by T. C. Edge
I feel the blood still wet on my face as I sit there, and my eyes turn down to see the crimson soaked into my uniform. I need to get out of them, rid myself of this stench of death.
I remove the shirt, leaving me in just a black vest, bundling it into a ball and tossing it from the window. The blood seeps through my fingers as I grip it too tight, and I realise that my hands are still shaking.
I can see Kira looking at me through her Hawk-eyes, keeping one eye on the road and another on me. I don’t want her to be distracted by me, and so make sure to take a firm hold of myself, sit upright again, and try to take my mind off things.
“So, this concert hall you’ve heard about,” I say. “Is it likely to be guarded?”
“It is,” she tells me. “We’ll have to scout it out and see if there’s a way in.”
“Guarded by who? City Guards?”
“Yeah, our scouts aren’t reporting too many Con-Cops around the streets anymore, and very few Stalkers have been spotted.”
“Accumulating around Cromwell, I guess,” I mutter.
“I’d imagine so.”
The journey back to the western gate passes by with a little less tension than the outward journey. While there are patrols and convoys of City Guards around, Kira remains well aware of just what the best routes to travel are, and just when to travel them.
In the back, the kids stay quiet, visible through the little window that we keep open to maintain a close watch on them. Kira, it seems, saw fit to tie the hands of the three initiated gang members, taking no chances despite the fact that they will, most likely, have been brought into the gang by force and mental manipulation, rather than choice.
The same is likely true of Brandon. A bully at the academy, yes. A kid who had a bad streak, and saw the state of emergency in the city as an opportunity, for sure. But no more than that.
He wouldn’t have given up the academy that gave him sanctuary for so long. He wouldn’t have led the wolves to our door to snatch up the kids and turn them to criminals, take their innocence.
For all his bad points, he’s just a kid himself who can never have expected things to go this far. I don’t blame him for what happened. I blame only the men, those who now lie dead and burning in the wreckage of that old, abandoned train station.
Before too long, we’re heading straight for the western gate once more, slowing to a stop as we near. From the door to the right, one of our guards comes out, and seeing Kira immediately orders for the gate to be opened.
It separates down the middle, retracting into the large metal wall that circles Inner Haven, and Kira drives us a little way in up the road and past the large trucks that are also moved aside. She stops the van there, and we both step out, drawing the eyes of the guards.
“Over here,” calls Kira, waving a couple of them over.
They jog quickly towards us.
“Yes, Kira,” they say deferentially, standing to attention.
Kira opens up the back of the van. The eight kids inside appear in the dim interior.
“We’ve got eight kids here who need to be taken to HQ. Can you arrange that?” she asks.
“Yes, of course,” nods a guard.
“Good. We’re heading back out, got a bit more to do. Keep a watch for us, and inform the southern gate that we might be returning their way.”
“Done.”
“Oh,” adds Kira, pointing to the three shackled kids. “Make sure these three are taken into temporary custody. We’ll see to them when we get back.”
The guards set about their work, calling for the kids to exit the back of the van. The three from the academy look at me with big eyes as they pass.
“I’ll see you soon, OK,” I tell them. “I’m going to go and fetch Mrs Carmichael for you.”
Hope lifts on their little faces. Then one drops into a frown.
“Is Nate…dead?” asks a little boy, new to the academy, whose name escapes me.
I don’t know how to answer the question. Such a thing has never been posed to me.
“I…”
It’s all I can manage before Kira steps in, kneeling down in front of the child.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “But Nate has gone to a better place, away from war. He’s free now.”
She smiles and stands again, and the children are led away, the little boy stumbling along on short legs as the soldiers guide them towards another vehicle.
Then Kira climbs into the back of the van and returns with a new shirt and jacket.
“Here, try these on. They look about the right size.”
They are, and once more my City Guard camouflage is complete.
We pass back through the gate with the sun yet to fully climb to its summit. The weather is fine, the sky blue and clear and the air crisp and clean. It makes visibility good, and across the skyline of the city, lingering columns of smoke appear, spiralling from the still-burning wreckages that pepper the war-torn streets.
We work quickly around to the south, keeping close to the perimeter wall. It’s so bizarre seeing the place like this, so empty and devoid of life and colour, the neon advertising boards and massive screens blank and grey, as lifeless as the streets they populate.
I wonder what it’s like for Kira, her perception of the world so different from mine. With her blend of her powers, she’ll be able to feel, hear, and smell the hundreds, thousands of people hidden away in their apartments as we pass. She’ll have a sense of the life that remains here, collected behind brick walls where they think and hope they’ll be safe.
To me, the entire world seems like it’s had the life sucked out of it. To her, all those same scents and sounds will emanate, and the beating of hearts and the heaving of lungs and the worried, frightened voices that fill the thousands of unseen spaces around us will reach her sensitive ears.
Those same powers, of course, help guide us to where we need to be. As we move towards the south, she informs me that the old concert hall isn’t too far away from Culture Corner, a once vibrant place that has since become less popular as other forms of art and culture took its place.
In order to reach it, we pass down roads that link to Culture Corner itself, the large square appearing down the streets as I look upon the place that set so much of this in motion. For me at least, if not for the city itself.
We slow as we press on, and Kira parks the van down a narrow side street. On the building to the left, a set of stairs and ladders are attached, giving access to the roof. Quietly as we can, we climb up until we reach the summit, Kira making sure its unoccupied before leading me towards the far corner.
Then, her finger guides my eyes down the street, to a landmark I now recognise from my earlier days when I once worked a cleaning job around here.
“That’s it,” she whispers. “The concert hall.”
13
I zoom right in, scanning the large double doors and activity outside. It’s protected, although not that heavily. I see a few City Guards ambling about on patrol, a couple right outside the doors and another appearing from down a side street.
The latter is large, even from this distance. A Brute for sure, and a big one at that. His back is turned to me, his body lumbering along as he appears from the alley and begins working towards the front. He speaks with the two men outside the main doors for a moment, before turning back around in a wide circle and heading back where he came.
I focus on his face, half hidden behind his helmet and visor. But even from here, I think I recognise him. No, I’m sure of it.
“Magnus,” I whisper.
Kira, eyes shut, palm to the little wall surrounding the top of the building as she activates the Sight, opens up her lids and looks at me.
“You know one of them?” she asks.
“Magnus,” I repeat. “He was the Brute who guarded the western gate when I used to pass through. He was always friendly with me…”
Kira looks down towards the front of the hall, just as Magnus begins to lumber off
down the alley once more on patrol.
“There are lots of people inside,” she says. “It’s hard to be exact, but hundreds. I think we should work around, check the back. We don’t know who else might be on guard.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” I say. “I speak with Magnus. I can get down there and into that alley. He’ll tell me all I need to know.”
Kira considers it a second. This is her sort of work, something she’s done for years. Scouting and spying and staying unseen.
But, my powers are different from hers. And this situation is different to anything she’s faced too.
Finally, she says: “OK. We’ll head down together, and I’ll work to the far side of the hall to offer a distraction. It looks like one of the guards on the door is a Hawk. He’ll likely see you trying to get down the alley, no matter how fast you go. I’ll draw their eye, and you make your move. Got it?”
“Sure do.”
“Then let’s go.”
We head back down to the bottom of the building and into the alley where the van is parked. Moving through the streets, Kira activates the Sight a couple more times, making sure that we won’t be sprung upon by an undetected band of soldiers and further improving her understanding of the current patrol patterns around us.
When we reach the building just down from the concert hall, we stop around the side.
“OK, I’ll move around to the other side as quickly as I can. You’ll only have moment to get into that alley when I create the diversion. Don’t hesitate, or we’ll be into a fight. We don’t want that.”
“And what will your diversion be.”
“A whistle,” she says. “I’m good at that. It’ll be loud enough to draw all eyes and ears. If the Hawk is any good, he’ll realise something’s up quickly and look the other way. You need to be down that alley and out of sight before he turns around. I’ll wait until that big Brute is down the side of the building. Then, it’s over to you.”
“OK, I got it. Just a walk in the park, Kira.”
She grins, emerald eyes flashing.
“Good luck.”
With that, she disappears, shooting back from where we came and working her way around the streets until she reaches the other side. I wait patiently, barely able to creep my eyes around the corner in case the Hawk catches sight of me. Even the tiniest bit of moment on an otherwise still street might be enough for him, depending on his proficiency.
I don’t have to wait too long. Within only a minute or so, Kira’s speed has taken her into position. Listening closely, and barely breathing, I await the signal in silence.
And then, a loud, piercing whistle fills the air.
Even from here, it’s quite shrill, cutting through the quiet afternoon. I don’t delay for even a split second, and immediately burst around the side of the building and begin dashing towards the hall.
Kira’s instincts and experience are spot on. As I speed towards the hall, and the side-alley just to the right, I see both guards outside the doors staring away from me, their eyes and ears drawn by the sudden noise.
I’m into cover just in time before the Hawk turns, my gaze now working into the darkness. And there, about thirty metres ahead of me, I see Magnus’ huge form spinning around, drawn to the whistling sound as well.
I’m on him in a flash, materialising before his eyes as they widen in surprise. His cavernous mouth begins to open, but I quickly stretch out to my full height and cover it with my little hand, so small against the gaping space.
It takes a second, but behind his visor I see those eyes taking me in, the surprise passing and turning to recognition. And with one hand on his mouth, I draw the other to my own, lifting my index finger and covering my lips.
“Shhhhh,” I say. “Don’t speak.”
It may be enough just to say it, but I take no chances, slipping the order into his mind as well. Only when I know he’ll stay silent do I withdraw both of my hands, and get off my tiptoes.
His giant paws rise up and retract his visor, which slides up into his helmet, revealing more of his bountiful face. But still, with my order in his head, he doesn’t speak. He just stares, as if wanting to say something but being completely unable to do so.
“You’re wondering why I’m here,” I say.
He nods, eyes still wide, head shaking. Under this influence, he must now know what I am. It was only Titus, his older but slightly smaller brother, who knew I was a hybrid. He worked that out when he found me beyond the southern wall in the outerlands, secreting me back into the city to stop me from being taken to the REEF.
Magnus, meanwhile, never knew what I was. To him, I was just a regular Unenhanced, courting a Savant and moving to the High Tower.
This is very much news to him.
“I’m here to find my friends,” I inform him. “You probably have a lot of questions, Magnus, but I don’t have time to answer them. I need your help, and I need it now. Now hold still for a second, OK. I’m going to enter your mind, it won’t take a moment.”
Still locked in place, I move back into his head and begin my work. Time is too short to chat, to explain myself and everything that has happened.
Yet I want him to understand. I want him to see what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. I want him to break free of the spell that holds him and all his brethren among the City Guard.
So before I do what I’ve come here to do, I quickly impart into him a highlights reel of my experience over recent weeks and months.
I show him who I am.
I show him what I am.
I show him all the evil I’ve seen, all the lunacy spat from Cromwell’s mouth, all the terrible plots that the Consortium have committed. I show him that the attacks by the Fanatics were sanctioned by Cromwell, that the explosion that killed so many City Guards in the market was by his own hand, that he’s been working for years to breed fear and compliance among the people, turning all to his will, turning all to slaves.
I show him this awful vision of the future, and then prominently display our own. Fighting for equality, for the good of all the people of this city. Fighting for the saviour of humanity against a man who wishes only to strip it away.
I do it because he deserves to know the truth. Because he needs to know the truth. For too long his kind have been kept in the dark, conditioned to follow and not lead, to act for others and not think for themselves.
But no more.
I feel him taking it all in, feel the shock and surprise as the truth of it all dawns. And then, before I even set about the real purpose of my presence, I withdraw and look into his eyes, and remove the order from his mind to keep him from speaking.
His faculties return, and his breathing begins to increase, his mind struggling to take in so much in such a short amount of time. But slowly, he comes around, and his head begins to shake as he stares at me.
“I had no idea…” he whispers. “I feel…so stupid.”
“You shouldn’t. Cromwell’s conned us all for years.”
“And you, Brie…it’s all true. I heard rumours about you. That you were a hybrid, that you tried to assassinate the Director. I didn’t believe it, I couldn’t. But…it’s true. You did.”
“I did,” I whisper. “And I wish I’d succeeded. This war is because of him, Magnus. Every single death is on his hands. Now, all we want is to prevent further loss of life, save as many as possible. That’s why I’m here…”
“Your friends,” he breathes heavily, nodding.
“Yes. My old guardian and the kids from my academy. They’re my priority right now. Have you been inside the hall? Do you know how many guards are in there?”
His eyes drop behind a mountainous frown.
“I can’t…give them up,” he says, still battling with it all. “I have friends of my own.”
“And I understand,” hurries my voice. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. It’s just me and a friend. We only want to help get the people to Inner Haven, to safety.”
“They�
�re safe here,” he tells me. “We’re not bad people. We’re protecting them.”
“I know, I know. We’ve all been lied to. We’re fighting each other for him. It has to stop…”
The clock is ticking. I have little time to waste. I aim my gaze right back at his and work inside once more, searching for the faces of Brenda, Tess, Abby, and the rest.
I see the interior, the large space ornately furnished and decorated, if a little unkempt. I see hundreds of bodies sitting in penned off areas, see other guards patrolling within. I see tables with rations and bottled water, the people seemingly being kept safe.
I don’t know where the order came from, whether it was given by a lower ranking City Guard, wishing only to protect the people, or came right from the top, from Cromwell, seeking merely to continue the illusion that he has the people’s interest at heart.
Either way, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is I find my friends first, discover if they’re here or not. So within Magnus’ mind, I scan his memories, scan the faces of the people as if looking at a video screen.
I look from one to the next, searching for familiar features. And then, I see them, locked tight in a pen. Mrs Carmichael, Tess, Abby, a dozen other kids from the academy around them, all of them huddled together towards the rear of the hall.
With a throbbing heart, I pull back and out of the Brute’s mind. He grimaces a little, looking a bit spaced out, as I return to the alley.
“They’re in there,” I say, half to him, half to myself. “I have to get them out.”
He shakes his head, blinking hard.
“You can’t. They won’t just let you take them…”
“But they’re my friends, my people,” I say, my fists tightening. “They’ll be safer in Inner Haven with me.”
He readies himself to speak, but stops short as another voice enters the fray.
It comes from behind me, deep and penetrating, right from the end of the alley.