Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4) (10 page)

“Enforcers?” Olivia snorted.  “
Hell
, no.  Most of them cleared out when the shit hit the fan.  They were the first to turn tail and run.”  She began walking back toward the elevators.  “As for me, I used to work the graveyard shift down on Thirty-Seven.  Grease monkey at Substation One-Nineteen.”

“So you weren’t in Administration, or anything like that?”

“Nope.  Just an honest Joe, working for peanuts.”  She nodded at those around her.  “Just like the rest of these people.”

“So how did you end up here?”

Olivia seemed to consider that.  “Seemed to me that there was a job needed doing, but no one to do it.  So why not me?”  She clasped Talia on the arm.  “Go and see Tom, make yourself useful if you can.  We’ll probably have you on your way within the hour.”

Olivia moved off to oversee a third elevator, where another hoist was being installed, and Talia did as she suggested, helping out where possible.  Initially that involved trying to untangle the cables from one of the drums on the second hoist, and later helping to secure the elevator doors on the third.  Time passed quickly, and before she knew it, Olivia was calling them over to begin their descent.

“Hey, your ride’s here!” Olivia said, waving at them from the door of the first elevator.  “Let’s go!”

Talia and her companions responded quickly, and several of the refugees who had not already descended went with them.  Talia reached the shaft, and the sight of the cradle dangling within almost caused her to have second thoughts.  It looked like a rudimentary contraption, a conglomerate of oddly-shaped parts bolted together with little refinement.  Gnarls of metal and sharp edges threatened to snag the occupants at every turn, and the way it swung gently from side to side made Talia wonder if it might upend them without warning, sending them plummeting into the abyss below.

“Don’t worry,” Olivia said, as if reading her mind.  “It’s safe.  We haven’t lost anyone yet.”

“It will do fine,” Silvestri assured her, and then he stepped boldly forward and assumed his place in the cradle.  Duran followed, then Talia and the others joined them.

The cradle bobbed disconcertingly, and Talia dared not look over the side.

“Now, keep your arms inside at all times,” Olivia cautioned them.  “It’s going to swing and sway a little, might even bounce against the walls here and there, but don’t reach out and grab anything, whatever you do.  That’s a good way to lose an arm.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Roman said wryly.

“When you reach the bottom, there’ll be more of our people there.  They’ll help you disembark.  From there, you’ll most likely be on your own.  Things are still pretty hairy at the entrance, and we don’t have enough people to fortify the whole area.”

“We’ll be fine,” Zoe said.  “Thank you for your help.”

Olivia shrugged.  “Don’t thank me.  Just do your part, next time you see someone in need.”  She raised her hand and gave a signal to the winchman.  “That’s the only way any of us are going to make it through this.”

The cradle shuddered, then began to descend.  Olivia watched them for a moment longer, her hand gripping the door frame, her face betraying no emotion.  Then she turned and disappeared from view.

Talia hugged Roman tightly to her as the darkness took them.

13

Ursie stared down the tunnel, her mood as bleak as the gloomy depths
of the Skywalk itself.  She raised a hand and cupped it to the side of her mouth, preparing to call out for Knile, but then thought better of it.

He wasn’t coming back.  That seemed obvious to her now.

She turned and walked back toward the sweepdrone, where Tobias lounged awkwardly in the driver’s seat.  They’d been waiting here for hours –
how many, Ursie wasn’t certain,
but it had been a long time.  She was tired and thirsty, though oddly restless.  She couldn’t sleep.

“I think we’re on our own,” she said.

Tobias gurgled in his throat, then abruptly sat up.  Ursie realised that he’d fallen asleep as he’d lain there.

“Huh?”

“Oh, sorry,” she said.  “Didn’t realise you’d drifted off.”

Tobias blinked.  “No biggie, no biggie,” he said, scrubbing at his face.  “Just gettin’ old, I suppose.”  He stopped, then looked at her.  “What’d you say a minute ago?”

“I said I think we’re on our own.”

Tobias glanced down the tunnel in the direction in which Knile had disappeared.  “Aw, heck.  Give the guy a chance.  He’ll be back.”

“Maybe.”

Tobias swung his legs over the side of the sweepdrone and climbed down as Ursie moved to the rear of the vehicle to check on Lazarus.  The Redman hadn’t moved or made a sound the whole time they’d been stuck there.  She wondered if the life might have finally left his body.

“Why is he so loyal to this guy?” she wondered out loud as she stared at him.

“The Redman?  Didn’t your friend say he tried to save ’em?”

“Something like that.”

“Then I guess that’s reason enough.”

“If we hadn’t stopped to help him back at the habitat, we’d have made it out.  We’d have made it to the escape module with the others.  Now look where we are… we’re pretty much as dead as he is.”

Tobias shuffled closer.  “Is he…?”

Ursie watched the Redman for a moment, trying to ascertain if he was still breathing, then decided there was an easier way.  She reached out and touched her fingers against his bare neck.

Darkness filled her mind, a great expanse of it, but far away there glimmered a faint light, like a solitary, distant star in th
e night sky.  A wave of coldness seemed to wash over her, desolate and bleak, but in the midst of it there came a mote of warmth. 
It was a curious sensation, something she hadn’t expected, like a hot breeze in the middle of a cold winter’s day.

Then, within the speck of heat came emotions: confusion, fear.  Anger?

The feelings were emanating from that distant star, she realised, like a weak, indecipherable transmission from something lost in the cosmos.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the light flared, and the gentle warmth became a pinprick of intense, scorching heat.  Ursie felt both drawn into it and repulsed at the same time, and she suddenly felt as though she might become trapped, that she would be pulled into the abyss and lost within forever.

Just like Jodocus van Asch became lost within me.

Ursie cried out, wrenching herself free from the grasp of that strange, alien consciousness, and found herself suddenly back in her own body.  She fell heavily to the floor of the Skywalk, hard enough to make her teeth snap together, and then she was scrambling backward, away from the Redman.

Lazarus remained motionless, slumped on the rear of the sweepdrone, giving no indication that he had reacted to the encounter that had just taken place.

“What the fuck…?”

“Hey, you all right, Missy?” Tobias said, reaching down to help her up.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, dodging away from his grasp.  “I told you never to touch me, Tobias!”

Tobias reeled away, hurt, just as he had the last time he’d tried to reach out to her, back in his apartment after her encounter with the Redmen in the habitat.  He clutched his hands to his chest and wrung them together as if he’d been physically stung.

“Now why would you go and say that?” he said, his eyes like those of a wounded animal.

“Didn’t you hear what I told Knile before?  Things happen when I touch people, okay?  Bad things.”

Tobias gestured to Lazarus.  “You’ve been touchin’ him plenty.”

Ursie sighed, exasperated.  “That’s because I’m trying to figure out if he’s still alive.  That’s all.”  She got to her feet, realising that her tone had been unnecessarily harsh.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have yelled at you, Tobias.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening to you, kiddo.  I really don’t.”

She struggled to find the words.  “Nor do I, half the time.  These powers of mine seem to have mutated.  When I touch people… only bad things come out of it.  Do you get that?  Van Asch was right when he told me this was a curse.  When I reach out to people, the only thing I can do is cause hurt.  I can only destroy.  That’s why I can’t let you, or anyone else, touch me.  Ever again.”

Tobias looked at her sorrowfully.  “But you can’t go through the rest of your life never touchin’ someone again.  Never allowin’ yourself to feel.”

“Why not?”

“You just can’t.”

Ursie stuck out her jaw, indignant, and turned away from him.  “I’ll do what I have to do.  Whatever it takes, until I can find a way to stop it.”

Tobias fell silent, and for a time there was nothing to be heard but the distant creaking of the Skywalk, that disconcerting and haunting echo that was like a constant reminder that their time was running out.

Ursie smiled sourly to herself.  The idea of her dismal future, of being alone, was nothing more than empty talk.  She and Tobias were going to die here in a matter of hours.

She had no future.  That was the bitter truth of it.

“I remember my kids playing here, y’know,” Tobias said.

Ursie turned back to him, surprised.  “What do you mean?”

Tobias had begun strolling around, looking airily about the place as if he were a tourist.

“Back when I worked at Sunspire, see?  I remember bringi
ng my little ’uns out onto the ol’ Skywalk, letting ’em run around for a bit.”

“I thought you couldn’t remember them?”

He shrugged.  “I don’t.  Not really.  I don’t remember their faces, their voices.  Their names.  But I remember they were here.”  His face dropped.  “And I remember somethin’ happened to ’em in the end.  Something bad.”  He turned his watery eyes to her.  “Why is it like that, do you think?”

“Like what?”

“That only the worst of life bubbles through to the surface.  Take you.  Of all the ways you could see yourself, you only see the monster.  And me?  I remember that my little ’uns are gone, but not what made ’em special.”  He drew the station cap from his head and motioned as if he might hurl it to the floor in frustration, then seemed to think better of it.  He placed it back carefully on his head.  “That’s our burden, no?”

She gave him a sad smile.  “I guess it is.”

There was another creak, louder than before, and then Ursie felt vibrations under her feet.  Something was different this time.  This was not the same kind of sound she’d heard before.

She stared at the old man, fearful and uncertain.

“Tobias?” she said, a quaver in her voice.

Tobias stared back at her grimly, straining to listen.  Then something seemed to occur to him.

“I know that sound,” he said, his face brightening.  He turned to stare along the tunnel, and Ursie moved beside him.

Something was coming at them out of the gloom.

14

The cradle bobbed and swayed precariously for what seemed an eternity, until finally there was light from below.  They drew to a halt outside the open elevator doors to see another industrious group of workers milling around a makeshift camp of sorts, cobbling together what looked like defensive structures around the perimeter.  A gruff old man in grey coveralls steadied the cradle as they stepped out, then unclipped a radio from his belt and spoke into it.

“Yeah, we got ’em.  Give us a minute to load up the next crate before you start haulin’ it back.” 
There was a garbled reply, and
he replaced the radio on his belt as he ran an eye over the new arrivals.  “You all right?” he asked no one in particular.

“Yes, thank you,” Silvestri said.  “You and your people have saved us a lot of trouble in getting down here.”

“Don’t get carried away,” the man cautioned.  “If you’re thinkin’ of moving out into Link, you still have to get through the entrance, and that ain’t gonna be easy.”

“What’s the situation?” Duran said.

“It’s a shit
storm down there.  A bunch of Enforcers who were assigned to hold the gate have dug in.  They’re taking pot shots at anyone trying to get in or out.  Meanwhile, every man and his dog is trying to push through from outside.  Crazy bastards still think there’s somethin’ worth finding in here.”

“Haven’t they seen the smoke pouring out of the Reach?” Talia said.  “And the garbage falling from the sky?”

The man shrugged.  “Why don’t you go tell ’em, lady?  They ain’t listenin’ to anyone else.”

“So what do you suggest?” Silvestri said.

The man pointed to a nearby tunnel.  “Head to the south, over toward the loading docks.  That’s what we’ve been tellin’ people.  Less heat over there.  Less chance of wearing a bullet between the eyes.”

“I know the place,” Duran said.  “We should be able to find it.”

“Sure hope so,” the man said.  “We can’t spare anyone to hold your hand.”  He glanced across to the next elevator, where another cradle was arriving.  “I gotta go.  Good luck to you.”