Time Siege Page 9

  Grace moved out of his way as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He buried his head in his hands and took a deep breath. He hadn’t thought about Smitt too often over the last six months. To be honest, he had had other things on his mind with Sasha back in his life and the Co-op hunting them down. However, that moment with the bartender had triggered something.

  At first, he thought he just missed his best friend, his only friend, really, over the past twenty years. It was more than that, though, he realized, as the feeling lingered and grew. It wasn’t just because he missed Smitt; it was because James had never buried him. He had never properly said goodbye. His relationship with Smitt felt unresolved.

  So many things pulled at him: Sasha, Elise, the Elfreth, the Co-op, the drinking, and now the ghost of his friend. He was a man trying to tread water as waves crashed over him. Every time he thought he could take a breath, a new weight came and dragged him underwater again. He felt as if he were going to crack. James stood up and walked to the door. He knew of only one way to relieve the pressure.

  “Where are you going?” Grace asked sharply.

  He didn’t look back as he opened the door and stormed out. “I just need to go for a walk.”

  “Don’t you think about…”

  James didn’t hear the rest as he raced down the hallway. He didn’t consciously know where he was going, but his body knew, as if somehow that would fool his psyche, or his consciousness. He moved quickly down two levels to the pleasure lair, the lowest main floor in Bulk’s Head, ignoring the catcalls from the local brothels and the music playing from the discos and lounges.

  He found himself standing in front of a small dinky bar nestled in the far corner of one of the seedier corridors of Bulk’s Head. He didn’t know how he had found this place; he certainly hadn’t been here before. A small LED sign blinked the word “Moonshined” in bright purple letters. It was dark inside. He peered through the only window next to the door and saw that this little shithole was long and narrow, with barely anything more than a counter and a row of stools. Definitely not an establishment people went to, to socialize. As far as he could tell, there was no one inside. It was perfect.

  James slid the heavy rusted door open and walked in, surprising the bartender, a large homely woman with the front half of her hair shaved and the back in a long queue ponytail. She must be from Larissa, one of the more backwater colonies of Neptune, home of a colony of Chinese descendants who preached blood purity.

  He sat on the first stool, and to his credit, second-guessed his decision before opening his mouth. He killed any resistance inside him quickly. “Whiskey. I don’t care what kind.” A plastic cup appeared on the counter and the bartender sloppily poured him a shot. He grabbed the bottle before she could take it away. “Leave it.”

  James held the plastic cup almost reverently. He noticed his shaking hands as he brought it to his lips. Something in him was screaming. That small voice; barely perceptible, like a tiny buzzing in his ear.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered, and threw the contents back.

  The bad whiskey burned his throat and made his chest tighten. He felt his body physically react as this calming sensation washed over him. He felt like he was in control again, that all the shit he’s had to deal with this past year wasn’t drowning him, tearing him apart piece by piece. He poured himself another drink and closed his eyes, letting the harsh burn of the alcohol wash through his body. Like a purifying fire, it dulled the pain.

  “You’re supposed to report to the Hops before you make your way here,” a familiar voice quipped.

  James sprayed his drink all over the counter. He ended up coughing in fits as he tried to catch his breath. It couldn’t be. He squeezed his eyes shut and took several deep breaths. When he opened them, he stared straight ahead at the shelf of bottles. He had only had two drinks. He had to get ahold of himself. He looked to his left.

  Smitt was sitting on the stool next to him. He tsked at the bottle. “If you’re going to fall off the wagon, at least do it with good swill. Mark the occasion. I bet they make that crap somewhere in the back room.”

  James didn’t know the details of what had happened to his former handler. All he knew was that the Valta securitate had tortured him. According to Levin, Smitt didn’t give anything away. To the end, his friend had stayed loyal and had paid the price for it by dying at Kuo’s hands. James clenched his fist and turned back to the bottle. Smitt wasn’t supposed to be here. He was dead. Why did all the dead things in his life keep coming back? “The past is already dead,” he muttered.

  “You only think that, my friend,” said Smitt, leaning into James and plucking the bottle from the counter to pour himself a drink. James looked over and saw Smitt holding the plastic cup and examining it under the dirty yellow light. He shook his head. “What I wouldn’t give for real glass.” He handed the cup to his left, where Sasha, sitting next to him, took it. Before James could stop her, she put the plastic cup of whiskey to her mouth and drank it.

  “Eucch, gross.” She grimaced, and stared James straight in the eyes. “You broke your promise to drink this icky stuff.”

  “Sasha,” James whispered. “What are you … You shouldn’t be here.”

  Smitt patted James on the shoulder. It felt as real as if his friend were sitting right next to him. “You only think that, James. We’re both right here, where we’re supposed to be.”

  He offered James the bottle. James took it, and this time, he didn’t bother using the cup.

  ELEVEN

  DOWNTOWN JUNGLE

  When Elise was in secondary school, the badminton team had elected her captain, because she was the most popular girl on the squad and the only one nobody hated. She had won Ms. Congeniality the year before at the spring formal. By the end of the season, the entire team had turned against her, and she had quit badminton altogether. Elise had learned a valuable lesson from her time as captain of a strong-minded competitive group of girls swinging rackets at little birdies at extreme velocities. Unfortunately, it wasn’t how to be a better leader.

  Elise realized at that time that she hated leading anything that wasn’t furry with four legs, and that she never wanted to do it ever again. That was why when the Elfreth had made her an Oldest alongside Franwil, she felt this terrible sense of foreboding doom. Less than a year into the job, her trepidation had only worsened, especially as the Elfreth crossed the Brooklyn Bridge into the Mist Isle.

  Downtown Manhattan was populated by thousands of territorial tribes that fiercely protected the floors they occupied, and none of them was particularly happy with a large group barging in on their turf and occupying their buildings. She had sent envoys to negotiate treaties with them, and to explain their plight and intentions. Most of the time, her people returned empty-handed. A couple of times, they didn’t come back at all.

  Whatever wasn’t occupied by the native Mist Isle tribes, nature claimed. Sometimes, it was just a few floors, other times, entire buildings, but as the Elfreth moved deeper into the island, they often had to cut through thick vegetation thriving inside the buildings. What once had been offices, condominiums, warehouses, and factories were now jungles and tribal lands, nests for cat-like predators and other variety of subhuman species. Sometimes, especially on the lower levels, it was flowing rivers and waterfalls.

  Finally, desperate to find shelter from the elements and get deeper into the jungle of buildings that appeared more structurally sound, Elise made the difficult decision to order the Elfreth to force their way into the nearest intact building. The tribe was able to occupy two lower floors of one of the gigantic skyscrapers along the shore of the East River. Their hold on the floors was tenuous at best. Just to maintain the perimeter required dozens of guardians to stand watch at all times.

  Elise stood at the barricaded entrance to the west stairwell and watched as six guardians pushed back a group of raiders that had come in from one of the floors above. The incursions were coming from every side.


  Nature had also turned on them for invading its space. Sometimes, the raiders came in the form of aggressive packs of wild animals or strange humanoid creatures. Everything living here seemed instinctively trained to kill and was very good at doing so. The attacks came at all times, during the night, during the day, sometimes in single groups, sometimes several at once. Elise actually witnessed two sets of raiders fighting each other for the privilege of raiding the Elfreth. It was insane.

  Sometimes the attackers came in twos and threes, other times in packs of fifty. Rarely were the forces large enough to truly threaten the Elfreth, but by the end of the first week, the entire tribe was physically and mentally drained.

  “Pino is hurt, and his team is exhausted,” she said, grabbing Rima by the shoulder. “Get backups in to replace them. Tell Eriao to assemble another team to deploy into the rotation. In fact, tell him we need shorter rotations.”

  “But Oldest—”

  “I don’t care if that means more shifts. People need to rest.”

  Elise watched the girl run off to carry out her orders. With their short-wave-comm units no longer working in this mist, the Elfreth had resorted to using couriers. With the amount of work on Elsie’s plate, that meant she was running Rima ragged. At this rate, she might need to get a few more assistants.

  She stepped aside as replacements relieved poor Pino’s team. Three of his six guardians had suffered injuries. The barricade, erected from furniture, metal drums, and chunks of walls, had saved them from the worst of it, but they came out of their shift with several minor cuts and ugly bruises.

  Elise looked out the window up at the rest of the city. Manhattan looked so different from 2097. She remembered being there just a few weeks before her assignment on the Nutris Platform. It felt like an eternity ago.

  A thunderstorm brewed overhead, though it was too hazy outside to actually see the clouds above. Thick sheets of brown water ran over the building and the streets below. Swaths of water poured through the uncovered windows, seeping into the floor and creating streams that flowed the length of the hallways. The street below was completely submerged in the brown muck they called an ocean in the present, no doubt courtesy of the steadily rising water levels and Earth Plague that covered the rest of the planet.

  Above them, the city seemed to go up forever. Manhattan had built upon itself, adding more and more floors. The building they were in was originally only thirty floors. Now it was over 120. It was as if they had stacked several buildings on top of each other.

  Hundreds of bridges connected the buildings together at different floors, making the entire city look like a chaotic three-dimensional spiderweb. It was these corridors that all the denizens of the downtown traveled through. Right now, just occupying two floors, the Elfreth had to guard two main entrances, four bridges, and six stairwells.

  Sasha came running up to her. “Elise, Oldest Franwil needs you downstairs.”

  Elise gave the barricade one last look before leaving. Now she knew why Franwil, the former leader’s wife and the logical candidate to lead the Elfreth, had refused to take the mantle. Putting out one fire after another was exhausting.

  “Oldest Elise,” Franwil said, even before she stepped foot into the main room. “Our supplies of grain are low. We will need to send another expedition to hunt again. Also, we have used up the last of our quaro seeds. Those will need to be traded for once your chronman returns.”

  Elise noticed the change of expression in Franwil’s eyes. If the chronman returns. Elise bit her lips. If he didn’t, they were all doomed. The list went on and on. By the time Franwil was done, Elise had a headache. More mouths to feed, no place to farm, and under siege from all sides. On top of all of this, she had a cure to find for the Earth Plague.

  “Oldest Elise,” Pino called, limping hurriedly into the room. “The Five Pointers are attacking the southeastern stairwell and have broken into the hallways. Ramoc is asking for reinforcements.”

  “Damn it!” Everything was falling apart. Elise reacted quickly. “Sasha, wake the Fenwicks tribe to shore the line. Rima, run to the north side and tell the guards at the stairwells there to watch their rear. Make sure they maintain their positions.” She turned back to Pino. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  Franwil walked up to Elise and put a hand on her shoulder. “You haven’t slept in two days. The rest of the guardians can take care of it. You’re no use to the Elfreth, nor are you closer to finding a cure for the planet, if you die fighting on the barricades.”

  Elise let out a deep breath. Franwil was right. It wasn’t like she was much use to them during the battles anyway. Still, it was what Qawol, the tribe’s former leader, had done. She learned early on that being a leader was not only making the right decisions, but being there to inspire those who follow you.

  “I’ll stay safe,” she replied, signaling to Pino to lead the way.

  Elise was also one of the few who wore a wrist beam. She had tried to pass it on to another of the guardians who would put it to better use, but James would have none of that, saying there was no chance he would let her ever walk anywhere unarmed. She lightly touched the six bands on her wrist before following several Elfreth to the upper level. Over the past few months, she had gotten adept at using the wrist beams. The very violence she used to loathe she now depended on far too often.

  She joined a small group of guardians and made her way to where the fighting had spilled into the hallways and individual rooms. This building used to be a residential high-rise, so there were dozens of smaller rooms. After the Elfreth plugged the breach, they would have to clear each room out one by one.

  Right as her group reached the upper level, they swept into a firefight. A stream of Pointers met them head-on, trying to push them off the floor. Elise dropped one with a careful shot to the chest and pulled back, being careful to stay out of melee range. The rest of the Elfreth took up a defensive position near the center of the room and began to push outward. Elise directed the guardians to where they were needed, much like Qawol used to. To be honest, she had no idea what in Gaia she was doing, but it was what they expected of her, so she tried her best.

  It took them until sundown to push the Pointers back up the stairwell and clear the rest of the floor. The final count was six dead and five times that number injured. The raiders had also managed to steal several crates of food and a cache of ammo.

  Elise reminded herself to tell Eriao to keep more guards on the storage rooms. This was the second time in as many days that the raiders were able break past the barricades and steal supplies. The Elfreth were weakening. Every day, there were a few more injured and a little less food. If something didn’t change soon, the tribe wouldn’t survive the year.

  Franwil met her at the entrance to the stairs. She gave the area a glance and threw on her wrap, ordering the group of men and women to lay out cots. As Elise went to get help, the Oldest stopped her.

  “You, to bed, girl,” she said sternly. Then she was gone, walking to the west side of the floor, barking orders as she went.

  Elise waited a beat until the Oldest was out of sight. Then she rolled up her sleeves and went to the east side of the building to help set up triage there. It was going to be a long night caring for the injured.

  “Oldest,” Rima called, running up to her. “Mangil says the tide is moving in and flooding the lower floor.”

  Elise cursed. This was the last thing they needed. If the bottom floor was lost, that meant the Elfreth had only one floor under their control. It wasn’t enough space.

  “Get the stockpiles moved to a dry place! Pull all our people up. Inform Eriao that we no longer have a bottom escape route and to double the guards to the upstairs stairwells and to the bridge. Tell him to meet me at the northwest stairwell. Hurry, before we lose everything!”

  Instead of tending to the wounded, she headed to the topmost barricade, where the Five Pointers and the Elfreth stared each other down across a double-wide set of stairs. Elise p
ushed her way past the guards and studied the dozen armed Pointers staring back.

  “Tell your chief I wish to speak with him.” Her voice echoed up the stairwell.

  A few seconds later, one of them responded, “The King tells you to come up if you want to hear his words.”

  The King, huh? Someone had an ego. She felt rough hands on her shoulder. “Don’t even think about it, Oldest,” Eriao whispered behind her. “These people are not to be trusted.”

  “The ground floor is flooding,” she whispered back. “Can we fight our way through?”

  “Yes, but it will be difficult. The Five Pointers is a large tribe.”

  Elise looked at the sharp stakes angled down at them. Not just difficult, but bloody. Behind her, two teams of guardians came into the stairwell. They were soon followed by more Pointers joining the already-crowded stairs from above.

  “How about the other stairwells?” she asked.

  “All able-bodied guardians are in place,” Eriao said. “We just need one of the groups to break through and hold the entrances to the Pointer floors. The rest of our people can reroute up that path then.”

  “Other options?”

  “We can fight our way up or cross one of the bridges to the next building.”

  “What is across the bridge?”

  “A dense and wild jungle. It will be hard going to cut our way through.”

  The group of Pointers above them began to bang the floor with their weapons in unison, echoing beats all around the walls. Several hurled insults down at them. Someone threw a rock that would have hit Elise if Eriao hasn’t pulled her back. The ones behind her barked orders for the guardians to remain calm. The tension increased as the two groups reared at each other.

  “Your will, Oldest?” Eriao said, positioning himself in front of her. He held a spear in one hand and a pistol in the other.

  Elise could feel the violence lingering in the air. Did she want to order her people to attack another tribe? They were supposed to be fighting the Co-op, not each other. The Elfreth were the ones who were encroaching on the Pointers’ territory to begin with.