by Kim Curran
The three soldiers lowered their visors and raised their weapons. I did the same, pressing the button on the side of my helmet to cycle through the vision options – thermo, night vision, x-ray – till it was clear to see and I set off. We moved in silence, communicating in hand signals, which I was surprised to realise I knew. A jab of a hand to indicate move forward, a clenched fist by the side of the head to tell the others to stop. I guess I must have picked them up from watching too many war movies.
I thought about every step I was taking, each time I ducked rather than dodged, holding all the moments in my mind in case I needed to Shift. And I knew the rest of the team around me were doing exactly the same thing.
I held my fist up and we all stopped behind a small metal building. On the third floor, there was a large, arched window. The only thing in the entire building not made out of hard, sharp edges.
I pointed it out to Zac. “Can we get up there?”
“Sure thing.” Zac shrugged off his backpack and pulled out a grappling hook attached to a long rope. He slotted it into the barrel of a gun.
I crept out from behind the cover of the wall, Zac, Turner and Cooper behind me, and headed for the building. Zac took aim and with a click, the grapple soared into the air and over the top of the building. Zac tugged twice on the rope and nodded for Cooper to go up. The boy pulled a gold medallion out from under his collar, kissed it, and then grabbed hold of the rope. He braced his feet against the glass surface of the building and started to walk up.
Turner watched him, chewing on the side of her finger, gasping for air every time he slipped or made a wrong move. After a minute, he was at the third floor, next to the large window. He wrapped his foot around the rope and hung there, one hand free.
He pulled out a small blue hammer and laid his head and a hand against the glass, like a safe cracker listening for the telltale clicks, moved a few times till he found a place he was happy with, then hit the spot above his fingers with the hammer. At first, he only succeeded in smashing a hole in the glass. Cooper sighed into his helmet. Then there was that strange, jolting sensation when someone makes a Shift. The glass shattered, falling like rain around us in a shower of diamonds. It was kind of beautiful to watch.
Cooper stood on the window ledge and waved Turner up. She clambered up the rope after him, and Zac and I quickly followed.
We were in an empty flat. It reeked of dead animals, and a stained mattress lay on the floor. All the interior walls had been knocked through, creating one large, unliveable space. Graffiti covered every surface, including that word I’d seen earlier. “Shine.”
Cooper had his head out of the window, gathering up the rope, when an explosion shook the building. I watched him fall, his hands clawing at the air. Then suddenly, he was hanging half in, half out of the window. Turner had Shifted and grabbed him by his flak jacket.
“Thanks,” he said as she pulled him through.
“You owe me,” she said, dusting her hand on her leg.
“Consider it payback from when I warned you about Matt.”
“You didn’t warn me,” Turner said. “You set me up with him!”
“Oh, yeah. But only because I was hoping he’d make me look–”
Their banter was cut off by the cracking of gunfire.
“I guess the Red Hand know we’re here,” I said. “We’d better move fast.”
Without needing direction, my team spread out to cover both the window we’d come in and the door I was about to exit through. I was poised to open the door when I felt a hand on my arm. Cooper held up a thin, black tube, about eight inches long – a fibre-optic camera. He attached one end of the tube to his tablet and slid the other end through the small gap under the door. A moment later, a grey image appeared on his screen. The corridor outside. The camera moved to the left, revealing the way was clear. To the right, two large figures stood with their backs to the camera. Behind them, I was pretty sure despite the grainy image, was a sentry gun.
I patted my pockets and found what I knew would be there. A quantum grenade.
“A cat?” Zac said. “Good thinking.”
We called the grenades the “cat in the box”, after our lessons about Schrödinger. It was designed to go off in a variety of ways. Sometimes it would explode like a normal grenade, other times it gave off a flash of blinding light, depending on which button on the clip we pressed. The random nature gave Shifters the advantage, as we were able to Shift through the various options till the one most advantageous to us worked. I clicked the dial on the clip with my thumb, thinking about all the options open to me. And then settled on flash.
The door creaked open so loudly, I expected the men to turn around to investigate. But looking at them in the screen, they were still facing the opposite way. I’d have to get their attention for the flash grenade to work.
I threw open the door and stepped out. “Oi!” I shouted, at the same time throwing the grenade in a small arc so it came bouncing to a stop next to their feet.
They turned around and looked from me to the grenade, just as it erupted in white light.
Only then did I realise the men were wearing helmets, stolen from the army by the looks of things, which included visors that protected against flash grenades. Before they had a chance to run at me, I Shifted, this time going for the sleeping gas.
With that weird flipping in the stomach I’d missed so much, I was standing in front of two men who were slowly sinking to the ground, the Morphothane gas taking them down before they even had a chance to turn around. I waited for the gas to dissipate, then gestured for the team to come out.
We stepped over the sleeping guards, Cooper and Turner stripping them of their stolen helmets and armour before I even had to say a word. I pointed at Zac and then to the sentry gun. He was to stay here and cover this corridor. He nodded, a little too enthusiastically, I thought. I could hardly blame him. Even I was starting to have fun.
I didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. I was getting the kick of all kicks out of this. I could never remember having felt so calm and in control in my life. I guess it was adrenaline taking over. Whatever it was, I liked it.
Cooper, Turner and I pressed on, through a door marked “In Case of Emergencies” and up the staircase. Only seven flights to go.
The sounds of gunfire hadn’t abated from outside, and every now and then, there was another explosion. We ran up the staircase, taking two steps at a time, till we came to the tenth floor. I nodded at Cooper, watching as he pulled the same trick with the camera. His eager smile reminded me of Jake. I wondered again where he was now his life wasn’t being controlled by a government agency. I’d track him down as soon as I was back at base.
The tenth-floor corridor was empty. This door opened with a creak and I slid out, holding a hand up to the other two, telling them to wait.
Voices came from up ahead, loud and angry. I crept closer, till I could hear what they were saying. From what I could gather, it was two members of the Red Hand arguing.
“Why don’t we kill him and get out of here?”
“Slate said we were to keep him alive.”
“Then leave him here. I didn’t sign up to get bloody bombed!”
Bombed? I thought. Did they know about the air strike?
“What did you sign up for, then? All that stuff we said at our initiation about trusting in God? Don’t you believe anymore, brother?”
“What good will God do me if I get my bloody head blown off?”
I took a few steps closer to the open doorway. I risked the tiniest of glances around the door. It was another flat that had been converted into an open space. Exposed wooden frames were all that was left of the walls. Two large men stood with their noses an inch apart; a man was bound and gagged on the floor behind them. Hedges. Jackpot.
I strode forward and pulled out my gun.
“You should have listened to your brother,” I said and fired, sending two bullets into the chest of the man on the left.
The second man dove for cover while letting off a spray of bullets. I ducked back around the doorway, as the frame next to me exploded in a shower of plaster and wood splinters. Eventually, the gunfire stopped and a clicking noise filled the space. The man was empty.
I straightened up and raced through the door before he had a chance to reload. It was a risky move. But hey, if it didn’t work out, I’d Shift and take the more sensible option.
It did work out. As the man tried to replace the magazine of his machine gun, I jumped up, grabbing hold of an exposed heating pipe overhead, and swung, hitting him in the face with the heavy soles of both of my boots. He let out a loud oof and toppled over. I landed on his chest, with a knee on his throat. I leant forward till I heard a wet crunching sound. The man went still.
I clambered off him and looked around to see if there was anyone else here. Only Hedges and me.
“Clear,” I shouted. A moment later, Turner and Cooper crept into the room.
I walked over to Hedges. He stared at the man on the floor, and I couldn’t tell if it was disgust or relief on his face. I pulled the gag out of his mouth.
He coughed, gasping for air. “Thank you,” he said, through puffed lips. It looked like he was missing a few teeth, and his left eye was swollen completely closed. It seems Cain had been right about the torture.
“You’re safe now,” I said, pulling out my knife and slicing through his bindings.
The sounds of gunfire outside lessened. But it wasn’t over. “You know the drill. You follow me closely. You don’t take your eyes off me, you hear? So, stay sharp. Stay focused and you will get out of here.” I helped Hedges to his feet.
As I turned, there was a grunt and a gunshot. The man I’d shot had used the last of his breath to try to complete his duty. Hedges looked down and patted his body, trying to find the wound. But there was none.
On the floor, in front of us, lay a body. Cooper had instinctively leapt in front of the bullet.
I crouched down and pulled his helmet off. His eyes were wide and staring, looking desperately for a way out. Turner knelt down on the other side and took his hand.
“You’ll be OK, Coops.” She was lying. The boy was dying. But any minute now, the hypnic would kick in and Cooper would find a way to Shift himself back to life. Maybe he’d have pushed Hedges out of the way or have been on the other side of the room when the gun was fired. He sure as hell wouldn’t have sacrificed his life for some mission.
I couldn’t allow that. We had a job to do. I held Cooper’s face in my hands and stared into his eyes.
“It’s OK,” I said, Fixing him – stopping him from undoing any of his decisions. “It will all be OK. You did good.”
He smiled up at me, grateful I was there at his last moment. Not knowing that I was the one killing him.
He jerked, his limbs twitching, and then went still. I laid him on the floor and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Turner bent over Cooper’s body, rocking.
“On your feet, Private,” I said. We didn’t have time for this. “On your feet.” I yanked her to standing. When I saw the look of pain on her face, something in me softened. “Come on,” I said, patting her on the shoulder. “There’s nothing we can do now.”
She sniffed back the tears, repositioned her gun strap and followed me out the door.
I helped Hedges down the stairs, as he was struggling to stand. There were raw, red marks on his arms and legs and bloodstains on his shirt. How much had the Red Hand put him through? How close had he been to breaking?
When we got to the third floor, Zac fell back into position without saying a word. And without explaining the three new bodies lying dead in the corridor. He’d clearly had some action of his own.
We slipped out of the window; Zac and Turner helping Hedges make the leap down to the ground.
It was silent outside now. Not a single gunshot. We crept around to the front of the building as Unwin staggered around the corner, groaning and swearing. Williamson came after him, a steady stream of blood pouring down the side of his face. Between them they were carrying the limp body of Ward. Her grey eyes stared straight up at the sky.
They laid her on the floor, and Unwin let out a steady stream of angry swears.
“They had a rocket launcher,” Williamson said, using the cuff of his sleeve to wipe away some of the blood.
This had not been the in-and-out extraction we had planned. I checked my watch: less than fifteen minutes to get out before the air strike. “Where’s Ladoux?”
“Speak of the devil,” Unwin said, nodding behind me.
I turned to see Ladoux jogging across a patch of grass. She ran straight past us and stopped in front of Hedges. She pulled him into a quick hug.
Hedges winced. Embarrassed at this public show of affection or because her embrace had caused him pain, I wasn’t sure.
Ladoux let him go and then smoothed down the front of her shirt. “They didn’t hurt you too much?”
Hedges shook his head.
“Unwin and I are fine too, by the way,” Williamson said. “Just in case you were wondering. Ward and Cooper not so much.”
Ladoux looked down at Ward’s body, her smile vanishing in an instant. “Where’s Coops? What happened?”
“We almost got our arses handed to us is what happened. They knew we were coming,” Unwin said, throwing a fresh piece of gum into his mouth.
“How is that possible?” Zac said.
“I don’t know. But they were ready,” Williamson said.
“Well, you got what we came for,” Ladoux said, looking back at Hedges.
“Oh, sure. Mission accomplished. Whoopy-freaking-do!” Unwin said.
“Not yet,” I said. “We still need to get Hedges back for–” I didn’t have a chance to finish. Zac shoved me hard in the chest, there was a loud snap, and I felt white searing pain cut across my arm. Zac and I both hit the ground. We were under fire.
We rolled behind the smoking car to get some kind of cover.
“Get back!” I yelled at the team. They herded Hedges around the side of the building. We weren’t in the clear yet.
“Up there,” Zac said, pointing to the top of the building.
I flipped my visor into place and zoomed in on the figure. They were slim – a woman or child, maybe – holding a small pistol and pulling the trigger over and over, while they screamed in rage. The gun had stopped firing, the cartridge clearly empty, and yet they kept pulling the trigger. My visor flipped through filters till the person came into focus. It was a teenager. I couldn’t tell which gender, thanks to the red hoodie they wore pulled up over a baseball cap. But I could see the tears pouring down their face.
I stood up, took aim, and fired. A single shot to the head and the figure crumpled to the ground. We waited to see if we were in the clear. Everything was silent apart from the crackle of fire coming from the burning building. Slowly, we stood up and stepped forward. It was over.
“Ten minutes,” Zac said, meaning how long we had till the air force would get to work. Not that the strike was needed any more. The Red Hand had cleared out long ago, leaving only a small defence team behind. But I would be happy to see this block go up in flames anyway.
I nodded. “Let’s get back to the bird.”
Ladoux led us to where she’d landed the copter. Unwin and Williamson carried Ward’s body and laid it in the cockpit. Turner dug out a blanket from her pack and covered the woman with it.
We stood for a while before getting back on board, looking towards the tower block. The strike would be coming any minute. I wondered if there were still some of the Red Hand in there and was surprised at how completely OK I would be if there were. They deserved to burn, I thought. Someone tugged on my arm. I yanked it away, irritated at whoever was there.
It was Turner. She held a white gauze bandage in her hand. “Your arm, sir.”
The scrape was deep. Blood oozed steadily out of it, soaking into my uniform. I
nodded at her to continue.
She worked quickly, cutting away my sleeve so she could get access to the wound. She mopped at it, throwing each soaked swab to the floor, then pulled out a tube.
“This may sting,” she said, as she poured a line of glistening liquid into the cut.
She wasn’t kidding. I had to bite down on my lip to stop myself from whimpering in pain. It was worse than the cut itself. She wrapped a bandage around my arm, tying it off in a neat bow.
“Thank you,” I said.
“No problem,” she said, packing up her equipment. She was about to walk away when she paused. “Cooper’s body.”
The strike was due any moment. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded and forced a smile.
I felt Cooper’s loss harder than made sense. As far as I was aware, I’d only met him yesterday. And yet there was a part of me that counted him as a friend, that had fought alongside him. The death of Ward hurt, too. I knew nothing about her. Had she been a mother? A wife? I would never know now. All I knew was that she was a good solider.
I looked at the rest of my squad. Unwin, the gunner – who even now was trying to make a joke, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes – passed Turner a cigarette. She took it with a shaking hand and chugged on it, sending a cloud of blue smoke into the sky. Next to them, Williamson saw to the cut on his forehead, trying to hide how much pain he was in. Ladoux stared ahead, flicking the lid of a lighter open and closed. Flick. Open. Flack. Closed. Over and over, and yet she didn’t smoke. And Hedges, frail and haunted, sat on the floor, unable to stay standing any more.
I looked from squad member to squad member, taking in as much as I could about them. Noticing how Williamson bit his nails and how the thin tan mark around Ladoux’s fourth finger meant she used to wear a wedding ring. Had she lost her husband to the war? Tiny little details that made up the person.
I felt a wave of pride for my squad swell in my chest. “You did good,” I said. “You all did good.”