Mutant City (22 page)

President Melk sat perfectly still. His body might be giving up on him, but his mind was as sharp as ever. He looked up at the images from the unmanned surveillance drones. They were over an area of the slums, the infrared cameras relaying odd green-and-black images that were not always easy to interpret. The live feed switched from one to the next as those in the command room sought to get the best view of proceedings.

‘Call them off.’

‘What?’

His father gave him a stony look. ‘Call them off, Junior.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. And don’t call me that.’

‘You came here today to show me you can be decisive and determined. I admire that, but you haven’t thought this through.’ He held up his hand when his son started to protest. ‘For once, that is not meant as a criticism. Sometimes age and experience allow you to see things more clearly than is the case for those blessed with youth. I may have failed as a father to you, but I have tried to be the best advisor I could.’ He paused, briefly lifting the mask to his face before continuing. ‘Now, despite the fact that this mess is entirely of my making,
you
are the one having to clean it up. I apologise for that. I can’t turn back the clock and undo my mistakes, but I
can
help you make the right decisions regarding them. Clearly it’s no coincidence these children have all turned up here together.’

‘Of course not.’

‘We discovered their whereabouts, and rather than try to hide them again, they’re called back here. Why?’ The old man sighed, narrowing his eyes, thinking things through. ‘Maybe I’ve misjudged our friend Silas . . . again. I’d always assumed his original rescue of the children from the Farm was nothing more than the man’s dislike for what had gone on in that place – an act of compassion and nothing more. But what if he had something else in mind, a plan that was hatched back then but is only coming to term now?’

‘That would be far-sighted of him.’

‘My brother had a brilliant mind – I’ve already told you that. Maybe his genius was also Machiavellian in nature.’ He paused. ‘Do you know what a sleeper cell is?’

Zander rolled his eyes. He hated it when his father lectured him. ‘Enlighten me.’

‘Back in the days before the Last War, terrorism was rife. Individuals or radical groups struck fear into the hearts of governments and world leaders because they were difficult to trace and apprehend. Some of them were part of the very communities they were to attack – a sleeper cell – remaining dormant until they were activated by a prearranged signal to perform acts of violence. The establishment of these groups required a strategy over a long period of time.’ He stared pointedly at his son. ‘We discovered Silas’s sleeper cell, and because of that he’s had to call them into action. The mutants are already revolting – demanding rights and privileges they have no claim to – and now they’re ready to take their uprising to a new level. This gathering of the children is an act of aggression against the people of C4 and the other cities. He’s been playing the long game, son. Now he’s getting ready to make his first big move!’

‘You don’t know that. You can’t just assume –’

‘I’m telling you, this is an act of aggression!’

‘Then why do you say we should call a halt to the raid on Green Ward?’

‘You yourself used the analogy of chickens coming home to roost. Well, we should wait for
all
the chickens to be safely inside the coop before we send the foxes in to do their work.’

‘What about your healer?’ Zander looked pointedly at the oxygen tank.

‘I’ll have to hold on for a little longer, won’t I?’ The old man’s face softened. ‘Look, I know your pride will be telling you to push on with this. To be a big man and show me what you can do. I understand that. But what if it goes wrong? What if something happens? You won’t know where the others are –’ he nodded at the screen – ‘and you might even lose the ones you
do
know about. Trust me. Call the raid off.’

Zander stood looking back at the man. Try as he might, he couldn’t help but feel like a small child again. Everything his father said made perfect sense and he could appreciate that calling off the raid was strategically the right call, but
.
.
.
dammit!
He cursed under his breath and tapped the palm of his hand to activate the embedded comms unit, the purple glow painting his face. He was on the verge of saying the name of the man he’d put in charge of the operation, when he stopped. What was he doing? Caving in again to his bullying and hectoring father – a man who clearly had no respect for him or the decisions he made!
He, Zander Melk, was running for president! And a real president called the shots; they didn’t kowtow to a sick old man forced to suck air out of a bottle.

He closed his hand, switching off the device. When he spoke again, it was in the formal and clipped manner he used when addressing members of his staff. ‘I respect your views, Father, but as of right now I think it better to act on the information we have. Capturing these individuals will give us a bargaining tool with which to flush out the remaining parties.’ He turned his back on the man, concentrating his attention on the images showing on the screen.

The father narrowed his eyes in his son’s direction. He wanted to say more, but it was clear there was nothing he could do to change Zander’s mind. Instead, he held his tongue and turned his face to watch the events unfolding on the monitor.

Steeleye

Steeleye looked down at the gun he’d been given by Zander, turning it over in his hands again.

‘Brand new, state-of-the-art,’ the younger Melk had said when he unpacked the thing from its crate and handed it to the mutant.

‘What does it do?’ Steeleye asked, bringing the strange-looking firearm up to his shoulder and sighting down the top of the short, wide barrel at the front.

‘It’s a non-lethal entrapment weapon. We had it designed especially.’

The Mute slowly lowered the thing from his shoulder and glowered across at the politician. ‘Entrapment weapon?’ He looked at the other men getting ready in the ARM barracks, all of whom appeared to be packing guns very different to his own. ‘Why don’t I get one of those PEGs?’

Zander glanced over his shoulder. The regular members of the squad all carried Pulsed Energy Guns. Although these too were supposed to be non-lethal, in accordance with the Principia’s weaponry directives, Steeleye knew that the men would have had them customised so they could unofficially be ‘dialled up’ to kill. They worked by firing a concentrated invisible pulsed beam, creating exploding plasma inside the cells of the body, and he knew from bitter personal experience that, even on their lowest setting, they could leave the target writhing on the floor in a state of agony.

‘Because I’m entrusting you, and only you, with this.’ Principal Melk had a big grin on his face. ‘If these mutant kids try to make a run for it, I want you to employ this to stop them. The rest of the team are under strict instructions not to use the PEGs on them unless it’s absolutely necessary; something could go wrong.’ He nodded at the gun in Steeleye’s hand. ‘This one is designed to entrap the target in a rapidly expanding ball of sticky foam that becomes more gluey as the ensnared person struggles.’

‘A glue gun?’ Mange spat. ‘That’s what this is? A glue gun?’

‘If you like.’

‘I don’t.’

‘You’ll also be carrying the hydraulic ram . . . for the door.’

‘Let me get this straight. I get a glue gun and a ram?’ He glanced across again at the other ARM members who were strapping all kinds of weaponry on to their belts and vests.

‘A
hydraulic
ram.’ Zander smiled up at the big mutant. ‘You said you wanted to join up? Well, this is what the new recruits do until they’ve completed their training.’

Steeleye opened his mouth to say something else, but decided to bite his tongue instead. He badly wanted to tell Zander Melk where he could shove his glue gun, but even more, he wanted a chance to get his hands on that albino. Matching the politician’s goofy smile, he shrugged and walked off, mumbling to himself under his breath.

That had been a little over an hour ago. Now the squad was on the outskirts of the ghetto, waiting for the go-ahead to storm the safe house where the kids were being kept. It was a foul night – the cold blowing in from their backs made the regular men huddle together, huffing into their hands for warmth. In spite of having cut the arms off his ill-fitting uniform, Steeleye stood up straight, apparently immune to the cold.

‘How much longer we gonna have to wait?’ he called across to the squad commander.

The man turned away, ignoring him. Nobody stood near the mutant. He’d been left alone since it was announced, to the regulars’ collective disbelief, that he would be joining the raid. Not that he cared; as far as he was concerned the men in the ARM unit were all pussies, and he was certain he could wipe the floor with each and every one of them – individually or collectively. But they were his chance to get these kids and some payback. And if there was one thing Steeleye liked more than anything else, it was payback.

Rush

‘You should stay away from that window,’ Janek, Yesmin’s nephew and neighbour, said to Rush. The man had been sent to the safe house by his aunt. He’d been surly with them the entire time, and in the last hour had turned downright hostile.

‘It’s fine. Nobody can see me; the lights are out.’ There wasn’t much of a window to look out of anyway. Planks had been nailed across it on the outside, leaving only small gaps to peer through.

‘Not
all
the lights,’ Janek said, looking across at Brick, who was sitting on the edge of a low pallet, the wind-up torch held in his lap so the beam shone directly up into his face.

‘He doesn’t like the dark,’ Rush said in his friend’s defence.

‘A great big thing like that, afraid of the dark?’

‘Leave him alone.’

Janek grumbled something under his breath, and Rush felt like reminding the ungrateful oaf how Brick had helped save the life of a member of his family, but he couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. Instead he returned his attention to the world outside. The safe house was built at the end of a narrow mud lane flanked on both sides by ramshackle houses that leaned forward precariously. From where he stood, Rush could see right up the street. Apart from the large rats making the occasional scurrying run, it was deserted. When Yesmin had first brought them here, he’d been alarmed that there was only one way in or out, until she showed him the hidden door that opened out into an even narrower alleyway at the rear.

‘Why is it taking Yesmin so long to get word to Silas we’re here?’

‘You have no idea how difficult it is finding anybody in the slums. If you think Green is built up, you should see the central wards – the ones nearer the dumps and the old city ruins. Those places are like rabbit warrens, with shacks piled one on top of another. She’ll be doing her best.’ He stopped at the sound of a dog barking somewhere up the street. With a yawn he got to his feet. ‘I’m going out back to use the alley. Call of nature.’ He walked off, and Rush heard the door at the rear of the building open and close.

Leaving the window, Rush wandered over to Brick’s side. He put his hand on the big man’s shoulder, and was immediately rewarded with a broad, lazy smile.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better. It was bad this time. But Brick getting better.’

‘You didn’t have to help all those people at once.’ He looked down at the veins on the back of his friend’s hand, relieved to see that they were a slightly lighter shade than they’d been earlier. The black stuff that had filled them immediately after he’d cured the Rot sufferers appeared to be gradually disappearing.

‘We’ll stay here tonight, but if Yesmin doesn’t bring Silas back here by tomorrow we’ll –’ He stopped as Dotty got to her feet and hurried over to the front of the building, her claws scrabbling on the wooden planks. She stared towards the front door, her body taut. When she made a low rumbling sound, shifting her weight from side to side, he moved towards her.

‘What is it, girl?’

Approaching the window, he peered up the street again. It was still empty. No doubt one of those huge rats had come close enough for Dotty to catch its scent. He was about to turn away when a tiny flash overhead caught his attention. He stopped, frowning. There was a high ceiling of cloud tonight, so he was sure it hadn’t been a star. Anyway, he thought it had been red. Staying perfectly still, he kept his eyes trained on the sky and saw it again, except this time it had moved a little to the right. A moment later, a second wink of crimson flickered against the dark, then a third. Whatever they were, there were at least three of them up there, hovering high over the street and the safe house, which all of a sudden didn’t feel quite so safe. He remembered the small remote-controlled drone the guards in the tower had sent up when he and Brick were on the border of the no-go zone.

He was about to suggest to Brick that maybe they should leave right now, when there was a loud scraping sound outside the back door, as if something was being dragged away from it. There was a muffled
thump
, followed by another, after which the door finally opened again.