by Bali Rai
And now there was Jonah too. If the newcomer had turned her head completely, then all was lost. Aron felt sick at the thought, his head beginning to pound as he imagined them together. He shook the image away and began to walk back towards the Haven.
As he crossed a road junction that was shrouded in gloom, the clouds finally broke and giant drops of rain began to pelt the streets. Drains that hadn’t been cleared in two decades quickly overflowed and Aron, drenched in seconds, began to shiver. Up ahead, he saw two older men duck down an alleyway. He paid no heed and, pulling up his hood, intended to walk on until one of the men called out to him.
‘Hey, you!’
Aron turned and looked up, water dripping down the bridge of his nose. ‘What?’
‘Give me your clothes!’ The man stepped into the street, a piece of wood in his left hand. His friend came after, his eyes bloodshot and a long scar cutting across his left cheek.
‘Blow me,’ Aron replied, turning away.
The first man attacked almost immediately, just as Aron knew he would. Aron stepped to one side, using the man’s momentum to turn and throw him. His attacker landed in the road, face first in a puddle of rainwater and mud. Aron turned to the second man, his fists raised, eyes wide with anger.
‘Come on!’ he yelled.
The second man hesitated for a split second; just enough for Aron to dropkick him in his right temple. The man groaned and then began to collapse forwards, allowing Aron to follow up with a knee under the chin. The man’s head snapped back with a sickening crack and he was unconscious before his head smashed against the wall behind him.
Aron turned back to the first attacker, who was getting to his feet slowly.
‘More?’ he asked the older man, who sneered and put up his fists.
Aron smiled, pulled back his hood and sprang forward. His forehead caught the older man directly above his left eye, leaving him on his back again with Aron on top of him. Before he could react, Aron felt his anger at Martha surface and began to punch his victim on the side of the head, over and over until the man passed out.
Aron stood and wiped his bloody hands on his trousers, then turned away, ready to make an exit; but once again thoughts of Martha made his head scream. His mind filled with her words of rejection and tears began to stream down his face. He turned back to the well-beaten man on the floor, raised his foot and stomped down on the man’s head. The world began to blur around him; his ears popped, his veins throbbed with blood and his foot became a piston, driving down again and again until he heard a woman screaming through the haze. He spun round and ran into the night . . .
* * *
Jonah sat down opposite Martha’s aunt and asked where she’d learned to work with herbs. May, her long dark hair and grey eyes almost exactly the same as those of her niece, smiled.
‘I knew a little before the War,’ she explained. ‘And then afterwards, I had to learn more. My sister had some books and many of the elders knew stuff too. I just learned as much as I could; then a little is, you know, guesswork.’
Jonah nodded as he watched other Resistance members milling around the Haven, some waiting for the Hunt to begin and others preparing to leave for the city. They were in the main chamber, at the very heart of the complex, and over in the corner furthest from them, Oscar was tutoring some children in martial arts. There were four young ones, standing in a line and throwing out kicks and punches, their faces stiff with concentration. Jonah shook his head softly as he considered how futile such efforts were. The nature of life meant that by the time the children with Oscar were old enough to fight, many of Oscar’s generation would be dead, or so broken that they’d be useless to the cause. The only way for them to survive was to leave Fire City and join the proper Resistance out in the wastelands. At least then they’d stand a chance. It bothered Jonah that they hadn’t already done so.
‘You seem preoccupied,’ said May, her smile warm and friendly.
‘I was watching Oscar,’ he admitted.
‘They’ve all had that training,’ she explained. ‘Mace started with Martha, Tyrell and the others when they first learned to walk. Martial arts, weapons – anything to help them.’
Jonah nodded. ‘And does it?’ he asked. ‘Does it really help?’
‘A little,’ she admitted. ‘Which is more of a chance than most people get.’
‘What else do you teach here?’
May stood and told him to follow her. She led him into the inner corridor and down towards one of the side rooms. Through the door, Jonah saw two young adults – one a tall, brown-skinned man, the other a woman half his height, with pale skin and red hair, neither much older than him – teaching a group of eight children. Jonah recognized one of the children as Luca, and thought about meeting his father: the warmth and relief Corey had shown, the deep love for his only child. Jonah thought back to his own childhood, saw his sisters at play and his mother watching over them, her immense pride always tempered by an ounce of fear.
‘What are they teaching?’ he repeated, in a whisper this time.
‘Oh, just what we can,’ she replied. ‘Life, the way the world works, all about the demons. We teach them about the old days and the War too, so that they understand what they’re fighting for.’
‘So will all of these children have to become fighters?’ asked Jonah.
May shook her head. ‘Not if they don’t want to,’ she said. ‘We never coerce them, not ever. This life isn’t for everyone. However, they generally do go on to join us.’
‘What about the teachers?’ he asked as he watched the man read from a book.
‘The man is called Raj, and the tiny woman by his side is Emily. She helps me sometimes too – she’s got a fast brain and learns quickly. I’m hoping she’ll take over from me at some point.’
‘Where will you go?’
May looked bemused and Jonah sensed the reason why.
‘Where everyone else goes,’ she explained. ‘Death. I’m under no illusions, Jonah. None of us are. It’s a miracle that I’ve lasted this long. Me, the other elders like Prior, even Mace and Faith – we’re exceptions rather than the rule.’
Jonah shook his head. They didn’t have to be exceptions.
‘There are many older ones up north,’ he told her. ‘Men and women much older than any of you here. If they can survive, so can you.’
May chuckled. ‘Perhaps they look after them better up there,’ she joked.
‘Their strength comes from their numbers,’ replied Jonah, ignoring May’s attempt at humour. ‘If your people left the city and joined them, you would lose fewer of them.’
‘Leave?’ asked May. ‘How can we leave? There are too many people in the city who aren’t Resistance members but they are humans. We can’t just leave them to their fate.’
‘Why do they stay?’
May looked towards the children in the room and Jonah saw that she was sad.
‘Most people here are too frightened to leave,’ she told him. ‘They’re so oppressed that they can’t see how futile it all is. I don’t judge them either, Jonah. People have the right to decide their own destiny, no matter what we think.’
Jonah lied and told her that he understood. But he didn’t. For him there was only one choice to make – join the Resistance and fight the demons, or sit around and wait to die. If you chose the latter, you deserved what you got. The demons didn’t care whether you were active or passive. To them, humans were a subordinate species to be used and abused as they saw fit. To live like that, to understand that and do nothing, was worse than death. It was, to Jonah, a betrayal of life itself.
‘Come on,’ said May, ‘let me show you around the rest of the complex. The Hunt will start in a few hours and we need to prepare.’
11
AS SOON AS we reached the hunting grounds we split into smaller groups. Mace took Oscar, Tyrell and Raj with him, whilst Jonah, Prior and Aron came with me. Marko, who worked with Oscar during the day, led another unit made up
of several men I didn’t know very well. Most were new recruits who Mace had trained and I could tell that they were nervous.
‘Martha, you take the south side,’ Mace told me. ‘And be careful. You and Prior are in charge, OK?’ He nodded towards Aron, who was looking the other way, and I repeated his action. Then I looked at Jonah, pleased that he was with us. He gave me a welcome half-smile.
‘OK,’ I said, wondering if Aron would act up because I’d been given the leading role. ‘And don’t worry, Mace, we’ll be fine. We’ll meet you at the safe house in two hours.’
Mace gave Jonah a look and then my group set off into the dark streets. The safe houses were pre-prepared – mostly bunkers or cellars which we had fortified. It was impossible to fight for the whole length of the Hunt and we used the hideaways to take shelter and hide the people we rescued.
‘There’re three tall blocks up ahead,’ I said to Jonah. ‘They’re infested with cannibals but we need to take them.’
‘Agreed,’ said Jonah as Aron approached us, looking a little sheepish.
‘You want me to go with Prior?’ Aron asked.
I shook my head, hoping that he wouldn’t throw a tantrum at taking orders from me. Mace often put me in charge because I tried to assess situations before engaging the enemy – just as he’d taught us all. Aron was the exact opposite, however, and I knew that Mace’s belief that he wasn’t as disciplined rankled. I also knew that Aron would always take it personally, whereas I’d always gone with what was best for the group. Lead or follow – it was the group that mattered, not me.
‘No,’ I told Aron gently. ‘This time we stick together, OK? We need you on your game tonight.’
Aron shrugged, seeming to accept my words without fuss, which came as a huge relief. We crept through the shadows towards the first block. A deserted area of tall grasses sat between it and us – an open spot that we had to cross to reach our goal. Its being so exposed signalled danger and we needed to be extra-cautious. Above us the skies were still quiet but very quickly they would be patrolled by winged demons, on the lookout for prey.
‘Did everyone use the scent-lotion May gave us?’ asked Prior. He was the oldest of the elders in our group, with rough skin that was sallow and dry. His eyes were a dull blue colour, his head shaved, his chin covered in grey stubble, and the fingers of his right hand were stained yellow from the cheap and plentiful cigarettes he smoked incessantly. Recently he’d developed a deep cough, one that had the rest of us worried.
Each of us nodded and then Jonah took out his rifle. I wondered what he was doing. There seemed to be no reason to draw his weapon.
‘Jonah, what are you—’ I began, but he cut me off. I held down my irritation, remembering how skilled he was. If he’d taken up his weapon there had to be good reason.
‘Go now!’ he ordered. ‘I’ll cover you.’
I looked up again, saw that there were no winged patrols, yet nodded anyway.
‘But there’s nothing out there,’ said Aron, looking to me.
‘Just get going!’ yelled Prior. I could see that Prior was sick, but he was still one of the few men I had ever trusted. If he thought Jonah was right, I wasn’t about to argue.
The grasses, although long, were easy to run through. The only problem would be hollows in the earth created by foxes and other animals – or the animals themselves. Thankfully we reached the first block without incident, and I turned to beckon Jonah across. As soon as I did so, I heard the piercing shriek of a winged demon. How could he have known? I asked myself. I made a mental note to ask him later and focused on the immediate threat.
‘Inside, now!’ shouted Prior. ‘Before it spots us.’
I knew that he was right, but part of me didn’t want to leave Jonah. Even though I was sure that he could take care of himself, I was still worried about him. I wanted to believe that gratitude was making me think that way, but that would have been dishonest. There was something else, something I’d never really felt before. Again I cleared my mind and tried to concentrate. One slip meant death out here and I wasn’t ready to die just yet.
‘What about—’ I began to say.
Prior grabbed my arm and dragged me into the doorway. He was one of few people I’d allow to manhandle me. He was right to do so too and I knew it.
‘Now!’ he yelled into my face. ‘He can take care of himself. If that winged bastard spots us, we’re done for!’
The ground floor of the building was dark and deserted. On one side were lifts, both of them ruined. To the other side I saw three doors and the bottom of the stairs, which went up to each of the eighteen floors. I could hear the faint growling and snarling of cannibals from above us. I remembered my initial Hunt and how scared I’d been on hearing my first nest of cannibals. Mace had called it my coming-of-age. The thought made me smile. A lot had changed since that night.
‘One floor at a time,’ said Prior. ‘We only need to secure the first two. Anything above that, we leave alone.’
I turned again and looked out into the night but saw no sign of Jonah. The winged demon was still patrolling, banking left and right and swooping in low to check for humans. I felt a sense of dread, just for a moment, before the adrenaline began to surge through me.
‘Come on!’ said Prior. ‘Before the winged one calls for backup.’
With Aron leading the way, we climbed the stairs to the first floor, moving slowly with our weapons drawn. The steps were slimy with moss and the entire shaft stank of decay. Something skittered along the first-floor landing, squeaking as it found cover.
‘I can hear them,’ whispered Aron. ‘Coming from the left.’
I stopped and listened for movement, and sure enough I heard shuffling footsteps. The landing had a door on each side and Prior pointed to the one on the right.
‘We go in that way,’ he told us. ‘My lead. Aron, you cover my back. Martha – cover him.’ He pushed past Aron, his machete drawn, and edged into the pitch-black corridor. Before I had the chance to register anything else, a cannibal screamed in blood lust and Prior roared.
‘Shit!’ yelled Aron, running straight into the battle, head down.
‘Aron!’ I screamed, part scared, part angry because I knew that Prior could handle a few cannibals alone. Once Aron charged in though, any others waiting to ambush us would smell his blood and go crazy. Any scent of human flesh and they swarmed like wasps around a broken jar of honey.
I had no choice but to join the fight, and cursing Aron for his stupidity, I ran in too. In the dark, the weirdly translucent pallor of the cannibals’ skin stood out, luminous and green. Prior was to my right, surrounded by a gang of four monsters, and I went to him first, chopping and cutting at cannibal flesh, ignoring the screams and the blood.
‘There’s loads of them,’ shouted Prior. ‘Come on!’
The corridor was long and narrow, with twenty apartments leading from it. Aron was six or seven metres away, trying to push back a surge of cannibals ten strong. I rushed towards him and began to help, and slowly we managed to kill all of them. Behind us, Prior was wheezing and trying to catch his breath.
‘You OK?’ I asked.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ he said, glaring at Aron. ‘Just get ready to fight. With all three of us in here, they’re going to think it’s a human hog roast.’
‘What now?’ Aron asked, compounding Prior’s anger.
‘You’re the hero!’ the old man snapped in sarcasm. ‘You tell us.’
When Aron failed to answer, I pointed to the far end of the corridor. ‘The last apartment on the right,’ I said. ‘We clear that.’
Prior understood my reasoning immediately. Once we took the apartment, we could use the narrow doorway to our advantage. The cannibals, blinded by their blood lust, would fight each other to get to us, blocking the entrance. As they broke through, we could pick them off with ease.
‘Go!’ he yelled as we heard more snarling coming from the stairwell.
I went first, my feet sliding
through blood and flesh, and kicked down the door to the last apartment. Knowing that there’d be something just inside, I rolled forward underneath the attack and stood up. My senses made out four cannibals, two behind me and two to my left. My blade made short work of them as Prior and Aron joined me. We turned to the doorway, took a breather and waited for the onslaught.
The snarling grew louder and my stomach began to turn over. I knew that the corridor was filling with cannibals, many more than we’d imagined. They moved slowly and purposefully towards us, eager for a meal. A simple fight was beginning to look much more deadly.
‘Brace yourselves,’ Prior told us, drawing his second machete.
Aron looked at me and shrugged. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to mess things up. I thought Prior was in trouble.’
‘Forget it,’ I told him. ‘We need to concentrate.’
The first wave of sickly green faces appeared at the entrance, five of them, each trying to beat the other into the room. They snarled and spat and screamed at us, arms outstretched, fingers bony, nails like claws.
‘Now!’ ordered Prior, and between us we began to push them back. Arms, hands and fingers went flying and blood spurted everywhere, but we didn’t stop. Any let-up would allow them to break into the room, and if they managed that . . .
CRASH! The glass of the window behind me shattered. I spun round and a winged demon, its talons clutching the window frame, shrieked in at us.
‘Prior!’ I screamed as the demon tried to force its way through.
‘I’ll do it!’ he shouted, turning to fend the monster off.
Its claws occupied, the winged being snapped at Prior with its beak, the teeth murderously sharp. Prior bobbed and weaved, avoiding the attack and trying to chop at the creature’s legs. From the screams, I counted that he’d succeeded twice, but then the cannibal onslaught increased in ferocity and I was drawn back to the doorway.
‘Martha!’ hollered Aron.