Chapter 46 Chapter 46: War in The Streets
I counted off one tense minute, the numbers a hard mantra in my head, before signalling the others with a sharp jerk of my chin. On cue, the four of us: Micky, Pat, Lin, and I dashed across the smoke-choked street, clad in the garish neon orange uniforms of Ajax, the Cleaners. We pounded on the heavy, barred door as one of the lads shouted, his voice strained with false urgency: “Ajax! Open up! Let us in! We’re here to help!” The door creaked open a sliver, revealing a haggard cultist, soot smeared across his face, eager to hand off the disaster to anyone else. As he stepped aside, I didn’t hesitate. The weighted blackjack cracked against his temple in a short, brutal arc. He crumpled without a sound.
Two of the men moved at once, dousing the fire with the extinguishers we’d brought; no sense causing more damage to the town’s bones than necessary, while I jerked my head at Micky. Together we slipped into the vast, eerie nave of the church. Twisted metallic forms lined the walls, hollow eyes seeming to follow every hurried step. We headed for the back room. That room. The one that had haunted my every waking moment, poisoned my dreams. The room where everything had been taken from me.
I froze in the doorway; breath caught in my throat. Mickey’s whisper echoed in the cavernous silence. “What now, Tilly?”
Snapping back with a violent shudder, I crossed to the first of two shrouded heads perched on their altars like grotesque idols. Knife in hand, I sliced through the velvet cover. I expected wires, a tether, a power source but there was nothing. Just a smooth, cold metal base. A tiny, self-contained god.
With nothing left to stop me, I shoved the hateful thing into a sack and nodded for Mickey to do the same with the other. We didn’t linger. The place felt like a tomb.
Outside, the others were waiting in the soot-streaked entrance. They’d smothered the blaze, leaving the air thick with the smell of wet ash and chemicals. We regrouped in a shadowed alley, cloaks pulled over the neon Ajax uniforms as we readied for the next move. The streets still smouldered, blocks glowing with embers, though the riot noise thinned as we moved further from the Spil’s burning heart.
We reached the market beside the stark Tech building, untouched by the riots, a cold island of order in a sea of chaos. I lit the second Molotov and hurled it at the reinforced door. It shattered, flames licking up the wooden frame. We waited for the lock to weaken, then tore off our cloaks and sprinted the short stretch. Together, we smashed the blazing door inward in a shower of sparks.
“Ajax!” Micky roared, the word edged with manic laughter as we stormed the deceptively small Tech room and its lone, startled occupant frozen before a bank of flickering screens.
“Hello, Brian,” I hissed, jamming the cold barrel of my M18 against his sweating forehead. “You’re going to help me rig a little something. A broadcast.”
Fear twisted his pale face, hate glistening in his eyes. He gave a shaky nod.
“Or I’ll neut you right here.”
A strangled, terrified murmur. Then his fingers flew over the console as I laid out what I wanted: full public address, every speaker in the sector. Around us, the others doused the flames and barricaded the doorway with a broken table.
Because there was a flaw in my plan. A bloody one.
When the trap was sprung, we wouldn’t know where Charles and his guard were or how fast they’d come for us.
Brian flicked a switch. Feedback screeched. Another dial turned, and the hum of live microphones filled the room. “Ready,” he whispered.
I took a steadying breath and nodded for Micky and Pat to strip the shrouds from the stolen heads.
Atlas and Quark’s red eyes flickered awake, scanning.
Quark’s digitized bark rattled the walls: “TILLY THE GUILTY.”
“What am I guilty of?” My voice rang in the chamber.
“ALL HUMANS ARE GUILTY OF SOMETHING. THEREFORE, GUILTY.”
“If that’s true, then Charles and the Church are guilty too!” I needed them to slip. To confess.
Atlas’s cooler monotone replied: “I DO NOT CONFIRM. CHARLES AND THE CHURCH PERFORM OUR WORK. THEREFORE, NOT GUILTY.”
“And you mighty ‘thinkers’ helped them, did their thinking for them,” I spat, eyes fixed on the pulsing lights.
“OUR SUPERIOR INTELLIGENCE WAS SUFFICIENT TO ASSIST THEM.”
“But you failed. They lost. That’s why I’m here with you now, not them.”
“ATLAS CANNOT CONFIRM. QUARK AND I DEVISED A FULLY PROVEN PLAN TO RIG THE ELECTIONS—DISQUALIFYING ALL OTHER CANDIDATES AND SECURING CHARLES’S VICTORY.”
Quark’s static-laced voice crackled: “ALL HUMANS ARE FLAWED. THE PLAN WAS PERFECT. THE EXECUTION MUST HAVE BEEN FLAWED. PROVIDE MORE DATA.”
The thunder of boots outside cut through their words, synchronized, military. They were here. Surrounding us.
I pressed harder. “Are you certain your plan was sufficient to eliminate all other candidates?”
Quark snapped, distortion warping its tone: “YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN TERMINATED AS WE RECOMMENDED. THE PLAN WAS FLAWLESS. WE FRAMED NATE AND ALL OTHER CANDIDATES AS CORRUPT OR UNFIT. CHARLES COULD NOT HAVE FAILED. INSUFFICIENT DATA.”
I hid a vicious smirk even as the first bullets punched through the walls.
“So, you’re saying your plan to discredit me, Nate, and the others couldn’t have failed, if executed properly?”
Atlas answered coldly: “HUMAN ERROR. THE PLAN WAS SUFFICIENT. CHARLES SHOULD HAVE RETAINED HIS POSITION AS MAYOR, AS IN PREVIOUS ELECTIONS. MORE DATA IS REQUIRED TO CORRECT THE HUMAN ERROR.”
Gunfire shredded the doorway. A scream ripped the air. Micky’s voice: “Pat’s hit! Oh god, he’s hit! There are thousands of those brassards out there, we gotta move, Tilly, now!”
Time was gone. I yanked my knife, pressed it to Brian’s groin. “Is there another way out of this death trap?”
His face flushed crimson as a wet stain spread down his trousers. “T-there’s an emergency hatch. In the corner…Under the loose floorboards beneath the cupboard.”
“Lin!” I barked. “Hatch in the corner! Micky, get Pat there, I’ll cover us!”
Dragging Brian like a shield, I shoved him toward the door where muzzle flashes flared. My M18 roared, brass casings clattering at my feet. Two magazines gone in seconds. Four left. I squeezed off seven more before Micky screamed over the chaos: “Come the fuck on, Tilly! We’re out of here!”
Without looking, I emptied the last ten rounds in a wild, defiant spray, then hurled Brian to the ground and bolted for the hatch. I didn’t climb, I fell, crashing into the black tunnel below. The walls were slick. My palms slid on something warm, sticky, blood that glowed faintly in the guttering LED strips.
Pat was bleeding out ahead of me.
Lin and Micky dragged him, their shapes frantic shadows. I crawled after, knees slipping in the shocking river of blood. When I reached them, Pat’s hand slipped from Micky’s grasp and hit the floor with a final, hollow thud.
“He’s gone,” Micky spat, his face a mask of rage and grief.
I gave a hard nod. The time for mourning would come later. “Sorry, we HAVE TO move. Now.”
Lin and Micky’s faces hardened. They scrambled forward. I crawled over Pat’s body, his dead eyes staring at the ceiling. Another ghost on my back. Another name on the list.
The tunnel ended in light, not heavenly, but harsh-white streetlight. Micky and Lin shoved a grate aside and vanished into the night. I was right behind.
We emerged in a narrow lane, deserted stalls hemming us in. We’d come up behind our attackers. I hissed: “Get to Seamus. Now. With Charles exposed, the shift is happening, they need you.”
“What about you?” Lin whispered, wide-eyed.
“I’ve got other things to do.”
I peeked around the stall. The scene outside had changed. The guards weren’t firing anymore, just standing, restless, listening. And there…Charles and Guy, slinking off into an alley like rats.
Then Nate’s voice, calm and amplified, cut through the chaos:
“My name’s Nathaniel, Nate, to most of you. You know me. You know what I stand for. And until we sort this mess out, I’m acting sheriff.”
Pat and Lin melted into the shadows. I slipped after Charles and Guy, ghosts in the night. Nate’s voice carried still, weaving order from the bedlam:
“You heard the speaker. Charles is the enemy, not me. And you’re going to help me end this riot before our town burns to ash.”