“Those are the inbound ones,” Asterope said, indicating the cluster of capsules. “And those are the empties.” She pointed to another large stack of cylinders on the right. It was almost a mirror image of the one on the left.
“Okay,” Kassandra said.
Asterope pointed forward. “That’s where the processing happens. That’s where we pilfer the contents.” They crept, half-crouching, between the two stacks of barrels. The crane whirred above. They were now in an area where shape-shifting robots were working. They looked much like blobs of mercury, into which some god had breathed life. Two of them unclasped the end of a cylinder and started to extract plastic containers. Some were the size of a small suitcase. Others resembled breadbaskets, squeezed in to use the space efficiently. Once extracted, these were placed onto various pallets that trundled past, each of which had a flashing orange light on a pole to warn of its presence. The moving platforms then headed deeper into the facility. The three girls hid in the shadows, behind a stationary forklift.
“We don’t know what’s in them,” Asterope whispered. “We just have to open them all, before they get put on trucks, and grab anything useful. Don’t forget to shut them again. There’s nothing we can do about being in the light. There isn’t time to drag the containers off into the dark. Take your backpacks off and get ready to stuff them. Taygete, you take that pallet”—she pointed directly ahead, beyond where the two slithering forms worked—“and we’ll take that one, Kassie.” She pointed to their half-right, at another two-by-two meter pallet on the other side of the work area.
“Right.”
Asterope and Taygete held up their two forefingers in the sign of an X to each other. Kassandra followed suit. They all moved off to their assigned spots.
Kassandra and Asterope squatted on the mobile platform next to each other, being careful to avoid the tentacle-like arm as it placed items beside them. Asterope wasted no time in whipping out a knife and prying the lid off a white container the size of a duffel bag. “Rubbish,” she said, on seeing that it contained only smaller parcels. She jammed the top back on. “Get some of those.” She pointed to some breadbasket-type ones, standing on their ends, on the corner nearest Kassandra. Kassandra took her knife, and tried to work the blade into the seal around the lid, while Asterope checked some other larger ones.
“Meat,” Kassandra said. She held aloft a vacuum-sealed pack of pork chops. Asterope gave a thumbs-up. Kassandra threw them in her backpack, and emptied the rest of the container in the same manner before replacing the top.
“Jackpot,” Asterope said, holding up a head of cauliflower. Kassandra smiled. Asterope grabbed more of the vegetables. “Don’t fully empty the containers,” she whispered. “Draws too much attention.”
“Too late.”
“Oh well. You know for next time.”
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” an intimidating young male voice said from behind Asterope. The accent was slightly German. She whirled around, while Kassandra fell backwards from adrenaline-fueled shock. Two men, wearing the same kind of vision-scrambling apparel that the girls wore, stood there. Muscular in form, they held stun batons.
“Some cuties under those uniforms, I bet,” the other, slightly shorter, man said. He sounded French. “Score!”
“Sixers!” Asterope spat, still crouching on the pallet. Kassandra pushed herself back up off the ground to a squatting position on the floor near Asterope. Taygete watched from behind the stack of containers on her pallet, almost hidden from view.
“That’s right,” the German voice said. “And this stuff is ours.”
“Hell, no!” Asterope said. “This is X’s turf, and you know it. Get back to where you belong.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, my sweet.” The German Voice enunciated the words slowly and menacingly. “See, we own the west side of the city now. Survival of the fittest, I’m afraid. In case you didn’t already know it, this is your one chance to get out of here.”
“Although,” the Frenchman said, in a lurid singsong voice, “we could fit in a little unrequited love first. I haven’t scored in weeks.”
The first man turned to him. “Shut up. We have one job only.”
Asterope stood up, with her knife in a stabbing grip. “You needn’t bother,” the man with the German accent said, in an almost impatient tone, pointing the baton towards her. “Nobody will even come looking for you. The cops have a lot more to deal with.” Asterope lunged towards him as hard as she could, reaching for the baton. Crack! With a flash of light, Asterope went limp, even as she knocked the man backwards with her momentum. She was on top of him as his head hit the floor. The German pushed the unconscious girl off himself. At the same moment, the pallet that Taygete was on (and Kassandra was prone beside) emitted a beeping sound and began to move. Taygete lost her balance, knocked over the stack of containers, and fell backwards off the platform.
“Aha! More!” the Frenchman said on seeing her. He darted around the oblivious snaking silver robots, and reached Taygete before she had time to get up again. One punch to the face sent her sprawling onto her back. He then straddled her and pulled off her ski mask, revealing her pretty face and short brown hair. He was facing Kassandra, approximately five meters away. “Now, we’re going to have some fun here.” He made to start peeling back Taygete’s shirt. Out of his upper peripheral vision, he saw Kassandra slowly rise to her feet. In one move, he withdrew his stun baton from his belt and extended it towards her. There was a flash of light. Kassandra flew across the floor to her left. She had dodged the energy bolt just in time. “Damn!” the Frenchman said, as he re-aimed. As he was doing so, Kassandra pulled out her other knife, unsheathed it, and threw it in one fluid motion. The flash from the baton and the knife crossed in mid flight. Kassandra was knocked on her back, and the knife lodged itself deeply in the center of the man’s chest. He just looked down, as blood spurted from the wound in time with his heartbeat. Taygete’s face, neck and chest were soon soaked in it. His eyes began to glaze over, and he slumped to his right. His head gave a sickening thud as it hit the concrete floor. His right hand lost its grip on the baton, and it rolled away.
“Oh my God! Pierre!” the German man said, rushing over. He rolled Pierre onto his back, and pulled out the knife. Blood now squirted the better part of a meter in the air. He pressed the heel of his right hand against the wound to try to stem the bleeding, using his left to apply additional pressure. The flow of thick red fluid almost stopped. He used his left hand to yank off Pierre’s ski mask, revealing a handsome face and medium length brown hair. Pierre’s skin was already turning ashen gray. His friend looked over at the unresponsive Kassandra. “YOU DID THIS! YOU!” he snarled.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Reckoning
Taygete, now that she was no longer pinned down, sprang to her feet, and backed up quickly in the direction of the entrance. In her haste, the terrified-looking, blood-soaked girl tripped over a palette and fell backwards. She got up again and, with one last look at the scene, turned and ran back through the unloading area. “You’ll pay for this! Don’t think you won’t!” the German man yelled at her. She then sprinted out into the street, and turned right, back towards Silo 7. After twenty meters, Taygete stopped to try to wipe Pierre’s blood out of her eyes. The shutter door, to the right of the one they had used to enter the dock, began to roll open with a click-clack sound. After one wide-eyed look back, Taygete resumed running. A fast-moving, ghost—like form exited the dock, and turned right, chasing Taygete. It headed straight towards her, covering the distance in no time at all. It was the surviving Sixer, riding a powerful, silent gray motorcycle. Taygete was easily visible without her camouflage ski mask. She dropped to the ground and cowered, covering her head with her hands. However, the bike just passed right by and kept going. Thirty meters later, it took a left turn at speed, its rider leaning low to the ground. Taygete lifted her head again and looked around. All was quiet. She stood up, and looked back toward
s the dock. Should she attempt to revive the others, or should she go and get help? From what little she knew of stun batons, their effects didn’t wear off for at least an hour. The place would be crawling with Sixers long before then, who would be only too eager to avenge their (probably) dead friend. She had to get back to Silo 7 as quickly as possible.
Taygete resumed her sprint straight back down the road, past the burned out vehicles. She didn’t even bother checking the intersections. Five hundred meters later, the now panting Taygete took a left, and was soon back at the anonymous steel door that led into the ante rooms of Silo 7. She yanked it open, and ran back down the corridor, with its harsh strip lighting, and turned right at the end. She punched in the access code, yanked the thick steel door open, and ran along the catwalk 30C, towards the ring around the inner silo, where JC and some others were gathered. “Help! Help! Asterope and Kassandra have been knocked out! Sixers!”
JC spun around to face her. “Where?” His face registered his shock at her blood-soaked appearance.
“GDN depot 710. They attacked us. One of them’s dead…”
“Oh, Christ,” JC said. Two men were walking towards the group along another catwalk, with full backpacks, having finished their raid. They had pulled off their ski masks. One was around twenty, good looking, with brown hair, and the other was early thirties and blonde. “Blake! Thaddeus!”
“Yes sir?”
“Get over here! We have a situation!” The two men were there within seconds. “Two of the girls are stunned in the GDN depot, along with a dead Sixer! Go and bring them back!”
“The other Sixer was on a motorbike,” Taygete interjected.
“Double-quick!” JC said to Blake and Thaddeus. The two men sprinted headlong for entrance C, from which Taygete had come.
“Now, let’s get you treated,” JC said, turning to Taygete.
“I’m fine. It’s not my blood,” Taygete said, impatiently. She then related the story of Kassandra’s slaying of the Frenchman.
Afterwards, JC was silent for a few seconds. “Then it begins,” he said. “Blood has been spilled. Thayer will declare war on us. We’d better be ready, because they’ve got twice as many people as we do plus better technology. Those bikes are just the start.” He pulled out his walkie-talkie, and summoned the other leaders to an urgent meeting on level thirty. Minutes later, the PA system, which was rarely used, boomed out with Lord August’s voice: “Call to arms! Call to arms! Every male and female doing nonessential duties between the ages of twelve and sixty-five must report to the Defender base on level thirty. The Excluded are at war with Silo 6.” The message was repeated.
Sleepy men and women packed the stairs, headed up (or down) to level thirty. Among them were Defenders, who had been off duty, already in their uniforms. These were the same as the Raiders’ uniforms: all black, with a small white X halfway down both sleeves. Returning Raiders joined the steadily growing group. The crowd gathered around JC and Lord August. When all the Defender squad leaders assembled, minus Blake who had not yet returned from the scene of the botched raid, JC said, “You are now promoted. Those under you will lead the conscripts.” The other Defenders beamed at their instant promotion. The existing leaders nodded soberly. “The first order of business,” JC continued, “is to block both tunnels at level fifteen. We need welders to split open the garbage cages, and maybe twenty people in each tunnel to pile it up to the roof forming a barrier. Volunteers?” Around fifty hands shot up. “Alright. Johansen,” JC said to one of the squad leaders, a blonde girl, ”you coordinate that. Everybody else, get armed and suited up. Be back here at 03:00 hours for further orders.” People began to bustle, with a babble of voices. Several dozen headed back down to begin blocking the tunnel. Others flooded around the ring around the inner silo to the main armory. Others went up to level thirty-one, to the secondary armory.
As soon as many of them had cleared out, two panting, red-faced Raiders came in through entrance C. Each carried an unconscious girl over his shoulder. They made quickly for the center ring. “They’re plenty alive Sir,” Blake said. His forehead was soaked with sweat. “Burn marks on their necks. Looks like standard batons were used, on their normal power setting.”
“Get them down to twenty-nine for treatment.” JC snapped.
“Yes sir.”
“We hid the body as best we could,” Thaddeus added. “I have his baton and knife.” The two men made for the stairs and carried their charges down to the sick bay. Voices echoed from the silo walls, as two hundred-plus people made ready for war.
Kassandra’s eyes opened as she laid on a sheet on the metal grid floor of the center ring of level twenty-nine. She clutched the left side of her neck, which was bandaged. “Taygete!” she said, her voice full of fear.
“She’s okay,” said the nurse who was tending to her. The name embroidered on her light blue scrub uniform was Florentine. Asterope was also beginning to awaken.
Half a minute later, JC was standing there, casting a shadow from the nearby floodlight over Kassandra. “I warned you!” he bellowed. “You didn’t just endanger them, you brought war on the entire community! I knew I shouldn’t even have admitted you that night, never mind sending you out as a Raider.” The nurse began to protest, in her French accent. JC held out a hand to silence her.
“But, they were going to rape her, Sir!” Kassandra said.
“Then you should have disabled him, not killed him! A knife to the arm would have done it.”
“But…”
“The consequences of this are incalculable.”
“There would have been a war soon enough anyway, Sir.”
“Silence! It wasn’t a given.” He shook his head. “Anyway, that’s not your department. You’re to hand in your uniform and weapons. Stay here and look after the children before you do more damage.”
“But…”
Asterope was now standing, unsteadily. “Sir, let me vouch for her. We were overpowered, three against two. They were big men.”
“Silence, Raider.” Asterope became quiet, her mouth still open. She looked down at Kassandra, with grief written all over her face. Kassandra looked back at her. Voices and footsteps rang out from the levels above. JC turned and headed for the stairs back up to level thirty.
“You saved my sister,” Asterope said. “Thank you.” Kassandra nodded weakly. “I have to go,” Asterope said.
“You’re not fully recovered,” Florentine said, standing nearby.
“Doesn’t matter.” Asterope’s face was resolute. Kassandra watched her turn and head up the stairs.
Kassandra’s head flopped back. Grief was written all over her young face. “I just wanted to help,” she said.
Florentine kneeled down by Kassandra. “I don’t know the specifics, sweetie, but I’m sure you did. I noticed how hard you were working the rope courses. If it had been me, and someone was about to be raped, I’d have stopped at nothing to save them.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Lay back and let your strength return.”
Kassandra sat bolt upright instead. “I killed someone. I actually killed someone, with my own hands. A month ago, I was a rich party girl. Yeah, I got drunk a few too many times. But murder?” Kassandra looked down at her hands. “I can’t undo it, Florentine. I actually took someone’s life.”
“Honey, there’s a war going on. A lot of people have already died. Nothing’s ever going to be the same again.”
----
Kassandra looked up at the hive of activity, twenty meters above her, easily visible through the fine grate that was the floor of each level. “Screw this,” she said to herself. Her jaw was set. She got up, and walked slightly unsteadily around the center ring of level twenty-nine, from segment C to segment F. There were few people there. She ascended the stairs to level thirty. There were more people milling around, uniformed in black like the Raiders, and ready to join with their squads to head out. None paid any attention to her. Kassandra kept going, up
to level thirty-one. Half the circumference was taken up by metal cabinets, against the wall of the inner silo, containing racks of weapons. Most were nearly empty. She browsed what remained. Kassandra grabbed three knives and stuck them in her inner pants pocket. Further around were pistols. She looked around. The others who were arming themselves wore black utility belts, with large front pockets. Into these they placed silver cylinders, around the size of golf balls. Kassandra grabbed a belt, put it on, and grabbed several of the mystery weapons. Further still was a rack of machetes, around thirty centimeters long. “Holy crap,” she muttered, taking one and examining its fine silver blade. Kassandra slipped it into a long pocket on the belt that was clearly intended for this purpose, and Velcroed it shut. Other items included stun batons and body armor. Kassandra took a sturdy black vest and put it on. It morphed into a snug fit. Sleeves extended down until they covered the half of her biceps.
Kassandra was now nearly back around to segment C. There were more people there, also arming themselves and suiting up. She was now directly above the crowd on level thirty. Looking down through the grate, she could see the top of JC’s head. His voice was clearly audible above the din, as he barked orders. Troops, both trained and completely inexperienced, headed out along all six catwalks in small groups. Kassandra walked to the railing of the center ring and looked down. From there, she could see the catwalks for segments E and F on the level below clearly. She scanned them carefully, looking for anybody she knew, or anyone needed to avoid. At last, she saw a familiar group: Asterope, Taygete, Blake and Thaddeus. They were at the far end of catwalk 30A and about to exit the silo. Kassandra sprinted along the walkway one level above, and then headed down the steps at the outer silo wall, taking them two at a time. She caught up with them halfway down the corridor beyond.
The Extinction Switch: Book three of the Kato's War series Page 14