Divided Worlds Trilogy 01 - Disconnect (11 page)

A man leaned out of his doorway three storeys up, and clanged a pan against a standing pole. “I can’t believe it. They’ve done it! The Far-Wallers have done it!”

“They broke through?” came a voice within the crowd.

“Aye! The highest crack in the Far-Wall that I’ve ever seen,” laughed the man. “There’ll be fresh air coming our way, and you know what else? I bet they’ll find new lines of electricity.” He folded his arms, holding his chin aloft. “Don’t know about you, but I’m not planning on leaving now.”

“I’m with you,” said another voice.

Chugging wind resonated from the Far-Wall.

Zachary squeezed through the crowd, knowing that the blockages his dad worked on shouldn’t have affected the fans above them. If anything, the fans should be turning faster.

Mechanical gears clicked through the loudening chugs. Then, a long drawn screech made him and others cover their ears. A thin line of light split the wall from top to bottom. More clicking and the obvious turning of a cog hitting hard components echoed through the District. The split line widened.

Zachary gulped. Legends described a treasure trove of rich pipes and ancient machinery lying beyond the wall. What had the Far-Wallers uncovered?

His eyelids fluttered. Could this be connected to the so-called negotiations?

“Get back,” cried Zachary, turning to face the eager crowd. A hand swiped him aside. People pushed onward.

“It’s a trap.” Zachary grabbed a burly man’s bare arm.

“What you talking about?” rasped the man. “We’ve discovered new land. That light’s the secret power grid that was meant to be used here.”

Zachary watched the light in the wide area return to almost darkness.

Rapid hissing noises followed by screams stole everybody’s attention.

“What’s going on out there?” yelled the burly man.

The man from the three-storey home peered forward. “I’m not sure. I think they’re bringing something out.”

Zachary climbed the pole next to the nearby home. A dozen figures walked out of the new area in an orchestrated line. Tiny dots glowed blue where their eyes should have been. In an instant, flickering yellow-tinted light sprayed outward with the unusual sound of a hundred fingers rattling against tins.

“They’re, they’re, they’re …” spluttered the man above Zachary.

A large machine with wide legs and a body shaped like a giant beetle sauntered between the blue-eyed attackers. Its circular arms rotated giving rise to an orange glow in the centre. It ejected a fiery ball. Zachary froze as the fireball arched upward. High. Gaining speed. It changed course, sinking into Shantytown.

Zachary leaped from the pole, hitting the ground as the fireball exploded onto the watcher’s home. He rolled away from volatile flash of light followed by scorching heat. Like a wonky stick set alight, the tower crumbled.

Zachary coughed in the coarse ash. Figures disappeared inside the clouds that thickened across the horizon. Screams poured out amidst rattling machinery. Nearby, a four-storey tower erupted into flame. Limbs wrestled through the chaotic crowd. An elbow swung across his chin. Floored, he cowered from a fierce onslaught of charging feet.

Thumping rumbles were coming closer. The walking machines, five so far, fired missiles that sliced through the air, hitting the towers and trailing white smoke.

The lanes of Shantytown confused Zachary as to which direction to take. None seemed safe. A woman’s shriek spun him away from the corner he was about to take. Staying low, he inched forward to see her situation.

“Please, let us go” she said. Dozens stood behind her. Men. Women. Children.

Ahead stood a man clad in tight black armour with blue eyes glowing on his helmet. Puffs burst out of two vents around his mouth.

“We’ll do anything you want,” she continued. “We’ll leave immediately.”

The hum emitting from the rifle increased in pitch, then a click sounded.

“Too late, lady,” wheezed an echo from the man. Gun pointed, he fired.

Zachary collapsed onto his side, losing his composure at the sight of blood splattering across the opposite wall. Thuds drowned out the short-lived screams. Why did he fire? They’d surrendered. They all had.

When the whizzing action of the gun stopped, he heard the attacker’s crunching footsteps wade through the dead. Zachary lay frozen, save for the unrelenting pumps of his heart that deafened him.

Stop beating. Stop.

The attacker’s boots, lined with sharp-toothed grippers, stopped an inch from Zachary’s hand. “Java Nine, calling in. Sections B-three to B-five cleared. Moving into B-six.”

“Change of plan,” wheezed a similar voice heading toward them. “Puma and Lynx units have been forced back in B-eleven. Seems like these stinkers are packing some firepower.”

“Sweet,” said Java Nine. “Control request for backup to B-eleven. Let’s go. General Sokolov isn’t going to like their tactics. Do you think they’ll be waiting for us in District Three?”

“Who cares – I’ve been waiting to unload these cannons for months.”

Zachary watched the soldiers run on. Appearing all of a sudden from a neighbouring street, a large walking-machine pursued them.

Zachary’s head whirred. Ricochet marks on the walls. Strewn limbs. Tattered clothes. Death. Knees up to his chin, eyes closed, he counted the negligible gaps between long sessions of bullets firing.

Using a wall to aid his wobbling legs, he stood. Fire raged from the uppermost homes of each tower. Absolute chaos. Zachary sprinted through tunnels of smoke. One street to cross, and he’d be home. A deafening explosion threw him into the air. Landing hard on an overturned ground sheet, he slid down into a charred crater. Hot debris scorched Zachary’s cheeks, and the high-pitched ring worsened the throbs belting his head.

He crawled upward, nursing his sore back, to see a nightmare unfold. Flames dispensed downward from Horatio’s home to the third floor, leaving only a matter of time before the entire tower fell. Shielding himself from the raining particles, he charged into his door. It swung open. Something tripped him. On his knees, Zachary stared at his dad’s friend, Gavin, with burnt holes in his neck.

“Zachary,” said Patch.

Somebody had switched the droid on. “Where’s my dad?”

“He left.”

Under the unpleasant heat, Zachary jumped toward the droid. “When?”

“Three minutes ago,” said Patch. “It was unsafe to wait. You must travel to IOTA. Marcus Connor will meet you there.”

“District One? That’ll be under attack as well.”

The droid’s hand seized Zachary’s shoulder. “Marcus Connor saw units advance into District Three. The units will take down Districts Two and Three before they tackle IOTA. I am confident that IOTA will not fall easily.” Patch released him. “Leave.”

Zachary croaked. “What about you?”

“Do not concern yourself with me. I am a machine.”

“
No!
You’re not a machine. You’re my friend.” Zachary hooked his arms around the droid. Pushing off the wall, he yanked backward. The welded bars did not shift. “Help me.”

“You must leave.”

“Shut up!”

Zachary’s fingers slipped. Lying on his back, he touched the dark fingertip of the Haulage-404; still cold. “My home. You. Why is this happening?”

Patch looked down. “You still have Rosa Kade.”

Zachary showed the damaged Raptor. “No, I don’t. It’s broken.”

Needles protruded from Patch’s thumb. “Let me hack it one last time for you. Speak to Rosa Kade while you can.”

Zachary placed the Intercom into the droid’s whirring hand. Within seconds the Intercom fizzed under sparkling lines shooting outward.

“I will force a message across the network. She may not receive it. Speak.”

Creaks above disturbed Zachary’s thoughts. How long did they have?

“Rosa,” he said. “General Sokolov has sent his soldiers into the Districts. They’re killing everyone. Burning everything. The Raptor’s broken.” His palms slapped the floor. “I’m never going to see you again. Rosa, I … like you.”

Wood splitting under shearing metal announced itself above Zachary, before the ceiling collapsed. The full force of Patch’s hand batted Zachary across to the middle section of his home.

Pushing off fallen shelves, Zachary edged to the almost unrecognisable components of the Raptor. Taking it, he sat up, searching through the blackened clouds for his droid. Fire spat downward, searing mixed debris. A fiery metal-framed bed crashed down, blocking Zachary’s path. What was left of the ceiling folded. Two stoves and a spinning generator hit the Bombay. Zachary clattered sideways to his bed as the Bombay exploded forward. Eyes against the ground, he listened to the frightening crashes, the creaks and the never-ending snaps. Fire multiplied at each corner of his home.

Zachary crawled through the wreckage lit by what seemed like a hundred lanterns bobbing on string. The front section of his home was devastated, and out in the street the Bombay core-generator continued to splutter currents. A gust surged through his home taking white smoke with it.

Sparkles fizzed over twisted bars with part of Patch’s back chassis hanging from them. Where was the droid? Zachary scavenged through piles of beams and sheets. A warm metal hand gripped his. At the sight of the Haulage-404 droid, Zachary’s head sunk down. Segments inside his cracked head glowed blue, and grinding cogs motioned where his jaw panel had been dislodged.

“Z-z-zeave-z-z-zme,” crackled Patch. “Z-z-zgo.”

“I can get you fixed. Stay with me.
Don’t
you dare shut down.”

“I-z-z-zmuzzzt.” Patch’s arm flailed into his head.

Zachary grabbed the three fingers left on the droid’s hand. “
Stop it!
”

With a wrench, Patch’s arm swayed back out. It grasped a thin, green rod covered in microchips, the part that governed a droid’s functions, the Cognitive-Syntax Driver. Without it, droids deactivated.

Lungs heaving, Zachary squeezed the Haulage-404’s neck. “Why?”

The glow within Patch’s eye vanished. A machine had made a sacrifice to ensure a human survived. Ducking clear of falling debris, Zachary stroked the ruined droid’s head.

With the greed rod, Zachary charged out into the carnage of Shantytown. Spinning on his heels, he watched his home clatter downward. Even the tears of hundreds wouldn’t make a difference to the flame-ridden horizon. Overworld’s army had claimed District Two.

Rubbing ash from his face, Zachary sprinted south, choosing the smoking, crater-filled route, away from the rattling guns. All of a sudden, a firm hand tugged at his vest, spinning him.

Zachary bashed the hand and struck an uppercut.

“It’s me,” cried Diego. Without his long coat, the recruit clambered up, rubbing his chin. “You’re alive. I didn’t think …”

Zachary pulled the recruit against a shattered wall. Hands holding one another’s shoulders, they inspected the grazes and marks of blood on their clothing. Although explosions echoed around, he felt safe with familiarity

Diego clenched his stomach. “The soldiers came quickly. Their Rock-Walkers bombed through anything in their way.” His hands shook. “The walking machines with the guns. We’ve got a broken one in District Four.”

“They’re moving through the Districts fast,” said Zachary. “Are you alone? Did anybody else make it out? The camp?”

“The stall’s gone.” The recruit’s bleeding fingers covered his chin. “They went through people like they didn’t matter.”

“Like we were waste.” Zachary grimaced. “We have to get to IOTA.”

Diego looked south. “Will they let us in?”

“We won’t know if we stay here.”

Zachary began his run, knowing the recruit would follow. Ground, dark without flames, met their boots. Minutes passed with silence between them until the high gates of District One grew close. They were already opening.

Zachary glanced back to see beams of light coming from several Rock-Walkers and a large congregation of soldiers advancing. IOTA was the next target. He felt a push from the recruit to the side.

Four IOTians left District One carrying thick tubes covered with spokes. More joined with two further tubes. Another push from Diego directed Zachary to sprint past the unsuspecting IOTians to the open entrance, but he couldn’t resist watching the contraptions being thrust into table-sized domes rising from the slushy ground. Upright, the tubes were pushed down.

“Alpha’s in,” shouted an IOTian. “Ignite.”

A bolt of currents shot down from the ceiling into the tube. Commands for the other tubes to be in place were distorted by the erratic energy bursts spreading to create a connected net. It didn’t appear solid, but could be enough to slow down the onslaught.

“They’ve erected a force field,” said Diego

Zachary didn’t care for anything except for passing through the gate. Panicking IOTians raced around one another. A buggy roared forward carrying four men armed with rifles. Burnt rubber replaced the spicy aroma of IOTA.

Zachary and Diego tagged onto the rushing swarm of IOTians that surged toward the buildings on the left side where the anguish of a large gathering could be heard. IOTians pushed long levers extending out of the floor clockwise. Pipes ran from the three levers to a metallic chamber. Was this how they powered the force field? Fresher IOTians shoved fatigued figures aside to take control of the levers.

“They’re diverting their power to keep the army out,” explained Diego.

“I never knew they could.” Zachary scanned each sweaty face staggering away from the levers. There. “Dad.”

Marcus’s thick arms crushed Zachary’s spine as he hugged him. “Are you hurt?”

“Our home’s gone. And Patch.” His dad’s presence lifted his hope that they might survive this.

Marcus loosened his hold. “We’ll start again. Elsewhere. What matters is that you’re safe.”

“Is that how you’re powering the field?” asked Diego, watching the turning levers. “Is it strong enough?”

Marcus gave the recruit a quick top-down look. “Yes – it should be. It’s based on old mechanics from when the dock was built. Something to do with forcing copper conductors to process air sucked out of the vents. The damn Overworlders infected the power lines with negative charges. Everything’s powerless. Even the ships – they’re all grounded.”