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Boneyards & Badlands: The Complete FTW Series

Page 7

by Morgan Hobbes


  I walk over and stand by Kara. She’s breathing heavily trying to get her rage under control.

  “I remember you,” she says. “I remember everything you and the others did.”

  “So what?” Reed spits.

  I kick him in the ribs and he coughs and splutters in pain.

  “So apologize,” Kara says. “Say you’re sorry and I might let you live.”

  “Go to hell,” he replies. “You’re dead, anyway. You and all the rest of the scum in the boneyards.”

  Kara turns and stares at me and I shrug.

  “The hell you talking about?” Kara says, returning her attention to Reed and punctuating her question with a kick to his ribs.

  “X-71. Look it up,” he says coughing up more blood.

  “Screen, what is X-71?” I ask.

  “Your security credentials are insufficient,” the screen replies.

  I think for a few seconds.

  “I bet his are,” I say, looking towards Reed. “Can you get me access?”

  Reed laughs and tells me where I can jam my access. Kara replies for me by punching him in the balls.

  “Okay, okay. Damn,” he splutters while holding his groin. “Security upgrade for Echo Fox. Authorization per Reed Fox. Elevate to match mine.”

  “Security upgrade action will be logged. Proceed?” asks the screen.

  “Yes, damn it,” Reed spits.

  “Security changes committed.”

  “There, happy now?” asks Reed.

  Kara punches Reed and his head bounces off the cold metal floor, leaving him unconscious.

  “Screen, can you hear me?” I ask.

  “Voice print identified. User: Echo Fox. Security Level: Super User.”

  “What is X-71?”

  “Super user access request accepted.”

  A lady in a white coat appears on screen but doesn’t move and on closer inspection she doesn’t even blink. On the wall behind her an “FTW” logo is stenciled in large letters.

  “Hello?” I say to the lady.

  “Play vision?” the screen asks.

  I think I like technology a lot more when I’m pulling it apart for scrap.

  “Okay, sure,” I say.

  The lady on the screen moves and looks directly at me.

  “Mister Jameson, Lana Bixby reporting on results of X-71 solution. Results from the most recent round of tests have been positive.”

  Lana disappears and is replaced with a picture of a boneyard. It’s similar to but obviously not mine. The buildings surrounding it look different.

  “As you can see,” the lady continues talking while the boneyard is on screen, “this is a typical boneyard. The inhabitants are common to boneyards across the globe. Through the air purifiers around it’s perimeter we administered the X-71 solution.”

  The picture on screen changes to an air-scrubber which is pumping out a thin cloud of smoke which drifts across the boneyard. The smoke settles on the ground instead of being blown away, shrouding the boneyard like a fog.

  “Exposure time is minimal, and can be easily passed off as a scrubber malfunction. We’ll now skip forward six months.”

  Again the picture of the screen changes, this time it’s of people in the boneyards. Many are lying on the ground and at first I think maybe they’re sleeping.

  Some are walking around coughing and pulling away blood-soaked rags from their mouths. Then it hits me. Most of the people I’m seeing are dead.

  “As you can see, the X-71 is highly effective. The programmed delay between exposure and symptoms will ensure the two events cannot be linked. With your approval we’ll begin the mass production of the X-71 solution to prepare for worldwide distribution.”

  The video cuts off and I’m left standing there dumbfounded.

  They’re trying to kill us all, everyone who lives in the boneyards. I have to warn someone. But who? The only people who need warning don’t have the technology to see this. Maybe there’s another way.

  “Can you show this to more people?” I ask the screen. “Like show it to everyone?”

  “Affirmative. Would you like to proceed?”

  “Yes, show everyone.”

  “Please wait, distribution in process.”

  “I guess we wait,” says Kara.

  While we wait Kara and I check out the other cylinders, and what we find will haunt us for the rest of our lives. Deep inside the blue liquid are other bodies, but only partially formed.

  These must be the clones for auction, but they are still in the middle of the cloning process. Raw muscle and exposed bones and internal organs are all on show, but still somehow unmistakably Kara. We can see them growing before our eyes.

  “Screen,” Kara whispers. “Can you stop this?”

  “Affirmative,” the screen replies.

  “Well do it,” Kara says, not taking her eyes from the horror in front of her.

  “Your security credentials are unknown,” the screen replies. “Unable to execute.”

  Kara looks at me. She doesn’t even need to ask.

  “Screen, please stop this,” I say, and a brief smile crosses Kara’s face.

  “Please confirm abort of clone batch,” the screen says.

  “Confirmed,” I reply.

  A yellow liquid is pumped into the cylinders turning them dark green. Everything turns murky and impossible to see into, but when it clears a few seconds later there are no longer any partially grown clones of Kara.

  As the last wisps of green disappear from the cylinders, the elevator dings and Rosalie runs into the lab calling my name. When she sees me she runs over and grabs my shoulders.

  “Oh, Echo. What did you do?”

  “What had to be done,” I say, smiling at Rosalie’s use of my first name.

  I introduce her to Kara then give her a brief rundown of the last few minutes.

  “Yes,” she says when I’m done. “You sent the video to everyone on the planet. You need to get out of here right now before your father finds out.”

  “What do we do about Reed?” I ask Kara.

  “Well, he killed me,” Kara says, “so I think I should return the favor.”

  12 - Chute

  We run through the rooms of the apartment, and Rosalie helping us to grab things we might need when we get out of here.

  We stuff everything into a bag and I sling it over my shoulder. The blaring alarms in every room make the need to leave even more urgent.

  Back in the clone lab Kara had slapped Reed about his face until he regained consciousness.

  She told him she remembered everything he had done back in the boneyard, and while she felt she ought to spend the same time making him suffer, she really didn’t have the patience.

  Before he could say anything she slammed a fist into his neck, crushing his windpipe. His eyes grew wide, and he grabbed desperately at his throat, but he didn’t last long.

  The second he died the alarms started their deafening roar.

  “Hurry, I have to get you out of here,” Rosalie shouts over the alarm.

  I grab her by the arm.

  “All three of us need to get out of here. You’ll be in as much danger as we are. They’ll likely kill you just because you know me. At least if you run you’ll have a chance.”

  Rosalie nods her acceptance, and the briefest of smiles crosses her face.

  “So how do we get out?” I ask Rosalie.

  This time it’s Rosalie who grabs my arm, and she leads us through the house until we’re in a room made entirely of stainless steel.

  “There’s only one way we can go where they won’t see us,” she says and pulls open a small door set into the wall. “We take the express route to the ground floor.”

  Kara and I look through the door at a small, dark chute which heads straight down.

  “Are you sure about this?” Kara asks.

  Before she can answer, off in the distance the doors to the apartment slam open followed by the stomping of boots storming in.
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  “No choice,” she says and helps me in.

  I close my eyes, hold my breath and with the bag on my lap I let myself fall into the chute. Its metal sides are smooth and as I rocket downwards I hold out my hands to slow my descent.

  After a few seconds my hands are burning so I pull them away and push out with my feet, the rubber on my boots gripping better and they slow me down.

  I continue to fall through the blackness for ages until suddenly the chute curves. My backside slides across its surface and I slow down without the aid of my boots.

  Without warning I burst out of the chute. My eyes are flooded with light again. I fly for a short distance and skid to a halt in front of a pile of garbage.

  I’ve just enough time to collect my senses when Kara flies across the room and lands inches away from my head, closely followed by Rosalie.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “If I’m right, we should be inside a garbage drone,” Rosalie replies. “Do you still have your bag?”

  I look around and find the bag I had been holding is now wedged into the garbage, my feet having driven it in when I landed. It pulls free easily enough. I check and find everything is still in one piece.

  “Get out the comms, the little rectangular thing.”

  I dig through the bag and pull out the device I think she’s talking about.

  “This? I’d always wondered what these things do.”

  “They can do plenty. Yours should do damn near everything. Tell it this drone is full and is ready to dump.”

  I do as Rosalie says, and seconds later there’s a loud humming and we’re jolted as the drone launches.

  “This should take us to the nearest boneyard, which is where you’re from, right?”

  “From what I’ve seen, yes. I know people there, we’ll be safe.”

  “So long as Jameson is alive, none of us are safe,” she replies, a deep sadness filling her eyes.

  “Well, maybe it’s time to change that,” I say, my conviction not wavering.

  I may have been unwilling to kill someone in the past, but I’m feeling like I’m warming up to it. Especially to someone threatening to kill everyone I know and care about.

  Before I can think about it any further a deafening alarm rings out, followed by an announcement.

  “Warning. Warning. Human presence detected. Please clear the area. Organic decomposer deployment in thirty seconds.”

  I look back and forth at Kara and Rosalie, eyes wide, who look back at me with the same expression.

  “What the hell does that mean?” I shout at Rosalie.

  “I don’t know!” she replies.

  “Comms!” I shout at the comms box. “What is ‘organic decomposer’?”

  “Organic decomposer is a gas deployed during garbage disposal. All organic matter inside the hold of a garbage drone is reduced to sludge before the drone deposits the load into a boneyard. It prevents any foodstuffs from entering the boneyards.”

  “Will it kill us?” I ask, nervousness creeping into my voice.

  “It’ll render any organic matter into sludge, including flesh and bone.”

  “Ten seconds to deployment of gas,” the drone announces.

  “Comms, can you stop it?” I plead.

  “Affirmative. Please wait.”

  As the seconds tick by, I grip Kara’s hand tight in my own, and she’s squeezing mine just as hard. A white gas cloud appears from the ceiling at the far end.

  “Oh God,” Rosalie says.

  But just as quickly the gas stops.

  “Gas deployment halted,” says the comms.

  We all drop to our knees, unable to stand any longer.

  “I thought for sure we were dead,” Kara says.

  “I’m sorry,” Rosalie replies. “I had no idea.”

  After a short flight the garbage drone slows down and then finally comes to a stop.

  Before we can look for an exit the bottom of the drone opens and we fall out and land on top of a garbage pile, the momentum of the fall making us slide and roll until we land at the bottom.

  Kara, apparently used to sliding down piles of garbage this way, lands gracefully when she hits the bottom. Rosalie and I both crash-land on our asses.

  I jump to my feet and look around to work out where we landed, and I am relieved to find we’re close to the Bitza’s workshop.

  “This is good, I know where we are. We’re close to my family,” I say helping Rosalie to her feet, and then together we run through the boneyard towards home.

  As we run into camp Nimah shouts with joy and runs over and hugs me until I can barely breathe.

  “Where have you been? We’ve been so worried about you! Why are you so clean? You smell fantastic!”

  “That’s a long story, but I’ve been outside of the boneyard. I’ve brought along some friends.”

  When she sees Kara standing behind me Nimah’s eyes open wide in shock before she passes out and falls to the ground.

  It takes a few minutes but eventually we rouse Nimah and keep her calm while she comes to grips with Kara’s sudden reappearance.

  “Come on,” I say helping Nimah to her feet. “Gather everyone you can find. I’ve got something we all need to hear.”

  Nimah helps round up my fellow family members and I tell them my story, leaving out how I got beyond the walls so to keep my promise to the Bitzas.

  Everyone is enthralled when I show them the comms, which turns to anger as they watch the murder of the scrappers from another boneyard.

  While we discuss our options, some of our family members that have relationships with other groups go out into the stacks to find them.

  It takes a few hours but eventually they return with faces I’ve seen from far away but rarely up close.

  There is a small measure of distrust at first, but that dissolves quickly as we are united in common anger.

  “So what do we do?” asks Liana, a leader from another family group.

  Everyone looks at me and I suddenly feel tiny standing here in front of everyone among all the massive piles of garbage. Nimah must sense my discomfort and she takes my hands and squeezes them tight and reassures me I am stronger than I know.

  “Just look at everything you done. You escaped the boneyard when no one ever has. You’ve stood up to Jameson T. Fox, which I know damn well no one out there has ever done.

  “Now, stand up and tell these people your plan. I have faith in you. I’ve always known you would become the strongest of us all one day.”

  I pull in Nimah and hug her as tightly as I can, then straighten my back and look out over the crowd of desperate faces and tell them my plan.

  By the time we’re ready we number over a hundred scrappers. Every one of us is armed with anything we could find, with the emphasis on sharper the better.

  Word spread throughout the boneyard and we’ve recruited fighters from all the families.

  Even Bishop and Bosco have signed on. It took me a few seconds to recognize them because I’ve never seen them outside of their workshop.

  But they are here and eager to kick ass.

  Using my comms I call down a garbage drone to our position and tell it to stay once it has dumped its load. As we wait for the drone to arrive my comms beeps at me.

  It tells me it’s found something I may be interested in. I ask it to show me. Its screen changes and suddenly I’m looking at Jameson in his glass dome along with people shouting questions at him.

  “This footage comes as a complete shock to me and no doubt to all FTW employees. We’re tracing the source of the hack with initial indicators pointing towards the known terrorist group who call themselves the ‘Fox Hunters’, who have made it their mission to discredit everything my family has done for this planet.

  “As you know, these so-called ‘Fox Hunters’ claim we don’t do enough to help the people of the world, especially those who choose to live outside the safe world we have created.

  “As we’ve demonstrated in the
past we have a long history of providing aid to these people. We regularly send food, clothing, and medical supplies to the boneyards, and I’m sure everyone who lives there are thankful for it.

  “This footage is obviously a deliberate attempt at trying to discredit FTW and indeed myself. We have experts working on tracing how they hacked into our systems and distributed this disturbing footage.

  “I’d like to reiterate neither FTW nor I have anything to do with this, and I’ll personally be making sure the person or people responsible are held accountable.”

  The screen changes away from Jameson to someone else.

  “Thank you for your time today Mister Fox. For our viewers, if you’d like to view footage of FTW’s aid workers distributing help to the boneyards, touch the blue triangle on your screen to know more.”

  Nimah is watching the comms over my shoulder.

  “That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever seen. Do people on the outside really believe FTW is helping us?”

  “I’ve no idea, I wasn’t there long enough to know. Rosalie probably knows,” I say, but before I can get her attention, a garbage drone approaches our position and opens its doors.

  Given how little garbage falls out I must have summoned the same one that brought us back here earlier. It hovers a few feet off the top of the garbage pile and waits like I asked.

  I raise my voice so I can be heard over the whirring of the engines.

  “Scrappers of the boneyard, this is our one chance. What we do today, we do to save lives. Not just here, but in boneyards all over this world. I say let history judge our actions however it chooses, what matters today is we do what we know is right.”

  The crowd assembled around me roars in support and then as one they charge up the mountain of garbage. Nimah grins at me, like she knew all along I could lead these people.

  Kara and I are the last two people to enter the garbage drone, and once we’re ready, I direct it to deliver us to Jameson’s tower.

  13 - Control

  The ride to the FTW building is tense. There are so many scrappers in here relying on each other when our lives are usually spent in competition.

 

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