Condemned (Death Planet Book 1) (17 page)

Slaphead ran toward Princess. She raced for the nearest stall, and jumped onto the wooden table. It creaked beneath her feet, and she jumped from it, toward the wall of the building behind. She grabbed the sill of the second floor window, and her feet scrabbled for grip on the window below. She pulled her leg up, her toes feeling for the window frame. As they briefly found grip, she pushed up with her legs, then pulled and climbed to the second window. Just as Slaphead’s fingers grabbed for her foot, and caught only empty air.

Andy wasn’t following her up there, but there was only one place she could be going. She climbed on, putting her weight on the sill, and pushing herself up to the roof. On the far side of the roof, the street led back to the gate. If she could climb over the top and find a way down, she’d be on her way. Except for the Guards at the gates. For what good they might be...

Andy hobbled toward the alley. Kevin and Red fought in the street behind him. Princess’ fingers fought for grip on the smooth wooden roof. Slaphead was on the window below her, and his hand grabbed for her foot again. She tried to stamp on it, but he dodged as her foot came down. She tried again, stamping with the other foot.

“Shit,” he yelled, as her heel connected with his fingers this time, and bones crunched.

She hammered on the shingles with her hand until two gave way, then smashed a chunk out of the rotten wood beneath. It gave her enough grip to cling on, and pull herself higher. She swung her feet onto the roof as Slaphead climbed up onto the windowsill behind her, then grabbed the roof.

Another Guard jogged along the alley toward Andy, with a revolver in his hand. The girl could cross that distance much faster than Andy’s legs could.

Oh, screw this shit.

“Give me that gun.”

The Guard looked blankly at him. Andy grabbed the Guard’s revolver, and aimed toward the roof. Accidentally shooting her wouldn’t be any worse for him than not catching her. But at least it would make him feel better.

“King’s Guards. Stop, or we’ll shoot.”

She clambered along the edge of the roof. Andy aimed above her, and fired. The gun kicked in his hand, and the bullet smashed into the peak of the roof, spraying a shower of splinters from the shingles. She ducked and squealed, but kept moving.

Andy aimed close to her feet, and fired again. The shingle between her and Slaphead exploded in a shower of rotten wood. Princess squealed again, and hopped forward. She grabbed the peak of the roof for support.

Slaphead froze, then raised his hands. As Andy cocked the gun again, Slaphead pushed himself off the edge of the roof, held on for a second, and dropped into the mud. Then he ran down the street, past where Red and Kevin were still fighting.

Andy fired again.

Splinters from the peak of the roof sprayed across Princess’ face. She closed her eyes and turned away as she squealed. Her slick, mud-covered feet slipped, and she tried to grab the peak with her other hand for support.

Her fingers slipped on the wet shingles.

She screamed as she lost her grip, and slid down the roof.

R
at-Girl scuttled through the darkness beneath the boardwalk. Her human eye could barely see, but the world glowed around her through her dark, round, animal eye. Feet moved in the street beyond the boardwalk, and she slowed, listening to people muttering things she could barely understand. She crouched low, and waited until the sound faded. Then she lowered herself onto her elbows and knees, and crawled on.

That boy who fed her was nice. Most of them would have grabbed their food back and hit her after she stole it from them. But he didn't even try to fight. She hadn't felt so full in days, since the time she managed to steal a loaf from one of the stalls.

That one-eyed man, though. He was trouble. She didn't like him at all. She could smell the evil in him, sickly and rotting, like a disease. He'd have killed her for stealing from him, and not even given it a second thought. Just like most of the men who’d attacked her over the years, the ones she’d fought off with speed, teeth and sharp nails.

She preferred the dark. Down with the rats and the young hounds, she was safer than out in the light with the humans. Under the boardwalk, they understood each other, respected each other, gave each other space. A rat might sneak in and grab some food, but he would run when he saw you. A hound might bite, but would run when you reacted.

Men, on the other hand, would do whatever they wanted, unless you killed them. She was better off with the rats. She’d lived there for as long as she remembered. Over the years, she’d found the bones of other kids, tossed aside by their parents, and eaten by the hounds. But, somehow, she’d been cautious and smart enough to live.

She peered out into the dim, orange, early evening light. Stone walls rose on the far side of the street. She was almost back at her nest now. She’d be safe there. No man would come crawling so far under their world to find her.

Eight legs scraped on the dirt. One of the big spiders whirred as it scrabbled across the ground. The eyes around its body glowed red as it approached her. She dug her nails into the dirt and rushed past, scraping skin from her knees on the sharp stones buried in the dirt. It followed her for a moment, then lost interest, and raced toward the edge of the boardwalk.

She crawled on. Not far now.

Something growled in the darkness. She stopped, held her breath, and stared into the shadows. Something dark and furry moved toward her. Eyes glowed as they reflected what little light reached them beneath the town.

A hound, not one of the big ones they sometimes sent to chase her when she had to go out into the street, but a small one, one of the babies that lived in the underworld like her, just trying to survive on the scraps the humans left behind.

Or the humans the humans left behind.

She’d seen them eat a baby once. Some misshapen, mutant thing they’d dumped out in the street to fend for itself. Couldn’t even tell if it was a boy or a girl, just a mass of flesh, some of it covered in fur, screaming and crying in the dirt. Tiny, like it had barely crawled out of its mother before being tossed aside.

The noise just attracted the hounds. It didn’t last long, once they caught the baby’s scent. It stopped crying and stared at them as they crept toward it in the dim light. Then, after a brief scream, it stopped making any noise other than crunching bones as they lunged for it, and tore it apart in seconds.

Rat-Girl just turned and ran.

Now, when they tossed another baby down there, she didn’t wait around to see what happened. She just went the other way. She was lucky that hadn’t happened to her.

She was young when her mother went away, but at least she’d been old enough to steal for herself, and fight off the hounds. Her father wanted to get rid of her as a baby, so her mother said, but her mother had kept her in secret, for as long as she could. When her father found out, her mother vanished, and Rat-Girl fled as they tried to find her.

She had a human name back then, but it was so long since she’d spoken to a human that she couldn’t even remember what it was. She’d barely been old enough to remember the name when she had it. Either way, it really didn’t matter.

The hound growled at her. Then crept forward, until its nose was inches from her face. She leaned forward, and sniffed. It was a familiar, mouldy scent. The hound’s ear was torn, a wound from a fight some time in its past. She knew that animal.

It sniffed her, then crouched down on the dirt in front of her. She reached into her dress and pulled out the remains of the pie. One-Ear leaned closer as it sniffed, and she broke the pie in half, then tossed a chunk its way. One-Ear lunged forward, grabbed the pie in its jaws, and chewed.

Rat-Girl had learned long ago that sharing some of her food with the baby hounds was a good way to protect herself from them later in life. She’d met One-Ear months ago, ear still bleeding from whatever battle he had fought back then.

She crept past, keeping her animal eye on the hound, just in case he wasn’t so sure about her. He followed, not far behind, as she crept beneath the
Cat House
. A cacophony of muffled groans, moans and screams still reached her ears through the thick wooden floorboards.

She crawled toward a mound of earth in the far corner, sniffing as she approached it. The scent of another hound was in the air, among the human scents from above. But faint, as though it had passed by some time ago.

She crawled on, into the dark circle of a tunnel entrance on the mound. The dirt walls of the tunnel were packed hard, and propped up by scraps of wood stolen from the buildings. She pushed into it, and crawled along, panting, until it opened out. She stopped and sniffed. Only her own scent filled her nose, no sign of anyone entering since she’d left.

She crawled into the round cave she’d dug at the end, and rolled over onto the soft straw she’d piled on the right side. It crunched beneath her, and she wiggled her butt until she was comfortable. One-Ear followed, entering cautiously, sniffing the air around him. She reached under the straw for the sharp stone she kept there, just in case. Then he turned around and curled up beside her, sharing what warmth he had. Or, more likely, eager to share some warmth from her.

She lay back, and stared at the ceiling, barely visible in the faint light that reached her through the tunnel. In a couple of hours, it would be black, as the sun set.

The dull, brown dirt faded away, and Daniel looked down at her. His bright eyes bore right into hers.

For some reason, she couldn’t get the boy out of her mind. She hadn't felt any desire for human contact before that day, particularly not men. Avoided it, even. Now she couldn’t stop feeling that desire. Every time her mind wandered for a few seconds, his bearded face and long hair appeared, looking down at her with his wide eyes, the way he had in the street.

She wanted to see that again.

She shivered. Had he put something in the pie? Poisoned her? Given her those plants that made people see things?

Or was it something worse?

T
he Guards shifted their weight from foot to foot as they slouched beside the open castle gates, below the King’s red eyes painted on the grey stone walls. Daniel sweated and gasped as he pushed the heavy hand-cart toward them, weighed down by piles of small, wooden kegs. His arms would fall off if he had to push it much further. The ground rose toward the castle, and the cart’s creaking, wooden wheels thudded over every bump in the street, and smacked down into every puddle, splashing mud on his legs. A long black cloak fluttered behind him. If the wind grew much stronger, it might blow away down the street.

The flames of the burning torches beside the gate cast a flickering glow over the stone of the castle as the sun set behind the log walls of the city. He lowered his head as he approached the Guards. This was the only route he had into the castle, and, somehow, he had to get through.

Think nice thoughts, and don’t look dangerous. Don’t give them a reason to say no. He tried to whistle a happy tune, but only a faint hiss emerged from his lips. His throat was too dry.

“Halt, asshole,” Dean said.

Daniel stopped, slowly raised his face toward Dean, and smiled nicely. Dean stared at him with narrowed eyes. The Guard on the other side of the gate tapped his sword.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Thump. Thump. Thump. Daniel’s heart pounded. He was lucky he’d had a good workout pushing the cart that had turned his skin red with the exertion, or they’d be able to see him blushing from the far side of the city. He wiped the sweat from his brow on the back of his hand, then wiped that on the cloak.

“Got a delivery for the Brawl.”

Dean approached the cart, and studied the kegs. “What kind of delivery?”

“Beer. Moses sent it.”

“That fat poofter?”

The other Guard laughed. “Pull the other one. Moses never does nothing for free.”

Dean picked up a keg and shook it. Liquid sloshed inside. He put it back down. “Probably hoping he’ll get some action when they’re all drunk tomorrow.”

Calm down, you’re just a delivery boy, remember. “He just told me to deliver it. I don’t know more than that.”

Dean tapped another keg. “Could be poison.”

“Why would Moses poison anyone?” the other Guard said. “The King would have his balls for ear-rings if he did.”

“We should open one of the kegs. I could do with a drink.”

The other Guard licked his lips. “Me too, now you say it.”

Dean strolled around the cart. There must be a hundred kegs on there. Just don’t pick the wrong ones. He jumped at the sharp crack as Dean slapped his hand on a keg.

“How about this one?”

Daniel shrugged.

Dean took another step, and grabbed a keg further toward the centre of the cart. “What about this one?”

“All the same to me. I don’t know nothing.”

Dean grabbed another, and pulled it from the cart. Liquid sloshed against wood as he swung it in his hands. “We’ll try this one, then.”

He pulled a knife from his belt, stabbed the wooden bung in the top of the keg, then twisted the knife until the bung pulled free. He tossed it aside, raised the keg to his nose, then took a long, cautious sniff.

He held it out toward Daniel. “Go on, then. Have a taste.”

Daniel sniffed it himself, then coughed at the rotten smell. He’d never had beer back home. Guy said it was a low-class criminal’s drink the State banned long before he was born. But surely it was supposed to smell better than that?

Or was it? Guy wouldn’t... would he?

“What if it is poisoned?”

Dean raised the keg toward Daniel’s face. “Then you’ve got two choices. You can drink it, and die quick from the poison, or you can not drink it, and die in agony when the King gets through with you for trying to poison him.”

He had to get into the castle. Just ignore the smell, and drink. He grabbed the sides of the keg above Dean’s hands, and tilted it toward his mouth. Beer poured from the hole, and the cold liquid splashed over his chest. He gulped it down, despite the bitter taste, then coughed and backed away. He’d never tasted dog piss, but it surely couldn’t be much worse than that?