MoonFall

by A. G. Wyatt

  He leapt to his feet and looked over at the wall full of weapons. Sure enough most of them were gone, taken to deal with whatever was going on outside. Just as he was fearing the worst, he saw Bourne hanging from a nail in the corner.

  “Howdy partner,” he said, his hand closing around the familiar, comforting grip. He slid Bourne into his holster – there was climbing to be done on the way out of here, and he’d need his hands free for that. He could draw him pretty quick if there was danger.

  As he turned to go he caught sight of a metal cupboard next to the door. The front was open and he could see a dozen small tubes of metal lying at the back of one of the shelves.

  Bullets.

  “Looks like your lucky day buddy,” he said patting Bourne.

  He scoured the cupboard for anything that might be the right size. He swept a handful of loose bullets into his pocket, grabbed another half-full box. Before he could think of loading Bourne he heard shouting in the corridor.

  “Guards are coming!”

  Noah shoved the box into a pocket of his faded combats and raced back down the prison hall, past the Dionites still battering at the cell doors. The general air of destruction told him there were other holes in the wall, but there was only one he’d seen firsthand that he knew for sure he could escape through.

  OK, not for sure, but he reckoned he could manage it.

  He leaped up the stairs and raced towards his cell. Who’d have thought he’d ever rush to get back to that dive? He took a moment as he passed to spit on Blood Dog’s corpse, and a longer moment to say goodbye to Iver.

  “Sorry, buddy,” he said. “Hope it’s cozy back in your universal consciousness.”

  Then he was at the wall. He didn’t give himself time to hesitate or consider the consequences if he lost his footing. Just swung his legs out, lowered himself over the scraping edges of concrete until he was hanging out as far as he could, and then dropped.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  GOING TO TOWN

  NOAH’S FEET HIT the heap of rubble at the base of the wall, the impact jarring his knees and leaving him wobbling at the top of an already unstable mound. He could feel himself slipping, and knew if he was going to fall it was always better to jump. So he flung himself sideways towards what he hoped was flat ground.

  He managed to land with his hands beneath him, saving him from bashing his brains out on the road. Fire flashed through his left wrist, leaving him hoping it was only a sprain. And with so little of his body not bruised or strained already, surely it was only a matter of time before he advanced to broken bones.

  “Y’know what Mama would say?” He got to his feet, patted his holster to make sure Bourne was still there. “She’d say I was lucky to have lived this far, that each bruise was a blessing from the Almighty.” He turned the injured wrist, winced as the pain flared up again. “That being the case, right now I like the Almighty almost as much as I liked Blood Dog.”

  Running feet approached around the corner of the prison. Noah darted across the road and into the narrow gap between two houses on the opposite side of the street. He wanted many things from life right now, but being caught and locked up in that jail again wasn’t one of them.

  A group of Apollonian soldiers rounded the corner of the prison. One of them pointed up toward the hole in the wall through which Noah had escaped, but his commander kept him moving.

  “No time,” the officer yelled. “We need to get to the walls.”

  They disappeared again down another street.

  Noah looked around. This area seemed to be quiet – hardly surprising, who’d want to live with Blood Dog and the other prisoners as neighbors? There was one hell of a noise coming from elsewhere in town though, sounds of violence and shouting. Going that way would be a last resort.

  He ducked down the alley he’d been hiding in, followed it toward the walls. Here there was more noise. Some of it came from a few guards on battlements and towers taking potshots with muskets and bows, but more of it came from the right, towards the gate they’d led Noah and the chain gang out through. He followed the street until he could see what was going on, and it wasn’t a pleasant sight.

  The gate had been busted open, apparently blown off its hinges by another of the explosions that had hit the prison. The ground around the gate was littered with bodies, lit by torches burning in brackets above the gate. Some of the bodies wore little more than rags, like the Dionites he’d seen in the prison. A few others wore fragments of armor and the red neck scarves of Apollo’s soldiers.

  Soldiers stood around the gate, a few with bows, the rest with swords and clubs. Lieutenant Poulson was among them. As Noah watched, a Dionite leaped out at him from a side street. Poulson’s response was expertly smooth, the blade sweeping up to block the Dionite’s axe and then around to slash her across the side of the belly. She went down in a spray of blood and a tumble of falling guts.

  Poulson wiped his sword and turned to his fellow soldiers.

  “They must still be getting in through the west gate. Okamoto, Mason, go pick a good junction, pick them off as they come through. O’Neill, eyes out behind us. The rest of you, we’ve still got a gate to hold.”

  Was this it, Noah wondered? Had he arrived in Apollo just in time to see it fall? Not that he had any love for the place, but in a world where so much had been lost it would be a shame to see this town go the same way.

  Not his concern though. He needed to get out, and that sure wasn’t happening here.

  He doubled back and took a narrow side street, headed toward the heart of town. He didn’t like violence and it sounded like there was a hell of a lot of it up ahead, but at least if there was chaos folks might be too distracted to stop him. Remembering the guards Poulson had directed back this way, especially the young Asian woman with a glint in her eye and bow in her hand, he crossed each junction with care, wary in case an arrow should bolt out of the darkness and bring him down as just another hairy Dionite.

  Soon he saw people rushing back and forth with buckets and fire hoses. It seemed the Dionites had bombed more than just the gates and the prison, setting enough charges to create chaos, alarm and the worst enemy of any city -- fire. Flames were licking the side of a tall building near the center of town, brushing the neighboring rooftops as a wild wind blew in from the north.

  Noah changed course again, away from the fire fighters and on up streets of shops, most of them abandoned as people rushed to deal with the emergency. Bells were still ringing out, calling people from one area to the next or perhaps warning them of where not to go. To these people, maybe they brought order. To Noah, they were just one more element of the chaos.

  At least the ringing in his own ears had subsided, though his hearing was still a little muffled. Kind of like his thinking, truth be told, busted up by lack of sleep and an excess of explosions, leaving him unable to pull together a coherent plan.

  Someone moved by a shop at the junction ahead. Keeping to the shadows Noah crept forward, still wary of getting that arrow through the neck.

  There was a crackle of shattering glass and the figure disappeared from view, only to reappear a minute later, arms full, standing straighter to carry her burden. Noah recognized her, framed in the light from a lantern left burning in a nearby window. It was the girl Burns had released into the ruins, the street thief with a friend in the guard. He’d seen her both inside the city and out, and he doubted any of it was on official business. Maybe she knew another way out, one not littered with dead bodies and live firing weapons.

  He followed her as she crossed the junction and went down another narrow street. She disappeared around a corner and he hurried after her, giving up subtlety for speed. He rounded a building and almost ran straight onto the blade of a knife, its tip gleaming as she held it out at stomach height.

  “Why you following me?” she asked in a tone that must have sounded tough to a fourteen-year-old. “You ain’t with the guard.”

  “Whoa!” Noah raised his han
ds, hoped she could see the gesture in the darkness. “No need for that. I just want out of town, and I figured you probably knew the way.”

  She squinted at him from beneath her uneven fringe.

  “I know you,” she said. “You’re the Dionite they caught a few days back. You’re part of this invasion.”

  She seemed less alarmed at the prospect than Noah might have expected, but he still didn’t think it was wise to be identified as a Dionite in Apollo tonight.

  “I ain’t no Dionite,” he said. “Just a drifter looking for the chance to keep on drifting.”

  “You want out of town?”

  “That’s right. Out of town, out of everyone’s way.”

  She lowered the knife but kept it in her hand while she picked up the bulging sack by her feet with the other.

  “What’s your name drifter?” she asked.

  “Noah,” he replied. “Noah Brennan, from out of Tennessee.”

  “You sure you ain’t a Dionite?”

  “If I was, why would I be running away in the middle of all of this?”

  She tilted her head on one side, hummed a high little tune to herself. It was near enough to familiar that Noah reckoned he could sing along, joining in with the bass notes of ‘Stand By Me’.

  “What you doing?” She scowled, lifted the knife again.

  “Just singing along,” he said. “I know that one.”

  “How d’you know it?”

  “My Pa was a fan. How about you?”

  “Molly sings it sometimes.” The girl tilted her head again and her voice went serious, like he was a suspect in her interrogation room. “How’s the next bit go?”

  Noah sang the words this time. It was another of those crazy-ass-baboon moments, singing an old song to a juvenile thief while the town burned down around them and war raged outside the gates. But sometimes you just did what was needed to survive, and a night when that was just singing seemed to him to be a good night.

  “I’m Sophie,” she said as he finished the second verse. “Sophie Mayer, out of the broken down side of broken down Apollo. And right now I want out of town too. If you can keep up then I’ll show you.”

  And with that she was off.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  TAGGING ALONG

  FOR ALL THE effort he’d put into scavenging the materials from which Apollo would be built, it had never occurred to Noah to wonder where all that building was taking place. Now he was kicking himself for not considering the most obvious way out of the city.

  “Why ain’t the Dionites attacking here?” he asked, looking up at the half-built stretch of wall, the slabs of fresh cut stone and heaps of gathered rubble lying at its based ready to be used.

  Sophie shrugged.

  “Maybe they don’t know about it,” she replied. “Molly says the guard are careful to keep it looking tough out front even when they’re expanding or repairing. Maybe they thought there’d be too many guards here. Maybe they just ain’t that bright, being ignorant savages and all.”

  Noah thought back to Iver and the detailed medical knowledge he’d shown even in his dying moments.

  “Don’t reckon they’re that different,” he said. “Least ways not that stupid.”

  A couple of nervous looking sentries were pacing around on top of the wall to either side of the construction site, the drawn bows in their hands matching those on their armor. They looked around every which way, alert for any sign of Dionites running screaming at them from the darkness. That made it easy enough for Noah and Sophie to stay concealed, talking in whispers down by the base of the wall.

  “There it is.” Sophie pointed to a spot halfway up the wall where chunks of worn out rock had been removed, the space held open by wooden struts while another block of the right size was fashioned nearby. “The mason working this bit cut his hand a week ago. He’ll be off the job a while yet. I’ve been through there twice since and no-one noticed ‘til they caught me outside.”

  It made sense. The spot was hidden from above by a mass of scaffolding, and piles of materials in the street would let you get close while staying out of most people’s line of sight. It was a small enough space that no-one would think it worth guarding, but that a slim girl like Sophie could easily squeeze through.

  Noah, on the other hand, might have more trouble.

  “Don’t suppose you know any other likely spots?” he asked.

  “You think this place would still be standing if they kept leaving holes in the walls?” Sophie shook her head. “Word is the Elders are pissed enough at this hold-up. They don’t like to let little things like people’s injuries get in the way of their grand plans.”

  “Huh.” Noah could tell from Sophie’s tone that she considered the Elders assholes, and he’d seen nothing yet to contradict that view. But as much as they might be hindering him, these walls were pretty sturdy, and the folks in here were the best fed he’d seen since things fell apart. If you weren’t busy getting thrown in jail, and if you could stomach other people for more than an hour at a time, then there were far worse places than Apollo.

  Of course, that was two strikes against it for him, and he wouldn’t be sorry to see the place over his shoulder and fading from view, but the world wasn’t just made for the likes of Noah. Not even this broken world of ruins and rubble.

  “Alright then.” Noah said. “Reckon this is gonna get tight. If I get stuck can you shove me through?”

  “You don’t want me to go first?” Sophie asked. “I can show you the way.”

  “That’s alright, I can manage this one on my own.”

  “But I’m coming with you, right?”

  He’d figured this was coming – after all, she’d said she wanted out of town. Now they were here it was time to burst the girl’s bubble, stop her from getting herself killed.

  “Listen, you don’t want to go out there tonight,” he said. “Can’t you hear what’s happening on the other side of them walls? More fighting outside than’s even going on in here, and it sure ain’t pretty round the gates. What you gonna do, hide in the shadows and watch the carnage?”

  “I s’pose I’m gonna do the same as you – get away from this town, with its shitty laws and its shitty fight with the shitty Dionites.”

  “Your Mama know you talk like that?”

  “Dionites killed my Mom.” Sophie crossed her arms and glared up at him. “Killed my Dad, too. So less you’ve got a soap clean mouth yourself you can knock off that adult knows best bullshit.”

  “Sorry kid.” He really was, though it was hard not to laugh in the face of that indignant scowl. “Sorry ‘bout your Mama and your Pa. Sorry I called you a kid for that matter. We’ve all been through some rough shit, and if you’ve made it this far then I reckon you’ll carry on making it.

  “But seriously, once you get past this wall and them guards and this whole mass of brutality going on out there, what you gonna do then?”

  “I’m gonna come with you.”

  “I… you… what?”

  “Said I’m coming with you, and I reckon you heard me just fine.”

  Noah glanced up at the guards. It seemed they hadn’t heard them despite Sophie’s voice rising in both indignation and volume. This was ridiculous.

  “You can’t come with me,’ he said. ‘I’m not a coming with me kind of guy. Where I go, I go on my own.”

  “Oh, like you got to this hole in the wall on your own?”

  “That’s different. That’s asking favors, not asking to follow someone around the rest of their live-long days like a sad puppy dog.”

  “I ain’t no sad puppy dog. I can take care of myself. I can run and hide and find ways through places. I can pick pockets, even pick locks some. I can be useful.”

  “There ain’t no pockets out there in the wild. Ain’t hardly no locks neither, and those there are, I can just smash. The rest of the world ain’t like Apollo. It’s a mad and dangerous place, and not one a young woman should be part of.”

  “Fu
ck you and your young woman shit. Weren’t you ever young?”

  “Well yeah, course I was.”

  “And you never had to tag along with no-one? No-one taught you what you know, how to live in this mad, dangerous world you’re so keen to get back out to?”

  She was right of course. Sure he hadn’t been a wanderer then, but the best years of Noah’s life had been spent tagging along with Jeb and Pete. First in the days before it all went to hell, following them around town as they met up with friends, shot pool, shot guns, shot the breeze over beers from the Seven Eleven. His Pa had taught him to track and hunt and tune up a car, but Jeb and Pete had taught him how to survive in the world of young men and small towns, how to swagger and to steal and to duck the authorities when the need came. They’d passed him his first smoke, bought him his first beer, rolled him his first joint. Of course, then they laughed when he coughed, sputtered, and grimaced at the taste and puked his guts up the first time he had too many. But would he have known about any of that stuff, how to fit it into his life and make a man of himself, if he hadn’t been tagging along with them?

  Then there’d been the aftermath.

  First the aftermath of Mama’s death, with Pa no more present than he’d been before and only Jeb and Pete to keep him on track. A year of what now looked like limbo, faced with a loss that rocked his own small world but not the bigger one. Getting in and out of trouble, in and out of jobs, all with Jeb and Pete showing him how to get back on his feet.

  And then the real aftermath. All of them reeling at the world ripped apart, not least Jeb and Pete. But they’d still shown him how to survive, how to negotiate a place in what remained of their town. To turn his skills to survival when the lights went out. To keep himself entertained with the TV and the radio gone. To barter with neighbors for what was needed and negotiate with other townsfolk as a new order arose from the rubble of the old. He’d been tagging along with them every step of the way, only forging his own path when he didn’t have a choice no more.