Gray was in the front of the team and absorbed the main part of the blast. His armor was ripped from his arms and legs. One hand was missing. His helmet had been shattered, leaving shards of glass embedded into his face. It was a quick death for him.
Everything was dark. The gun lights and headlamps had all shattered. Allen could hear the rumble of Fringers making their way to the corridor. Moving was excruciating, as he felt around for his pistol. He couldn’t locate it. He felt his knife still in its sheath, but couldn’t seem to get a solid grip on the handle. His hands wouldn’t work.
He heard a grunt, followed by a scraping, then a splash, then another grunt, followed by another splash. Something was picking up the bodies and was tossing them into the water that ran alongside the walkway. He could only imagine what was able to do that with such ease. The splashes got closer and closer as his vision started to adjust to the darkness. He could make out a huge silhouette against the faint light coming from the broken wall at the end of the corridor. He looked up at the locking mechanism, reached up slowly and pushed against it.
His heart sank as he felt that the locking box was still very much attached. He looked back to the monstrous shadow relentlessly making its way through the mass of bodies. There was nowhere to run and his knife wouldn’t be enough to stop whatever it was that was coming, but he pulled it from its sheath anyway.
The shadow paused. Heavy breathing filled the corridor. Allen didn’t know if it belonged to him or the monstrous shadow coming towards him.
Allen’s head fell and hit the ground hard. The ringing started again and a bright empty light filled his eyes. He felt the cement below him begin to tear his gear as he was dragged toward the end of the corridor. Through his cracked helmet visor, he could make out a hunched mass of muscle charging with a sideways gate right to the lighted hole dragging him effortlessly like a weightless doll. He tried to reach the massive hand that was crushing his ankle, but he was immediately yanked forward, causing him to fall back hitting his head again.
A low rumble of chanting thundered in the air, as he was pulled closer to the hole. Something sharp cut through his gear and ripped into his side. His scream seemed to intensify the chanting.
He could feel his armor filling with blood. His vision blurred and he could no longer struggle against the Fringer’s grip. He lay back, ignoring the jostling and banging of his helmet against the ground, and focused on the small hypnotizing lights passing above him.
There was an enormous cavern filled with layers of uneven makeshift shanties that littered the walls and created multiple levels. Fringers of all ages and sizes dotted as far as he could see.
“Children,” he said to himself.
He didn’t want to believe it, but it made sense. They had managed to survive for generations underground. He imagined people running to the basement after the Fissure, seeking refuge, and stumbling across this cavern. Considering the primal state of the cavern’s citizens, the lights and shanties had to be a contribution of generations long past.
The Fringer tossed him through the air. The cavern lights danced around him then disappeared into darkness as the spinning cavern came to a sudden and violent stop. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear the chanting all around him. He was confused as sharp tugs and pulls on his body began, and then the horrible realization of being eaten crept into his mind, just as a large rock slammed down on his helmet.
Ripp gave a thumb’s up to an excited Gus, who was climbing in the driver’s seat of the soldier’s transport.
“Gunfire stopped,” Gus pointed out.
“Lasted longer than I thought it would,” Ripp replied.
“They were kind enough to leave the keys,” Gus said as he started the engine.
“It’s got a perpetual drive,” Gus yelled.
“That’s great, but you know you can’t drive it back into Nucrea, let alone sell it?”
“You let me worry about that. There’s a place I can store it, until I can break her down.”
“That’s all you, brother.”
“More credits for me,” Gus shot back.
“Now that all the fun is over, should we get back to work?”
Ripp checked the gauges and rerouted the navigation system.
“Lead on,” Gus said.
Ripp finished logging an environmental scan into the transport’s system, backed up and turned back down the narrow road, with Gus beaming in his new transport behind him.
Nineteen
The lights of Nucrea’s nightscape cast their blue and red hues into Yeong’s dark office. Yeong and Nun stood looking out at the city together.
“There are very few of the third generation left, but those who are will understand, and that is all that matters,” Yeong said.
Nun looked out onto the city with his hands in his pockets.
“Is it really all that bad?”
“The people do not remember the cost, and now they bite the hands that feed them.” Yeong turned away from the window and looked at Nun.
“You should have some windows facing east. You would see some who do remember,” Nun said as an intentional jab.
Yeong laughed a short, pretentious laugh.
“You of all people to lecture me on having more than others.”
Nun wanted to point out that he had built his own fortune as a Runner, while Yeong inherited his wealth through a lineage that caused the Fissure, but decided to keep those thoughts to himself.
Yeong moved to his desk and pulled out two cigars. He cut the end off one and handed it to Nun.
“Thank you,” Nun said as he held the cigar to his nose and relished the scent.
Yeong watched Nun admiring the cigar for a moment then offered him an electric lighter.
“What are you looking for in the Fringe?” Yeong asked.
Nun reverently lit the cigar.
“Trinkets here and there,” he said before taking a long draw and letting out a cloud of thick smoke.
“Let’s speak plainly with each other Alanon.”
Nun felt Yeong’s irritation at his deflection and noticed that he hadn’t cut or lit his own cigar.
“Anything I can sell or use,” he amended with more assertiveness. Nun didn’t like being tested or questioned. In fact, he hated it, and though their relationship went back five decades, Nun struggled to be in the same room as Yeong at times.
“I find it hard to believe there isn’t something that you aren’t specifically looking for.”
“I don’t believe you brought me here because you care about what junk I dig up. Speaking plainly, what do you want from me?”
Yeong looked him in the eyes and moved closer.
“I want to know what it is you want. Nucrea?” Yeong added.
“I want to survive,” Nun answered, finally knowing what Yeong was getting at. “I want Nucrea to survive, same as you,” he added.
“Similar perhaps, but not the same as me,” Yeong replied with less respect than he had been showing. “You want to control all of the markets, and you should. I, on the other hand, want to ensure that these people don’t destroy what we have saved because of ignorant freedoms.”
Nun looked at him with a devilish smile. “You are planning to overthrow the council aren’t you?”
Yeong pretended to be surprised at hearing it out loud. “Yes, as you must also see that we need to return balance to this city before we destroy ourselves completely.”
Nun made sure his cigar was out completely and reverently put both cigars it back into the box.
“Very much so; but personally, I feel pretty balanced at the moment.”
Yeong ignored Nun’s comment.
“The council will be overthrown. You will be given stewardship over all the markets and will also be given a seat in the new council.”