Balance - Book 2

by Marc Dickason

CHAPTER 24

  The sun was sinking as I entered deeper into the city and the sounds of chaos grew. They pushed in from all sides and suffocated Benny’s vehicle. The only reason this ambient sound was fortunate was it half drowned out the now persistent scraping from beneath the car. My redirected bolt had done severe damage.

  Only glimpses of life were stolen as we pushed on; a lone figure locking shop doors and rushing down the street. A face peering from between curtains. But even this did little to dispel a choking sensation of isolation.

  After a few minutes of travel I came upon a clump of abandoned vehicles. Their windows were shattered and bumpers entwined. The only remaining route forward, other then doubling back and circling round, was mounting the curb and squeezing between wreckage and café storefront. I twisted the steering wheel to the far left and eased forward, feeling the car lurch as the front wheels mounted the curb. The rear wheels followed. Then the stationary vehicles were creeping past my flank. I pulled straight, sighing in relief as the tight fit was managed. It was as I returned to the road that the scraping under the car became suddenly deafening, screeching mournfully as metal began shredding metal. The left front wheel first locked. Then came a BOOM as the tire exploded.

  “Oh damn it,” I hissed to myself.

  My fingers clawed back through my hair. I reached for the radio.

  “Clarence here.”

  Static hissed back at me.

  “Clarence here, over.”

  Nothing. I leaned into the back seat to ensure Perry was still asleep. Then climbed from the vehicle and was engulfed in a thunderous cacophony of violence. BOOMS sounded, sirens warbled, and a constant undertone of shouting added to the flavour. It had to have been on the same block.

  “Up you get, Perry.”

  He blinked. “Are we there?”

  “No. Not yet. Come with me.”

  We jogged over to a fast food establishment and tried the doors. They were locked. But a single blast sent them spinning off their hinges. Inside I found a phone and called my D.O.M.

  “Clarence, Jet, Junior Enforcer,” I said into the receiver.

  “We read you, Clarence.”

  “I’m transporting a vital witness…”

  “Putting you through to Chief Commander Gill, Clarence.”

  The line went dead. A background noise of distant chaos emerged. “Clarence?”

  “Yes, Commander Gill.”

  “What’s your status?”

  “I still have the boy. But the vehicle has been damaged, sir. It’s not going anywhere”

  “The boy? Is he safe?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s with me now.”

  “And Kingston?”

  “Fine, sir.”

  “What is your location? Are you secure?”

  “I’m in a fast food restaurant. It’s not secure, sir. I can hear the uprising. I’m on Third and…uh…”

  “Listen, Clarence. Is there somewhere nearby you can go and wait for pickup?”

  I thought for a moment, bringing up a map of the city in my head. “My home address is not far, sir. Its a few kilometres.”

  “Can you get there?”

  I sucked in a weary breath. My reflection was spotted in a window across the restaurant. The stitches were caked with blood and one eye swollen up to a plumb. My uniform hung open. The bandaged hand was speckled with interior bleeding. At least, I thought absently, my painkillers were in the apartment.

  “I think so, sir.”

  “Then go. I’ll have a unit come for you in… an hour. Can you make it?”

  “I’ll try, sir.”

  “Keep the boy safe, Clarence. At all costs. Understand me? And be careful. It’s going to be hell out there.”

  I hung up the phone. The apartment was a few minutes by car. So I guessed a healthy walk. Turn right up ahead, straight along Main Road, right into Seventh…

  We exited the restaurant and headed off. Around us the city wailed. It was only upon crossing the first intersection, a glance to the left revealed my first contact with the uprising, two hundred meters away. There were the flashes and accompanying pops of aggressive Spirit. Nestled between two office blocks a line of Enforcers and military stood firm against advancing civilians. From a brief look it seemed the situation was under control. But still my stomach tightened.

  I picked up the pace. Perry trotted along beside me. We crossed over a bridge deeper into the city. From here it would be a kilometre straight ahead, between tight rows of grocery and clothing stores. Then a sharp turn into Main. We pushed forward and signs of recent violence became evident. Shop windows had been smashed. A few damaged vehicles stood abandoned. The road was strewn with debris, some of it smouldering. All was still.

  To our right a shop door burst open and three men came barrelling out, arms loaded with clothing. Their eyes widened.

  “Shit! Enforcer!” one yelled hysterically.

  They gawked and bolted, disappearing into the city.

  “Who are they?” Perry asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. Let’s keep moving.”

  My confidence in success was growing as we reached the turnoff into Main. But it was only then, as the central city street came into view, that the true magnitude of the uprising was revealed.

  “Oh my God…” I muttered to myself.

  Winding off into the heart of the city was a scene of ongoing destruction. Smoke-billowing vehicles littered the roads like corpses, sitting alongside stores that had been gutted, or were in the process of being gutted. Civilians swarmed about with stolen goods clutched in hands.

  ‘I will not be treated like this,’ a persistent voice whispered, ‘A better life or me, a better life for my children.’

  “What will we do?” the boy asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  I looked up the road attempting to count the people. But their constant motion denied a decent estimate. Fifty? Sixty? A hundred…?

  “I have an idea, Perry. But I’ll need your help.”

  He looked up at me. “Okay. How?”

  “You have to be calm. No matter what happens. No matter what you see. You have to keep only calm thoughts in your head. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “And when the calm thoughts fill you up project them out onto the world. Drown everything and everyone until all that remains is us and the calm. Do you understand?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good boy, Perry.”

  I removed my blazer and tossed it to the ground. “Take my hand.”

  He took it. “Are we going to be safe?”

  “Yes. I promise.”

  We began to walk forward. Beside me I felt the boy’s Spirit wash out. Creating a dome of calm around our bodies. Textbook Ambience Tweaking, without the boy ever having set foot in the Academy. I drew up my own Spirit, found my Calm, and boosted the boy’s Spell. The dome swelled.

  “Keep moving,” I said.

  We slipped between car husks, advancing. The acrid smell of burning rubber assaulted my nostrils. The first civilian spotted us. Behind his eyes the Crowd Surfing spell blazed like an inferno.

  “Enforcer!” he yelled.

  His voice got the attention of others nearby. A group of six gathered and moved towards us.

  ‘Frustration, anger, rage. I will not be treated this way. A better life for me, a better life for my children.’

  “Stay calm,” I told Perry, “They won’t get near us.”

  As the group advanced to within twenty meters they crossed into the dome and froze. Expressions of rage melted.

  “Step aside,” I called out, “I have a child with me. You won’t hurt him.”

  They parted, allowing us to pass. All appeared embarrassed at their intentions. We advanced. More civilian spotted us and turned in our direction. Some changed course in mid-run. A middle-aged man dropped a television and grabbed up a brick. They entered the bubble and, one by one, halted in their footsteps. Their heads turned in unison to watch us pass
.

  “I am not your enemy,” I called out, “I’m just a man. This child needs to be taken to safety.”

  By the time we reached midway to the turnoff the approaching groups consisted of half a dozen people or more. They streaked towards us from all directions before falling under the Spell and stopping. One man gaped like he had never seen a child before. At three quarters of the way I looked over my shoulder and saw a trail of dozens of civilians stretching out behind us. Their expressions were sombre and bodies relaxed. Smouldering vehicles dotted the street around them. In the distance sounds of chaos still populated the air.

  We arrived at Seventh and turned.

  “Nearly there,” I said to Perry.

  “Must I keep thinking happy thoughts?”

  I glanced at him. “Yes, keep thinking happy thoughts. You need them.”

  Ten minutes later we arrived at the apartment. The moon was rising. My street seemed to have been spared destruction. And although ghostly quiet, everything was untouched. We entered and climbed the stairs with fifteen minutes remaining until pickup. I breathed an enormous sigh of relief, body aching with a constant song of fatigue and pain. At some point my stitches had again begun to bleed.

  “You live here?” Perry asked as we arrived on the fifth floor.

  “Yes.”

  “I like it. It’s old.”

  “Thank you.”

  I pushed open the front door and we stepped inside.

  “Perry,” I said, glancing around.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you enjoy television?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Why don’t you go watch some now? We’ll be leaving soon.”

  “Okay.”

  He crossed over to the couch and sat. The TV illuminated, showing an aerial view of chaos outside.

  My first action was to reach into the kitchen and snap on the kettle. Then I headed directly for my room, mind overflowing with images of enticing painkillers. My head throbbed, hand ached persistently, and ribs had begun to grate at some point on the walk. The pills would impede my ability, I knew. But ‘you can’t be sharp as a razor all the time’, a nurse had told me not long ago. They would also keep my demon at bay like coffee could not. But the pill bottle was not where I had left it. I stopped in my tracks, staring at the empty space on my desk.

  “Oh no,” I groaned, “Where are they?”

  A glance over my shoulder revealed the demon. The pill bottle was clutched in its hand.

  “Give them to me,” I told it.

  It responded with a defiant stare.

  “I said…”

  The air was cold. Light from my desk lamp began to recede and dissolve into the shadows.

  “…give them to me.”

  I lunged and the creature stepped aside.

  “Give them to me!”

  I lunged again. Again it dodged. Rage exploded in my head.

  “Give them to me! Give them to me, you son of a bitch!”

  My hand locked around its wrist, the other clutched frantically for the pills. But it was in vain. Even before the creature flung me aside I had felt like I was wrestling my shadow.

  I drew up my Spirit. The shadows sank deeper.

  “Give them to me!” I hissed.

  “Give them to me!” the demon repeated.

  “Hello, Mister Clarence.”

  The voice came from beyond my bedroom. My head snapped round and I spotted a shape in the living room. A light sprang on. Selena sat in a dining room chair. Beside her, the Gloria-demon smiled at me wistfully.