This Machine Kills (36 page)

   Looking at how small and conquerable this flimsy construction was, it made him wonder why the people of the Old-Town had regarded it as any sort of barrier to get into the City at all. With enough of them, they could have pulled the fence down with their bare hands. He again felt angry at Jacob for not launching his attack when the wall had only been an embryonic idea in Freddie Milton’s head.

   On the top of the wall and silhouetted by the spotlights, sentries could be seen pacing back and forth.

   Warchild looked up and cast a concerned glance over them, “You reckon they’re good enough to hit us from that distance.”

   “Oh yeah,” Taylor answered without missing a beat, “they may not be up to the standards you were used to in the army, but I’m pretty they could take a man’s head clean off from where they’re standing.”

   Warchild’s body sunk even closer to the sun-hardened earth,

   “Then perhaps it’s a good idea they don’t see us.”

   “Doesn’t matter now,” Taylor answered, “they’re not going to risk antagonising us by taking pot-shots. Milton’s plan is for the doors to close at eight o’clock on the button. If he was forced to do it any earlier he’d regard the whole thing as a failure. I know how he thinks.”

   “Maybe,” Warchild countered, “or perhaps he could just send all his troops out to fuck us up.”

   Taylor turned to his new ally, “Would you bother doing that, when you could just wait a few minutes and then shut the doors for good?”

   Warchild shrugged his massive shoulders, “When you put it that way I suppose not, but then again I ain’t in the position to make those sort of decisions.”

   “Really?” Taylor enquired, “Because we were planning to make you the new Mayor once we’re in.”

   Warchild nodded to himself, “Yeah, I think I like the sound of that. What’s the pay like?”

   Taylor patted him on the shoulder, “We’ll discuss it later.”

   He was interrupted by the sounds of impatient movement along the line; the men were getting restless. He checked his watch again; it was seven fifty-eight. Taylor turned his attention to Jacob who lay on the other side of him, seemingly unaware of what was about to take place.

   “We need to tell them to stay down. If they go too early, they’ll ruin everything.”

   Jacob nodded, then beckoned two of his men over to him. After a few hushed words, they went in opposite directions along the crooked line. Keeping as low as possible, they stopped every few metres or so to pass Jacob’s instructions to the hundreds of newly recruited soldiers they came in contact with.

   “You still think this is going to work?” Taylor said, careful not to let anyone else overhear his words.

   “Of course,” was the curt response, “nothing’s changed.”

   He leant closer in, the volume of his speech dropping further, “You do know a lot of them aren’t going to make it into the City?”

   “Yes I do,” Jacob answered, “and so do they. They’re not stupid, they know why they’re doing this and they know the risks involved. They’re here because they’ve decided what we’re doing is worth dying for.”

   Taylor heard himself swallowing hard, “In that case, we better not fuck it up.”

   The conversation was interrupted by the sound of raised shouts and cheers coming from the crowds inside the City.

   “It’s nearly time,” he said to no one in particular.

   Seven fifty-nine. The cheers and cries from inside had built up into a roar of anticipation. Just as the volume of noise from the City was growing, so too did his army grow louder and more impatient.

   “Not yet!” he shouted above the noise.

   Suddenly and without warning, the walled off area descended into silence again. Taking their cue from those on the other side, the men of the Old-Town grew equally quiet
.
With his breath held, Taylor watched as the huge steel doors began their journey to where they would meet each other, permanently sealing off the new world from the old. He had imagined it would be a noisy affair with the heavy grinding of mechanical gears, but instead the doors closed with silent, hydraulic efficiency.

   Seconds later, and just as quickly as it had started, all movement ceased. The doors were frozen in the half-open, half-closed position. Taylor was aware of movement around him as the men began to rise to their feet.

   “Stay down,” he shouted, stopping them in their tracks, “wait until I give the order.”

   From inside the City the crowds began to get louder again. But this time instead of celebratory cheers, there now arose a murmur of concern. This was quickly followed by at least a hundred troopers piling out from behind the steel doors, lining up menacingly behind the checkpoint on the perimeter fence. Even from the distance he was observing, Taylor could detect the agitation in the soldiers. They were beginning to realise something was wrong.

   He looked across to Jacob.

   “Stay at the back,” he said quickly, “you’re less likely to get hurt.”

   Jacob’s response surprised him, “Don’t worry about me, I’m not scared of dying.”

   He had a look of serene calm about him like he was about to start meditating, not invade a city.

   More sounds burst from the other side of the wall but this time they were from much further off and of a different type altogether. It wasn’t the sound of cheers or applause they could now hear, but instead, the dull thud of a distant explosion. The exact location of where the noise had come from was soon marked by a plume of thick, black smoke rising up from near the eastern perimeter of the City. Seconds later, there was another thud, but this time from the City’s western edge. Like before, a black cloud soon betrayed the origin of the noise.

   As quickly as the troops had appeared at the checkpoint, they turned and re-entered the City leaving only a dozen or so men to guard the southern doorway.

   “That’s it,” Taylor shouted as he got to his feet, “Let’s go!”

   Despite the pain, he had set off at full tilt, running as fast as his beaten body could carry him. He’d learnt from painful experience in Canada that when launching an assault, you stood the best chance of surviving if you kept moving as fast as possible. Stopping to help your fallen comrades wasn’t an option. It was for that reason he left Jacob struggling to his feet as men from behind charged past. Hopefully those at the front would have already stormed the City by the time Jacob finally got there.

   No sooner had the cry for action gone up and the men commenced their charge, than the bullets started flying. Taylor had only advanced ten feet when the man next to him staggered off to his left as he took a shot to the body. He had to slow himself down as the dying man cut across his path in a comical fashion as his feet struggled to keep up with his upper body before tumbling flat on his face. He could hear cries of pain from all around as the sentries on top of the wall fired at will.

   Even though the ground was hard, it was still difficult to progress with any speed, due to the terrain they had to cover. The landscape resembled the surface of the moon with deep craters everywhere; remnants of the last time the City had been attacked. As Taylor dragged himself out of one of these holes, he felt the force of a bomb that had been dropped from one of the drones that flew overhead. His face was sprayed with dirt and he spat out the smaller fragments that had forced their way into his mouth.

   A relatively flat stretch of land now needed to be covered before the craters started again. Traversing this open ground, he could only crouch lower to the earth to make himself less of a target as the drones dropped their incendiary loads before soaring off into the atmosphere. The next set of divots and an island of relative safety were only feet away when the world was suddenly turned black and silence enveloped him.

   Taylor was no longer on the battlefield. He was once more on the beach with the sun burning down on his back as he looked out to the blue sea ahead of him. From the silence, emerged the sound of waves pushing gently onto the shore. Waist deep in the water, he saw Charlotte, her top-half naked, beckoning him towards her. She smiled as he started his run to the water’s edge, and as his feet splashed against the waves he could hear her laughter carried on the wind.

   When he had waded deep enough, Taylor dived under the surface. He felt cleansed and refreshed as the water cooled and soothed his skin. When he came up again and opened his eyes, he could no longer see Charlotte; she had left him again. He called out her name and then watched as she resurfaced a little further out. This time only her arms and head could be seen. She was still smiling at him but without the confidence of before. Taylor swam towards her with all his might but with every stroke, she seemed to drift further away from him.

   Somehow, from some unknown reserve, he summoned the energy to slowly close the space between them. When he was finally close enough to reach out and grab her she had disappeared altogether, and in that instant, Taylor realised that he had spent every last bit of energy, and just like that, his body gave out as he sunk under the water. What surprised him as he drifted toward the ocean bed was just how calm it all felt. He willed himself deeper into the abyss, hoping that when he got to the bottom, he would see Charlotte once more. That was when he felt a pair of hands clasp his wrists with a cold, steely grip that was far too strong for Charlotte’s fragile physique. He looked up at her and smiled as she dragged him back towards the surface, and even though they were under water, he clearly heard her say his name as she pulled him to safety.

   “Taylor,” he was aware of his name being called again, only this time it was from a much deeper source.

   “Taylor, wake up.”

   His arms were in pain. It felt like they were being pulled out of the sockets at his shoulder. They were above his head and someone very strong was pulling on them. He slowly opened his eyes to see a small, white object flying through the sky above him in complete silence. At first he thought the light must have been a shooting star, but when it was followed by a dozen more, he realised it was tracer bullets being shot at the other intruders. His hearing came back with a vengeance as the sound of a nearby explosion awoke his senses. As his body orientated itself, Taylor realised that he was being hauled out of a crater. With a final heave from his rescuer, he was out of the hole and flat on his back. He looked up to see WarChild kneeling over him, gasping for air.

   “You ok?” he asked.

   Taylor tried to nod but it only made his head hurt, “I think so.”

   “You’re a lucky boy, I thought you were toast when that bomb went off.”

   Despite the bullets flying around his head, Warchild let out a laugh, “I swear it was the first time I’ve seen a man fly.”

   “You should have left me,” Taylor said, “that’s what I would have done.”

   Warchild ignored him.

    He raised himself onto his elbows just as his ears began to ring.

   “Where’s Jacob?”

   “I think he overtook us, you’ve been out for a little while.”

   Taylor rolled onto his front, pushing himself up onto his knees, “We need to move, now.”

   Warchild helped him complete the journey to his feet and together at a much slower pace, they pushed on towards the City. His head was hazy but apart from that he couldn’t feel any real injuries other than those he’d already sustained over the past few days.

   Up ahead, they could see fighting breaking out as the men clashed with the guards at the perimeter fence. On the ramparts of the wall he could almost make out the faces of the snipers as they took out the invaders below. When one of them spotted the two of them approaching, he could do nothing but watch as the sniper turned his sights onto the slow moving targets. They were sitting ducks, with no hope of surviving at such a range.

   The grimace, in readiness of being shot, was wiped from Taylor’s face when an explosion occurred on the wall, inches from where the sniper stood. It had done the wall no harm; it was only a grenade being fired from a home made rocket launcher, but some of the shrapnel had hit the sniper. Taylor watched as the man screamed and clutched his face before sinking out of sight. Before they moved forward again, he had time to see one of Jacob’s men lower the crude weapon fashioned from drainage piping down from his shoulder. The man grinned at him displaying a mouthful of rotten teeth before abandoning the launcher and pushing forward.

   By the time they got to the fence, the battle that had taken place there had already finished. All the guards had been killed; taking with them so many of the enemy, Taylor and Warchild had difficulty in climbing over the mountain of bodies.
The checkpoint itself had been completely destroyed, leaving a twisted pile of metal and wire in its place. They were only twenty feet away from the open, steel doors when Warchild dropped to the ground, clutching at his leg. A cry of pain alerted Taylor to his friend’s situation.

   “Come on,” he yelled, trying to manoeuvre his head under Warchild’s armpit in a vain attempt to lift him. He had a hole the size of a golf ball in his leg where the bullet had exited,

   “We need to keep moving.”

   Warchild pushed him away with a strength he should not have still possessed, “Just go, I’ll see you inside.”