“I’ll give him something to help him sleep,” he said, taking Nate’s arm and pushing a needle into it, ignoring the boy’s feeble protests. Almost immediately Nate’s eyes began to droop and Kara helped him to a small cot, resting his head on his bundled jacket.
He looked up at her, his eyes blurry and unfocused. “You saved my life,” he said. “Again.”
Kara shook her head. “Dash saved both of us. He stood up to his brothers.”
She couldn’t begin to guess what the consequences of Dash’s defiance might be. Should she go to him? No, it was best to let the dust settle. Sleep on it and figure things out tomorrow.
Outside the medical truck the Wildcats were waiting, perched on a bench while the doctor inspected their cuts and bruises. They glared resentfully as Kara emerged. Lynx jumped up, blocking her way.
“Where d’you think you’re going?”
Kara gestured to the yellow bus. “I’m still your prisoner, aren’t I? I thought I’d lock myself in and go to sleep.”
Lynx grunted suspiciously but stepped aside. “To be honest, I don’t know what you are any more. One of them orders me to kill you, another one saves your life.”
Kara smiled. “That must be confusing. Well, I’m too tired to escape so you may as well relax.”
She staggered to the bus, pushing inside and shoving the door shut behind her. “Honestly,” she muttered to herself. “What a day.”
“Oh, it’s not over yet,” said a voice, and Kara stood bolt upright.
There was a shape at the back of the bus, someone hunched in the shadows. She peered closer in the fading light. “Show yourself,” she demanded. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
The figure lifted its head and Kara felt a shiver run through her. Hands reached up and she heard the soft rustle of cloth. A red glow pierced the darkness and tiny cogs ground softly.
“You saw me today,” Redeye said, leaning forward into a shaft of clear moonlight. “Didn’t you? I could feel it. For a moment something … stopped.”
Kara could hardly breathe. It was as though an old, bad dream had broken through into the waking world. Redeye had been John Cortez’s security chief; he had led the team that bombed the Wall around London. He had an artificial eye embedded in his skull, but it had never worked properly. Then, during the battle, he had lost his good eye too, blinding him completely.
“I saw you,” Kara admitted. “But I didn’t believe it. We’re in the middle of nowhere, Redeye. What are you doing here?”
He smiled ruefully. “The same as you. Following this rabble. Waiting for a chance to stop them in their tracks, before they can reach Frisco. And I think I may have found it.”
Kara approached him, trying to keep her hands from shaking. The left side of Redeye’s face was just as she remembered it, the crimson glow making his white skin look even whiter. But the other side was a tortured ruin, the flesh twisted like melted plastic. He tried to smile but only half of his mouth could manage it.
“I wanted to talk to you, back at the radar station,” he said. “But I didn’t know how you’d react.”
“That was you?” Kara asked, remembering the dark figure who had darted away from them down in the tunnels.
“Of course,” Redeye said. “Joe told you about my connection to that place, right?”
Kara coughed awkwardly. “He, um, must’ve forgot. There’s been a lot going on.”
“Great,” Redeye said bitterly. “I tell him my life story and he just forgets it. Well, that was where they did the surgery on my eye when I was a kid. I was a lab rat for the scientists who lived there. The new eye was supposed to fuse with my brain stem, let me see for miles and pick up heat signatures. It didn’t, of course. But they were there too, this Five that everyone’s so crazy about. I haven’t seen their faces but I know it’s them – five identical guys who spend every minute together and finish each other’s sentences.”
“That’s them,” Kara said. “They’re clones.”
Redeye nodded. “I figured as much, afterwards. They were only teenagers when I knew them, but they assisted in the operation.”
“But why go back?” Kara asked. “If they did such bad things to you?”
“I was desperate,” Redeye said. “I’m blind, Kara. You don’t know what it’s like. I knew it was a long shot, but I thought maybe the scientists would’ve have figured out by now why the eye didn’t work and be able to fix it. But there was just that old man left, and he’s no use to anyone. He showed me their records, their logs, but of course I couldn’t read them. Then you all showed up, and it felt like … fate.”
“So you just tagged along? Hasn’t anyone wondered where the pale blind guy came from?”
Redeye waved a hand. “They’re soldiers – if you do what they tell you, they don’t ask questions. I may not be able to see but I can scrub a shirt and polish a truck. Obviously they don’t know my real intention, which is to stop The Five before it’s too late. And all I need is your help.”
Kara sighed. “How did I know you were going to say that?”
“Just hear me out,” Redeye said. “I’ve got a plan – it’s a good one. But first you have to understand something. The Five, they’re not like regular people.”
Kara laughed. “I had noticed.”
“No, I don’t just mean the clone thing,” Redeye said. “Though that’s weird enough. Let me tell you about something that happened back then, in the bunker. After those monsters took out my eye I was in pain, I was scared, I was just a kid. It was The Five’s job to watch over me, take my blood, see how I was responding to the transplant. But there was one in particular – he really seemed to enjoy it. He liked seeing me hurt.”
Kara shuddered. She knew which of them he was referring to.
“Then one day I got the drop on him,” Redeye continued. “They were all in my cell, asking questions and writing down the answers – how was the pain, could I see anything, how many fingers were they holding up. They wanted me to, you know … to go, in a glass jug. I acted like I was going to, then I grabbed the jug, smashed it and took the biggest shard. Slashed my fingers but I didn’t care. I got hold of the one who was mean to me and I jabbed at him, cut his head open, just here.”
He gestured to his eyebrow and Kara nodded. “He’s still got the scar.”
Redeye smiled. “Good. Anyway, I had my arm around his throat and I put the shard to his neck. I said if they didn’t let me go I’d kill him. I looked up at the others and what I saw in their eyes, it was … absolute fear. Total panic. Like what was happening was completely beyond their ability to cope with.”
“So what happened?” Kara asked. “How did they stop you?”
Redeye waved a hand. “Oh, one of the scientists snuck up and stuck me with a needle. But that look in their eyes never left me, and years later I understood why. Have you ever seen someone lose part of their body, Kara? I have. It was in the Kuala shipyards, this guy was hauling freight when a cable got loose and snip! Took his foot right off. But the look in his eyes, it was the same one those clones had. The exact same fear.”
“Of course they were scared,” Kara said. “You were threatening their brother.”
“Not just their brother,” Redeye said. “I was threatening them. That’s what I realised. They’re not just brothers, they’re closer than that. They’re one person, Kara. One person, but split into five bodies.”
Kara felt her mind roll over. Scar had said something similar, hadn’t he? We’re many, he’d said. But we are also one.
“Each is part of the whole,” she realised out loud, as things began to add up in her mind – the way the clones spoke, their almost telepathic connection, Dash’s reluctance to turn against the others. It would be like someone turning against himself.
“It’s freakish,” Redeye said. “But you see what I’m getting at, right? All we need to do is cut off one part, and the rest won’t be able to function.”
Kara flinched. “By cut off, you mean kill.
Don’t you?”
Redeye held up a hand. “I get it, you’re not a killer, blah blah blah. But you don’t have to be. One of them saved your life, he trusts you. All you need to do is get him away from the others, somewhere quiet where I can—”
“No!” Kara cried out, taking a step back. “That’s… How could you? And you don’t even know it would work – you might just make the rest of them angrier.”
“So we let Frisco burn?” Redeye spat. “We let them attack the Mariners?”
“What’s this we?” Kara demanded. “There is no we, Redeye. You tried to take over the Shanties. You planted a bomb that killed thousands. We’re not friends, we’re not allies, we’re not anything. And besides, Joe’s already on his way. He’ll warn your people.”
Redeye snorted. “One scared kid in a crackpot flying machine? You’ll forgive me if I don’t love those odds. He’s probably lying somewhere in the desert right now while the vultures pick his bones.”
The rage welled up and Kara almost swung at him, then she remembered he was blind.
“Here’s what I’ll do,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll agree not to tell anyone I saw you. I’ll let you leave, right this second. And in return you will never, ever speak to me again.”
14
The Junk Maze
Joe’s journey came to an abrupt end just after dawn on the second day.
He’d spent the night on the roof of a high, deserted building, the wind howling through the struts of the plane as he huddled in the cockpit. On waking he’d filled the fuel tanks and started the engine, trying to ignore the hunger in his belly and the weakness in his bones. Now he was coasting west with the sun on his shoulders, sure that today he would reach the Mariners.
Hearing a clamour, he looked down through the mesh floor. In the shadows of a shattered shopping mall he could make out a large, disorderly dog pack streaming through the parking lot and out into an empty riverbed. They followed him on the ground, snapping and barking and howling at him to come down and be eaten. But after a while the din faded, the dogs falling back as the flying machine rose over a stony ridge and a new vista opened up.
At first Joe thought the land ahead was dark because it was still in shadow; the sun hadn’t yet risen over the ridge behind him. But gradually he realised that the ground itself was black, stained with a filth that seemed to have soaked into the very earth. Everywhere he looked he saw piles of refuse, heaps of metal and plastic, stacks of rusted vehicles and appliances. The junkyard stretched ahead and to either side, a sprawling metropolis of man-made waste. The smell was atrocious.
Then he saw a flash of colour and almost burst out laughing. A face beamed up at him from the rubble, thirty feet high and made from slabs of bright green plastic. It had long metallic antennae and shiny steel eyes, and beneath it on the ground some words had been written in silver paint: TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER. Beyond it he saw another image, painted piecemeal on planks of wood – a man with eight arms and six legs, standing in a circle. There were other slogans, too: a sign made from painted stones read, WE WILL ROCK YOU; while elsewhere hundreds of electrical cables had been twisted into a bolt of lightning and the words, POWER TO THE PEOPLE!
Joe pulled on the control bar and the plane lifted, more pictures and slogans revealing themselves with every foot of altitude. He saw faces and trees and religious symbols, a huge red soup tin made from smaller red soup tins. In the centre of the junkyard was an expanse of whitewashed stone several hundred feet wide, with the words IT’S A SAD AND BEAUTIFUL WORLD painted on it in looping purple script. Joe considered this, and thought it might be the truest thing he’d ever read.
Then, gradually, two very different sounds began to make themselves known to him. From behind, a good distance away but still approaching, he could hear the ferocious barking of the dogs. And much closer, and growing louder, a groan was emanating from the engine.
Joe twisted, looking back. Smoke was rising, just a wisp at first, but very black. Then the motor coughed and the smoke thickened, billowing from a ventilator in the side. There was a wave of heat and he just had time to cover his face before the engine exploded, side-panels tearing loose in a burst of blue chemical fire.
The propeller spun to a stop and silence fell, broken only by the faint yapping of the dogs. The plane’s nose tilted steadily downward, gliding on a current of air as gravity took hold. Joe gritted his teeth as the ground rushed up to meet him and he heard a bone-shattering crunch as one of the wings slammed into a leaning tower of rubbish, sending them into a wild spin. He gripped the seat, curling up tight as he was pulled in every direction at once.
The spiralling plane struck a stack of metal sheets, the wheels and both wings shearing clean off before the body finally bellyflopped into a mountain of refuse and came to rest. Head spinning, Joe checked himself. His hands were trembling and there was a cut on his cheek, but the chain between his cuffs had snapped on impact, which was actually pretty helpful. He climbed out of the wreck, staggering a little. All in all, it could’ve been worse.
Then he heard barking, and realised it was. Piles of junk rose all around him: sheets of steel and synthetics, landslides of broken glass, sacks spilling rotted paper and mulchy filth. And over the peak of a plastic mountain came the dog pack, their teeth bared and glistening.
Joe stumbled back, his limbs weak. But he had no choice – he began to run, leaving the broken plane behind, just more wreckage for the pile. The air was hot and foul but there seemed to be pathways through the rubbish, so he followed them, skirting a tangle of rusty bicycles, hopping over a flyblown puddle of greyish slime and darting between an oily heap of boat parts and a stack of magazines bound with rope.
The barking grew louder and, glancing back, Joe could see the lead dog barely thirty feet behind and closing. Its muzzle was brown and its teeth were sharp, but beneath its patchy fur he could see ribs poking through. They’re starving, he thought. Just like me.
Some of the dogs were small, stumpy legs scurrying madly as they yapped and yammered. Others were as big as Joe – sandy creatures with narrow snouts and an untamed look in their eyes. He splashed through a swamp of glittering oil, the lead animal’s teeth snapping at his ankles. A stack of wooden furniture loomed ahead and he grabbed the leg of a chair, yanking as hard as he could. The heap toppled, wardrobes and tables crashing and splintering. The dogs scattered; a few weren’t fast enough and were pinned in the landslide.
But the rest recovered and rejoined the chase, bounding over fallen furnishings as Joe blundered on, his muscles aching, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. There had to be someone here, someone who had made all those signs and pictures. It was just a case of finding them before the dogs caught him, before they ran him down and ripped him to—
He skidded to a stop. Ahead of him was a hole, a circular well too wide to leap over. Rubble heaps sloped down on all sides – he could try to clamber over them but he didn’t fancy his chances. A stench rose from the hole and the air was hazy.
He turned to see the lead dog slowing, watching warily as it padded closer. Joe could almost read its thoughts – the boy tricked us before, he might do it again. But it wouldn’t be long before they realised he was helpless. Wind whistled through the rubbish piles, and Joe felt a deep sadness wash over him. What a lonely place to die.
Then he heard something behind him, a human voice, echoing as though— Yes. He turned to the edge of the hole, peering down. There was movement in the depths and he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hello?” he shouted. “I need help!”
With a growl the lead dog sprang. Joe dodged feebly as it bore down on him, teeth flashing. Luckily he was a small target; the creature missed by a whisker, skidding to earth and turning. The others drew in but the leader barked at them to stay back – Joe belonged to him. The dog crouched, preparing to leap, and Joe heard a peculiar fizzing noise.
Something bright and sparkling rose from the hole, twisting into the air. The dog raised its s
nout, perplexed, and Joe watched as the little spark reached the top of its arc and began to descend. Then there was a terrific bang and the spark burst apart, emitting a flash of white light and a spiral of smaller, brighter sparks, all green and gold.
The dogs drew back, ears flat. Another spark rose and they whined, retreating. When it burst with a pop they turned tail, streaming through the rubbish, the lead dog bringing up the rear. It glanced resentfully back at Joe, eyes narrowed. Then it was gone.
“Works every time.”
The deep voice echoed up from the hole and Joe saw a large figure scaling the inside of the pit, using shelves of refuse to clamber up into the daylight. She was clad from head to toe in rustling black plastic, climbing hand over muscled hand, and Joe wondered weakly if he hadn’t stumbled from one calamity into another.
The stranger rose, throwing Joe into shadow. She took a step towards him and the ground shook; looking down he saw a solid metal foot sinking into the mud. The stranger peeled back a protective mask to reveal dark eyes and an unsmiling face covered with circling black tattoos.
“Don’t hurt me,” Joe managed, but his head was starting to spin. “Please, I need to…”
Then the world seemed to tip and he sat down with a bump, all the strength gone out of him.
Afterwards he could recall only fragments of what happened next; his head was all blurry and his body felt like the juice had been wrung out of it. He remembered the woman advancing on him, reaching down and lifting him in her arms. He remembered light in his eyes, sunbeams glaring from sheets of glass and metal as they moved through the maze of junk. And he remembered the relief of shade, as the stranger placed him down and reached for a bottle, pressing it to his lips.
Sticky-sweet liquid filled Joe’s mouth and he coughed, scrambling up. The stranger stood over him, seeming to fill the entire shadowed space.
DustRoad Page 12