by T. K. Toppin
It seemed like hours while we waited, when it was probably more like forty-five minutes, during which time a few more people were forced to join the group across the room, arriving in varying stages of dishevelment and anxiety. One was a man who sobbed quietly and repeatedly muttered about someone who was dead. Another man, who I recognized as the Minister of Cultural Affairs, gripped the sobbing man by the shoulders and shushed him with a gentle, but forceful, grasp.
Whatever had transpired between John and Simon appeared to have a chain reaction. Simon nodded to one of his Elites, recognizable by the red trim around the neck of his black suit. Three of Simon’s Elites were in the group, along with four ministers—three women and a man—and two who were dressed in all black and acted like body-assistants. Also in the group were three men who appeared to be clerical staff, two unknowns that included the sobbing man, John, and Simon. Fourteen in all, against the six armed men, who were now restless, bored, and idly shifting about in turns. There was also one guard, who stood by the privacy screen facing Solange and me.
I tried to catch John’s eye, but he appeared to be avoiding me on purpose, so instead, I had another chitchat with Solange. I cleared my throat to get his attention. “Tell me, what did you say your boss’s name was? Besides Uron Koh. Surely that’s not his real name.”
Solange sighed and turned to me. “Uron Koh has no other names. He is just so. He needs no other.”
I stifled a laughed. The inane silliness of it all. They acted like children playing a game, lauding their leader. A game, I reminded myself, of death. “You make it sound as if he’s a god or something. Shall I kneel down and bow to him when he arrives?”
“Do not mock him. You’ve already offended him by not dying.”
“I’ve offended a god. Wow, that’s quite an achievement for me, isn’t it? You’ll pardon me for not wanting to die just yet, okay?”
“You won’t be so smug when he arrives,” he sneered. “He’ll have the greatest pleasure making sure you die.” Solange narrowed his eyes, transforming his features into those of someone with calculating intelligence. It reminded me that, regardless of his pompous air, he was still in charge, and no doubt, wasn’t the vice-president for his looks alone.
“What’s he going to do? Smite me? Rip my head off with his fucking teeth?”
“Don’t—” Solange slammed a hand onto the table. “Don’t speak like that!” He leaned across as if to strike me. I jerked back in reflex. His face twisted with disgust.
“Like…what…?” It seemed I’d pressed a nice little nerve. “Did I say a naughty word? Well, fuck me sideways, then.”
Solange pushed off the chair and made a lunge for me, grabbing my neck with both hands. I gasped in surprise and dug fingers into his wrists. He hauled me to my feet and shook me by the neck—vigorously.
In the confusion, another outburst erupted from across the room. I dimly registered it while the air was being throttled out of me. I vaguely saw the fourteen-strong men and women—some trained for combat—surge forward with nothing but bare hands, onto six unsuspecting armed soldiers whose attentions were distracted by Solange’s tantrum.
With great difficulty, I dug a hand into the back of my pants. Black spots peppered my vision, and my lungs burned in protest. I wrenched out the krima, engaged it with a quick flick of my thumb, brought it around, and weakly thrust it into Solange’s stomach. He made a sudden retching noise and froze, eyes riveted to mine in surprise. I pulled the krima out and struck again—higher. He gasped, let go of my neck and staggered back. I gagged and wheezed for air, keeping the krima before me in case he lunged again. Tripping over the chair, I collapsed to the floor beside it, coughing and gulping great big heaving lungfuls of air.
Solange stared with horrified bewilderment at his stomach. Two round, smoldering holes stained his gray suit. His face turned bright red as he gasped a few times for air. Then the blood started pouring out in rivulets, thick and dark, while a sudden stench of fecal matter soiled the air. He whimpered and clutched his stomach, fell down onto his ass and rolled slowly onto his left side. He mewled between erratic gasps for air.
Pressed against chair legs, I coughed and blinked watery eyes. Then Solange’s head exploded. I cried out in surprise, staring in incomprehension. Then I saw Simon stride up with a large pulse gun in his hand. He gave me a stern look, was about to say something, when John pushed him aside. John was frantic, livid with anger.
“You silly girl! I should just kill you myself.” John hoisted me up to my feet. “Put that thing away before you poke me in the belly too!”
“Now, don’t fret, John. She was brilliant!” Simon chuckled and winked at me. “Nice move with that distraction, by the way.”
“Don’t encourage her, Simon,” John growled low. Despite his obvious fury at my stupidity—I did feel quite stupid for being so callous—he touched my sore neck with delicate care and gave me a concerned once-over. He held me with a long look. I nodded back with a weak smile. Yes, we also had our own language.
Simon rolled his eyes. “When you’re quite done here, we’ve a Citadel to take back.”
I rolled my own eyes back at him. “Don’t be jealous. You can still play with him.”
Chapter 53
“I knew you’d do something stupid.” John tried to be patient. It was hard work, and his teeth hurt from keeping his mouth shut so tight. If he didn’t, he’d bellow at the top of his voice. “And you did.”
“Jeez, thanks,” Josie muttered, clearing her throat and hacking out small coughs. She touched her throat tenderly, flexing her jaw as if to test the muscles under it. “I’ve decided I don’t like the sensation of being strangled.”
“No one does,” he answered tersely. “And you’re welcome.”
“Wait. What do you mean, you knew I’d do something stupid?” A flash of insult dashed across her face. “You expected me to do that?”
He sighed. “Josie…you have a charming way of offending people. It was only a matter of time before you offended that imbecile.”
“And fuck you, too.” Josie stormed off ahead of him.
“See,” he muttered, and smiled. He was just so glad, relieved, she was unhurt. A little banged up—well, she deserved that—but she was alive.
They had managed to take control of the room in minutes, Josie’s unexpected distraction had created the perfect opportunity. Their original plan had been to just surge onto the guards by brute force. Even the untrained civilians had held their own, wielding chairs and ornaments about the room to bludgeon the unsuspecting soldiers. And Josie with her krima. Where had she had that hidden?
John stared at her back as she walked ahead of him, clothes bloodied and ripped, yet walking tall and with purpose. Bloody hell, he loved her. He’d noticed a change in her, as if something inside her had clicked into gear. She had a certainty and decisiveness about her that she embraced unconsciously; her old fears and indecisions had been replaced. She was still the same, just more sure of herself, confident. In control. To see it made him glad. Proud. He worried constantly for her, but feared, now, that he’d have to worry even more.
Confidence walked a thin line next to recklessness.
He remembered how she had been when they first met, and after Bali. Despite the brave front she’d shown, underneath she had remained scared and alone, like a helpless child. He could never forget the haunting sadness that had once lurked behind her eyes. He’d thought she’d been physically traumatized. But now he knew, it had come from being wrenched away from her life, a life she knew and understood, to someplace foreign, and there to witness unspeakable horrors. He admired her even more for her courage in facing her demons head-on. And now, to witness her evolution was like watching magic.
He loved her even more now. Her active mind—curiosity—had helped her through the darkness. And her optimism. She’d told him that he was the reason for her living—surviving. He was the light at the end of the tunnel. When John thought of that, his heart wanted to e
xplode. But now, because of him, a fierce courage raged within her, like when she’d shielded him earlier and taken a flying disc in the back. Fearless of her own safety, but determined to protect those she loved. That scared him more than it touched his heart, to know she’d risk her life for his.
But then, his heart lurched with pain, he would do the same for her.
John quickened his stride and reached out to hold her hand, stealing a sideways glance at her. Josie didn’t look back, but he noted she tried very hard not to smile. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.
After the micro take-over in the visitor’s lounge, they had stolen out. Simon and his men had stealthily disposed of five more armed men outside. The group then made it back to the Assembly Hall, and this time successfully made it through the secret panel and into the tunnels.
The panel, as Josie discovered with a gawking “Oh” that amused John, despite the ongoing war about them, was a one-meter-square piece of the wall, invisible unless you looked carefully. Once through, the tunnel threaded through the mountain.
Dane Lancaster’s paranoid mind, as well as numerous attempts to his life, had led to the construction of this secret passage. Located directly behind his elevated seat in the Assembly Hall, it was hidden from view. It led to an open area with various emergency stores in place, including a small surgery, sleeping cots, and a horde of supplies that enabled at least fifty people to rough it out for a year. The tunnel then continued on until it connected back to the Primary Sub-Level.
To John’s despair, the group had no way to communicate to either the outside or those in the sub-levels; The Path had knocked down and jammed all communication signals since taking over the media center, leaving only their own active and functional. The main concern now was to reach the emergency shelter, retrieve more weapons, and administer first aid to those who needed it. After that, they would sneak into the Primary Sub-Level, gather more men, and return topside.
* * *
The tunnels were freezing. Being so hyped on adrenaline, I didn’t notice at first, but as we continued on, the freezing air numbed me to the bone. It was easy to forget it was full-blown winter outside. John gave me his jacket; guilt nagged me for taking it when I saw his lips quiver slightly, but I was grateful all the same. And just his smell lingering on the clothes was a comfort. The injury in my side throbbed with pain, making me a little light-headed. I longed for a rest, but the small group seemed determined to carry on.
We made a quick stop in the emergency shelter. Far too quick for my liking. Five received treatment for various injuries, Simon among them. One of his men forcefully treated the long gash along his chest, much to Simon’s chagrin. The others either took a moment to regroup and collect their nerves, or searched through cupboards and drawers for useful items to take, as well as raided the weapons store.
John gently dabbed the cut on my temple. I couldn’t read his mood. His lips were clamped down in his usual manner, his brow knotted.
“What?” I said.
John responded by compressing his lips into an even thinner line. I looked straight into his eyes, which were a foot away. They were dark and troubled, and purposely averted to study my injury.
“You take too many risks,” he said quietly, still not looking at me. If I wasn’t mistaken, he sounded very sullen. He put something smelling like disinfectant on the cut; it stung. I sucked in a breath and squeezed my eyes shut. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but it didn’t sound too convincing.
“Yeah, well,” I blinked my watering eyes. “I’m a little pissed off, right now. I’m getting really tired of people trying to kill me. So excuse me if I take a little risk now and again. And what’s with the strangling business? Don’t people these days know how to give a good bitch-slap instead? That I can take. But this hands around your neck business? Pass.”
“I worry about you.” John fussed with a tube, ignoring my mild outburst. It looked like more of that foaming skin-sealer. I jerked back, eyeing it with suspicion. He reached out, held my jaw with one hand, and looked me straight in the eyes. “Don’t do foolish things.”
“Foolish, like what?”
“Like putting yourself in harm’s way.” He let me go and sighed. “Back there, when we fought those men. You were amazing. I admire you for what you did and for what you’ve managed to learn in such a short space of time. But you scared me. You showed me that you would throw yourself in the face of danger regardless of your own safety. I don’t want you to do that again. I would rather you thought of your own safety. Don’t you know, if anything was to happen to you…I’d die?”
I didn’t think it at all possible, but he actually made a small pout. I dropped my eyes and noticed my hands, speckled and smeared with dry blood—mine, and those I’d killed. Had to kill. I rubbed them on my pants, pushing that horrific thought aside for later.
“John.” I couldn’t look at him just yet. “Don’t you know that if you were to get hurt, or had something happen to you that I could’ve prevented, it would kill me too? I didn’t come all this way just to lose everything. Do you believe in fate? Destiny? That everything you do in this life takes you to where you’re meant to be? Well, I do—now—more so than ever before. Why would I be here if it weren’t so? I belong here. This is where I was always meant to be. Here. With you. So don’t expect me to sit still while people are out to kill us. Us.” I looked up finally. “I can’t help it. It’s like instinct. Without you, there’s nothing.”
His brooding, dark scowl was replaced with an expression of utter sadness. I reached up and cupped his face. He burrowed into my hands, oblivious of the people around us, and leaned his forehead to mine.
“Sometimes, I wonder,” John said. “If I didn’t dream of you—wish for you. I think I did.”
I laughed. “Well, I’m glad you did. But did you have to wait three hundred years to start pining for me? You could’ve picked a better century.”
We kissed. A slow, tender kiss.
“Come on,” I said softly, “let’s take back our Citadel.”
Chapter 54
With no time to spare for any prolonged rest or recuperation, our small group moved onward. Simon, insistent that we reach the sub-levels without delay, spurred us on. The shift in authority appeared seamless, automatic, as if John relinquished it unconsciously to his friend. I noticed yet another difference between them, despite their similarities. John led nations; Simon led people. John directed war, while Simon was war.
At the last turn before the tunnel exited into the storage rooms of the Primary Sub-Level, Simon instructed everyone to do a quick weapons check. We stood before a squat door, about four feet in height and three feet wide. An average-sized person needed to crawl through it.
Everyone nodded in silence, grim-faced and determined, without a sound of protest or hesitation. The complete dedication each person showed impressed me greatly. Whether they were trained for combat or not, everyone fearlessly assented to the fact that, whatever they did next, they did for the good of the entire Citadel. After all, this was their city, their home.
I glanced at John; he stood with a hand on one of the minister’s shoulders.
“We’re ready, Simon. On your mark.” John cocked a brow, and let his eyes pan across the group with a smile. “Shall we die trying, then?” A certain twinkle lit his eyes, like he reveled in war as if it were a sport.
“Speak for yourself,” one of the clerical staff members spoke up. “I intend to get that promotion I’ve been waiting for. So I’ve no time to die, thank you very much.” She pushed past John to stand at the head of the group, a menacing glare levelled at the doorway, wielding a large automatic weapon.
Simon depressed a button on the side, and our fourteen-strong group silently crawled through the opening. Pitch black greeted us for about ten seconds, until someone switched on a torch to reveal a very small, low-ceilinged anteroom. When the last person passed through, the door closed soundlessly.
Simon felt around in the dim light unti
l he found another door, much larger. He located the switch to open it, flipped it, and the door opened. Cautious, he poked his head through, held it there for a minute, then ducked back.
“It’s a storage room for electronic parts,” Simon whispered. “I hear someone inside. I know this room. It has four large, floor-to-ceiling shelves that make up the entire room, with approximately half a meter of walk-around space at either end and between the aisles. The actual shelves are packed tight with surveillance and computer equipment, and run left to right from our current position, which is dead center in the very back of the room. The person I hear sounds like they’re in the far right corner of the room about two shelves away, either talking to someone else or to themselves.”
Simon tagged two of his Elites, and together they went silently out to investigate. We waited inside, and I heard nothing save my own breathing and thumping heart. Moments later, we heard a muffled shriek, a scuffle. Someone grunted, and someone else hissed loud enough for us all to hear: “Wait!”
Minutes later, one of Simon’s men, rubbing his forehead, returned to indicate all was clear. We filed out quietly.
When I turned the corner of the second shelf, I found an angry woman sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by computers, wires, and other gadgets that blinked with lights. Simon squatted next to her, peering intently at one of the computer screens.
“Moorjani?” John blinked in disbelief. “What are you doing in here?”
“Shh,” Moorjani snapped and jabbed toward the entrance. “They haven’t clued in yet, but it won’t be long before they realize all the equipment is in here. They’ve captured almost everyone on this level—holding them in the cells. They can’t get into Secondary or Tertiary—I’ve blocked them off. I’ve been sitting here for the last two hours trying to block their signal, changing the security codes every ten seconds so they can’t hack in. It’s just me and Banks. He’s down in Secondary bouncing my signal so they can’t find me. But it’s only a matter of time…” She shook her head and all but dismissed John.