Beyond the Crystal City

by Logan Brookfield

  The roar of the masses increased as Benjamin appeared on the makeshift stage. Carl was being crushed and was finding it more and more difficult to take a deep breath and expand his lungs.

  ‘Brothers, sisters and those of you less than savoury who crawl around these ruins not fitting into any particular category,’ Benjamin said as the crowd roared with laughter. ‘This is the Age of Aquarius and the time for action and reaction is fast approaching. For decades they have tried to subdue us and destroy any chance we have of flourishing in these times. All we asked for was freedom and a chance to grow and prosper. But they send out their gas drones and starve us with their paltry rations,’ he said, pointing a finger into the sky.

  The crowd swelled and surged as a woman screamed from near the front. She was pinned against the stage then fell to the ground overwhelmed by the heat and lack of air. Those nearby lifted her up above their shoulders and passed her along above their heads as her arms flopped down lifelessly.

  Carl used his elbows and pushed against those near him to try to gain some breathing space. The market square had not been designed to hold so many people and pushing and shoving rippled through the crowd. The strongest, mostly the men, managed to stay on their feet but many women and the youngsters were now on the floor trying to find a gap in the mob to aid their escape. What had started as a peaceful protest and a rallying cry for rebellion had turned into a dangerous situation and Carl was starting to feel worried.

  Benjamin held out his hands palm down in an attempt to settle the crowd. ‘Please, brothers and sisters, remain calm and don’t push. Our sister over there is receiving medical attention and there are many more that are getting lost beneath your feet. We must remain calm and united. Please, please, settle down and save your energy for the devils in the tower.’

  The shouting and screaming increased and more pushing led to more casualties. Petty thieves took their chances and pickpocketed the meagre possessions of any Wretch who was too engrossed in the stage show.

  Benjamin held both hands up, palms facing the crowd. ‘Keep your strength for the fight to come. Soon we will destroy the Cloud devils and take our rightful place in their palace. Our ancestors foresaw the wars and the famine that fell upon us, and told us through scripture that a great fight would be fought between good and evil. That day has come and we will prevail. We will destroy the evil Cloud people and their brutal regime.’

  ‘Kill them, kill them all. Kill them, kill them all,’ the crowd shouted as they grew angrier.

  The rumble of trucks vibrated the ground beneath their feet as six heavily armoured vehicles surrounded the market square. Soldiers, known locally as the Black Hats, wearing black clothing and helmets, poured out of the trucks and pointed their machine guns at the crowd. Two from each vehicle clambered onto the roof to untether the water cannons. The people were silent for a few moments until the first water cannon unleashed its ferocious spray. People ran screaming in all directions as the women, youngsters and weaker men were crushed underfoot. Carl pushed his back into the crowd and tried to work his way to the edge but was knocked to the floor in the process. He managed to crawl on all fours closer to the perimeter where the crowd was thinner and fell onto his back gasping for air. Water rained down on him like a tidal wave and it pushed him further out towards the edge flopping him over from his back to his front then vice versa. The cold blast was a welcome break from the intense heat. Bodies crashed down on top of him as he rolled along the floor knocking them over like skittles.

  Two Black Hats mounted the stage and grabbed Benjamin. The front row gasped and lurched forward grabbing the soldiers by their ankles and pulling them off the stage and into the mob. Kicks and punches rained down as their protective gear was stripped from their bodies. A young man stepped forward and grabbed a machine gun, raising it above his head. A short burst of automatic gunfire felled him and several people standing nearby.

  ‘Kill them, kill them all,’ Benjamin shouted jabbing his finger in the direction of the soldiers. A single shot rang out and Benjamin stood rigid, and then fell backwards. He lay star-shaped on the stage with blood trickling out of a small hole in the middle of his forehead.

  Two women rushed to Benjamin’s aid but it was too late, he’d been killed instantly. The sniper disappeared back into a truck as the mob grew angry and started to rock one of the vehicles back and forth.

  ‘They’ve shot Benjamin,’ one Wretch shouted. ‘Kill them, kill them all!’

  The soldiers tried to angle their water cannon down onto those attacking their vehicle but it wouldn’t reach.

  ‘Kill them, kill them all,’ the crowd screamed.

  Carl had managed to get out of the melee and stood bent over, hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath. Short bursts of automatic gunfire erupted as one of the trucks crashed onto its side, spilling the Black Hats who were in it out onto the dirt. They were quickly jumped on, stripped naked and beaten to death by the bloodthirsty mob.

  Drones began to swoop in and sprayed gas over the crowd in an attempt to subdue them. Carl ran down a nearby alleyway and ducked into a doorway as more trucks rumbled past. He was late for his meeting and his contact would have gone by now.

  He reached the rendezvous point but it was deserted. The violence in the market square and the Black Hat and drone activity had scared most Wretches off the streets. He sat down on a nearby rock with his head in his hands. The baking sun had dried him in no time at all and now he felt like he was cooking in his own sweat. Nearly every day there seemed to be trouble and it was making the business of bartering almost impossible. He gripped his stomach in an attempt to lessen the hunger pains and tried to swallow, but his dry, swollen throat hurt too much. It was another wasted day with nothing good to show for it; he’d have to try again another day.

  Chapter Three

  Carl undid the last screw and pulled at the hatch. It creaked and groaned then swung open like a rusting iron gate. He looked to the east as a flashing light caught his attention. It was a pair of sentry drones heading his way. He clambered into the pipe and pulled the hatch shut using the tips of his fingers around the edge of the metal door. It wouldn’t shut all the way and he peeked through the gap to see the drones stop, shine their lights at the pile of ashes where Cody’s body once was and speed off. He sat with his back to the pipe and exhaled slowly, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the dim interior.

  The pipe was wide enough for Carl to move along or crouch down but no way would he be able to stand up. It was made of some kind of shiny metal and there was a shallow trickle of water running along the bottom of it. He edged his way along trying to navigate by the dimly lit service lights that hung from the highest point every so often. After a few minutes of crawling along he came to a juncture. He could go left, right or straight on. Straight on seemed to be the best idea as that would be in the same direction as the towers.

  A strong rush of air carrying with it a foul smell swept past and ruffled his matted hair. This must be some kind of exhaust or vent to carry stale air away from the city, he thought. He continued on down the long metallic tube and the rush of air continued intermittently. Then he spotted something lying in his path. It looked like a crumpled pile of old clothes but when he got closer he realised it was the decomposing body of another Wretch. Three precise gunshot wounds in the chest had stopped whoever it was dead in his tracks. It was too dark and the body was too decomposed to recognise the face.

  A light flickered up ahead and caught his attention. Something was heading down one of the junctures into the pipe where he was, and it was moving at speed. Carl swallowed as his heart rate quickened. He looked behind him in the direction of the entry door, but there was no way he was going to make it back out in time. The lights grew stronger and a loud buzzing noise filled his ears as the sentry drone turned in to the same part of the vent he was in. It picked up speed and rushed towards his location. Lights flickered and a long probe arm extended and tugged at the corpse. Carl lay as still
as he could underneath the pile of rotting flesh. The drone made a sharp whooshing sound as it sucked in the nearby air for analysis. It beeped and whistled as it transmitted the data back to the control centre then turned around and continued back up the pipe and around the corner where it came from.

  Carl pushed off the corpse and dusted himself down. He rubbed his face and squatted there for a few minutes thinking just how close he had been to being killed by that machine. Wherever Cody got his stuff from it was risky. He thought for a moment of his mother and if he should go back, maybe attempting this another day when he was better equipped. But he was partway there now, and the risks would be the same on any day, so it was now or never.

  He picked up the pace and had been travelling for about twenty minutes deeper down the pipe when he saw a metal grill up ahead. It was made of thick steel and he could just about get his arm through it. He leaned further in, reaching for a latch or hinge or anything he could feel the other side. As his knee pressed against the grill a small section fell through, so he examined it more closely. Somebody had cut a piece out of it. It was done with such precision that it could be slid in and out effortlessly. The hole was just big enough to get his body through.

  Carl placed the cut-out piece back in place so the drones wouldn’t notice anything and continued along the pipe for what seemed like ages. Then he came to the end of the section which terminated in a sheer drop into a huge cavern. It was the size of a football field and well lit. He could see the holes in the side of the immense space where other pipes opened up. He guessed he was probably underneath the glass towers now, and this looked like its refuse dump. Large conveyor belts spat more garbage into the vast pile and small worker drones used their eyes and robotic arms to pick through it all.

  He leaned over the edge looking down the sheer drop and noticed a thin steel ladder bolted to the side of the cavern. Cody must have climbed down here and sifted through the crap to find the good stuff. The climb down seemed to go on forever but with each step the rotting mountain of waste got closer. Finally he reached a platform, nearly as high as the top of the pile, and it was somewhere to walk around the entire perimeter of the cavern. He crouched down and kept close to the walls for fear of alerting a sentry drone. But they seemed busy in the pipes and the drones here seemed to ignore him. They must be worker drones and tasked with one thing, sifting through trash, he thought.

  Carl noticed some unopened packets of food, which he quickly stuffed into his bag. Then there it was, like a diamond sticking out of a pile of crap: a small packet of tea. He picked it up and examined the perfectly printed box. It was still sealed so he ran his thumb across the perforated strip and opened it. The smell of fresh tea hit him like waves of pleasure. He’d only drunk about twenty cups in his entire life and loved the taste. But the tea plantations of old had died out a long time ago with the rest of the world. The city must be growing it inside somehow. Either way he didn’t care and pushed it into his now overfull bag. After scavenging as much as he could he made his way back up the ladder and into the pipe. He glanced over his shoulder. It was like looking into a gold mine. Whoever lived in the glass towers must live a very extravagant life to be able to treat all this good stuff as trash.

  He ran as fast as his bent-over body would carry him towards the metal grill. After squeezing through he carefully placed the cut-out section back in place. Then he ran towards the first juncture. There was no sign of any sentry drones so he continued at pace until he reached the exit. He pushed the metal hatch open slightly and looked out onto the murky, dark street. He couldn’t see or hear any more drones so he clambered out, pushed the hatch shut and resealed it with the six screws. Anything relating to Cody was gone. The flesh and bones had been dissolved with some kind of acid and anything that was left would have been hurried away by scavengers. The ground now had a dark patch where his body once was.

  It was now the dead of night and no place to be outside with a bag full of valuable goodies. He made his way back towards the cathedral and home, looking over his shoulder at every opportunity. Turning a corner he was confronted by a group of Wretches standing in the middle of the street, groaning and swaying. Saliva dripped from their mouths as they looked up, locking their red swollen eyes on Carl and his loot. The gas affected people in different ways, but if they had taken illegal drugs beforehand then the cocktail of chemicals could turn them into spaced-out crazies.

  ‘Damn it,’ Carl said as another two druggies slowly walked behind him, cutting off his escape. His heart started to thump in his chest as adrenalin surged through his arteries. He reached for the gun in his waistband but it wasn’t there, then looked in his bag but it wasn’t there either. He must have dropped it in the pipe somewhere. He placed the bag down on the floor and picked up a piece of wood lying nearby and held it like a baseball bat.

  One Wretch walked forward and lunged at him, almost falling over in the process. Carl swung the wood and hit him across the back of the head. The Wretch collapsed on the floor with blood pouring from a head wound. A hand grabbed Carl’s shoulder and he swung the wood behind him breaking it in two across the face of another, who fell backwards and then lay motionless, star-shaped on the floor. The other druggies backed off for a moment and Carl took his opportunity, grabbing his bag and running for his life.

  He ran as far as his legs would carry him but had to stop just short of home as his oxygen-depleted lungs started to cry out and cause him pain. Some traces of the gas still hung in the air and he wasn’t wearing his mask. He bent over and spat out blood and wiped the sweat from his eyes. He survived this time but it brought home to him just how risky it could be, and next time he’d try to be more careful.

  Chapter Four

  The small group of Wretches, consisting of four boys, carefully worked their way along the edge of the ruins, taking care not to step out into the bright sunlight where they could be spotted by drones. Each time a patrol of drones or vehicles came close they hid behind piles of rubble. It was common for any group of more than two or three to be challenged and asked questions about what they were doing and where they were going.

  The oldest boy was called Sticky, a nickname because of his thin frame and talent for stealing things. Nobody was quite sure what his real name was, but that was a good thing. If any of the group were caught they could only reveal each other’s nicknames, which would mean nothing to the authorities.

  Sticky carried a heavy bag, which he laid on the ground now and again to give his shoulder a rest. Each time they stopped, the group would squat down out of sight while keeping an eye on every direction.

  Mouse was the youngest and smallest of the group and fitted his nickname well. With his tiny frame he looked like he’d blow over with the slightest breeze, but he was willing to learn and committed to the cause. ‘How far to the target?’ he said.

  Sticky craned his neck to look up the street. ‘Not far now, just got to be careful of them drones as they come out of nowhere.’

  ‘I want to help this time,’ Mouse said.

  Sticky nodded. ‘Yes, I know, and you can but just do as you’re told and follow what we do. I can’t sort out the target while watching out for you.’

  ‘I want to make a difference,’ Mouse said leaning forward.

  ‘You will.’ Sticky smiled. ‘But I’ve also got to make sure you’re back home in bed soon or your mum will kill me.’

  The other boys sniggered at the remark and Mouse looked down at the floor feeling embarrassed.

  Sticky grabbed his bag. ‘Right, let’s go, it’s just up ahead, and be careful everyone.’

  The group made their way to the end of the street and pushed their backs into a doorway. Mouse lay on the floor and looked around the corner. It was all clear and he gave a thumbs up to the others.

  All four boys rounded the corner and ran towards the foot of the structure, crouching low to avoid detection.

  Mouse looked up with his mouth gaping open. ‘Wow, it’s huge.’

&nbs
p; The large billboard sat on two thick steel legs and dominated the landscape in this area. The poster was meant as encouragement to the Wretches but also as a warning. In the middle of the display was a prominent city official wearing a smart white shirt with black trousers. He also had thick, dark hair which was neatly greased back, and a pair of large horn-rimmed glasses completed the official look. His wide smile beamed as he pointed out across the city next to a slogan. “Compliance Keeps the Peace. Peace Means Survival.”

  The cryptic message was neither understood nor read by most of the illiterate locals. It was probably dreamt up by some city official who didn’t understand or didn’t care about the people scratching for a living in the surrounding neighbourhoods. But its size and prominence was a constant annoyance and reminder of how good life was in the towers and how bad it was outside.

  Sticky climbed up the service ladder until he was on a gantry that ran the length of the billboard, right across the middle of it. He knelt down and undid his shoulder bag and beckoned Mouse to follow him. As Mouse arrived on the gantry he handed him two aerosol cans of paint. Paint was rare but near empty discarded and dented tins could be found thrown away in the city dumps.

  Mouse started to spray his blue paint over the poster’s wording as Sticky drew devil horns and a pointy beard in red paint on the smiling man. The two boys below walked around keeping a lookout and also disposed of the empty cans as they were tossed down.

  ‘Hurry up, you’re taking too long,’ one boy shouted up.

  Sticky put a hand up to acknowledge the warning. ‘Last can, come on, Mouse, empty that one and let’s get out of here.’

  Two armoured trucks skidded around the corner in a cloud of dust and gravel. The two boys on the ground bolted in different directions and quickly lost themselves in the maze of side streets and ruined buildings.