Fire City

by Bali Rai

  ‘Martha . . .’ he panted, invading the space between them.

  ‘Put down the gun,’ she whispered to him. ‘I’ll do anything you want. Just put the gun down.’

  She wept as she felt his coarse fingers take hold of her breasts, his slimy tongue slithering across her neck. He held the gun behind her, cold against her back. She turned her head as he mumbled something she couldn’t understand. Her mind centred on her mother, on her loving smile. The Mayor’s attentions grew rougher, more frantic as he pawed at her like some demented ape; and he dropped the weapon.

  Knowing she had only one choice, she reached for the dagger that nestled in the waistband of her trousers, pulling it free. With the other hand she pushed her stepfather towards the bed. He fell onto his back, his mouth open, his eyes full of desire. She walked to him, looked down into his face.

  ‘Did you see it?’ she asked, leaning across his legs so that her lips were barely centimetres from his.

  ‘See what, my love?’ he replied breathlessly.

  ‘The baby,’ she said, her eyes darkening.

  The Mayor looked puzzled. ‘What baby?’

  ‘The one you watched being ripped out of my dying mother!’

  The blade entered his left eye first, and deep crimson blood spouted from the wound, covering Martha’s hands. Then quickly she speared the right eyeball too. A frenzy of vengeance overcame her, and the world took on a scarlet hue. Time slowed so that each second stretched itself out like an eternity. The Mayor twitched and convulsed as she tore through his chest and stomach, cutting the flab to ribbons, shredding his insides.

  When she fell to the floor in exhaustion, his blood covered her arms up to each elbow and had painted a mask of death across her face . . .

  44

  JONAH AND MACE finished discussing their plans with Negus and told him it was time they left. They were sitting close to the tunnel entrance, having eaten a meal of canned beans with roasted meat, the provenance of which was neither asked after nor explained.

  ‘Better to go now than wait until the morning,’ Jonah pointed out. ‘Besides, we’ve got the jeep.’

  Negus nodded. ‘When will you join us?’ he asked Mace.

  ‘Dunno,’ the giant admitted. ‘We need to gather everyone who wants to leave Fire City and guide them up here. It depends on numbers.’

  ‘I doubt you’ll have many,’ said Jonah as a young dark-haired woman passed them, her eyes focused on him alone.

  ‘Me too,’ said Mace. ‘I had this wild idea that we would take everyone, but it’s just not possible. Many of the residents are too scared to defy the demons. And then there’s the logistics . . .’

  ‘How many in the Resistance?’ Negus asked.

  ‘Around fifty, at a guess.’

  Negus looked up at the giant tree under which they were seated. ‘This was a tiny acorn once,’ he said. ‘Now look at it.’

  Mace stared up at the thick branches and asked him what he was on about.

  ‘Most acorns are carried from their parent tree by animals,’ Negus explained. ‘I dunno – a squirrel maybe. The squirrel was out in the woods somewhere, ate the acorn and then took a dump here. That’s how this mighty tree was born. Slowly and surely . . .’

  Mace began to smile. ‘Oh,’ he replied. ‘This is one of those wise old sayings.’

  Negus nodded. ‘Start with the people you know will leave,’ he told the giant. ‘After that we can go back in stages and gather any others.’

  ‘You have a point,’ Mace told him.

  ‘It’s the only way,’ Negus replied.

  ‘There should be a fair number gathered at the Haven when we get back. Most of the Resistance.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Negus. ‘That’s your starting point.’

  Jonah told them to continue their conversation next time they met.

  ‘Listen to him,’ joked Negus. ‘Ordering his elders around.’

  ‘He’s been doing that since we left Fire City,’ replied Mace. ‘Very bloody annoying.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Jonah. ‘It’s just that we should be getting back. We’ve been gone longer than we said.’

  ‘I’ll guide you back to the jeep then,’ said Negus. ‘The men hid it in some bushes.’

  ‘What about the truck?’ Jonah asked.

  ‘Same place,’ Negus told him. ‘We’ll run it until the fuel runs out, and then we’ll take it apart and bring the bits to camp – see if we can reuse them in some way.’

  Jonah remembered the thermobaric grenades. ‘I’ll need the shells they took from the jeep,’ he said, trying not to sound bossy. ‘And a few guns too, Negus. The rest can stay here, if you like.’

  ‘Yes, that would be good,’ Negus told him. ‘Let’s get going.’

  Mace finished the herb tea he’d been given and stood up, his legs aching. He stretched out his arms and yawned deeply. Not long now and they’d be back in Fire City. At least then he might catch a little sleep – or at least think about it. There wouldn’t be time to actually rest – not if their plan was going to work. He took a walk through the camp, acknowledging the people he met along the way. The tribe was a proper community, with women and children, and even some older folks. They seemed happy and contented, full of warm smiles and easy chatter. He wondered whether his own people would feel the same, and saw no reason why that wouldn’t be the case. There was a world of difference between his existence and that led by Negus, Jack and the others. His new friends had been right; compared to Fire City their camp was a paradise.

  At the brook, Negus handed them a flask of water and bade them farewell. A lamp set on the ground barely lit their faces. Jonah and Mace were already in the jeep, ready to set off.

  ‘Be careful,’ warned Negus. ‘The army will be out in force.’

  Jonah nodded. ‘We’ll stay away from the main road,’ he said.

  Mace started the engine, turned back and took a rifle from the rear. ‘We’ve got plenty of protection,’ he told Negus, glancing at Jonah as he did so.

  ‘Go, then,’ said Negus. ‘I’ll look out for your return.’

  Mace accelerated away, towards the far side of the field and onto the road. The tarmac was in good shape with barely any craters and they made good progress, using the vehicle’s headlights at half power. Their unexpected detour after Tyrell’s disappearance had yielded at least some positives.

  ‘Shouldn’t take more than an hour,’ Jonah told him, his eyes focused on the darkness. He wondered what was waiting for them back in the city, and then he thought about Martha and found that he was excited about seeing her again. It was not a feeling he was used to. In fact, it surprised him that he felt that way. That he missed her.

  ‘As long as we don’t bump into any troops,’ Mace replied.

  Jonah said nothing and continued to keep watch and think about Martha at the same time.

  In Fire City, Mias had gathered his forces in the industrial zone. Sixty patrollers and three winged demons waited on his word. He ran over the tactics in his mind. They had the locations of every tunnel entrance to the Haven, and he would cover all of them. They would attack from two directions, with cover from the sky for any humans that managed to escape. Not that they would; Mias would make sure that not a single rebel soul survived. A small band of human soldiers stood with them. They would not join the attack but stay and fend off any other humans who were stupid enough to try and intervene. A grizzled and grey-haired soldier called Pipe led the mercenaries. He asked Mias what his orders were.

  ‘You will guard the route,’ the demon told him. ‘Let no one pass.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘And I mean no one, human,’ Mias cautioned.

  ‘What if the Mayor asks to get through?’ Pipe questioned. ‘Should I just shoot him too?’

  Mias ignored the insolence and shook his head. ‘The Mayor is aware of my mission,’ he clarified. ‘He will not interrupt.’

  Pipe turned to his men and gave out some orders. They moved off, in five group
s of three, with Pipe joining the last.

  ‘I hate those bastards,’ said one of his men, Williams.

  Pipe grunted and lit a cigar. ‘Sometimes,’ he replied, ‘I wonder if I joined the right side.’

  ‘Course you did, sir,’ countered Kemp, a vicious, barrel-chested veteran. ‘Them others can’t afford to pay us.’

  ‘You make a fine point,’ Pipe told him. ‘But it still bothers me.’

  ‘Girls, food, wine and money,’ declared Kemp. ‘That’s all I care about. These useless ones, out here, mean nothing. It was parasites like them that caused the problems, sitting around all day costing the rest of us money. No wonder the old world collapsed.’

  ‘You’re a prick, you know that?’ Williams told him. ‘We’re all human, regardless of what happened.’

  ‘I’m paid to be a prick,’ Kemp countered. ‘It’s my job, you shithead.’

  Pipe blew out a large puff of vanilla-scented smoke. ‘Listen to them,’ he said, stopping and turning back to Mias’ demon force.

  ‘Sweet mother,’ Kemp gasped as he saw the patrollers pounding their chests, roaring into the night sky. Above them the winged creatures circled, their cries as sharp and piercing as daggers.

  ‘I feel sorry for anyone who gets in their way tonight,’ Pipe told them. ‘They’ll be torn to shreds.’

  ‘Good riddance, an’ all,’ replied Kemp. ‘Bloody Resistance.’

  45

  FAITH LOOKED UP to see Martha standing at the top of the stairs. Her face was drawn, the skin pale. Her hands trembled and seemed to be discoloured. Sensing immediately that something was wrong, she occupied the soldiers by offering them a free drink.

  ‘Don’t see what harm it’ll do,’ one of them replied.

  The other, short with dark eyes and a receding hairline, eyed her with suspicion. ‘We’ll have water,’ he told her. ‘Both of us.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Faith replied, trying not to let her gaze wander to the stairs as she poured them their drinks.

  Prior, sensing her discomfort, asked the first soldier where he was from.

  ‘Up north,’ the man replied, taking his glass. He was a few centimetres taller than his colleague, with long thin fingers and a narrow blond moustache.

  ‘We didn’t come here to chat,’ the shorter soldier barked. ‘Just shut up and keep still.’

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ Prior replied. ‘I was just being friendly.’

  ‘I don’t need no scum for friends,’ the soldier retorted.

  Prior looked at Faith, who glanced at the stairs and gave a slight shake of her head. Prior let out a sigh and said he was going to the toilet. He slid off the stool, coughing, and made his way towards Martha, who was descending slowly. As he passed her, she palmed something heavy and metallic into his hands and whispered, ‘Follow my lead.’ He nodded and walked round and behind the staircase, where a narrow corridor led to the toilets and a kitchen area. He used it as cover, the gun nestling in his grip. He didn’t know what was going on, but understood that it was serious.

  Martha ducked under a hinged flap and behind the bar. The shorter soldier gave her a quizzical look.

  ‘Where’s the Mayor?’ he demanded.

  ‘On his way,’ Martha replied, trying not to shake. ‘He’s just checking on something.’

  ‘We’ll have some more water, then.’

  Martha nodded to Faith, who looked down and saw Martha place something under the bar – a small pistol. Like Prior, she went with it, despite her surprise. Something must have happened between Martha and her stepfather. It was the only explanation. Faith poured some more water, smiling at the soldiers.

  ‘You’re a looker,’ she told the taller one. ‘Don’t get many like you in here.’

  ‘Shut up!’ spat the shorter soldier. ‘One more word and I’ll shoot you.’

  Faith shrugged and put the fresh glasses on the counter. The less-friendly man stepped towards them, gaze fixed on Martha.

  ‘Now, if you fancy a chat,’ he told her, ‘I’d be more than happy to oblige.’

  Martha forced a giggle, her hands still out of sight. ‘I’d like that,’ she said, leaning forward.

  The soldier grinned and took Prior’s stool. ‘Don’t mind if I sit, do you?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t,’ she replied. ‘Not at all, but Prior might.’

  ‘The old man with the bad chest?’

  Martha nodded.

  ‘Like he’s an issue,’ the soldier smirked.

  ‘I wonder where he is?’ said Martha.

  ‘Forget about him,’ the soldier told her, leaning forward too. ‘Tell me your name.’

  Martha giggled again, and ran her left hand through her hair.

  ‘What’s that on your fingers?’ the soldier asked, with slight alarm in his eyes.

  ‘This?’ asked Martha, looking at the reddish-brown stains. ‘This is my stepfather’s blood.’ She whipped out her right hand, and fired once. The echo resounded across the room as the soldier flew backwards, a neat bullet hole in his forehead.

  Before his friend could react, Prior pounced, firing three shots into his torso. Two women screamed and ran for the exit. The man dropped to the floor, mouth spitting blood and surprise etched on his face.

  Martha came out from behind the bar and knelt by his side. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, before putting a final bullet through his skull.

  The first bang made Stone start. The second caused him to drop his cigarette and reach for his side arm. He jumped from the car.

  ‘What was that?’ asked his driver.

  ‘Gunshots from the bar!’

  Some female customers burst through the doors, screaming. The few passers-by stopped to gawp.

  ‘Come on!’ yelled Stone. ‘Quick!’

  They sprinted past the onlookers, bursting in to find Martha weeping, a dead soldier by her side. Ten metres away, lying on his back on a broken table, was a second dead soldier. Prior was at his stool, watching them as usual, and Faith was busy cleaning blood from some tables.

  ‘We didn’t see a thing,’ Prior told Stone.

  The mercenary ignored him and helped Martha to her feet. ‘Where’s the old man?’ he demanded.

  ‘Upstairs,’ she told him. To the amazement of her friends, she gave Stone a hug. ‘Thank you for warning me,’ she said. ‘I know you didn’t have to.’

  ‘I told you because things aren’t what they seem,’ Stone replied. ‘We’ll clean this up.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she answered, turning to Prior.

  Her friend’s disgust showed on his face. He averted his gaze, face going red. It was Faith who questioned her.

  ‘Since when did we consort with that monster?’ she asked.

  Martha turned to her, eyes pleading for understanding. ‘You need to hear everything,’ she explained. ‘The Haven has been compromised. Someone has turned against us.’

  Prior’s mouth formed a perfect circle. His eyes blazed with anger. ‘What?’ he spluttered. He coughed a wedge of thick yellow phlegm into his hand and wiped it on his trousers.

  ‘Stone warned me,’ Martha revealed. ‘The Mayor came here because he knew about me – about us. He said the demons will probably round up everyone else—’

  ‘How could they know?’ asked Faith. ‘Who would have said anything?’

  Martha shook her head. ‘They know!’ she insisted.

  ‘Who was it?’ Prior asked, calming slightly.

  ‘I’ll tell you who it was,’ came Stone’s stern voice. ‘The boy, Aron. I have proof.’

  The driver, used to the many intrigues conducted by his boss, coughed. ‘He’s not lying,’ he said. ‘I was there when he—’

  ‘When Martha’s stepfather turned him,’ said Stone, finishing the driver’s sentence for him, before a well-thought-out plan was ruined. He recalled Senator Wise’s warning about uncontrollable variables.

  ‘Was he tortured?’ Faith asked in alarm. ‘Did that bastard hurt him?’

  ‘No,’ Stone repl
ied, cutting her off. ‘He wasn’t tortured. He couldn’t wait to give you up. The Mayor offered him a better life, a job as a soldier. The boy jumped at it.’

  ‘No way,’ whispered Martha, her heart seeming ready to tear. ‘He wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘He was angry,’ Stone continued. ‘All he wanted was to get at you, Martha. You and Jonah.’

  Faith, Prior and Martha exchanged glances. Prior stood and faced Stone.

  ‘These are just words,’ he spat. ‘I wiped that boy’s arse when he was growing up. Martha was like his sister, and Faith his mother. He might be going crazy, Stone, but he’s no traitor. He hates the demons more than I do, and I’d sell my soul to burn them back to Hell.’

  Stone told Prior that he understood. ‘If it was me,’ he added, ‘I’d be wary too, but there are things going on, things that you don’t understand. I may not be your friend, old man, but perhaps we share a common enemy?’

  ‘Pah!’ Prior scoffed. ‘You? You’re just a lap dog for these scumbags.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s what it seems,’ Stone parried. ‘But if I’m working for them alone, then why haven’t I killed you all?’

  ‘Search me,’ Prior replied.

  ‘Martha has killed the Mayor, Prior,’ Stone pointed out. ‘The Mayor. If I was working with him, of course you’d all be dead. But you’re not dead and I want you to consider why.’ He turned to his driver. ‘Go get the car,’ he ordered. ‘We need to get rid of the bodies.’

  Prior watched the driver leave and mulled over Stone’s words. It was true that things were odd; he was right about that. Prior had been ready to fight to the death once Stone and his lackey had come through the door. It was what should have happened. Only it hadn’t. Instead, Stone had warned Martha and now them, and revealed Aron’s betrayal. It was like he’d woken up in some alternate world, one even stranger than that in which he lived. Another racking cough worked its way up his chest.

  Stone, mindful of what had swayed Martha to his cause, produced his mobile phone. If it had worked on her, it would work on them.

  ‘Listen,’ he told them. ‘In his own words . . .’

  ‘That’s one of them mobiles,’ said Prior. ‘Do they still work?’