Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4) (39 page)

The console glitched again, then began to fade.  A few moments later the screen began to grow dark, then it winked out.

Talia slumped to the floor, surrounded by darkness, and drew her knees up to her chest.  She dropped her face and closed her eyes.

There was nothing left to do but wait in the darkness.

Nurzhan watched until the outline of the railcar was clearly visible above; until the noise of it grinding downward echoed across the mountaintop, blotting out the sound of rain and even thunder.

Then he went and found cover.

At the end of the ramp that led up to the dock lay a box of metal roughly the height of a man.  Nurzhan guessed that it had once perhaps been a ticketing machine or some other device associated with the processing of passengers.  Regardless of that, it now served his needs nicely.  It would disguise his presence, while at the same time providing an effective shield should his opponents return fire.

Now that the moment had arrived, he was actually looking forward to this fight.

Aron Lazarus was somewhat of a celebrity among the Crimson Shield, for all the wrong reasons.  His exploits of several years ago were well known – his illicit liaison with a woman, his fall from grace.  Expulsion from not just the Crimson Shield, but the Reach itself.  The ignomin
y of Landfall.

There were many among the Crimson Shield who had considered his punishment too light.  Nurzhan himself had been part of discussions, quiet conversations in back rooms, where brothers had gathered to voice their displeasure at Lazarus’ fate.  More than once there was a suggestion of hunting him down in Link and punishing him, giving him what he truly deserved.

However, in order to do that, the brothers involved would need to sully themselves by leaving the Reach.  They would consign themselves to Landfall.

And so, Lazarus had remained untouched.

Then, as if to mock their inaction, Lazarus had not only returned to the Reach, but gone on a murderous rampage, killing brothers in the Infirmary and then assisting with the slaughter of those stationed in the Atrium and upon the roof.

He was not only shitting on the sacred vows of the Crimson Shield, but rubbing everyone’s noses in it as well.

What a glorious act of fate it was that Lazarus should return into Nurzhan’s grasp, just when it seemed he had managed to escape.

A grin spread slowly across Nurzhan’s face.

His last act on this despised soil would be to bring true justice to Aron Lazarus, to give him what he deserved.

This was a sign, another indication that Nurzhan was moving toward his destiny.  He was the very hand of the Crimson Shield, reaching out and crushing those who dared to defy the order.  It was truly the work of one who was to one day take the mantle of High Priest.

He touched the red moon blossom that was hidden within his cloak.  The thought of it gave him strength, belief.

The air roared all around him, and not far away, the railcar touched down.

He waited, poised behind the metal box, as hot air gushed past him and swirled around his ankles.  The railcar groaned and shuddered, as if weary from its long journey, and then the noise began to diminish.

Glancing around the edge of his cover, Nurzhan saw very little apart from the floodlights that had been mounted on top of the vehicle, and which now sent harsh white light scattering across the ramp and the surrounds of the landing pad.  He could vaguely see the passenger compartments beneath, but the contents of these were dark and obscured behind their perspex doors.

If he struck quickly, he knew that there would be little his opponents could do to defend themselves.  Stuck inside their compartments, they would have no chance to find cover.

Like fish in a barrel.

The noise of the railcar dropped to a low warble, and then from one end, Nurzhan heard something else – the click of passenger doors being released, and then two of the perspex screens began to rise.

Nurzhan moved fast, keeping low as he hastened up the sodden ra
mp.  The doors had reached a 45-degree angle and were still continuing to climb.  He brought his assault rifle up and took aim, then opened fire.  He sprayed a flurry of bullets into the first compartment, then did the same to the second.

The doors halted their upward progress, then began to fold down again.

Oh no you don’t
, Nurzhan thought gleefully.

He ducked to one knee, lowering his angle of fire, then emptied his magazine into the compartments.  As the doors clicked shut again, he slapped a replacement
clip home and held the rifle at the ready.

The compartments were still dark and silent.  They remained closed.

Nurzhan edged forward.  Surely he couldn’t have missed.  That many bullets would have found the targets
, without question
.  They had tried to close the doors to protect themselves, but it had been too late.  Even if Lazarus had been wearing his armour, he would be lucky to still be alive.

Carefully, Nurzhan reached down to his belt with one hand and lifted his flashlight.  He clicked it on.

Through the perspex he could see the interior of the compartments.  Empty seats.

What–?

There was a scuffling noise at the other end of the dock, and his flashlight caught the glint of two newly opened compartment doors, and a pair of figures leaping over the railing at the edge of the dock.

Clever.

He squeezed the trigger as the figures disappeared from view, then gave chase.

47

Knile fell over the railing and into darkness as bullets whizzed overhead, and he could only hope that when he landed, he did not break his neck or impale himself on some unseen object below.  For a moment he hung in mid-air, and then he landed on solid ground with a bone-jarring thud.  Lazarus tumbled heavily down beside him.

Excruciating pain blossomed on the point of Knile’s shoulder, but he did not stop to lick his wounds.  Their pursuer was thumping along the dock after them, and in seconds he would be aiming that assault rifle over the railing, directly at them.

“This way,” he panted, gripping Lazarus and hauling him to his feet.  The two of them hobbled away, toward what looked like an electrical substation located at the rear of the railcar terminus.

For a minute there, Knile had wondered if they were going to make it out of the railcar alive.  In the end, they’d only made it because of Talia.  That much was for certain.  The call she had made had come through to Knile garbled and largely incoherent, but he’d understood enough of it to get the gist of what she was trying to tell him:
bad things were waiting at the end of the ride.  Take evasive action.

There had been limited options available to him from the console in his compartment.  After all, it wasn’t as though the railcar
was
equipped with turrets or heat-seeking missiles.  This was a transport vehicle, designed to carry goods and people.  Nothing more.  The range of functions he could manipulate were limited to the compartments themselves, including temperature, lighting, and door release.

Given those parameters, there was only one idea that occurred to him: turn off the lights, try to make the bad guy think they were sitting in the opposite end of the railcar by opening the wrong doors, then escape when he went to investigate.

Somehow it had worked.

But they still weren’t out of the woods yet.  Both he and Lazarus had lost their firearms in the mad escape from
the Wire a couple of days before, and now they had to go up against a heavily armed opponent – possibly more than one – with nothing but their bare hands.

First things first.  Find cover, stay alive.

They had almost reached the substation when the gunfire sounded again.  Bullets snapped around them and thudded into the dirt at their feet, but a moment later they had made it to the relative safety of the substation, and they disappeared inside.

Knile heard the boots of the attacker slam into the soil as he leapt over the railing and followed after them.

“Talia said something about Redmen,” he gasped as they passed between a pair of tall, cylindrical transformers.  “Is that guy one of them?”

“If I were to see him more clearly, I could tell you.”

“Assuming that he is, what’s his next move going to be?  What would
you
do if you were giving chase?”

“I would hunt you down and kill you, no matter what the cost.”

“Right.  Thanks
for the tip.”

The floodlights from the railcar poked through gaps in the rear of the dock, casting strips of light and shadow across the entire length of the substation.  As they crossed into a darkened section, Lazarus gripped Knile by the shoulder.

“You should head back to your friends,” he said.  “Go inside and ensure that they are safe.  I can handle this one.  I will draw him away.”

Knile glanced over his shoulder doubtfully.  “But you’re unarmed.  How are you–?”

“I am Aron Lazarus of the Crimson Shield.  I will find the strength.”

“Come on, man.  Cut the crap.  You could hardly stand up a few hours ago–”

But Lazarus wanted no part of what he had to say.  The Redman turned and moved through the substation, back in the direction of their pursuer, and in moments he disappeared among the network of steel and concrete.

As he ran along the corridor, Duran could only wonder what might lie ahead of him.

For the last half hour, he and Zoe had crept through the complex
.  They had
seen many sobering sights in that time
.  The corpses, the graffiti.  The desolation and hopelessness of the place that seemed to have seeped into the very walls around them.

Bad things had gone down here in the past.

They’d also seen the rigged explosives that had been threaded about the place – amateurish and poorly constructed gadgets, he’d thought – but still capable of doing some damage.  That was the only thing he could think might have happened, that one of these had inadvertently been set off during the chase.

He only hoped it was the Redman who had bought it and not Talia.  Otherwise all the effort he and Zoe had gone to would count for nothing.

“I think it came from over near the comms room,” Roman shouted behind him.  “There were explosives there.”

Duran glanced back to see Zoe following at the rear.  “So where’s that?” he said to Roman.

“Turn right at the end of this corridor, then second left.”

They reached the site of the explosion moments later, and it was just as bad as Duran had imagined.  There was dust everywhere, and a fire was spreading over part of the collapse.

All of a sudden, Duran was back in the Reach, trapped in those hellish, smoke-filled corridors, jostling with the panicked masses as they sought to escape the madness.

He shuddered.

“Could anyone have survived that?” Zoe said.

“The explosives were rigged to collapse the corridor,” Roman said.  “The switch was in the room at the end.  Talia must have made it there, which means she’s still alive.”