before he could object. “C’mon, man, aren't you tired of sitting on the sidelines and being Washington’s bottom bitch? We may have a chance to really help people, do some good for a change,” she finished, pointing to where the drones had vanished.
The tall Italian scratched his high forehead, muttering to himself as he stared off to where the drones had vanished. “We would have to do this thing prontissimo—very fast,” he said, nodding to himself as much as to them.
Gwen raised an eyebrow, her face a mask of surprise. She had expected it to be harder to change his mind. He had given the impression of being the stubborn type who liked the rules a little too much.
“All of God's children are precious. It is my duty, like the shepherd,” he said, seeing her face.
She nodded once again, sighing deeply while she took both men by their collars, more gently this time. She listened for the hum, the subtle vibration that was always in her bones. It was easier with the music, but she needed to focus now. She leapt, taking to the skies once again, slower this time in pursuit of the drone army, praying she could stop whatever was about to happen.
She flew rapidly on silent wings, weaving deftly in and out among the Manhattan skyline, the cold wind tearing at her skin, making her eyes water. It took only a few minutes to find the tail end of the swarm. The dark cloud flowed like a waterfall into a massive sinkhole in the middle of 42nd Street. She landed atop a long, blackened billboard above the avenue, shivering as the cold seeped through her boots. They watched, fascinated, as an entire battalion loaded for bear quickly and quietly moved down the expansive hole.
At her side, Uriel let out a low whistle. “That’s not a small operation,” he said under his breath, his voice tight. “Their standard attack at the start of the war was to use drones to soften up a target, then follow up with human troops to mop up what was left. Doesn’t look like much has changed.”
“Fuck! We have to get down there,” said Gwen, rising to her feet as she helplessly watched the swarm plunge rapidly through the hole, some of the soldiers making the plunge at the same time. “You two ready?”
Both men at her side nodded in agreement, Rodrigo drawing a pointed crystal blade not much longer than her forearm from his robes. “I will take the colonel there,” he said, pointing to a tall soldier with a bland face waving the men down the hole, “and the men surrounding him.”
“Is that a sword in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?” she said with a sly wink.
Rodrigo raised an eyebrow, shaking his head before his form began to shimmer, his features vanishing as though being covered by water. He was suddenly no longer in front of them, but behind the man he had pointed at moments ago, his crystal blade sliding deep into his back. Gwen watched, impressed. The colonel didn’t have an instant to scream before Rodrigo vanished once again, appearing behind another soldier, reaping another soul, his blade slipping easily between the man’s ribs before the body fell to the ground, crimson stains pooling at his feet.
“Uriel, you get the remaining drones. I’ll help him with the
soldiers.”
“Got it.” Uriel stepped forward, plunging from the top of the billboard to the street below, landing easily, shattering the pavement beneath his feet. Sparks of gold and silver appeared around him, hundreds at first, then more than she could fathom, all spiraling in a vortex of blinding light that made the midday sun look dim by comparison. The soldiers, despite the surprise, were disciplined, the remaining officers assessing the threats and ordering the men to stand back to back. As a unit, they turned, unleashing a hail of automatic fire at Uriel. Gwen gasped in horror as a torrent of bullets rained down on him, most simply bouncing off his hardened skin, others from heavier weapons puncturing deep within his flesh, leaving tiny, red blossoms to decorate his uniform. She marveled as the wounds healed faster than her eye could follow, flesh and bone made whole even as it was blasted to pieces. The pillar of light surrounding him grew so bright she was forced to look away, raising a hand to shield her eyes. The pillar expanded to encompass everything on the street, waves of heat washing over her like she was standing too close to a bonfire. When finally she was able to look back, the remaining soldiers stumbled around bumping into one another. The swarming drones were broken and scattered along the pavement like forgotten playthings, their electronic guts spilled, unmoving.
Seeing the path was clear, Gwen was once again airborne, floating above the hapless men only for an instant before plunging like a dervish into the confused mass, easily driving away the remaining soldiers while she cleared a path for her small team.
“What the hell was that?” asked Gwen, eyebrows raised as she stared at a still-glowing Uriel, the vortex of light having dimmed enough that she could look directly at him.
Uriel could only shrug. “Not sure. The more I use my abilities, the more weird things like that happen,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut for long moments before the glow finally vanished.
Finally, the three of them stood at the edge of the dark pit, groaning and broken men scattered around them. Leaning over the hole and peering nervously into the inky blackness, they shrugged to one another, each of them nodding in turn. Gwen steeled herself, grasping both men by their collars. “Well, down the rabbit hole we go,” she said, plunging into the unknown.
Chapter 15: Battle of Grand Central
May 2076
She had never run so fast in her life, the fear bubbling in her gut driving her short legs faster with each desperate stride. She ran nearly blind in the dark, the barely visible third rail her only guide. The rasping sound of her breath muted everything but the pounding echo of her own boots, reverberating off the crumbling walls of the ancient subway tunnel. Far behind her, she caught the occasional high-pitched shout from Gibbs, begging her to slow down. Ignoring him, she continued on, desperate to arrive before any attack started. Her father had ordered them to engage the defenses prepared for such a thing. They had prepared well for it; she just hadn’t thought a day would come when they would need it. She ran to help them. She ran because the images of what she had done replayed constantly in her mind, no matter how much she tried to force them out. Despite telling herself that she was doing the right thing, she could still see their faces tormenting her. People were dead, and excuses didn’t make her feel any better.
Before she had taken off on her mad dash, she had begged Blake to take her father anywhere else but here, somewhere safe. He knew the city well and had years of medical supplies that he had squirreled away here and there, but it was to no avail. Her father was stubborn, insisting they go back. If they were going to be attacked, he would defend them, and the defiant look on his face meant there was no arguing with him, even with the tar knocked out of him. So they were all running to the danger, most likely to their deaths instead of away from it like any sensible person would.
As she got closer to the more populated tunnels, she marveled at their progress in such a short time. People hustling about, deploying weapons, and personnel at the choke points they had designed months ago. Attacking them through the tunnels would be like peeling an onion, each layer of defenses only revealing more. They had the advantage of months of preparation and a city full of abandoned weapons and drones. Thankfully, most modern weapons were able to interface with smart devices, allowing them to create remote weapon platforms. Automation was a large part of their survival. They also had the advantage of Gibbs. The crystal boring into his body would hopefully give them a chance to know where the attack would be coming, allowing them to concentrate their forces.
She arrived winded at the first of three security barricades built into the main intersection of tunnels, her flaming red hair wilder than normal from her harrowing race through the darkened tunnels. The barriers had once been old-school fortification, simple sandbags and weapon turrets, but with the use of the 3D printers, they had printed lightweight plating that snapped together like LEGO, giving them the ability to construct almost any pattern needed. The end result were walls forming an imposing barricade made from recycled aluminum, light and strong, and covering the entire circumference of the tunnel. They had installed them to block each major subway artery. The whole thing looked almost medieval, metal plating with slits and squares built into it, little murder holes one could slip the barrel of a weapon through for deadly purpose.
Karl, the guy at the gate, recognized her, letting her pass through the small opening in the massive door without question. She had spent many hours working with the crews and most of them knew her well. It was a strange sensation. Most of her team here initially saw her as some bratty kid, but with time, the lot of them saw her as a friend, or in some cases a little sister. She gave the team assigned here a quick once-over, asking if they had enough weapons, ammunition, and most importantly medical supplies. She was often amazed at how people always remembered the guns and ammo but never the Band-Aids. Her parents had always told her an infection or bad cut would kill you just as often as a bullet, more painfully in most cases too.
She passed two similar checkpoints on her way in before finally arriving at the main platform, blinking her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness as she emerged from the tunnel. When they had first come down here last summer, the place had been something out of nightmare, dark and cold, the dank odor of stale standing water overpowering their nostrils, making her want to retch. Today it was bright, cleaner than she would have thought possible given the subway tile was once almost black with grime. A bustling community of survivors living in secret just beneath the noses of their enemy. The main platforms themselves were a mix of communal areas, a kitchen and mess, and sleeping areas cordoned off by printed plastic walls. The lab and work areas took the most room, the dozens of 3D printers they had found taking up almost half of the west side platform. There were more private areas, of course. The people who had joined them early had helped themselves to the shops and offices along the corridors leading down to the main platforms, herself included.
As she made her way to the situation room, looking around at all these people racing against time to prepare for the enemy, it struck her. They had hope, hope that they might make it through this and see tomorrow. She had thought many times over that they were living in a dead city, like maggots feeding off a corpse, but this wasn’t true. These people, many of whom she called friends, were the spark for the future. They would light a fire to bring life back to this city, to make it live again. The thought drew her away from what she had done today. She realized that she had helped make the lives of the people living here better, the blood on her hands far outweighed by the good her family had accomplished here. With newfound resolve, she walked into the situation room and helped prepare to defend her home.
***
Gibbs, her father, and Blake had arrived just before they heard the first faint echo of the swarms sent to kill them. Gibbs’ warning had come just in time, giving them a chance, and despite all their preparations, Rowen’s heart still threatened to beat out of her chest. She could barely grip her new weapon, her hands slick with sweat held tight to
the grip. The high-pitched whine echoing from the tunnels made her breathing quick with worry, driving her mind back to being trapped in the van, drones hungrily boring through the side and roof in an attempt to remove her head. Rowen crouched beside one of the lower murder holes at the first checkpoint, armed for bear. She had her original SIG tucked away in a holster under her arm, the new gun—she really did have to find a name for it—strapped to her leg. Finally, she had a small machine pistol that they had been able to print en masse. The weapon was cheap to produce and not much bigger than a handgun, but it could fire fully automatic and was deadly at close to medium range. With explosive rounds that fragmented on contact, it was the perfect weapon to fight the tightly knit swarm.
Rowen’s thoughts were drawn back to the moment, gasping as thousands of unblinking crimson eyes suddenly emerged from the inky blackness, their red glow and harsh whine heralding the arrival of the enemy’s killing machines. They looked harmless, small enough to fit in her hand, each one segmented with four propellers and a single unblinking crimson eye at its center. They were programed with deadly purpose to target the head and release their deadly cargo, a few grams of shaped explosive, just enough to penetrate the skull and drive deep into the cerebellum. These tiny monstrosities were the last thing many of her friends had seen on that night not so long ago.
Taking aim, she gave the order to fire, blinking away the brightness of thousands of rounds of ammunition exploding into the tunnel. Waves of drones met a wall of lead. The sound was deafening. Even with earplugs in place, the cascading vibrations bouncing off the tunnel walls made her teeth shake. Rowen thought the whole moment was surreal, almost unimaginable, there were so many. She emptied clip after clip, barely stopping to aim as she practiced a version of spray-and-pray. They were few and the drones were legion, without end. Despite taking out most of the incoming machines, some managed to slip through. Every explosive strike was like a hammer pounding an anvil. Rowen jumped in her skin as one impacted at eye level, exploding against the aluminum wall with a deafening crack, bending the metal like a giant's fist, leaving tiny creases in the metal.
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