Zenith Rising

by Gavin Zanker

  ‘Orlen! What the bloody hell are you doing here?’ a man with a thick white moustache said, climbing from a deckchair that looked like it had drifted in with the tide.

  ‘What, I can’t come and see an old friend?’

  Frank embraced Orlen, slapping him on the back. Aiden found it difficult to tell the two of them apart. ‘It’s good to see you. It’s been too many years. How’s life treating you? I heard you were having some trouble over in the city.’

  Orlen nodded. ‘Aye, that’s actually one of the reasons I’m here.’

  ‘Well then,’ Frank said, glancing over Aiden and the rest of the group, ‘what can I do for you and your friends?’

  ‘We’re in need of some gear — pretty specialised stuff for an expedition — and I figured you were the man to sort us out.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Frank said as he ran a thumb and forefinger down his moustache. ‘What sort of trip are we talking about here?’

  ‘South.’

  ‘South?’ the man repeated, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘Deep south.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know why you’d want to head down to hell, but who am I to ask you your business? You and your pals follow me, I’ve got my best gear squirrelled away in the hold.’

  Frank told a young man, probably an apprentice, to mind his shop while he was gone, before leading the group down multiple levels of cramped stairwells, emerging into a large cargo hold near the bow of the aircraft carrier. The hold was lined with small hatches, each sealing off an individual cabin being used as secure storage. Frank led them to one of the cabins and unlocked it. Inside were rows of weathered pallets stacked with all kinds of equipment, from rubber gas masks to piles of denim jeans and puffer jackets.

  ‘Well, this is my stock, take your pick,’ Frank said. ‘I can ring it all up when you’ve made your choice.’

  Orlen slapped Frank’s arm as he moved past him to examine the merchandise. ‘You’re a solid friend, Frank. I owe you one.’

  ‘Hah, I’m not giving this stuff away.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re Syndicate funded for this one.’ Orlen said with a wink, pulling out a list of the equipment they needed. ‘Right, lads, let’s get to work. We’ll make a pile over there for everything we’re buying.’

  ‘Where’s Dion?’ Aiden asked, realising the junkie was absent.

  ‘Probably went to get himself a beer or something,’ one of the Syndicate men said as they set to work under Orlen’s commands. ‘He wouldn’t shut up about it the last few hours.’

  Aiden turned, almost knocking into Patrick who stood behind him. Aiden nudged him backwards out of earshot of the others. ‘Do me a favour and go find Dion,’ he said. ‘Keep an eye on him, make sure he isn’t causing trouble for us.’

  Patrick nodded and rushed away, excited to be trusted with a task.

  There were too many bodies and not enough space in the cabin, leaving Aiden unable to help. ‘I’ll take a walk around,’ he said over the bustle ‘Give me a shout when you’re done.’

  ‘Right you are,’ Orlen said without taking his eyes from the list. ‘Tell you what, I don’t see any compasses here. See if you can find a decent one and we’ll regroup at the rendezvous point outside town.’

  Aiden decided to take a stroll around the cargo bay before heading back up. He peered into the cabins to check out what was being stored, seeing stacks of canned food, fishing rods, and barrels of what he assumed was beer. He had tried the beer here once before; it had taken days to get rid of the fishy aftertaste. He had no intention of trying it again.

  He noticed the hatch to one of the cabins was ajar, with electric light spilling out. Checking inside, he was surprised to find a room full of old weaponry. It was a collection of guns from the old war: mostly bolt action rifles, antique pistols, and bayonets. A lot of the hardware was rusted and useless, but most of it looked to be in working order. He picked up an outdated revolver that had been standard police issue many decades ago. It was put together with carefully designed and machined parts, nothing like the weapons nailed together with scrap you saw carried today. He thought it was a shame none of this stuff was in a museum somewhere where it could be appreciated, instead of being left to rust away in the sea air.

  Sensing a motion behind him, Aiden turned to see Patrick stumble into the cabin, falling to his hands and knees. The hatch slammed shut behind him. Aiden stepped up to the door, trying the handle just as the lock slid into place.

  ‘Open the door!’ Aiden shouted.

  There was no response from outside.

  ‘Goddamn it!’ He kicked the door with his boot. ‘Open it now!’

  ‘Aiden,’ Patrick called meekly, ‘look at this.’

  Aiden turned to see what the younger man was staring at — a long crate in the centre of the room that had been pried open. As he stepped closer, he recoiled at what lay inside. It was full of old fragmentation grenades, and nestled among them was a brick of C4 with a digital timer attached. The counter had less than thirty minutes remaining.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Patrick asked. ‘We’re trapped.’

  Aiden banged on the door again and shouted, hoping Orlen might hear him, but they were at the other end of the cargo bay. He forced himself to stop and take a breath, trying to keep the rising panic from overwhelming him. He had no idea how to defuse a bomb. If he tried to tamper with it, for all he knew it would blow, turning him and everyone else aboard into chunks of fish food.

  No, the only option was to figure a way out.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Patrick repeated as he started to hop from foot to foot miserably.

  ‘Stay calm, I’m thinking.’

  Aiden tried the hatch again, but the lock was sealed tight. This had been a military vessel; the heavy doors were built to withstand battle and he saw no way of feasible way of breaking one down. His eyes darted around, searching for any other way out of the the cabin. In the far corner, a small puddle of seawater had formed, dripping from between a couple of rust-flecked panels.

  ‘Grab one of those sturdy rifles,’ he told Patrick. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  CHAPTER 25

  ORLEN, ALONG WITH the two Syndicate men who helped him sort through Frank’s gear, reached the rendezvous point at the top of the slope just outside town. No one else had arrived yet. Orlen checked his wristwatch and frowned. He dropped the heavy rucksack, now packed full of the equipment needed for the expedition south, and perched on a nearby rock; his old, tired leg muscles were already complaining about the extra weight. As he took in the view of the town, he pulled a packet of tobacco out of his shirt pocket and rolled himself a cigarette. He sparked a match on the rock and lit it before flicking the spent match into the fading light.

  Just as he was finishing the last few drags of the cigarette, Dion and the rest of the Syndicate men came traipsing up the hill. They arrived at the top but walked right past Orlen without breaking stride.

  ‘Hold up, where’s Aiden?’ Orlen asked. ‘And the new lad, Patrick?’

  ‘They stayed behind,’ Dion said.

  ‘What do you mean they stayed behind?’

  Dion shrugged. ‘Aiden said he wanted a drink back on the Hermes before he hit the road. Said that he’d catch up. The man’s a loner — probably wanted to get away from the group for a bit. Either that or wanted some alone time with his new boyfriend.’

  Before Orlen could protest, a flash of light came from the direction of the town, followed by a deafening crack that shook the ground almost sent him sprawling. A fireball rose up into the sky, engulfing the Hermes. The carrier was rocked as shards of metal hull flew into the air, cartwheeling across the beach. One of the wind turbines on the cliffs was hit by a piece of flaming debris; the spinning blade caught alight, creating a spiral of fire in the growing darkness. As the shattering boom of the explosion faded away, the air began to fill with the distant sounds of shouting and wailing. An alarm blared somewhere. Towns people swarmed towards the beach.

&nbs
p; Orlen stared in disbelief, his jaw slack as thick black smoke plumed from the burning ship. He turned to Dion, whose eyes danced in the orange glow of the fire. ‘What did you do?’ Orlen demanded, his voice coming out in a growl.

  ‘Not a damn thing,’ Dion said, a smirk touching his lips. ‘Pretty though.’

  Orlen didn’t believe a word, but it didn’t matter right now. ‘You said Aiden was on board?’

  Dion nodded. ‘That’s right. Poor sod must not have made it out. Bad timing really.’ He shrugged and clicked his tongue. ‘Oh well, no great loss; the guy thought he was better than everyone else anyway. We’d best be making a move before they come around blaming us for that mess.’ With that, Dion turned and walked away.

  Orlen looked back to the chaos on the beach, a ball of nausea catching in his throat. If Aiden and Patrick had been on board… no one could have survived that explosion. Not even wily old Frank. Orlen looked down at his feet, and rubbed his face, wondering how many lives had just ended in the blink of an eye.

  It wouldn’t be long before the terror turned to anger down there, and the residents started looking for someone to blame. A group of strangers passing through town would probably get lynched. Dion was right, getting out of town now was their only move. Orlen shook his head, taking one last lingering look at the glow of destruction and death before he picked up his pack. He trudged after the rest of group, missing the days when he just wired plugs and sold fuses out of his shop in Oldtown.

  CHAPTER 26

  LEIGH PACED AROUND the sleeping quarters while Hitch watched curiously. She flapped her hands against her hips and sighed; there was nothing to do here and she missed Aiden. ‘Wanna go for a walk?’ she asked, deciding to go check the tunnel again to see if anyone was back yet. Hitch barked, his tail wagging as he started scratching at the door.

  She grabbed her flashlight and headed out into the hallway. Passing the paintings she had seen hundreds of times already, she came to the metal door. She paused to check no one was watching before slipping through. For such an important secret, she didn’t think it was protected very well. The door swung shut under its own weight, making her jump and leaving them in total darkness. Hitch started whining and pushing up against her leg. She slipped the flashlight out of her pocket, clicking it on and illuminating the narrow corridor ahead.

  She reached down to reassure the dog. ‘It’s just the dark, there’s no need to be afraid. We can look after each other, okay?’

  As they proceeded into the tunnel, she found Hitch’s anxiety rubbing off on her: fear prickled along her exposed skin. Any second, she expected the pattering of some monster’s feet as it came rearing out of the encircling darkness. She scolded herself for being childish and began whistling a catchy tune she had heard once on the radio to distract herself.

  After what felt like hours of walking, the flickering light up of the guard post came into view. Conversation and laughter drifted down the tunnel and she breathed a sigh of relief to hear other people’s voices.

  ‘Hey, who’s that?’ one of the guards with an undercut in his hair said, sitting up at the table as Leigh walked into view. ‘There’s a girl here.’

  A series of candles set into the earthen walls illuminated three men sat playing cards at the table. ‘Hi, I’m Leigh,’ she said, stepping forward. Their rough, broad faces all turned towards her, making her voice come out as more of a squeak.

  ‘It’s just that kid and the dog that came in with the loner,’ another said. He turned to her, the dancing candlelight casting deep shadows over his pockmarked cheeks. ‘You know you shouldn’t be out here, kiddo.’

  Leigh puffed up her chest. ‘I’m not a kid,’ she said, irritation overtaking her fear. ‘Woody asked me to meet him here, so how about you three stop playing cards and look busy, or I’ll go explain to Julian how you’re all slacking off.’ She stuck out her chin, but was ready to bolt back along the corridor if any of them called her bluff.

  After a brief pause, the guards shared an amused look with each other. ‘Hah, I like her,’ Undercut said. ‘She’s got some stones.’

  ‘More than you, clearly.’

  ‘Hey, I’m going to ask her out!’

  ‘Yeah yeah, you’ve been saying that for months. It’s always “Fiona this, Fiona that.”’

  Relieved that her ploy had worked, Leigh stepped up to the table where the three men resumed playing their game. ‘Fiona?’ she asked. ‘You mean the dancer in the casino?’

  ‘Aye, that’s the one,’ Pockmarks said. ‘Nice looker. Works the pole most weeknights. This coward here can’t work up the guts to ask her out.’

  ‘Probably best,’ Leigh said, ‘there’s nothing in her head but air. All she talks about is getting wasted and hooking up with that Raul guy.’

  Undercut’s face fell. ‘Not that bone-headed bouncer?’

  Leigh nodded. ‘She’s always staring at him. Surprised you haven’t noticed.’

  Pockmarks grinned. ‘Well, old chum, looks like you missed your chance. Maybe you should stick to girls more your type, you know, the ones that smell like a rotting pig, and put out for a sandwich.’

  Undercut tossed his cards down, scattering them across the table. He started muttering under his breath as he stood up and paced away from the table.

  ‘May as well check the entrance while you’re up, mardy-arse.’

  Ignoring Hitch who sniffed around his boots, the guard grabbed his rifle from the rack against the wall and climbed the ladder, disappearing out of the hatch.

  ‘We’re playing five card stud,’ Pockmarks said, turning to Leigh, ‘you know how to play?’

  ‘Poker? Sure, I’ve played before,’ Leigh lied. She had seen some of the bar staff playing in the casino, but Aiden hadn’t found the time to teach her the rules yet, what with him always going off without her lately.

  ‘Well, have a seat, kiddo,’ he said, nodding towards the now vacant chair. ‘You can’t be any worse than these bums.’

  A sharp whistle came from up above and the two guards leapt out of their chairs. They grabbed their rifles and charged up the ladder before she could even blink. Left alone, Leigh shrugged and helped herself to one of the tokens from the pile in the middle of the table, running it over her knuckles before slipping it into her pocket. Then she followed the guards up the ladder cautiously, peering out of the trapdoor.

  She couldn’t see much from inside the barn, but she heard Woody’s voice and relaxed. He must be back with the weapons from Kendal. She ducked back down into the guard post and waited. A moment later, the guards were back in their seats and Woody and a few rough-looking men she didn’t recognise were heading past into the tunnel carrying holdalls, bursting with firearms and ammunition.

  Woody spotted her and flashed his friendly smile, instantly putting her at ease. ‘Hello, little fox, what are you doing here?’

  She shrugged. ‘I got bored on my own so I thought I’d come see if anyone was back yet. Who are those people? I’ve never seen them before.’

  ‘They’re some of my friends from the circus. Solid bunch of lads.’ He leaned in closer and whispered, ‘Just keep your belongings out of sight.’

  Leigh grinned. ‘I’ll keep that in mind. You need any help?’

  ‘Well, I’d be glad of it.’ He pulled a strap over his head and passed her a small satchel of ammunition. ‘Here, you can carry this for me.’

  It was heavy, but Leigh shouldered the bag without complaint. She might be a girl, but she hated being treated like one. She called Hitch over, waved goodbye to the guards as they started arguing about the tokens on the table, and set off with Woody.

  ‘So does Aiden know you’re here?’ Woody asked as they walked back along the dimly lit tunnel.

  ‘He’s still not back from Carson Waters yet.’

  ‘Strange, I thought he’d be back before me. You know, I don’t think he’d like you leaving the Brentford.’

  ‘It’s only the tunnel, technically it’s still inside.’ She looked away,
smiling guiltily, knowing no one would buy it. ‘It’s just so boring in here on my own all the time! Everyone sits around worrying about the Faithful. Or drinking themselves stupid like Travis.’

  ‘He certainly brought some baggage with him. But then he hasn’t had the most friendly welcome; if I was him I’d probably need a drink too.’

  ‘I spent some time with him yesterday,’ Leigh said, suddenly feeling bad about being mean to him. ‘I might have called him… a useless alcoholic.’ She caught Woody raising an eyebrow at her. ‘I just wanted him to stop drinking and figure out where the quarry is on those old maps. If he doesn’t then Aiden might get lost when he goes south and it’ll be all Travis’ fault.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be going south too. I’ll keep an eye on Aiden for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, repositioning the bag on her shoulder as something hard and pointy dug into her spine. ‘So how was Kendal?’

  ‘She’s fine. Mentioned something about a new gang starting up there in Kiln Commons. Nothing she can’t handle though. And that nipper of hers, Magpie, is growing fast. He’s taken to grabbing at everything. Including the gun at my belt.’

  ‘That sounds dangerous. Kids are so dumb.’

  ‘Luckily, I caught him in time. Kendal just laughed it off — she lets that boy get away with murder.’

  ‘So what did you buy anyway?’ Leigh asked.

  Woody patted the bags slung over his shoulder. ‘All sorts of toys. Mostly pistols, a few automatics, even an old bolt action. You know anything about guns?’

  ‘I know enough,’ she said with a nod. ‘Were they in good condition? Did you check the slides properly?’

  ‘What’s with all the questions? You don’t trust your pal Woody?’

  ‘Just wanted to make sure you weren’t ripped off, that’s all. Kendal is always trying to offload old parts.’

  ‘Well don’t worry, little fox. Kendal is an old acquaintance of mine and I know how to handle a trade without getting put over a barrel.’