Sisters.
The rain was falling in heavy, oily droplets that splashed onto the dirty concrete walkway like bombs, each hit throwing up a tower of spray before vanishing into the thin sheen of water that stained the old walkway blocks.
Sarah was walking slowly with the crowd, head down, shoulders hunched, just like everyone else, don’t walk to fast, don’t attract attention, just another wage drone going to work or going home. Not a rebel, not a radical, just another drone from some corporate slave farm, nothing to see. Then she spotted the enforcers on the walkway ahead, a pair of them, bulky black armour gleaming under the streetlights on the corner they guarded. They were relaxed, assault carbines hanging from magnetic clamps, pistols and shock sticks hanging from their armour.
Sarah lifted her left hand and glanced at it, shocked to see how badly it was shaking, quickly she darted her arm up, to pull the hood of the cheap rain coat further down, to hide her short blonde hair and face. The glasses should help though they made things difficult, she couldn’t stop to remove the corrective implants but she needed a disguise so she had grabbed the cheap plastic rain coat and a pair of the weakest prescription glasses she could quickly find.
Then she snatched her hand back down and into the safety of the long sleeves as droplets of the rain hit her bare skin and stung, the acid rain was fairly mild today but it was still strong enough to leave red burns on her fair skin. On a bad day even the coat would have been no protection, but today the rain was light, the acid count low. Safe enough to walk out with a coat, she glanced at the enforcers as she walked closer, well safe enough from the rain anyway.
She drew closer to the enforcers. Ignore me, I’m nobody. Please don’t notice me, I’m not a threat. Please don’t notice me. Please don’t kill me! Then she was beyond them and turning the corner, just a short walk now, the alley was a few doors away and beyond that an old car park, overgrown now since those who could afford cars didn’t shop in this part of town. It was the car park she sought, that was the weak point, the breach between dimensions that made her quest possible. Her right hand was within the sleeve of her coat, as it had been all morning, her fingers ached and her wrist muscles burned with the strain but she was not going to risk letting go of the key, the device that would twist the dimensional weak point into a doorway wide enough for her to cross.
She thought back to the meeting that morning, when she had been woken by her husband, urgently calling her to dress and get ready for a meeting, two of the council members were here and they wanted to meet her, they had a mission, a vital mission that only she could do.
###
The council, two men and four women, the guiding force behind the rebellion against the corporate unity. They were the most wanted beings on the planet, shoot on sight or even on rumour of sight, corporate security had destroyed entire buildings with rockets because they thought one of the councillors was hiding inside, and they had come personally to talk to her!
Sarah had dressed as quickly as she could, her husband hovering and driving her to haste but she managed to pull the plain grey jump suit over her arms and legs without falling over. The room they shared was deep within an abandoned warehouse and the solid walls kept it cool but not chilly so she left her quilted jacket on the single chair, the faded dark blue still carrying the corporate logo of some company or another, she had stolen it so she didn’t know which company had made it or used it to mark its drones.
Simple boots on her feet and she was ready to go, they were good boots, less than a year old, rejects from some import lot, the plastic uppers were discoloured but they were waterproof, had good rubber soles and were tough enough to handle even puddles of rain on a bad day. A good find for a morning spent rummaging through the depths of a corporate recycling site while dodging the automatic systems and handful of drone trucks.
Sarah stood and waved to the doorway, Simon went first, the way he walked and the set of his shoulders told her he was both excited and afraid, not for himself, he was as brave a man as she had ever met, no he was afraid for her. A personal meeting with the council could only mean this was important, maybe even vital to the rebellion. And that meant dangerous.
The walk across the echoing rooms of the warehouse took a few minutes, many of the rebels and free thinkers living in a series of small store rooms at one end, converted into small but liveable rooms, still most of the vast building was these tall empty rooms, footsteps repeated themselves from the walls until it sounded like a dozen people were walking across the rubbish strewn floor.
At the far side the pair could see the doors to the offices that had once been used to handle every pallet and box that came in and out. Now the area served to hold meetings and a small shared kitchen. A pair of hard looking men stood by the door, well worn leather jackets bulky enough to hide body armour, assault carbines in their hands and nervous eyes constantly moving. Up close one was barely in his twenties, the other twice as old, but both had a look that said they had killed and often.
Each had an armband, nothing more than a twist of pale blue and red cloth around their upper arms, easy to miss but up close marking them as members of the guard, the council guard, the most capable and savage fighters the rebellion had. To be invited to join you must have lost at least one close family member to the corporations and after a week of tests that would kill a lesser person they were given a solo mission to prove themselves.
Those that passed the test became one of the guard, most carried the assault carbines they had taken from the enforcer they had killed to prove themselves.
Dangerous men and women, not people to cross.
Sarah nodded at both but got no response other than a hard stare that swept her from head to toe looking for any weapons, then she was passed them and walking into the open room that once held desks for office staff but now served as their canteen and meeting room.
More guards, three at the tables, two more by the windows watching the street, another in the kitchen area and four more standing around a man and woman seated at a separate table, a table with three chairs one of which was empty.
The man stood, mid forties and wearing a decent suit, he looked like middle management from any of a thousand corporations. By name he had been Alec Symonds and by trade he had been an accountant and a good one, with the kind of skills that bought a good wage and lifestyle. He had specialised in tax deals, hiding corporate money from the prying eyes of tax inspectors. Then had come the snatch, mercenaries hired by a rival corporation, they dragged him into a van and when he woke again it was in some non-descript room.
Hour after hour he was tortured, every account number, every detail, his mind was drained of every line of every account, enough to destroy his employer. The mercs hadn’t cared about him, street scum, ex soldiers dumped by the military corporations, brain burners, they were promised good money for his knowledge, not his life. So they had broken him and the mind probes took everything he knew. Then they were killed by the response team from his own corporation, a hard strike team with orders to kill everyone, including him. He had died that day, twice, but the rebels who had crept close to see what was happening included a nurse. They saved him, gave him a life back. Not a whole life, he had suffered a stroke and his left arm was useless, his face slack and his voice hesitant with a stutter, but he had a life and now he used his skills to hide the rebels funds and activities online.
He gestured with his right arm, his working arm, waving Sarah to the empty chair.
Sarah sat and one of the guards moved aside, suddenly she could see the other person at the table and a gasp came to her lips. Grandmother Aisha, the leader of the rebellion itself, most wanted person alive. She never came out of hiding unless it was something truly desperate, and yet, here she was.
A tiny woman, barely five feet tall, a shock of white hair surrounded her face, looking for all the world like everyone’s much loved grandmother. Spry and active thanks to the best treatments to be found she didn't look a year over sixty but she had celebrated her 100th birthday a year ago. Rumour had it she had even smiled at the huge cake with it's forest of candles. But no one really believed that rumour, she didn’t smile these days, she didn’t bake cookies or take the grandchildren to the park. Not anymore. Now there was darkness in her eyes and steel in her shoulders. To look at her without knowing her you wouldn’t believe anyone who called her a murderer, but she was, many times over.
So many years ago her granddaughters had caught someone’s eye, twin girls, barely fifteen but as lovely as could be, this was before the acid rains, when children could go out to play and run and laugh on grass that wasn’t burnt black by the acid.
A corporate agent had come to their house, offered their parents a good deal, money, an education for the girls. But they said no, Aisha’s son had raised his fists and chased the agents from the house. So the thugs came, corporate security in black without logo’s or badges. Their father had fought and been gunned down on the stairs, he had run from his bedroom when the door was smashed in and they cut him down as he ran at them, fists raised, anger and boxers no defence against bullets. The mother had run to the girls and tried to get them to safety out of a window and down to the road outside, but the thugs had been too fast.
She had been found the next day when nervous neighbours finally gained the courage to investigate, by the open window, her life’s blood pooling around her, she lived long enough to whisper the name of the corporation that had taken the girls. A doctor said she had been stabbed several times, he didn’t mention that she had been repeatedly raped first, there was no need.
Then grandmother Aisha had come and looked and left, she hadn’t said a word, just listened to those who had heard the last words of the mother of her granddaughters. Left without a word but with the chill of vengeance and death flowing behind her like a cloak.
The corporate guards who saw her two days later thought her just another servant at the mansion, a little old perhaps but that was most likely for the best, the parties held at the mansion were very private, the corporate elite enjoying such pleasures as they wanted far beyond any law or limit. Younger staff would have been at risk were they good looking enough or just young enough to catch some managers attention. So they ignored the old woman in the maids uniform as she carried trays of food and drinks around the house, after all she was no threat, just someone’s sweet old grandmother.
Inside the house and protected by electronic security and high walls it was thought to be completely safe so the guards wore no armour, the first was hard because she had never stabbed a human being before, the others became easier throughout the night, just an old lady in a maids uniform, no threat there. The corporate managers and directors died harder, she had spent her life selling medicines, a fully qualified pharmacist and chemist, she knew how to mix poisons that had no smell or taste but would kill with absolute certainty hours later.
It was whispered that she killed more than fifty people that night and that some were still screaming in agony as their intestines dissolved when help arrived, to find out why the guards had not responded to the mornings security checks.
It was said that she found the girls and carried them out to a car and drove them into the early morning twilight, people said the girls now lived somewhere on the coast, isolated where men would never find them again, a quiet place where, perhaps, one day the nightmares would end and they wouldn’t wake screaming and holding each other in the darkness.
Sarah sat and waited until someone spoke. Instead Aisha slid a hardcopy picture across the worn plastic table top, it was a photograph. A woman, a man and a dog against a background of trees and grass and hills. Sarah turned the photo around so it was the right way up to her then stopped, a question unspoken on her lips. She didn’t know where the picture had been taken, it must have been many years ago, before the weather turned and the acid rains fell, she didn’t know the man who stood with his arm around the woman’s shoulders, she didn’t know the dog, had never owned a dog. But the woman in the picture, short cut blonde hair framing the face that she saw every day in the mirror. The picture was her, but how?
“This isn’t me, it can’t be, who is this, who are they?”
It was Symonds who broke the silence, who leaned forward and touched the picture with a finger. “Her name is Theresa and she is you. No, not, not you here, she, she is you in her world, the other, the other world, our mirror world that, that exists on the, on the other side of the dimensional wall. You are her. her and she is you and that makes you our best, our best hope for the future.”
#
The crowd around her suddenly thinned and Sarah looked around quickly, she was exposed, in the open, people could see her, she had been a fool, day dreaming while walking the streets, the enforcers could have caught her, a sec-drone could have flown close enough to scan her. She franticly looked around then had to turn her shoulders and upper body, the hood blocked her vision.
There were still people walking along the boarded up shop fronts but on the side closest to the road it was all but empty, why, what had happened, what had she missed? Then she turned further and saw the battered old public transporter, acid scarred yellow paint spelling out the name of the transport corporation that owned it, it had pulled up at a stop and everyone on that side had rushed to the doors leaving the walkway clear for a minute.
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, she had been stupid, dropping her guard, that was how you got killed, she knew better than that but this mission had her spooked, she was twitchy, on edge, just the sort of thing that would get her killed. Then she spotted the narrow alley between a boarded up shop front and a food store, heavy steel bars over the blacked out windows and a young man, maybe twenty, standing in the doorway with an ancient looking cricket bat in hand. Between them was the alley, a rusted old chain link fence that had long since been cut and fallen to either side, the alley choked with rubbish.
She pushed to the opening and without checking to see if she was being watched stepped straight in, then she stopped and turned suddenly, her left hand reaching under the rain coat and into the belt pouch she wore underneath, to emerge with a narco stick. Trade craft, hard lessons that had cost lives but she had been well taught. By suddenly stepping out of sight any tail would rush to follow her only to find her standing just inside the alley puffing on an electronic narco stick. She would look harmless, just a smoker desperate for a hit, but the tail would be revealed.
She took a few puffs, enough to exhale a cloud of the fragrant blue smoke.
Nothing, no one even slowed down. The crowd passed her by with their heads down, faces hidden under rain hoods. Unless the tail was good enough to have waited, was there someone just round the corner, waiting, waiting. She took another puff then coughed, the narco was cheap, harsh, enough to burn her lungs but not enough to dull her wits, only a fool took a breath of real narco on a mission. Slow was dead.
Still nothing. She turned away and looked down the alley, the rubbish piled knee high and the stink enough to turn her stomach. Turning to check the alley mouth and the walkway she spun on her heals and took a first careful step. She had to step high over the rubbish and carefully push her foot down to find a solid bit before taking the next step, slow, too slow, she was an easy target here, anyone who saw here could kill her and she couldn’t move.
She stepped again. Then again. Please no one see me, please no one come. I’m not here, just rats, not me. Please no one see me.
Maybe her prayers worked, maybe she was just lucky but she took one more step and found her foot coming down on hard packed dirt covered in waist high weeds, the car park. She was behind the shops and in a wide open area, no shelter from the rain which continued to splash on the plastic rain coat and hood but the few windows that overlooked the wasteland were boarded up. To her left a long solid metal fence and gate led to a side street, the gate was hung with chains and padlocks but no one had bothered to break in, there was nothing here to steal. The corrugated metal marked by the rain and rust but otherwise intact.
Now what? What had they told her, the key will activate when you get close, use it to find the breach. She lifted her right hand and carefully pushed her hand out into the open, the device was a small cylinder, crudely made, she could see tool marks on the outside but the top was capped with a dome of transparent plastic and inside were three lights, just little blue LEDs but two of them were glowing and as she turned to look around she saw them flicker as one grew dimmer. She turned the other way and saw that light brighten then the third begin to flicker. The breach must be over there.
She began to walk, following the direction the lights pointed out for her, the weeds scratching against the coat and trousers, the poor quality plastic was already marked by the rain and now began to sport scratch marks along the front and over both hips. Her trousers were made of tougher stuff and remained undamamged but as she glanced down she noticed that she was covered to the knees with the filth from the alley. Too late now, she was too close to stop.
Something ahead of her, big, metal, hiding in the weeds, AN AMBUSH. She recoiled backwards, her left hand reaching up to throw back the hood so she could see, acid burns being less of a problem than death. Then her mind caught up with her reflexes and she stopped. The shape of an old car stood out in lines of rust with the weeds growing up through the floor and roof. Just a car. Her heart began to slow and her left hand was shaking again.
Just an old car, left behind by someone who could no longer afford to run it. Just a car, in a car park. Sarah laughed at herself, releasing some of the tension she felt. Then a sound ahead of her cut short the laughter and had her heart pounding in her chest again, it sounded like movement, something rustling the weeds. An animal, A SECURITY DRONE!
She turned and pushed sideways through the weeds, fast now. Going round the car, crashing her way further from the direction of the sound which suddenly got louder then stopped. Was it waiting, had it stopped, was it tracking her, had it called for backup. She twisted her head to look first at the alley and then at the gate, imagining Enforcers or the flashing lights of a vehicle. Would they try to capture her or would they just kill her and continue on their way, not even bothering to check the corpse of some wage slave or street beggar.
But there was nothing, no-one, no lights.
She glanced down at the key, the second light was solid blue and the third was flickering, she moved it left and right, it was strongest beyond the car, to her left. Toward the sound she had heard.
She took a step, slowly now, the weeds rubbing against her belly through the plastic coat but making less noise, no more than a whisper of sound, head turning from side to side, barely breathing so she could listen for the slightest sound. Nothing but the steady beat of rain on her hood. The third LED turned solid blue, she was there, wherever there was but she was surrounded by weeds, just weeds.
A buzzing came from the street, beyond the metal fence, high speed propellers, A SECDRONE, it would be flying ten feet up, scanning, it would see over the fence, IT WOULD SEE HER. She turned to run back to the wrecked car, she could hide behind it, the metal would maybe shield her from its scans or thermal camera. The sound of the drone got louder, it was almost at the gate, the weeds seem to grab at her, tugging at her legs, tying to trip her, she ripped one foot free and took a step then found the other foot trapped, she ripped that free, panic giving her the strength to tear the weeds out of the ground, the drone cam into sight, a ball hanging sown under an eight sided frame, four small helicopter propellers on opposite sides, under the ball a cluster of cameras hung down on an arm, it was looking at the street, not looking at her, not yet, she tore more weeds loose and tried to reach the car but it was so far away, the cameras began to turn, the drone sweeping around it, she could see it above the fence, it would see her, she locked a scream inside herself and lunged forward, the key gave off a sudden tone like a door chime and it stopped raining.
###
Half a dozen young lads were playing football out on the sunlit grass, kicking the ball back and forth with occasional shots at the goals that were marked by piled up jackets and bags. They were bored and spent more time walking than running, it was the second week of the summer break and they were fed up with all the free time, the sunshine was nice but they had all been chased out of the house by parents fed up with them spending the whole summer in their rooms online playing games.
So it was down the park for a kick about.
Then one of them kicked the ball at the goal, another jumped forward to save and was startled by a scream, a woman’s voice, loud and close by. He missed the ball which sailed between the two piles of coats and scored, but no one noticed. They were all staring at a woman who had just come crashing through the hedge between the park and the small area of woodland where all the dog walkers went.
She was wearing stained trousers that looked like army surplus and a grubby raincoat of some dark plastic, she even had the hood up. It was a clear day, not a cloud in sight and she had the hood up. Then she started laughing and screaming and shouting, she threw back the hood to reveal blonde hair hanging down to her chin and some sort of squared glasses, then she started dancing, just standing there shouting and laughing and dancing.
The young lads stared at her then looked at each other. One of them spoke out, giving the wisdom of his twelve years of life. “Drugs.” The others grunted then one noticed how far away the ball was and started arguing about who would walk over and get it, the crazy woman was quickly forgotten and by the time one of them had recovered the ball the woman was gone. Within minutes she was forgotten about as an in depth debate began about where the goal post was and yes it was a goal if it rolled over the jacket rather than passed between the two piles.
Sarah paused by the end of the hedge and took a look around, still amazed at where she was. Those last few seconds of fear as the security drone turned to look at her as she fought to push through the weeds and suddenly she was pushing branches aside and standing on grass. Actual grass, not dirt, not concrete, not acid burnt weeds. Real grass. It took her a few seconds to notice that the rain was no longer thumping onto her hood or that the day was bright as the sun shone down from a sky that wasn’t permanently filled with rain clouds.
She had tried to look around then pulled down her hood so she could see. Grass, trees, a clear blue sky. THE SKY WAS BLUE! Memories of her childhood came rushing in, she hadn’t seen a clear blue sky for twenty years and yet she stood here and craned her neck to look up.
THE SKY WAS BLUE!
Then the laughter ended and the fear came rushing back, she was making noise, standing out, she could see people watching her, she was in the open.
Would anyone recognise her, were there cameras, drones, enforcers. She had to move, get into cover, she had to hide.
Walking quickly along the line of the hedge she came to the edge of the park and stopped again, yet another shock to add to the others. The park was alongside a road and opposite were houses, tile rooftops over whitewashed walls and big glass windows, the kind of places only a corporate manager could afford and then never looked that good unless they were under one of the many domes. But the domes were expensive, senior managers maybe, wealthy beyond her imagination anyway. So many houses.
But there was more, the entire length of the park along the road was filled with cars, small cars, large cars, even some sort of van with big glass windows and an odd cone shaped thing on top, lots of people standing by that one. So many cars! Sarah hadn’t seen so many cars together since she had been a girl, when her parents had won tickets to a concert and they had ridden on a transport across town and walked across a car park with its armed guards to protect all the gleaming cars. That had been a magical day, the music, the treats and most of all it had been the last time she had gone on a trip with her parents. Before they were gone and her life had changed.
Then her mind drifted and she was remembering that day, so long ago, another time in another world. The corporate wars were starting to get serious though the media wasn’t reporting it, they were owned and controlled by the same people that owned the corporations. The reporters and editors liked their jobs and so the news was full of celebrity scandals and other distractions and blown up buildings or deaths seldom made the headlines.
In the grand scale of things it was a pin prick, just a minor note on a corporate ledger, something to justify retaliation in the future. But for the seventy people who worked in the factory it was a disaster, the firebombing was bad enough but one of the thrown Molotov’s had hit the paper store and the dust heavy air had exploded like a bomb. Fifty two dead, the entire factory gone, the local fire service arrived and just watched, they had nothing to put out fires that were melting the aluminium walls into curves and loops and the company couldn’t afford to pay for a private service, so the corporate rep from
Emergency Response Inc who arrived just behind the fire engine had gone back to his car to watch the building burn, he wouldn’t be getting a commission from this one but at least he got a free show.
Sarah had been at school when the deputy head had called her out of class, “we are sorry for your loss”, does anyone actually think saying that helps or is it just the idiot mutterings of people who wanted to be somewhere that didn’t involve telling a crying child her parents had burned to death.
Sarah hadn’t wanted to believe it, she had run out of school and not even thought of a transport, she ran all the way home and arrived at her house gasping for breath, the front door was open, there was someone moving around inside. It was a lie, A LIE, her parents were alive. Then the stranger had come out of the front door and dropped some rubbish bags on the front path. He looked up to see her, his look curious then shocked as he realised who this exhausted and tear stained young girl must be.
He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain. He had children of his own and couldn’t imagine how someone would explain something like this to his boys.
“You lived here?” He asked, lived here, past tense, no longer.
Sarah was staring at him, the bags he had dumped on the path and then through the front door into the hall where she could see another man with a tablet in his hand looking at the sofa. She didn’t know what to say, couldn’t speak. She just stared and the silence become louder and more painful.
“I’m sorry. The house, its corporate owned, same with the furniture and fittings, it came with the job. Since your parents are no longer employees the house has been taken back. I’m putting personal stuff like clothes in the bags. Everything else is corporate property. You can take what you want of the personal stuff, some of the clothes are yours but you can’t have anything else or come in the house. Not now. Corporate property."
He paused, trying to think of something else to say.
"Look I’m sorry, do you have somewhere to go, relatives maybe?”
Sarah hadn’t answered, her mind struggling to understand. So much had happened, was happening, she just stood there in silence, in shock. After another painfully long minute of silence the man turned and walked back into the house, she didn’t see him go, didn’t see him dump anther bag on the drive a few minutes later or see the two man walk out and lock the door ten minutes after that. Nor did she hear the two men talking as they walked to their car.
“Poor sod, both parents gone and now no house.”
“Yea, tough but thems the breaks, no insurance and the house was in the contract, went with the job and the parents aren’t doing the job anymore.”
“Because their dead.”
“Still means not doing the job. Look what do you want, shit happens, you want me to report her, have her arrested, maybe end up in a corporate orphanage, she’d be lucky she spent the rest of her life paying back the money the orphanage would charge, or she should end up somewhere else, a few years from now in some corporate brothel, till she was old and worn out and over twenty. You want me to call the police or the estate manager?”
There was a pause, rumours and dark stories fighting with compassion.
“No. You’re right, she’ll be better off with relatives, fuck, she’d be better off in the streets. Girl like her, blonde hair, cute, she’d be better off in the streets, not in one of them corporate places”.
The men had left, not knowing and not caring she had no relatives, no friends, that her parents had moved here for the well paid jobs at the factory and hadn’t made any friends in the six months they had been here. The men didn’t know, didn’t care, she was just another house reclamation. Just another job.
So they drove away leaving an eight year old girl to stand and stare at three bin bags that were all she had left of her life and her parents, tears rolling down her face until she couldn’t cry anymore.
###
Sarah blinked and was shocked to find her eyes were damp. Tears, NO, dust, it was dust, or the bright sunshine, she wasn’t used to the sunshine, that was it, tears were weak and she couldn’t afford to be weak, the past was done. Move on, be strong or be dead.
To her left the hedge became bushes and trees, better cover, plenty of places to hide from drones. To her right it was an open road, lots of windows, so many places someone could be watching. Then she noticed something on the house opposite, small, black, boxy with a circular lens on the front. CAMERA! Security cameras, she looked along the houses and nearly panicked as she saw more and more. CAMERAS, they could see her, how quickly would the enforcers come, they could see her face. She franticly grabbed at the hood and pulled it back up, hiding her hair and pulling it down to shadow her face. She ignored the warmth that began almost at once as the bright sun heated the plastic and burned her scalp.
She had to move, hide. THE TREES. Panicking now, tradecraft forgotten she broke into a run, sprinting between the trees and dodging round the trunks while looking backwards, where were the flashing lights, the enforcers in a response vehicle. She stopped, gasping for breath, she was fit, a good runner but the fear drained away her strength by the second, she leaned against an ancient trunk, the branches thick overhead blocking out the sky.
She couldn’t hear the buzz that said a drone was coming, no sirens, no screeching plastic tyres that said a fast response squad has pulled up and were spilling out of a four wheel drive, carbines raised and looking for someone to kill. Just laughing boys kicking a ball across the grass and faintly in the distance some sort of odd tune, vaguely familiar, it grew fainter as it repeated till it was gone.
She stayed there for several minutes, hiding, listening, her heart slowing till it no longer thundered in her ears like a drum. She had to move on, change clothing, too many people had seen her face and someone would have reported her, the camera’s had seen her face and the rain coat. She had to dump it, find something else. But where. She looked around her and found that the trees thinned out to the side opposite the park, the woodland wasn’t big and she hadn’t even noticed she had run almost through it. Cars and a few lorries were rumbling passed below her, the trees ended at a bank and low wall and beyond that was a busy road, she hadn’t even noticed it was there.
Moving from tree to tree she walked to the top of the bank and looked down, this must be the edge of town, back toward the houses she could see row after row of roof tops and much taller buildings in the distance, looking the other way it was open fields, a few houses or buildings, strange, these wide open spaces, square and oblong and empty, some sort of plants growing in them, why would so much space be left open to the rain, to be burnt and destroyed.
Then she realised. There is no rain here, no acid to fall from the sky. These fields, they were growing plants because the soil was still good, not tainted by endless acid storms, the people here could grow crops in field instead of producing it in warehouses and domes. Memories of her life time long ago hit her like a blow. These were FARMS!
There was something else, closer to the town, a little hut, no more than a back wall and a roof, it was at the bottom of the road with the houses and several people were standing there, there was even a sign on a pole at the edge of the road, a red circle with words inside, something else that was familiar but at the same time alien. Bus Stop. It was the stopping point for a public transporter, it must be, and the people were waiting for whichever corporate service stopped there.
She slid down the slope, adding dirt marks to the stains on her trousers and boots then sat on the wall and swung her legs over and onto the path beyond. The surface was odd, black and pitted, did they have acid rain here, whatever this was it had clearly been melted and pitted by something. She continued to look around her, no camera’s on the road that she could see, vehicles going too fast to get a good look at her and she still had her hood up, three people by the little shelter, one male, twenties, could he be security, maybe not, short and overweight, more like a wage slave than a security thug. The other two were old women, one short and round, one tall and thin, the taller one sort of reminder her of grandmother Aisha but far more pale.
Both had stopped talking and were now looking at her, she twitched her left arm and tugged the hood down a bit to better hide her face. They continued to watch her as she came closer, were they a threat, maybe but they looked more like they thought she was a threat. Sarah glanced down at her clothing, the acid marked rain coat, her trousers and boots stained with who knew what from the alley and now with added mud.
She looked up again and pretended to ignore the two old women while keeping them in the corner of her eye. The way she looked was bad, she would attract attention but then the enforcers would likely take her for some street beggar and send her on her way with a kick or the butt of a carbine and not waste the bullets.
Waste the bullets, wasted money, unnecessary cost. The corporate way, never mind someone being dead, did the situation justify the cost. The normal excuse was self defence, even the corporate money counters couldn’t argue with the enforcers or security thugs spending money by firing in self defence, and since the idea of body camera’s or wasting time accessing drone data or security cameras just to see if fifty rounds of ammo had been needed to defend against some unarmed rebel was nothing more than a joke no one ever checked.
Life was dirt cheap, ammo cost money. Welcome to life under the corporations.
Something cut through the line of traffic, big, red, long windows running down the side and faces peering out. A transporter was pulling up to the shelter, the door hissed open and the young man jumped on then the two women behind him. Sarah noticed the women had little wallets they had opened to show the driver but the man had waved a card over a low plastic dome set on the barrier between the driver and the door. A credit reader, she had several cards with her, fake Ids but real accounts, the rebels had millions of little accounts with cards, use the account then dump the card and move on.
She had five such cards with her so she reached into the money belt she had hidden behind her trousers and under her tee shirt, she pulled out the first card she found and stepped up into the transporter, she waved the card over the bowl and turned to walk along the bus, hood down, face hidden.
“Oi, what do you think you’re doing. Where are you going and you need to pay.”
She didn’t understand, she had paid, hadn’t she?
“Where you going?”
She turned back to the driver, she could feel the eyes of every other passenger on her neck, fumbling in a pocket she found the slip of printed plastic, the address she had to find, the place where she lived, the other she, this worlds version of her. She held the slip out so the driver could read it.
“That’s miles away in the other direction, you need to catch a bus from the other stop, other side of the road, use the bridge.” The driver leaned closer, trying to look under the hood. “You understand, other side of the road, you hear me? You speak English?” Then after a second of thought, “You on drugs or what?”
Sarah muttered something and turned to step off the bus, the doors hissed shut on her heals and the driver pulled out quickly but as he left she could still feel the passengers looking at her. Was one of them an informer, there was always an informer, transports were bad, there was always an informer or a plain clothes security type, watching who came and went. Always someone watching, someone would have reported her, she had to move.
The driver had said a bridge, she looked away from the town and saw nothing but toward the town there was something, stairs, a long thin arch of concrete over the road and more stairs. Hood down to hide her face from the passing cars she began to walk along the grass verge of the road, the bridge was some way off and it was a long terrible walk to make, all alone, in the open, where anyone could see her.
Five minutes later and she had reached the bridge, it was old, the concrete weather stained and the steps had dirt crusted on the corners but it seemed solid. The hot sun was beating down and she could smell the plastic rain coat now as it began to soften under the summer heat but she kept the hood up and pulled to hide her face. She was perspiring heavily by the time she set foot on the first step and it wasn’t just the heat, anyone could see her, she had no cover, nowhere to hide, they could be watching her from hundreds of yards away and she would never know. Her first warning the scream of a siren or the punch of a bullet hitting her.
She took the steps two at a time then stopped dead as she reached the top, the bridge had a low wall and then fences of wire mesh, she could see for miles around her which meant people miles away could see her. No cover, nowhere to hide, some much open space. She screamed and dropped to her knees, fear turning to blind panic for a few seconds.
Slowly she began to calm a little, on her knees she was below the wall, all she could see now was concrete and blue sky and the far side of the bridge, no one could see her now, she could hide here, safe from the cameras, safe from the enforcers. Unless someone came up the steps, then she was trapped, nowhere to go, pinned in by walls and fences. She turned her head then frantically pulled the hood down so she could look back at the steps, was someone coming, had they found her.
She let her breath out in a long sigh, the steps were empty, just her. She couldn’t stay here, it wasn’t safe, they could be coming after her while see knelt here doing nothing. But she couldn’t stand up, not again, not look out over so much open empty space, she had to hide, had to keep the walls around her. She ended up crawling on her hands and knees, accepting the pain as her hands and knees were cut by the weather beaten tarmac that covered the bridge walkway as the cost of staying below the concrete walls, out of sight, where no one could see her and where she couldn’t see the open empty spaces around her.
She was so focused on crawling that she didn’t notice she had reached the end of the bridge until her hand met empty space and she looked up to see the concrete steps dropping away in front of her. She collapsed as a quiet sob escaping her lips and sat on the top step waiting for the pain to go and for her fingers to stop shaking. It took her a few minutes before she felt able to stand and walk down the steps to the bottom.
Cars continued to race by and she quickly pulled the hood back up before anyone could see her face, this side of the road was fields and a hedge, it wasn’t much but by brushing along the hedge and keeping her head down she had a measure of safety. The little transporter shelter was just ahead but there was someone standing there, someone waiting, SOMEONE WATCHING HER!
A woman, a few years older than Sarah, heavyset, soft looking, round glasses, a light blouse, no sign of weapons but she had a big bag at her feet, brightly coloured with some corporate name and logo and words underneath, ‘Bag for Life’. There could be anything inside, pistols, sub guns, anything. Sarah stopped, desperately thinking, should she run, that would make her look guilty and get her shot out of hand, should she keep going, buff it out, just a harmless worker waiting for a transport.
Sarah started walking again, head down, short steps. Ignore me, I’m harmless, just another worker, not a threat, not a rebel, just ignore me, please oh
please ignore me.
“You alright love?” The woman at the bus stop had been watching and spoke as Sarah reached the shelter, she had been watching the figure in the rain coat walking towards her with some concern.. You heard such stories about gangs and drug users and all those hoody wearers and the fact that this person was wearing a rain coat with the hood up on such a warm summers day was a worry. But it was the clothing that caused the moist concern, old army trousers stained with dirt and filth, the rain coat covered in spots where it almost looked burnt and with mud streaks in the sides. The first thought that came to mind had been the fear of any middle Englander when faced with a hoody, a gang member or drug user, the second thought had been more charitable, homeless!
“Are you alright?” Sarah glanced up and took a look at the womans face, she didn’t look like an enforcer but she could still be an informer. “Fine.” The answer was muttered and disbelieved. “I don’t want to pry or anything but I know a place where you can get clean, some clothes and food if you want, in town, they want to help and don’t ask questions. Good people, good Christians.” Sarah shook her head from side to side then realised the hood hid the movement. “I’m fine”.
The woman tutted and turned away, not wanting to be rude but still worried, there were always homeless around but it seemed wrong for a woman to be homeless. For a few seconds she debated asking again then decided not to push, the homeless woman could be dangerous.
Sarah huddled under the shelter, turning her body to look around her while keeping the hood up to shadow her face, under the shelter it was a little cooler but not much and the rain coat was now as soft as a tee shirt and hot to the touch. A few minutes passed then suddenly the stranger reached into a bag she had slung over one shoulder, SHE WAS GOING FOR A WEAPON! Sarah turned and bought her hands up ready to strike, she had to be quick, kill the agent before she could draw the weapon then she stopped as the stranger staggered backwards, her hand flying out of the purse holding a slim leather wallet.
“It’s my bus ticket, just a season ticket, I don’t have any money, please don’t rob me, PLEASE DON’T HURT ME.” It was the genuine fear in the woman’s voice that stop Sarah’s first blow long before her mind caught up and said there was no weapon.
“Season ticket. For the transporter?”
The stranger nodded frantically. “Just my season ticket, three months on the bus, they want exact money and I never have enough change. I don’t carry money, I don’t carry anything worth taking. Please don’t hit me.” The stranger was backing away, her face white with fear, waving the little wallet with its white card in front of her like a shield. The same card Sarah had seen the young man use on the other transport.
“You need that card or money, the transporter doesn’t use debit cards?”
“No, of course not, buses never take plastic. Everyone knows that.” The woman paused and thought the situation through, something was wrong, the attack had been more like a reflex, just as she had reached into her purse, everyone knew the buses only took exact change round here. Was she one of those immigrants, no, she sounded English. She should call the police but that wasn’t safe, there was no one else here. Then the situation changed as the threatening woman in the rain coat turned and began to quickly walk away, along the grass verge following the traffic toward the town.
Sarah hadn’t known, how could she have known, money, actual physical money, who used that anymore? The corporations had switched everyone to electronic money long ago, so they had total control, people with cash were much harder to track or control. She hadn’t even seen cash, notes or coins were so rare now, and only third world countries even had them. The season ticket, she needed one for the transport but she didn’t have one. She could take one, kill the woman and take hers but it was too exposed her, she would be seen, the body would be found. The woman, suspicious now, she must be silenced, Sarah had blades, knives, but how, so many cars going passed, she would be seen.
No she had to move, keep going, follow the road as quickly as she could, the town wasn’t far, get in amongst the buildings and hide, move with the crowds, stay hidden, stay safe.
By the time the woman at the bus stop had thought about it and taken her mobile out of her purse the woman in the rain coat was some distance away and walking fast, was it worth calling the police now, she wasn’t hurt and they would ask or sorts of questions or maybe accuse HER of wasting their time.
Best to forget it had ever happened, the bus would be alone soon, best forget about it. Just one of those things.
Sarah kept walking, looking around as best she could under the hood of the coat, listening for the buzz of a drone or the sound of a car slowing down beside her, right hand in the coat pocket, fingers tight around the handle of a small knife, no more than a kitchen tool but enough to kill if need be.
Several minutes of walking bought here to a roundabout, a three way affair with a road on the other side that went into the housing estates that made up this side of town, the endless rooftops Sarah had seen form the park. Across the roundabout the road continued on toward the town centre and the taller glass buildings that gleamed in the bright daylight.
The cars slowed down at the roundabout, drivers looking around, checking for other cars and looking at the woman in the rain coat, the one with the hood up. The one who stood out on the grass verge.
Sarah saw the looks, saw the suspicion on so many faces, she almost broke into a run then by force of will stopped herself, running would mark her as a criminal or a rebel, only the guilty ran so the enforcers shot them first. Walk, slow and steady, head down, hood covering her face, one foot in front of the other, slow and steady. Ignore me, I’m not a threat, nothing to worry about. Don’t report me, don’t call security, just ignore me. Please ignore me.
Beyond the roundabout there were buildings on both sides of the road, houses on the far side and some sort of industrial units on the same side, all corrugated walls and roofs surrounded by big blackened areas marked with yellow or white lines and plenty of cars or vans parked there. A road led onto the industrial estate just past the roundabout and beyond that was something else, a glass fronted building set back from the road but with a big roof in front of it, lines of cars were queuing to get under the canopy and stopping beside some sort of add looking pillars. Sarah could see people getting out of cars and doing something at the pillars, then she reached the road into the estate and stopped as a car turned the corner into the estate, it’s horn blaring loudly and a man’s voice bellowing at her as the car went by.
She looked around and saw another car slowing, was it turning, there was some sort of flashing light on the front corner nearest her, what did that mean, none of the other cars had the flashing lights though many had the same glass bubbles. The car turned onto the industrial estate and she looked round again, no flashing lights, she had to risk it, she was standing still, in the open, easy to see. She took to her heels and ran across then jumped up onto the grass again, no one shouted, no horns sounded, she had made it.
A few minutes bought her to the glass fronted building with the strange roof in front and she could see the drivers getting out of the cars and use black hoses that were attached to the pillars to connect to the cars, perhaps they were recharging them somehow, no they had smoke coming out of the backs, they couldn’t be electric like the transports back home. They must burn fuel and need to replace it.
There were several people lined up inside the glass fronted building and shelves piled high with goods everywhere except a counter at the far end that had two young men sitting there. There were no bars on the windows and no guard on the door. Where was the security, was it a trap. She looked around for the security cameras, the waiting enforcers, it looked like a store but so much stuff on display and no guards. It had to be a trap. But where were the guards?
She walked closer but kept the pillars and parked vehicles between here and the men seated at the counter. She spotted a pair of cameras but they were pointed at the pillars and she stopped before they would see her, where was the trap, where were the guards. Then she saw a woman get out of one of the parked cars and walk around the end of the building, under a little sigh with two stylised figures on it, something familiar but very old fashioned. Toilets.
Sarah walked away from the building, out of range of the cameras, or so she hoped. Then around the side until she was behind the camera arcs and could see a pair of doors, faced blue paint, one with the little white Male and one with a little white female icons. Better yet from where she stood she could see the back of the building and a large open window, it must be hot inside so they had the long window wide open, plenty of room for a desperate woman to climb in. To easy, too obvious, this must be the trap.
But where were the guards?
There was nowhere to hide, straggled grass then the walls of the industrial units, no cover, no vehicle full of enforcers waiting to jump out and start shooting. No possible place for the guards to hide. Could it be it really was this easy. She was making her mind up to go somewhere else when a smell drifted on the gentle breeze and her stomach suddenly rumbled. Was that meat, potatoes, some sort of pastry. REAL MEAT. She could smell it cooking and suddenly her mind was made up, the window was a few quick steps away and she was looking into a store room and from there into the front where the staff were sitting.
The ping of what sounded remarkably like a food reheater sounded and the smell was suddenly stronger then a man walked across the opening, visible through the curtain made up of strips of bright plastic, some sort of pastry held in his hand. Sarah was drooling before she realised just how hungry she was. Real meat, actual REAL MEAT.
A quick jump, roll across the window sill and she was crouched inside the store room, knife in her right hand, ears and eyes alert for the slightest sign of alarm or movement. But there was nothing, just the sound of people talking in the front area. Was this place actually unguarded. How was it possible, no corporation could be so lax. Or was this world as different as the blue sky suggested. Was it really so peaceful and safe?
As silent as an experienced burglar, which she was, Sarah checked the contents of the room, goods piled on shelves, mostly in open boxes. Some jackets, light cotton in blues and reds with corporate logo on the right breast, better yet they had hoods. One box labels men, one labelled children but the smallest man sized one was a fairly good fit and the bigger hood covered her face well. Boxes of little foil packets with pictures of pastries on them, vegetable, chicken and ham, beef and vegetables. Meat, actual meat, just sitting here in little packets. For a second the absolute strangeness of this world left her frozen before she shook herself and kept checking.
Bottles of water, they would be useful. Some sort of small bottles with brand names, anti freeze, windscreen washing liquid, engine oil. Useless, none of it would burn hot or make a bomb. THERE. A box of backpacks, black with orange straps and edges. She grabbed one and opened the top then tipped water bottles and food packets in till it was full and as heavy as she could manage. There was nothing else here but as she started back across the room to the window something in the main room caught her eye, a display, metal wire formed into stands and pockets, right by the opening into the store room, some sort of cards with pictures on, paper covered in printing and most importantly big yellow books labelled as maps. Moving slowly so she didn’t attract attention she stepped to the opening and looked through, a few people queuing, no one looking toward her, she snaked out her left arm and carefully lifted one of the map books out of the rack and into the store room then she was moving like a ghost, to the window, out and moving away from the building and along the edge of the industrial estate.
Half an hour later she was sitting inside a little wooden building without a roof, the front had a door locked with a chain and padlock but the only thing inside was a big metal container on legs, a cylinder with rounded ends, painted white with red markings, some sort of pipes came out of one end and vanished into the ground. It was right at the end of the industrial estate and made a good hiding spot. She had eaten two of the pastries whole then with the edge taken off her hunger she had picked three more apart and just eaten the meat, even cold and greasy it had been wonderful, like a birthday or to celebrate a very successful raid on a corporate facility that served meat to the managers and kept it on site to be stolen.
One bottle of water to drink, one to wash her fingers from the food and her hands from the day and a third to clean some of the filth from her trousers, they were still dirty but drying in the sun they looked, and smelt, a lot better. The rain coat had been used to scrub the wet cloth and now sat beside her, piled high with the pastry and vegetables she hadn’t bothered to eat.
She was well fed, warm and seemed safe but she fought off the desire to doze in the sunlight and instead opened the map. The first few pages were all writing and place names, most of which she recognized. Then a map of Britain, oddly comforting to find that despite all the strangeness it still looked the same. There was an index in the back and a minutes searching fond the town she was looking for, the roundabout had been dotted with road signs so she had noticed the number of the road and from there she could find her location, the map marked the places called petrol stations so she had found her location as well.
The problem was the distance between the two, quick measurements using spread fingers and the little scale on the map said twelve miles, not a hard walk for someone who was fairly fit but a very long walk on open roads where she could be so easily seen. She may have been lucky so far but twelve miles, a few hours walking alongside a busy road. No way she could do that without being noticed, unless, she could wait till dark and make the trip at night. Good cover from the cameras but she would be spotted on thermal and anyone walking that far at night was sure to be caught.
What options did she have, she couldn’t risk trying to catch a ride in a car, with a stranger, locked inside a metal box, what sort of person would give a stranger a ride unless they were security running a plain clothes entrapment. Stealing a car was useless, she had no idea how to drive it, likewise the small two wheeled bikes with engines, they were fast but so noisy. No one used them at home, no protection against the acid rain, they would be suicide to use if you got caught by a high ratio storm.
Then something rumbled past so close it rattled the wooden walls and she started upright in shock, peering over the top then ducking her head back to avoid snipers.
A huge wooden box was going past, with more behind and in front, slow moving and rattling as they went by. Was it, could it be, it was wood but the big boxes, the noise, she risked another look. IT WAS A TRAIN! A look at the map revealed another type of line she hadn’t bothered with, the front page listed it as a railway and following it along there was a station in the town she wanted. Perfect, shelter, cover and transport all in one. A nice slow cargo train, no passengers to report her. Just what she needed.
Climbing over the wooden fence then finding a way onto the railway tracks was easy, the wire fence would barely keep children out and was no problem for Sarah. Now she needed somewhere to hide, close enough to reach the train as it went past but hidden from the driver. A small hut of some sort was just what she wanted and a pile of concrete sleepers made a handy bench so she settled down to wait.
Twenty minutes later and she was starting to get bored when she heard the rumble and rattle in the distance and risked a peek, another train was coming and just as slowly as the last one, she could catch up with a quick run and would have little trouble climbing on. She ducked back out of sight and waited till the engine was past her then stepped out and looked at the cars. Mostly big boxes but further down there were several flatbeds with big lumpy items under canvas sheets. She started to jog then broke into a run as the first flatbed drew level, aiming for the gap between the last box and the first flat bed, running to keep pace she reached up to one of the metal bars that were welded to the back of the box, grabbing hold she ran and jumped, hauling herself up with her arms until she could stand on the thick metal bumper. From there it was easy to step across to the flat bed and grab the straps holding the sheeting down.
A look under the canvas revealed a big industrial unit of some sort, with a crane arm and tracks. Better yet there was plenty of room under the sheet for her to sit out of sight and a quick knife cut gave her a small hole to watch the countryside roll by. According to the map it was all countryside till the train went through the edge of the next town so he could relax until she saw buildings.
The minutes went past and she was fighting to stay awake, the rumble of the tracks, the gentle movement side to side and the heat under the canvas sheets had her fighting yawns and nodding off, the train had already entered the town before she forced herself awake and looked outside again, startled to see buildings going past, THE TOWN, she was already there. Scrambling under the sheet and outside she could see more industrial buildings to one side and some trees and a hedge on the other side, the train didn’t seem to be slowing down and she didn’t know how big the town was. Checking her pack was on tight she swung down over the side of the flat bed and then rolled, trying to run would have been stupid and risked serious injury, falling off and rolling just hurt and left scuff marks on her new coat. By the time she picked herself up and finished checking the pain was just bruises the train was vanishing into the distance.
She was almost there, at least she was in the right town. But where to go from here. On one side was old industrial units, wood, brick and some corrugated, faded and flaked paint and the run down air of something old and unloved. Probably small low profit businesses the corporations didn’t care about. She was looking for a house and couldn’t see anything beyond the factories, maybe through the hedge.
There was a mesh fence hidden in the hedge but the bushes made a good ladder and she was over in seconds and standing on a walkway looking at a grass verge and brick wall beyond which was the tiled roof tops of houses, thousands of houses.
There was a break in the wall that looked as if the path led into the houses so with a careful look around she walked that way and found herself on the walkway beside a road, houses on both sides. So many houses, bright colours, grass and flowers in the gardens, no cameras, no high security fences, no armed guards but the houses looked so expensive only managers could have lived in them. Another strangeness in this strange world.
It took an hour of criss crossing the houses before she got up the nerve to ask someone and then she carefully picked someone alone and isolated where she wouldn’t be seen if she needed to kill them. An old man walking with the aid of a stick though that could easily have been a weapon. But she had to ask, there were thousands of houses here, she could search for days and the risk of being seen was too high. So she had taken the risk and asked a complete stranger, not for the hose number, just for the road. He thought it was on the far side of the estate so she had walked that way and then stopped someone else to ask. The same precautions and a second person gave her directions and then she was standing staring at a little sign with the name of the road she was looking for. Her mission was almost finished, all she had to do was find this other version of her and everything would be over.
The houses were numbered so finding the right one was easy, set back from the road and with a low hedge, cover from the road and she couldn’t see any cameras or security, she casually walked up to the address, looking around her carefully, no one seemed to be watching but the hood made it difficult to see everything. She reached the little wooden gate and turned quickly, pushing it open.
It didn’t move, just rattled. Was it locked, she could jump over it but that would attract attention, maybe it was stuck, she pushed it again and once again it rattled, metal banging on metal, coming from a little curved arm on the side of the gate, with a flat pad on the end furthest from the gate post, almost as if it was designed to be pushed. Sarah reached over the gate and pushed down the bar, it hinged in the middle and the arm lifted out of a hook on the gate post, the gate swung open on its own and she was inside. She pushed the gate shut again, never leave an open door or window that had been closed when you arrived, everything had to look the same, no trace of the entry. A few steps took her to the front door and she checked for alarms and locks, no alarms and just a single lock, a round metal disk with an odd shaped hole in the middle.
DAMN, an old mechanical lock. She had the skill and tools to open any electric lock in seconds but a mechanical one, so old fashioned, that would take time and she could be seen. Looking around to see if she was being watched she saw a path down the side of the house and darted that way, a back door would be safer, less eyes watching the back.
A nice tidy garden, flower beds and grass, shockingly green and colourful, so many flowers just looking at them felt wrong to someone who had grown up in a world where flowers lived in pots and people had a few to add colour to a room or house. An odd glass house stood out from the back of the building, all glass panels that gave Sarah a clear view of chairs and tables inside then she found the back door. Another mechanical lock but the garden had fences and none of the surrounding houses had windows that gave a good view of the door, a watcher would need to lean out to see her and she couldn’t see anyone doing that.
The lock was tricky, she knew how to pick mechanical locks but it wasn’t something she did often so she was rusty, three tries and three failures then she got the tumblers lined up and the lock clicked open. SHE WAS IN. Almost finished now.
Walking like a cat she stepped into the house, no noise, no voices, no entertainment channels. Was the house empty. Was this Theresa working in some corporation, a daily job that left the home empty till night fall? Sarah could wait but it was risky, someone else might come in before her target, the man in the pictures maybe, she could probably kill him but was it worth the risk. Best to check the house and make sure it was empty first.
Sarah moved through the kitchen, such a marvellous kitchen, clean and bright, so many expensive items, this Theresa must be at least a senior manager or maybe ever a board member, a wage drone couldn’t have bought such a kitchen in a lifetime. Beyond was the hall and the inside of the front door, stairs going up and a door leading into the room behind the glass hut. She stepped through into the hall and looked around, coats on hooks and books on a rack, very nice boots, new, real leather. A glance in the lounge, good furniture, even some real leather, something else only a manager or board member could afford. Was that why she was here, was this Theresa running the corporation that was behind the threat to her world.
Upstairs were bedrooms and a bathroom, so much luxury, soft pillows, a big quilt that covered the entire bed, shelves full of bathroom products and make up. Whoever this woman was she must be soft, to live in such luxury. Still the house was empty, the cupboards upstairs were an obvious place to hide, if she had a bodyguard they would check there first of all, she needed somewhere better but there wasn’t a spot she could hide and not be seen. Well she could wait and watch to see when the target came home.
A final look around and her gaze fell on the boot rack again, the woman was her exact double and her boots were fantastic, real leather and cloth, well made, they would last years. Dare she, should she, it was bad tradecraft but even for a few hours the thought of such comfortable boots, ones that actually fit her feet, just till the mission was done.
Then before she knew it she was trying the boots on, they fit like gloves, broken in and perfect. She was bent over to do the laces when she heard the bark coming from INSDE THE HOUSE.
A DOG !
They had a guard dog and she’d missed it, how had she missed it. Fuck, she hadn’t checked the glass hut, it was probably sleeping in there. They had a guard dog, was it enhanced, attack trained, carbon fibre teeth, chemically increase aggression like the riot squad attack dogs. The scrabble of claws on a polished wooden floor told her it was coming and she stood up and stepped backward so quickly she crashed into the front door, her head banging against the wood painfully hard and stars dancing across her eyes, she lunged forward again and stumbled, the untied laces trying to trip her up and her glasses falling from her face to bounce on the wooden floor and skitter across the hall.
She grabbed her old boots and started to run, the new boots gripping the floor easily so she was in the kitchen in three steps, behind her the dog burst out of the lounge, barking furiously, she glanced back and part of her mind noted it was small but the rest of her mind was filled with memories of a huge riot squad dog dragging her out of an abandoned building, the place where a young girl had found a few others and a roof against the rain, dragging her by one arm as if she was a toy, the teeth biting bone deep and leaving scars she still had.
She reached the back door and dived out, she could feel the dogs breath on her back and she pulled the door shut behind her and without stopping to lock the door she ran round the side of the house and back to the street then turned and kept running, she had to get clear before anyone responded to the dogs barking. The hood on the coat filled with air as she ran and flapped backwards leaving her hair and face on display but she couldn’t stop to fix it, she kept running, looking frantically for somewhere to get off the street.
Then a figure stepped round the corner ahead of her.
A dark grey ankle length great coat, in this heat, crew cut hair, sharp face, cruel eyes, the way he stood and walked. The sudden recognition on his face as he saw her. CORPORATE SECURITY! She was running too fast to avoid him, she tried to dodge but he moved to block her, his coat flapping open as he lifted his right arm, the assault carbine coming into view, grey and charcoal plastic gleaming in the sunlight. She crashed into him, his one arm reaching to grab her while she fended him off with her left arm, her right flashed forward, driving the short bladed knife she was suddenly holding into his stomach, he stopped as if punched then started to bellow, trying to push her back. She stabbed again, aiming this time, reaching to the side and stabbing inward just as she’d been taught years before, then as she felt the blade sink deep into soft flesh she twisted it as hard as she could.
A gout of dark blood flooded from the savagely wounded man as his kidney was ruptured and he sagged at once, Sarah pushed him over the closest garden fence and started running again. Now close to panic, the whole thing was blown, she had been seen by a corp thug and now she had left a dead body in the open, in a corporate housing estate. They wouldn’t send the enforcers for her, she would have corporate agents on her trail now and only speed could save her. She ran across streets and road, turning at random, trying to spot the drones or security vehicles. Then the road ended and she was on grass and then pushing through a hedge and into a field. Huge brown animals of some sort lifted their heads to stare at her, as tall as she was, four thin legs and big barrel shaped bodies, they stood there and watched but she couldn’t risk them attacking her or making noise. She turned and continued running along the hedge row then across a ditch and then she found herself amongst trees and threw herself to the ground, panting and trying to listen for pursuit over the pounding of her heart in her chest.
For a few minutes she hid there, no drones, no sirens, was she safe.
Maybe.
###
“Inspector.”
The man looked up from his desk, fitness reports piled around his keyboard. It was the sergeant in charge of the dispatch room next door, due to the cuts they had one room now to coordinate three counties and if you included the city lot four police forces.
“Got an odd one just come in, two units responding, report of a man stabbed to death but the caller said he was armed, some sort of rifle. Two of your lads are responding as well but they said they couldn’t reach you.”
Inspector Patrick McNally, Pat to his few friends and sir to everyone else, including if rumour were to be believed, his wife, glanced at his official mobile, the screen had three missed calls showing but he had turned the sound down so he could concentrate on annual qualifications for every armed office in four police forces which had somehow become his job.
“Damn, thanks sergeant. I’ll get on it.”
All three calls had come from constable Doyle, a fifteen year man, good shot and steady as a rock but pushing the edge of failing the fitness tests. Still nothing that couldn’t be ignored for a few more years, too good a man to lose because of some box ticking. He picked up his phone and redialled the last missed call.
The call was answered almost at once. “Doyle.”
“What’s the situation there Doyle, report just reached me.”
“Well he was armed but don’t ask me what the hell it is, maybe some sort of pellet gun, looks like something from a science fiction film. One person, very dead, well dressed, overdressed given the weather, long trench coat over a decent suit. The body wagon is here, time of death recent enough the local police are going house to house and sweeping the area for the knifeman. The doc says it was a very nasty kill, knife, one in the guts then a killing blow in the kidneys with a twist to finish the bugger off quick. Doc reckoned it was some sort of special forces ninja blow.
The body has a wallet, some credit cards but I’ve never heard of the banks, no cash. Some sort of ID card, very high tech, hologram of his face, embedded chip, the works. Says he’s a level eight security agent for a company called Deltatech Focused Research. Never heard of that one either but the locals are checking for a number and address so we can ask what their man was doing running round a housing estate with what looks like a kids airsoft gun.
Their bagging the body now, the cleaners will need to steam the path here, blood everywhere, the guy bleed like a stuck pig. We’ve got the weapon in the boot of the motor, all other belongs are bagged and tagged and going with the body. I reckon we should stay here a while, the way that body was cut up, the locals have truncheons and pepper, be better if they had some firepower handy.”
“Agreed, remain on site for an hour. I’ll send another unit to take over then bring the weapon back here and get it down to Madge in the lab, she likes playing with guns, maybe she can get some prints off it.”
“Will do inspector.”
###
Just over an hour later the local patrols had covered all the connecting roads and streets but apart from a few people who had seen a woman with short blond hair running like someone was chasing her no one had seen the murder. Cards were left in case anyone had home cameras that had caught the action but that didn’t seem likely, there weren’t any cameras to be seen, not on a nice safe up market estate like this one. The marked patrol car with another pair of armed response constables had arrived and after an exchange of information and a bit of speculation Doyle told his partner to drive them back to the base, but with the afternoon traffic just starting it took nearly an hour before they dropped the strange rifle on the desk in the lab which also doubled up as the maintenance area for all their weapons.
###
It was beginning to get late when Inspector McNally walked into the lab in response to an email a few minutes before.
“You got something for me?”
The woman looked up from her computer screen. “More questions than answers I’m afraid.” She turned to look at the weapon sitting on the table beside her. “It’s got to be some sort of high tech prototype.”
“It’s real?”
“Very real and very deadly, I’m guessing German, it’s factory made with a lot of very high tech components so it’s not some cheap far eastern product. I’d put money of some new German experimental weapon.”
The inspector grunted. “German? I would have guessed American, it looks like something out of star wars with all the plastic and round edges, what makes you think German?”
The woman swivelled her chair and stood up then took three steps along the table and picked up a small square block of grey plastic, she turned it to reveal it was oblong but one end was a rounded cap painted bright red. “The rounds for one, these are incredible, caseless with a double bullet, a sabot inside a deforming head for maximum kinetic transfer, very nasty.”
Inspector McNally coughed. “Let’s assume you’re talking to a policeman and not a specialist in weird weapons shall we.” He received a cheeky grin in return.
“Oh all right then, I’ll talk slowly and use short words.” Both grinned but then the tech got down to business. “Normal bullets are made up of two parts, the actual bullet which is the projectile and the casing, which is the cylinder that holds the propellant, most commonly called the brass. All weapons have to be designed to handle the cylinder shape and it wastes some space in magazines but it’s still the easiest way to do it.” The inspector was senior office of the firearms squad, he knew this much but didn’t argue the point, he had worked with the tech on a number of cases over the years and she did get to the point, eventually.
She was still talking. “Caseless is a block of propellant with the bullet sitting inside it, the round is fed into the weapons breach, the bullet lines up with the barrel and the propellant is ignited, filling the breach and forcing the bullet down the barrel.
The Germans made a caseless assault rifle, the Gee eleven, years ago, four point seven mill, tiny rounds but high velocity and high rate of fire, so with this being caseless and the small size round I thought of them first, plus it’s a bullpup and we do them in Europe, the Americans are fixated on having the magazine in front of the pistol grip which is why I don’t think its them. Heckler and Koch, yea same people that make your em pee fives, had a lot of problems with misfires and unburnt propellant fouling the breach to start with, just getting a type of propellant that would burn away completely but still be tough enough to survive being handled and loaded was a major job.
Thing is with caseless, you don’t need to eject the spend casing and the rounds can be square so you can stack more of them in the magazine and the mechanism to handle them is simpler. This rifle has an ejection port and a rotary breach which is electrically driven so any misfire is carried round and ejected without slowing the rate of fire. Which is scary. More than twice the rate of fire of the em pee fives your lot carry and the muzzle velocity is half again your nine mils. But the round is smaller, only five mill and a bit lighter than the nines so it has a shorter effective range and weird penetration characteristics. The main bullet is designed to deform on impact but given its weight even with the higher velocity it won’t penetrate much, maybe not even penetrate a leather jacket or jeans much beyond fifty feet.
But inside that range or against lighter clothing it will cause very nasty but shallow wounds, mostly flesh and muscle damage since it won’t reach the bone. The other part of the bullet is a sabot, a little needle of tungsten carbide as long as the entire round at thirty millimetres but only one mil in diameter. It’s free floating in the round so when the main bullet hits something and slows down the penetrator keeps going and it’s heavy with a tiny impact area. I haven’t tested it yet but I reckon it will go through the standard issue vests no problem, thing is after penetrating two or three centimetres of anything it will be tumbling so it will be going sideways fairly quickly which drops its penetration to nothing, of course by that point is like a little buzz saw going through your body.
These rounds, the rate of fire, eighty rounds in the magazines. Ask me this thing was designed to hurt people as much as kill them. Kick in a door and spray a room to cause maximum casualties. Short range, nasty wounds but low penetration of the main round and the ability to go through light Kevlar and still hurt with the sub round. This isn’t any military weapon, more the sort of thing I’d expect in some police state where they used them on civilians.”
The inspector had been listening and the look on his face said he wasn’t happy about what he was hearing. “Any way to find out who made this, how many could be out there. Fuck, a few of these in a crowded place, I need to go upstairs with this, national alert, home office, counter terror, everyone will need to know. Can you find the makers; I need some idea of how many they are missing?”
“I’ve already sent a message to every German company I can think of that could make this, which isn’t many, this thing is real cutting edge, the barrels some sort of ceramic and I’ve never heard of anyone who can do that. As soon as I get a reply I’ll give you a shout.”
“Good, anything you hear I want to know about it, no matter the time.”
The tech nodded and was about to say something else when the inspector turned on his heel and walked out of the room, his thoughts filled with worst case scenarios and body counts.
###
It was almost eight in the evening when McNally finally walked out of his office heading home, he glanced into the dispatch room and the same sergeant was sitting talking to his replacement, the night shift team leader. Both looked up as he crossed the doorway.
“Inspector.”
McNally stopped and turned back to look into the room.
“That call out from earlier, the armed dead guy. No sign of the killer so the locals called off the search but something odd, the bodies gone. Some blokes flashing security service badges met the ambulance at the hospital and took the body and all the belongings, no one seems to know where it went, they took it and vanished.”
The inspector grunted his thanks and started walking to his car. More strangeness, by the time he got in tomorrow the rifle would probably have gone as well. MI-5, bloody spooks and security types, all need to know and you do the dirty work while they steal anything you find. If the spook squad were involved this was probably terrorists. Just what he needed to start tomorrow morning with, it was going to be a five coffee day tomorrow, five mugs of coffee not those stupid little cups from the canteen. Proper pint sized thermos mugs full of strong coffee. He wouldn’t be sleeping much tomorrow night.
Shit, terrorists, prototype mass murder weapons, he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep much tonight either.
###
Sarah woke up slowly then was shocked into fully awake when she noticed the damp feel to the air and the sun just coming up above the tree tops across the field in front of her. Was that dawn, she’d slept the entire night. SHIT SHIT SHIT.
She’d been exhausted, too much fear in a single afternoon, too much running, a few minutes resting somewhere safe and she’d fallen asleep, cursing herself for being stupid she frantically looked around, fields and hedges in every direction. The only thing moving was the strange brown animals from yesterday, big elongated heads on the end of long necks reaching down and tearing chunks of grass from the ground with teeth big enough to take her arm off.
Were they aggressive, would they sound an alert if they saw her, they hadn’t last night but they were much closer today, close enough she could smell them, an odd smell, hot and damp but not unpleasant, not the carrion stench of the riot dogs though so maybe they just ate grass.
She used her arms to push her body up enough to peer over the bushes that grew between the trees, a quick look then duck, never be there long enough for a sniper to target you, just a pop up and back down, don’t look, remember. The woman who had taught her how to survive on the streets and how to fight with the rebellion had been some sort of ex special duty agent, Sarah never found out shy she was with the rebels or why she hated the enforcers so much but the training had been harsh and painful but had kept her alive many types. The woman was gone now, she’d been training some of the guards, one had gone on his solo mission and come back wounded, a tracker drone had followed him and a corporate strike team had levelled the building, a drone gunship had risen into sight over the next door roof and just torn the building apart with rockets and cannon fire.
No one survived, not the woman, not the people she was training and not the twenty or so squatters who lived on the other floors. It was strange, Sarah couldn’t even remember her name now, so many people had come and gone, most of them dead. Nameless men and women and sometimes children, some she had met for a single night in an abandoned building sheltering from the endless rain, others in the rebellion bought together for a raid or just to steal from a warehouse or corporate shop. So many people, so many faces, just blurs now, nameless blurs. The last few years she had even stopped asking their names, it wasn’t worth it, they were gone so fast
No drones hovering in the sky, no vehicles anywhere other than some odd looking thing with oversized wheels chugging along two fields over. Nothing moving apart from the big brown animals. Had she escaped, she’d been moving fast enough to escape the response teams, they would have locked down the estate but she was outside the boundaries.
FUCK. If the estate was locked down how would she get back in?
She couldn’t stop, couldn’t fail, not now. If the estate was locked down there would be guards on the roads, patrols, she would be able to see them from the edge of the fields, maybe scout the area, find the weak points. There were always weak points, unless they were traps. Somewhere that looked easy to get in but the enforcers were waiting, Sarah had been behind someone where that happened.
A break in, some rebels, some thieves, nothing major, just an electronics shop in a corporate centre, small gadgets, portable, good price on the black market. Best of all the place was at the back, nice and quiet. An air vent, nothing but a grill and a short crawl then into the back of the shop. Nice and easy, in and out. Sarah had been second, the youngster ahead of her was skinny and short, perfect to lead the way and open the grills, a good lad, this wasn’t the first time she’d worked with him and they’d made some good money every time.
Then they were in, he had the grill open, was leaning out to look around and his head exploded. Sarah was right behind him, blood and something else sprayed into her face, blinded her, there was screaming but it wasn’t the lad, it was her. Security were standing there, one tugging at the dead boy while another reached up to fire into the vent, she screamed and blinked and saw the gun barrel over the blood splattered legs.
Full automatic in such a tiny space, she could barely see and now she was deaf, the bullets had passed above her, killing the man behind her as he stood on the roof of the van waiting his turn to climb in, she was alive, they were dead. The barrel vanished and she crawled backwards, knees and hands slipping in the blood of both people, sliding out of the vent and landing on the van hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs, rolling over and dropping to the concrete. Sirens in the distance, the others had run, she was alone, flashing lights on both sides.
They hadn’t found her, they opened the big industrial bin, gagged at the stench and went somewhere else to stand around. An hour, a day, she didn’t know. Fighting not to throw up, the stench burning her nose, the rubbish burning her skin. So long she hid, till they finally left.
She never did find out who had informed on them, reported the raid in return for the reward. But she never worked with any of them again so it didn’t matter. What was his name, the skinny kid. Sarah tried to remember but even his face was forgotten, he was just the skinny little kid now.
Walking back along the hedge line took a few minutes but there was no one about that she could see, just the big brown animals who stopped eating grass and watched her with big liquid eyes before deciding she wasn’t worth eating and wandered off.
The estate looked the same, no drones, no security vehicles, no obvious guards. Just to be safe Sarah crouched there and watched for an hour, nothing, why wasn’t it locked down, she had killed someone here, a corporate goon, they must have responded, but where were they. Hiding, they must be waiting in hiding, an ambush. Where were they, where were the spotters, the snipers, would they try and take her alive or just kill her as soon as they saw her. After all they knew what she looked like.
THEY KNEW WHAT SHE LOOKED LIKE. The guard, he’d recognised her, she’d seen it on his face, and he knew her. HOW? How had some guard known what she looked like, the council had given her the mission and here she was a few hours later. No way they could have known she was coming, but the guard knew her face.
Or did he.
Did he see Sarah, wanted criminal, thief, rebel. Or did he see this Theresa woman, the one who had the same face and body, her identical twin. Had the guard recognised her target, that must be it, they couldn’t have known Sarah.
FUCK. How important was her twin, if the guards knew her on sight, board member, director, what was she. But why was there so little security on the house, no camera’s, one little dog and one guard. Or did her security move with her, was there twenty agents who followed this Theresa around.
It didn’t matter, all that mattered was to reach her, she was the target, there was no coming back from this mission. Reach the target and it was over. She could do that, Sarah could do that. She was a thief, one of the best, she could get to her target and fifty guards couldn’t stop her. Then it would be over.
Sarah just wished she’d had more time to say goodbye to her husband, a few words and a lingering kiss to mark the end of their life together wasn’t enough, not by far. Too late to worry now but even a few more minutes would have been good, just to be held within his arms for a few minutes, something to remember before the end.
Too late now, she had a mission and a target. Time to move.
###
Sarah risked another quick look, nothing moving, no human she could see, no drones in the air and no one shot at her. Had she really escaped notice last night, was there just the one guard. Given how important this woman Theresa seemed to be why was she so lightly guarded. It wasn’t like corporate security would need to catch her red handed, even the suspicion that she was with the rebels would get her shot, or captured, tortured and shot.
Not that there would be much suspicion involved, she’d been on enough rebel missions over the last few years to be a fully fledged member. So they wouldn’t hold back, if they knew she was here they would just shoot her.
Unless. Did they know she was alone, did they think she was part of a team maybe, advanced scout for a larger team. Were they waiting for the rest of her team to arrive so they could up the body count? She hadn’t done anything to suggest she had a team with her, had she? Maybe they just hadn’t spotted her when she ran; maybe they weren’t waiting for her to move out of the trees.
Sarah looked over the bushes again but this time didn’t pull her head back down. She still couldn’t see anyone and she wasn’t shot. Maybe it was safe.
Standing up she winched at the pain in her back then twisted her shoulders to and fro, trying to relieve the sudden shock and the ache that ran from the small of her back all the way up to her shoulders. For someone who had grown up sleeping on concrete or wood more often than not she should be more used to sleeping in a field, though the last two years of having an actual mattress had probably made her soft.
The big brown animals watched her with liquid eyes but didn’t charge her so for the moment she ignored them, instead she started walking along the hedge line between the fields and the estate, pausing to peer though any gaps she came across to look for guards. But the estate was peaceful, no one moving, vehicles all parted in front of the houses, the only sound was an odd noise, lots of little high pitched sounds, somehow familiar but also unknown.
Something, a park, running and playing as a child and looking up at the tree tops.
Birds, the sound was birds. How strange and wonderful. Actual birds. They didn’t exist anymore, except in the domes or a few rich people’s homes. The rain had done for them all, the first few weeks the acid had been intermittent, so a lot of birds died but the rest survived, learning to find shelter. But then the rain became more and more common until it was a rare sight to not have rain, weather became torrential downpour and light shower and everything in between. So the birds had died and so had most of the cats and other pets.
Dogs were still around, you could keep them indoors if you were rich enough, some cats too but outside, in the streets or in the wild they were long gone.
Funny how quickly she had forgotten what they sounded like, as a little girl birds had been everywhere, now she could barely remember the different types and the sound was just chirps.
A rumble, an engine, close! A TRAP! SECURITY! She dropped to the grass and rolled closer to the hedge, under the branches and pushing hard against the roots and trunks. A vehicle was moving, backing out of it’s parking space, it was turning onto the road, she could see inside. A man, SECURITY? No, too old, well dressed, glasses, grey hair, yawning. A manager, middle management probably, no one important would be going to work at this time, some failure who hadn’t reached far enough up the company to sleep in.
His age, he would never be promoted again, long since gone as high as he could. Sarah stared at him as he yawned again and did something inside the car, the windows slid down, smooth, soundless, strange. No one ever opened the windows, if the car didn’t have air conditioning you just suffered, not worth the risk. No one ever opened the windows of a car or transport!
The vehicle started moving, gathering speed on the black surface of the road, then as it turned into another of the roads that formed the grid of this estate music began to drift behind it, a man’s voice, shouting something, drums pounding and some sort of guitar as well, a clashing noise. Sarah grunted, not liking the music of this world, it sounded like crap.
Rather than retrace her steps she walked another road, the estate was all straight lines and grids, she could reach the house from another direction, don’t be predictable, change your route, change your time, stay alive. More lessons from long ago, she could remember the woman, remember her voice, STAY ALIVE, that’s the victory, stay alive, keep fighting. Her face, her voice, not her name, that was gone.
Each street was much like the next, no security anywhere they she could see. Were these managers so confident, so arrogant, did they think no one would attack them here? A few houses had lights one behind curtains on the upper floors, on, just ahead, had lights on downstairs. MOVEMENT!
Someone inside the lit house, a figure, looking out the window.
Sarah twitched and lifted her hands to pull her hood down further then almost screamed in panic, the hood was down, they could see her face, she had forgotten to pull up the hood when she pulled on the coat, THEY COULD SEE HER FACE! She yanked the hood up but it was too late, ten minutes at least she’d been walking and everyone had seen her face, they would report her, cameras would have seen her, facial recognition software would have named her in seconds.
She looked around frantically, listening for the scream of sirens, the rush of guards coming for her.
Nothing.
She started moving again, walking slowly, head down, shoulders hunched, hood pulled far enough down to hide her hair and most of her face. Without meaning to she was walking like the drones, trying to hide in the crowd, but here as the morning sun rose above the roof tops, she was alone, out in the open, where everyone could see her.
She kept walking , looking for the road name she wanted then turning into the last road she would walk today, the last she would ever walk, she wasn’t coming back this way, not after the mission was done. The house was ahead, a light upstairs but no movement, closed curtains shutting out the world or shutting in an army of security thugs.
There was something, at the far end of the road, beyond the target, a vehicle, a small white van, lights on, a figure moving beside it, glowing white in the early sun, yellow and black flapping in the light breeze, lines of the colour across the path, something else, the man was holding something, a weapon!
Then a jet of white smoke, no not smoke, steam, he was spraying the walkway, that spot was familiar for some reason, she had, THE GUARD, that’s where she killed the security guard. A cleaner, using steam to clean up the mess she had left behind, more expense for the corporation, probably docked the dead guards last pay check for the cost of the cleaner.
Ducking out of sight into the closest garden she risked a look over the wall between the houses, the figure ignored her, hooded and masked, she couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Then she relaxed a little, not security, a wage slave, cleaning up where she killed the guard, just another minimum wage drone in the corporate system. She wasn’t safe though, most of them would sell her out for the reward, what was she worth now, two years wages for the lowest drones, maybe even three. To someone paid the least the law allowed, a law well paid by the corporations not to rock the boat and probably on contract as well, working all hours or none, a few years wages in one go, well worth reporting some terrorist.
Terrorist. That had hurt, at first. A terrorist, fighting the corporations meant the media called you a terrorist, beyond criminal, a threat to society at large, to be killed, the very worst scum. Just another mad dog killer. Still the pain had faded, the hatred for the corporations never would.
Sarah stepped back onto the path when the cleaner turned their back, quickly walking past three more houses and into the one she wanted, still one light upstairs, still dark downstairs. Moving quickly but like a ghost in her new rubber soled boots Sarah went down the side of the house, the same alley she had used before, then into the garden, round the glass hut and to the back door, she reached into her coat for her lock picks then suddenly looked up as the door opened, a woman standing there, looking back into the house, calling someone, a scrabble of claws, then the woman was turning, staring, Sarah’s head was up but the garden was in shadows till a man’s voice came from inside the house and the kitchen light went on.
Sarah stared at Theresa, Theresa stared back, living mirrors so close they could touch. So alike they could have been the closest of twins, one began to shout, one lunged forward, hand touched hand, and the universe stopped.
###
The rain was falling in heavy, oily droplets that splashed onto the dirty concrete walkway like bombs, each hit throwing up a tower of spray before vanishing into the thin sheen of water that stained the old walkway blocks.
Sarah was walking slowly with the crowd, head down, shoulders hunched, just like everyone else, don’t walk to fast, don’t attract attention, just another wage drone going to work or going home. Not a rebel, not a radical, just another drone from some corporate slave farm, nothing to see. Then she spotted the enforcers on the walkway ahead, a pair of them, bulky black armour gleaming under the streetlights on the corner they guarded. They were relaxed, assault carbines hanging from magnetic clamps, pistols and shock sticks hanging from their armour.
Sarah lifted her left hand and glanced at it, shocked to see how badly it was shaking, quickly she darted her arm up, to pull the hood of the cheap rain coat further down, to hide her short blonde hair and face. The glasses should help though they made things difficult, she couldn’t stop to remove the corrective implants but she needed a disguise so she had grabbed the cheap plastic rain coat and a pair of the weakest prescription glasses she could quickly find.
Then she snatched her hand back down and into the safety of the long sleeves as droplets of the rain hit her bare skin and stung, the acid rain was fairly mild today but it was still strong enough to leave red burns on her fair skin. On a bad day even the coat would have been no protection, but today the rain was light, the acid count low. Safe enough to walk out with a coat, she glanced at the enforcers as she walked closer, well safe enough from the rain anyway.
She drew closer to the enforcers. Ignore me, I’m nobody. Please don’t notice me, I’m not a threat. Please don’t notice me. Please don’t kill me! Then she was beyond them and turning the corner, just a short walk now, the alley was a few doors away and beyond that an old car park, overgrown now since those who could afford cars didn’t shop in this part of town. It was the car park she sought, that was the weak point, the breach between dimensions that made her quest possible. Her right hand was within the sleeve of her coat, as it had been all morning, her fingers ached and her wrist muscles burned with the strain but she was not going to risk letting go of the key, the device that would twist the dimensional weak point into a doorway wide enough for her to cross.
She thought back to the meeting that morning, when she had been woken by her husband, urgently calling her to dress and get ready for a meeting, two of the council members were here and they wanted to meet her, they had a mission, a vital mission that only she could do.
###
The council, two men and four women, the guiding force behind the rebellion against the corporate unity. They were the most wanted beings on the planet, shoot on sight or even on rumour of sight, corporate security had destroyed entire buildings with rockets because they thought one of the councillors was hiding inside, and they had come personally to talk to her!
Sarah had dressed as quickly as she could, her husband hovering and driving her to haste but she managed to pull the plain grey jump suit over her arms and legs without falling over. The room they shared was deep within an abandoned warehouse and the solid walls kept it cool but not chilly so she left her quilted jacket on the single chair, the faded dark blue still carrying the corporate logo of some company or another, she had stolen it so she didn’t know which company had made it or used it to mark its drones.
Simple boots on her feet and she was ready to go, they were good boots, less than a year old, rejects from some import lot, the plastic uppers were discoloured but they were waterproof, had good rubber soles and were tough enough to handle even puddles of rain on a bad day. A good find for a morning spent rummaging through the depths of a corporate recycling site while dodging the automatic systems and handful of drone trucks.
Sarah stood and waved to the doorway, Simon went first, the way he walked and the set of his shoulders told her he was both excited and afraid, not for himself, he was as brave a man as she had ever met, no he was afraid for her. A personal meeting with the council could only mean this was important, maybe even vital to the rebellion. And that meant dangerous.
The walk across the echoing rooms of the warehouse took a few minutes, many of the rebels and free thinkers living in a series of small store rooms at one end, converted into small but liveable rooms, still most of the vast building was these tall empty rooms, footsteps repeated themselves from the walls until it sounded like a dozen people were walking across the rubbish strewn floor.
At the far side the pair could see the doors to the offices that had once been used to handle every pallet and box that came in and out. Now the area served to hold meetings and a small shared kitchen. A pair of hard looking men stood by the door, well worn leather jackets bulky enough to hide body armour, assault carbines in their hands and nervous eyes constantly moving. Up close one was barely in his twenties, the other twice as old, but both had a look that said they had killed and often.
Each had an armband, nothing more than a twist of pale blue and red cloth around their upper arms, easy to miss but up close marking them as members of the guard, the council guard, the most capable and savage fighters the rebellion had. To be invited to join you must have lost at least one close family member to the corporations and after a week of tests that would kill a lesser person they were given a solo mission to prove themselves.
Those that passed the test became one of the guard, most carried the assault carbines they had taken from the enforcer they had killed to prove themselves.
Dangerous men and women, not people to cross.
Sarah nodded at both but got no response other than a hard stare that swept her from head to toe looking for any weapons, then she was passed them and walking into the open room that once held desks for office staff but now served as their canteen and meeting room.
More guards, three at the tables, two more by the windows watching the street, another in the kitchen area and four more standing around a man and woman seated at a separate table, a table with three chairs one of which was empty.
The man stood, mid forties and wearing a decent suit, he looked like middle management from any of a thousand corporations. By name he had been Alec Symonds and by trade he had been an accountant and a good one, with the kind of skills that bought a good wage and lifestyle. He had specialised in tax deals, hiding corporate money from the prying eyes of tax inspectors. Then had come the snatch, mercenaries hired by a rival corporation, they dragged him into a van and when he woke again it was in some non-descript room.
Hour after hour he was tortured, every account number, every detail, his mind was drained of every line of every account, enough to destroy his employer. The mercs hadn’t cared about him, street scum, ex soldiers dumped by the military corporations, brain burners, they were promised good money for his knowledge, not his life. So they had broken him and the mind probes took everything he knew. Then they were killed by the response team from his own corporation, a hard strike team with orders to kill everyone, including him. He had died that day, twice, but the rebels who had crept close to see what was happening included a nurse. They saved him, gave him a life back. Not a whole life, he had suffered a stroke and his left arm was useless, his face slack and his voice hesitant with a stutter, but he had a life and now he used his skills to hide the rebels funds and activities online.
He gestured with his right arm, his working arm, waving Sarah to the empty chair.
Sarah sat and one of the guards moved aside, suddenly she could see the other person at the table and a gasp came to her lips. Grandmother Aisha, the leader of the rebellion itself, most wanted person alive. She never came out of hiding unless it was something truly desperate, and yet, here she was.
A tiny woman, barely five feet tall, a shock of white hair surrounded her face, looking for all the world like everyone’s much loved grandmother. Spry and active thanks to the best treatments to be found she didn't look a year over sixty but she had celebrated her 100th birthday a year ago. Rumour had it she had even smiled at the huge cake with it's forest of candles. But no one really believed that rumour, she didn’t smile these days, she didn’t bake cookies or take the grandchildren to the park. Not anymore. Now there was darkness in her eyes and steel in her shoulders. To look at her without knowing her you wouldn’t believe anyone who called her a murderer, but she was, many times over.
So many years ago her granddaughters had caught someone’s eye, twin girls, barely fifteen but as lovely as could be, this was before the acid rains, when children could go out to play and run and laugh on grass that wasn’t burnt black by the acid.
A corporate agent had come to their house, offered their parents a good deal, money, an education for the girls. But they said no, Aisha’s son had raised his fists and chased the agents from the house. So the thugs came, corporate security in black without logo’s or badges. Their father had fought and been gunned down on the stairs, he had run from his bedroom when the door was smashed in and they cut him down as he ran at them, fists raised, anger and boxers no defence against bullets. The mother had run to the girls and tried to get them to safety out of a window and down to the road outside, but the thugs had been too fast.
She had been found the next day when nervous neighbours finally gained the courage to investigate, by the open window, her life’s blood pooling around her, she lived long enough to whisper the name of the corporation that had taken the girls. A doctor said she had been stabbed several times, he didn’t mention that she had been repeatedly raped first, there was no need.
Then grandmother Aisha had come and looked and left, she hadn’t said a word, just listened to those who had heard the last words of the mother of her granddaughters. Left without a word but with the chill of vengeance and death flowing behind her like a cloak.
The corporate guards who saw her two days later thought her just another servant at the mansion, a little old perhaps but that was most likely for the best, the parties held at the mansion were very private, the corporate elite enjoying such pleasures as they wanted far beyond any law or limit. Younger staff would have been at risk were they good looking enough or just young enough to catch some managers attention. So they ignored the old woman in the maids uniform as she carried trays of food and drinks around the house, after all she was no threat, just someone’s sweet old grandmother.
Inside the house and protected by electronic security and high walls it was thought to be completely safe so the guards wore no armour, the first was hard because she had never stabbed a human being before, the others became easier throughout the night, just an old lady in a maids uniform, no threat there. The corporate managers and directors died harder, she had spent her life selling medicines, a fully qualified pharmacist and chemist, she knew how to mix poisons that had no smell or taste but would kill with absolute certainty hours later.
It was whispered that she killed more than fifty people that night and that some were still screaming in agony as their intestines dissolved when help arrived, to find out why the guards had not responded to the mornings security checks.
It was said that she found the girls and carried them out to a car and drove them into the early morning twilight, people said the girls now lived somewhere on the coast, isolated where men would never find them again, a quiet place where, perhaps, one day the nightmares would end and they wouldn’t wake screaming and holding each other in the darkness.
Sarah sat and waited until someone spoke. Instead Aisha slid a hardcopy picture across the worn plastic table top, it was a photograph. A woman, a man and a dog against a background of trees and grass and hills. Sarah turned the photo around so it was the right way up to her then stopped, a question unspoken on her lips. She didn’t know where the picture had been taken, it must have been many years ago, before the weather turned and the acid rains fell, she didn’t know the man who stood with his arm around the woman’s shoulders, she didn’t know the dog, had never owned a dog. But the woman in the picture, short cut blonde hair framing the face that she saw every day in the mirror. The picture was her, but how?
“This isn’t me, it can’t be, who is this, who are they?”
It was Symonds who broke the silence, who leaned forward and touched the picture with a finger. “Her name is Theresa and she is you. No, not, not you here, she, she is you in her world, the other, the other world, our mirror world that, that exists on the, on the other side of the dimensional wall. You are her. her and she is you and that makes you our best, our best hope for the future.”
#
The crowd around her suddenly thinned and Sarah looked around quickly, she was exposed, in the open, people could see her, she had been a fool, day dreaming while walking the streets, the enforcers could have caught her, a sec-drone could have flown close enough to scan her. She franticly looked around then had to turn her shoulders and upper body, the hood blocked her vision.
There were still people walking along the boarded up shop fronts but on the side closest to the road it was all but empty, why, what had happened, what had she missed? Then she turned further and saw the battered old public transporter, acid scarred yellow paint spelling out the name of the transport corporation that owned it, it had pulled up at a stop and everyone on that side had rushed to the doors leaving the walkway clear for a minute.
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, she had been stupid, dropping her guard, that was how you got killed, she knew better than that but this mission had her spooked, she was twitchy, on edge, just the sort of thing that would get her killed. Then she spotted the narrow alley between a boarded up shop front and a food store, heavy steel bars over the blacked out windows and a young man, maybe twenty, standing in the doorway with an ancient looking cricket bat in hand. Between them was the alley, a rusted old chain link fence that had long since been cut and fallen to either side, the alley choked with rubbish.
She pushed to the opening and without checking to see if she was being watched stepped straight in, then she stopped and turned suddenly, her left hand reaching under the rain coat and into the belt pouch she wore underneath, to emerge with a narco stick. Trade craft, hard lessons that had cost lives but she had been well taught. By suddenly stepping out of sight any tail would rush to follow her only to find her standing just inside the alley puffing on an electronic narco stick. She would look harmless, just a smoker desperate for a hit, but the tail would be revealed.
She took a few puffs, enough to exhale a cloud of the fragrant blue smoke.
Nothing, no one even slowed down. The crowd passed her by with their heads down, faces hidden under rain hoods. Unless the tail was good enough to have waited, was there someone just round the corner, waiting, waiting. She took another puff then coughed, the narco was cheap, harsh, enough to burn her lungs but not enough to dull her wits, only a fool took a breath of real narco on a mission. Slow was dead.
Still nothing. She turned away and looked down the alley, the rubbish piled knee high and the stink enough to turn her stomach. Turning to check the alley mouth and the walkway she spun on her heals and took a first careful step. She had to step high over the rubbish and carefully push her foot down to find a solid bit before taking the next step, slow, too slow, she was an easy target here, anyone who saw here could kill her and she couldn’t move.
She stepped again. Then again. Please no one see me, please no one come. I’m not here, just rats, not me. Please no one see me.
Maybe her prayers worked, maybe she was just lucky but she took one more step and found her foot coming down on hard packed dirt covered in waist high weeds, the car park. She was behind the shops and in a wide open area, no shelter from the rain which continued to splash on the plastic rain coat and hood but the few windows that overlooked the wasteland were boarded up. To her left a long solid metal fence and gate led to a side street, the gate was hung with chains and padlocks but no one had bothered to break in, there was nothing here to steal. The corrugated metal marked by the rain and rust but otherwise intact.
Now what? What had they told her, the key will activate when you get close, use it to find the breach. She lifted her right hand and carefully pushed her hand out into the open, the device was a small cylinder, crudely made, she could see tool marks on the outside but the top was capped with a dome of transparent plastic and inside were three lights, just little blue LEDs but two of them were glowing and as she turned to look around she saw them flicker as one grew dimmer. She turned the other way and saw that light brighten then the third begin to flicker. The breach must be over there.
She began to walk, following the direction the lights pointed out for her, the weeds scratching against the coat and trousers, the poor quality plastic was already marked by the rain and now began to sport scratch marks along the front and over both hips. Her trousers were made of tougher stuff and remained undamamged but as she glanced down she noticed that she was covered to the knees with the filth from the alley. Too late now, she was too close to stop.
Something ahead of her, big, metal, hiding in the weeds, AN AMBUSH. She recoiled backwards, her left hand reaching up to throw back the hood so she could see, acid burns being less of a problem than death. Then her mind caught up with her reflexes and she stopped. The shape of an old car stood out in lines of rust with the weeds growing up through the floor and roof. Just a car. Her heart began to slow and her left hand was shaking again.
Just an old car, left behind by someone who could no longer afford to run it. Just a car, in a car park. Sarah laughed at herself, releasing some of the tension she felt. Then a sound ahead of her cut short the laughter and had her heart pounding in her chest again, it sounded like movement, something rustling the weeds. An animal, A SECURITY DRONE!
She turned and pushed sideways through the weeds, fast now. Going round the car, crashing her way further from the direction of the sound which suddenly got louder then stopped. Was it waiting, had it stopped, was it tracking her, had it called for backup. She twisted her head to look first at the alley and then at the gate, imagining Enforcers or the flashing lights of a vehicle. Would they try to capture her or would they just kill her and continue on their way, not even bothering to check the corpse of some wage slave or street beggar.
But there was nothing, no-one, no lights.
She glanced down at the key, the second light was solid blue and the third was flickering, she moved it left and right, it was strongest beyond the car, to her left. Toward the sound she had heard.
She took a step, slowly now, the weeds rubbing against her belly through the plastic coat but making less noise, no more than a whisper of sound, head turning from side to side, barely breathing so she could listen for the slightest sound. Nothing but the steady beat of rain on her hood. The third LED turned solid blue, she was there, wherever there was but she was surrounded by weeds, just weeds.
A buzzing came from the street, beyond the metal fence, high speed propellers, A SECDRONE, it would be flying ten feet up, scanning, it would see over the fence, IT WOULD SEE HER. She turned to run back to the wrecked car, she could hide behind it, the metal would maybe shield her from its scans or thermal camera. The sound of the drone got louder, it was almost at the gate, the weeds seem to grab at her, tugging at her legs, tying to trip her, she ripped one foot free and took a step then found the other foot trapped, she ripped that free, panic giving her the strength to tear the weeds out of the ground, the drone cam into sight, a ball hanging sown under an eight sided frame, four small helicopter propellers on opposite sides, under the ball a cluster of cameras hung down on an arm, it was looking at the street, not looking at her, not yet, she tore more weeds loose and tried to reach the car but it was so far away, the cameras began to turn, the drone sweeping around it, she could see it above the fence, it would see her, she locked a scream inside herself and lunged forward, the key gave off a sudden tone like a door chime and it stopped raining.
###
Half a dozen young lads were playing football out on the sunlit grass, kicking the ball back and forth with occasional shots at the goals that were marked by piled up jackets and bags. They were bored and spent more time walking than running, it was the second week of the summer break and they were fed up with all the free time, the sunshine was nice but they had all been chased out of the house by parents fed up with them spending the whole summer in their rooms online playing games.
So it was down the park for a kick about.
Then one of them kicked the ball at the goal, another jumped forward to save and was startled by a scream, a woman’s voice, loud and close by. He missed the ball which sailed between the two piles of coats and scored, but no one noticed. They were all staring at a woman who had just come crashing through the hedge between the park and the small area of woodland where all the dog walkers went.
She was wearing stained trousers that looked like army surplus and a grubby raincoat of some dark plastic, she even had the hood up. It was a clear day, not a cloud in sight and she had the hood up. Then she started laughing and screaming and shouting, she threw back the hood to reveal blonde hair hanging down to her chin and some sort of squared glasses, then she started dancing, just standing there shouting and laughing and dancing.
The young lads stared at her then looked at each other. One of them spoke out, giving the wisdom of his twelve years of life. “Drugs.” The others grunted then one noticed how far away the ball was and started arguing about who would walk over and get it, the crazy woman was quickly forgotten and by the time one of them had recovered the ball the woman was gone. Within minutes she was forgotten about as an in depth debate began about where the goal post was and yes it was a goal if it rolled over the jacket rather than passed between the two piles.
Sarah paused by the end of the hedge and took a look around, still amazed at where she was. Those last few seconds of fear as the security drone turned to look at her as she fought to push through the weeds and suddenly she was pushing branches aside and standing on grass. Actual grass, not dirt, not concrete, not acid burnt weeds. Real grass. It took her a few seconds to notice that the rain was no longer thumping onto her hood or that the day was bright as the sun shone down from a sky that wasn’t permanently filled with rain clouds.
She had tried to look around then pulled down her hood so she could see. Grass, trees, a clear blue sky. THE SKY WAS BLUE! Memories of her childhood came rushing in, she hadn’t seen a clear blue sky for twenty years and yet she stood here and craned her neck to look up.
THE SKY WAS BLUE!
Then the laughter ended and the fear came rushing back, she was making noise, standing out, she could see people watching her, she was in the open.
Would anyone recognise her, were there cameras, drones, enforcers. She had to move, get into cover, she had to hide.
Walking quickly along the line of the hedge she came to the edge of the park and stopped again, yet another shock to add to the others. The park was alongside a road and opposite were houses, tile rooftops over whitewashed walls and big glass windows, the kind of places only a corporate manager could afford and then never looked that good unless they were under one of the many domes. But the domes were expensive, senior managers maybe, wealthy beyond her imagination anyway. So many houses.
But there was more, the entire length of the park along the road was filled with cars, small cars, large cars, even some sort of van with big glass windows and an odd cone shaped thing on top, lots of people standing by that one. So many cars! Sarah hadn’t seen so many cars together since she had been a girl, when her parents had won tickets to a concert and they had ridden on a transport across town and walked across a car park with its armed guards to protect all the gleaming cars. That had been a magical day, the music, the treats and most of all it had been the last time she had gone on a trip with her parents. Before they were gone and her life had changed.
Then her mind drifted and she was remembering that day, so long ago, another time in another world. The corporate wars were starting to get serious though the media wasn’t reporting it, they were owned and controlled by the same people that owned the corporations. The reporters and editors liked their jobs and so the news was full of celebrity scandals and other distractions and blown up buildings or deaths seldom made the headlines.
In the grand scale of things it was a pin prick, just a minor note on a corporate ledger, something to justify retaliation in the future. But for the seventy people who worked in the factory it was a disaster, the firebombing was bad enough but one of the thrown Molotov’s had hit the paper store and the dust heavy air had exploded like a bomb. Fifty two dead, the entire factory gone, the local fire service arrived and just watched, they had nothing to put out fires that were melting the aluminium walls into curves and loops and the company couldn’t afford to pay for a private service, so the corporate rep from
Emergency Response Inc who arrived just behind the fire engine had gone back to his car to watch the building burn, he wouldn’t be getting a commission from this one but at least he got a free show.
Sarah had been at school when the deputy head had called her out of class, “we are sorry for your loss”, does anyone actually think saying that helps or is it just the idiot mutterings of people who wanted to be somewhere that didn’t involve telling a crying child her parents had burned to death.
Sarah hadn’t wanted to believe it, she had run out of school and not even thought of a transport, she ran all the way home and arrived at her house gasping for breath, the front door was open, there was someone moving around inside. It was a lie, A LIE, her parents were alive. Then the stranger had come out of the front door and dropped some rubbish bags on the front path. He looked up to see her, his look curious then shocked as he realised who this exhausted and tear stained young girl must be.
He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain. He had children of his own and couldn’t imagine how someone would explain something like this to his boys.
“You lived here?” He asked, lived here, past tense, no longer.
Sarah was staring at him, the bags he had dumped on the path and then through the front door into the hall where she could see another man with a tablet in his hand looking at the sofa. She didn’t know what to say, couldn’t speak. She just stared and the silence become louder and more painful.
“I’m sorry. The house, its corporate owned, same with the furniture and fittings, it came with the job. Since your parents are no longer employees the house has been taken back. I’m putting personal stuff like clothes in the bags. Everything else is corporate property. You can take what you want of the personal stuff, some of the clothes are yours but you can’t have anything else or come in the house. Not now. Corporate property."
He paused, trying to think of something else to say.
"Look I’m sorry, do you have somewhere to go, relatives maybe?”
Sarah hadn’t answered, her mind struggling to understand. So much had happened, was happening, she just stood there in silence, in shock. After another painfully long minute of silence the man turned and walked back into the house, she didn’t see him go, didn’t see him dump anther bag on the drive a few minutes later or see the two man walk out and lock the door ten minutes after that. Nor did she hear the two men talking as they walked to their car.
“Poor sod, both parents gone and now no house.”
“Yea, tough but thems the breaks, no insurance and the house was in the contract, went with the job and the parents aren’t doing the job anymore.”
“Because their dead.”
“Still means not doing the job. Look what do you want, shit happens, you want me to report her, have her arrested, maybe end up in a corporate orphanage, she’d be lucky she spent the rest of her life paying back the money the orphanage would charge, or she should end up somewhere else, a few years from now in some corporate brothel, till she was old and worn out and over twenty. You want me to call the police or the estate manager?”
There was a pause, rumours and dark stories fighting with compassion.
“No. You’re right, she’ll be better off with relatives, fuck, she’d be better off in the streets. Girl like her, blonde hair, cute, she’d be better off in the streets, not in one of them corporate places”.
The men had left, not knowing and not caring she had no relatives, no friends, that her parents had moved here for the well paid jobs at the factory and hadn’t made any friends in the six months they had been here. The men didn’t know, didn’t care, she was just another house reclamation. Just another job.
So they drove away leaving an eight year old girl to stand and stare at three bin bags that were all she had left of her life and her parents, tears rolling down her face until she couldn’t cry anymore.
###
Sarah blinked and was shocked to find her eyes were damp. Tears, NO, dust, it was dust, or the bright sunshine, she wasn’t used to the sunshine, that was it, tears were weak and she couldn’t afford to be weak, the past was done. Move on, be strong or be dead.
To her left the hedge became bushes and trees, better cover, plenty of places to hide from drones. To her right it was an open road, lots of windows, so many places someone could be watching. Then she noticed something on the house opposite, small, black, boxy with a circular lens on the front. CAMERA! Security cameras, she looked along the houses and nearly panicked as she saw more and more. CAMERAS, they could see her, how quickly would the enforcers come, they could see her face. She franticly grabbed at the hood and pulled it back up, hiding her hair and pulling it down to shadow her face. She ignored the warmth that began almost at once as the bright sun heated the plastic and burned her scalp.
She had to move, hide. THE TREES. Panicking now, tradecraft forgotten she broke into a run, sprinting between the trees and dodging round the trunks while looking backwards, where were the flashing lights, the enforcers in a response vehicle. She stopped, gasping for breath, she was fit, a good runner but the fear drained away her strength by the second, she leaned against an ancient trunk, the branches thick overhead blocking out the sky.
She couldn’t hear the buzz that said a drone was coming, no sirens, no screeching plastic tyres that said a fast response squad has pulled up and were spilling out of a four wheel drive, carbines raised and looking for someone to kill. Just laughing boys kicking a ball across the grass and faintly in the distance some sort of odd tune, vaguely familiar, it grew fainter as it repeated till it was gone.
She stayed there for several minutes, hiding, listening, her heart slowing till it no longer thundered in her ears like a drum. She had to move on, change clothing, too many people had seen her face and someone would have reported her, the camera’s had seen her face and the rain coat. She had to dump it, find something else. But where. She looked around her and found that the trees thinned out to the side opposite the park, the woodland wasn’t big and she hadn’t even noticed she had run almost through it. Cars and a few lorries were rumbling passed below her, the trees ended at a bank and low wall and beyond that was a busy road, she hadn’t even noticed it was there.
Moving from tree to tree she walked to the top of the bank and looked down, this must be the edge of town, back toward the houses she could see row after row of roof tops and much taller buildings in the distance, looking the other way it was open fields, a few houses or buildings, strange, these wide open spaces, square and oblong and empty, some sort of plants growing in them, why would so much space be left open to the rain, to be burnt and destroyed.
Then she realised. There is no rain here, no acid to fall from the sky. These fields, they were growing plants because the soil was still good, not tainted by endless acid storms, the people here could grow crops in field instead of producing it in warehouses and domes. Memories of her life time long ago hit her like a blow. These were FARMS!
There was something else, closer to the town, a little hut, no more than a back wall and a roof, it was at the bottom of the road with the houses and several people were standing there, there was even a sign on a pole at the edge of the road, a red circle with words inside, something else that was familiar but at the same time alien. Bus Stop. It was the stopping point for a public transporter, it must be, and the people were waiting for whichever corporate service stopped there.
She slid down the slope, adding dirt marks to the stains on her trousers and boots then sat on the wall and swung her legs over and onto the path beyond. The surface was odd, black and pitted, did they have acid rain here, whatever this was it had clearly been melted and pitted by something. She continued to look around her, no camera’s on the road that she could see, vehicles going too fast to get a good look at her and she still had her hood up, three people by the little shelter, one male, twenties, could he be security, maybe not, short and overweight, more like a wage slave than a security thug. The other two were old women, one short and round, one tall and thin, the taller one sort of reminder her of grandmother Aisha but far more pale.
Both had stopped talking and were now looking at her, she twitched her left arm and tugged the hood down a bit to better hide her face. They continued to watch her as she came closer, were they a threat, maybe but they looked more like they thought she was a threat. Sarah glanced down at her clothing, the acid marked rain coat, her trousers and boots stained with who knew what from the alley and now with added mud.
She looked up again and pretended to ignore the two old women while keeping them in the corner of her eye. The way she looked was bad, she would attract attention but then the enforcers would likely take her for some street beggar and send her on her way with a kick or the butt of a carbine and not waste the bullets.
Waste the bullets, wasted money, unnecessary cost. The corporate way, never mind someone being dead, did the situation justify the cost. The normal excuse was self defence, even the corporate money counters couldn’t argue with the enforcers or security thugs spending money by firing in self defence, and since the idea of body camera’s or wasting time accessing drone data or security cameras just to see if fifty rounds of ammo had been needed to defend against some unarmed rebel was nothing more than a joke no one ever checked.
Life was dirt cheap, ammo cost money. Welcome to life under the corporations.
Something cut through the line of traffic, big, red, long windows running down the side and faces peering out. A transporter was pulling up to the shelter, the door hissed open and the young man jumped on then the two women behind him. Sarah noticed the women had little wallets they had opened to show the driver but the man had waved a card over a low plastic dome set on the barrier between the driver and the door. A credit reader, she had several cards with her, fake Ids but real accounts, the rebels had millions of little accounts with cards, use the account then dump the card and move on.
She had five such cards with her so she reached into the money belt she had hidden behind her trousers and under her tee shirt, she pulled out the first card she found and stepped up into the transporter, she waved the card over the bowl and turned to walk along the bus, hood down, face hidden.
“Oi, what do you think you’re doing. Where are you going and you need to pay.”
She didn’t understand, she had paid, hadn’t she?
“Where you going?”
She turned back to the driver, she could feel the eyes of every other passenger on her neck, fumbling in a pocket she found the slip of printed plastic, the address she had to find, the place where she lived, the other she, this worlds version of her. She held the slip out so the driver could read it.
“That’s miles away in the other direction, you need to catch a bus from the other stop, other side of the road, use the bridge.” The driver leaned closer, trying to look under the hood. “You understand, other side of the road, you hear me? You speak English?” Then after a second of thought, “You on drugs or what?”
Sarah muttered something and turned to step off the bus, the doors hissed shut on her heals and the driver pulled out quickly but as he left she could still feel the passengers looking at her. Was one of them an informer, there was always an informer, transports were bad, there was always an informer or a plain clothes security type, watching who came and went. Always someone watching, someone would have reported her, she had to move.
The driver had said a bridge, she looked away from the town and saw nothing but toward the town there was something, stairs, a long thin arch of concrete over the road and more stairs. Hood down to hide her face from the passing cars she began to walk along the grass verge of the road, the bridge was some way off and it was a long terrible walk to make, all alone, in the open, where anyone could see her.
Five minutes later and she had reached the bridge, it was old, the concrete weather stained and the steps had dirt crusted on the corners but it seemed solid. The hot sun was beating down and she could smell the plastic rain coat now as it began to soften under the summer heat but she kept the hood up and pulled to hide her face. She was perspiring heavily by the time she set foot on the first step and it wasn’t just the heat, anyone could see her, she had no cover, nowhere to hide, they could be watching her from hundreds of yards away and she would never know. Her first warning the scream of a siren or the punch of a bullet hitting her.
She took the steps two at a time then stopped dead as she reached the top, the bridge had a low wall and then fences of wire mesh, she could see for miles around her which meant people miles away could see her. No cover, nowhere to hide, some much open space. She screamed and dropped to her knees, fear turning to blind panic for a few seconds.
Slowly she began to calm a little, on her knees she was below the wall, all she could see now was concrete and blue sky and the far side of the bridge, no one could see her now, she could hide here, safe from the cameras, safe from the enforcers. Unless someone came up the steps, then she was trapped, nowhere to go, pinned in by walls and fences. She turned her head then frantically pulled the hood down so she could look back at the steps, was someone coming, had they found her.
She let her breath out in a long sigh, the steps were empty, just her. She couldn’t stay here, it wasn’t safe, they could be coming after her while see knelt here doing nothing. But she couldn’t stand up, not again, not look out over so much open empty space, she had to hide, had to keep the walls around her. She ended up crawling on her hands and knees, accepting the pain as her hands and knees were cut by the weather beaten tarmac that covered the bridge walkway as the cost of staying below the concrete walls, out of sight, where no one could see her and where she couldn’t see the open empty spaces around her.
She was so focused on crawling that she didn’t notice she had reached the end of the bridge until her hand met empty space and she looked up to see the concrete steps dropping away in front of her. She collapsed as a quiet sob escaping her lips and sat on the top step waiting for the pain to go and for her fingers to stop shaking. It took her a few minutes before she felt able to stand and walk down the steps to the bottom.
Cars continued to race by and she quickly pulled the hood back up before anyone could see her face, this side of the road was fields and a hedge, it wasn’t much but by brushing along the hedge and keeping her head down she had a measure of safety. The little transporter shelter was just ahead but there was someone standing there, someone waiting, SOMEONE WATCHING HER!
A woman, a few years older than Sarah, heavyset, soft looking, round glasses, a light blouse, no sign of weapons but she had a big bag at her feet, brightly coloured with some corporate name and logo and words underneath, ‘Bag for Life’. There could be anything inside, pistols, sub guns, anything. Sarah stopped, desperately thinking, should she run, that would make her look guilty and get her shot out of hand, should she keep going, buff it out, just a harmless worker waiting for a transport.
Sarah started walking again, head down, short steps. Ignore me, I’m harmless, just another worker, not a threat, not a rebel, just ignore me, please oh
please ignore me.
“You alright love?” The woman at the bus stop had been watching and spoke as Sarah reached the shelter, she had been watching the figure in the rain coat walking towards her with some concern.. You heard such stories about gangs and drug users and all those hoody wearers and the fact that this person was wearing a rain coat with the hood up on such a warm summers day was a worry. But it was the clothing that caused the moist concern, old army trousers stained with dirt and filth, the rain coat covered in spots where it almost looked burnt and with mud streaks in the sides. The first thought that came to mind had been the fear of any middle Englander when faced with a hoody, a gang member or drug user, the second thought had been more charitable, homeless!
“Are you alright?” Sarah glanced up and took a look at the womans face, she didn’t look like an enforcer but she could still be an informer. “Fine.” The answer was muttered and disbelieved. “I don’t want to pry or anything but I know a place where you can get clean, some clothes and food if you want, in town, they want to help and don’t ask questions. Good people, good Christians.” Sarah shook her head from side to side then realised the hood hid the movement. “I’m fine”.
The woman tutted and turned away, not wanting to be rude but still worried, there were always homeless around but it seemed wrong for a woman to be homeless. For a few seconds she debated asking again then decided not to push, the homeless woman could be dangerous.
Sarah huddled under the shelter, turning her body to look around her while keeping the hood up to shadow her face, under the shelter it was a little cooler but not much and the rain coat was now as soft as a tee shirt and hot to the touch. A few minutes passed then suddenly the stranger reached into a bag she had slung over one shoulder, SHE WAS GOING FOR A WEAPON! Sarah turned and bought her hands up ready to strike, she had to be quick, kill the agent before she could draw the weapon then she stopped as the stranger staggered backwards, her hand flying out of the purse holding a slim leather wallet.
“It’s my bus ticket, just a season ticket, I don’t have any money, please don’t rob me, PLEASE DON’T HURT ME.” It was the genuine fear in the woman’s voice that stop Sarah’s first blow long before her mind caught up and said there was no weapon.
“Season ticket. For the transporter?”
The stranger nodded frantically. “Just my season ticket, three months on the bus, they want exact money and I never have enough change. I don’t carry money, I don’t carry anything worth taking. Please don’t hit me.” The stranger was backing away, her face white with fear, waving the little wallet with its white card in front of her like a shield. The same card Sarah had seen the young man use on the other transport.
“You need that card or money, the transporter doesn’t use debit cards?”
“No, of course not, buses never take plastic. Everyone knows that.” The woman paused and thought the situation through, something was wrong, the attack had been more like a reflex, just as she had reached into her purse, everyone knew the buses only took exact change round here. Was she one of those immigrants, no, she sounded English. She should call the police but that wasn’t safe, there was no one else here. Then the situation changed as the threatening woman in the rain coat turned and began to quickly walk away, along the grass verge following the traffic toward the town.
Sarah hadn’t known, how could she have known, money, actual physical money, who used that anymore? The corporations had switched everyone to electronic money long ago, so they had total control, people with cash were much harder to track or control. She hadn’t even seen cash, notes or coins were so rare now, and only third world countries even had them. The season ticket, she needed one for the transport but she didn’t have one. She could take one, kill the woman and take hers but it was too exposed her, she would be seen, the body would be found. The woman, suspicious now, she must be silenced, Sarah had blades, knives, but how, so many cars going passed, she would be seen.
No she had to move, keep going, follow the road as quickly as she could, the town wasn’t far, get in amongst the buildings and hide, move with the crowds, stay hidden, stay safe.
By the time the woman at the bus stop had thought about it and taken her mobile out of her purse the woman in the rain coat was some distance away and walking fast, was it worth calling the police now, she wasn’t hurt and they would ask or sorts of questions or maybe accuse HER of wasting their time.
Best to forget it had ever happened, the bus would be alone soon, best forget about it. Just one of those things.
Sarah kept walking, looking around as best she could under the hood of the coat, listening for the buzz of a drone or the sound of a car slowing down beside her, right hand in the coat pocket, fingers tight around the handle of a small knife, no more than a kitchen tool but enough to kill if need be.
Several minutes of walking bought here to a roundabout, a three way affair with a road on the other side that went into the housing estates that made up this side of town, the endless rooftops Sarah had seen form the park. Across the roundabout the road continued on toward the town centre and the taller glass buildings that gleamed in the bright daylight.
The cars slowed down at the roundabout, drivers looking around, checking for other cars and looking at the woman in the rain coat, the one with the hood up. The one who stood out on the grass verge.
Sarah saw the looks, saw the suspicion on so many faces, she almost broke into a run then by force of will stopped herself, running would mark her as a criminal or a rebel, only the guilty ran so the enforcers shot them first. Walk, slow and steady, head down, hood covering her face, one foot in front of the other, slow and steady. Ignore me, I’m not a threat, nothing to worry about. Don’t report me, don’t call security, just ignore me. Please ignore me.
Beyond the roundabout there were buildings on both sides of the road, houses on the far side and some sort of industrial units on the same side, all corrugated walls and roofs surrounded by big blackened areas marked with yellow or white lines and plenty of cars or vans parked there. A road led onto the industrial estate just past the roundabout and beyond that was something else, a glass fronted building set back from the road but with a big roof in front of it, lines of cars were queuing to get under the canopy and stopping beside some sort of add looking pillars. Sarah could see people getting out of cars and doing something at the pillars, then she reached the road into the estate and stopped as a car turned the corner into the estate, it’s horn blaring loudly and a man’s voice bellowing at her as the car went by.
She looked around and saw another car slowing, was it turning, there was some sort of flashing light on the front corner nearest her, what did that mean, none of the other cars had the flashing lights though many had the same glass bubbles. The car turned onto the industrial estate and she looked round again, no flashing lights, she had to risk it, she was standing still, in the open, easy to see. She took to her heels and ran across then jumped up onto the grass again, no one shouted, no horns sounded, she had made it.
A few minutes bought her to the glass fronted building with the strange roof in front and she could see the drivers getting out of the cars and use black hoses that were attached to the pillars to connect to the cars, perhaps they were recharging them somehow, no they had smoke coming out of the backs, they couldn’t be electric like the transports back home. They must burn fuel and need to replace it.
There were several people lined up inside the glass fronted building and shelves piled high with goods everywhere except a counter at the far end that had two young men sitting there. There were no bars on the windows and no guard on the door. Where was the security, was it a trap. She looked around for the security cameras, the waiting enforcers, it looked like a store but so much stuff on display and no guards. It had to be a trap. But where were the guards?
She walked closer but kept the pillars and parked vehicles between here and the men seated at the counter. She spotted a pair of cameras but they were pointed at the pillars and she stopped before they would see her, where was the trap, where were the guards. Then she saw a woman get out of one of the parked cars and walk around the end of the building, under a little sigh with two stylised figures on it, something familiar but very old fashioned. Toilets.
Sarah walked away from the building, out of range of the cameras, or so she hoped. Then around the side until she was behind the camera arcs and could see a pair of doors, faced blue paint, one with the little white Male and one with a little white female icons. Better yet from where she stood she could see the back of the building and a large open window, it must be hot inside so they had the long window wide open, plenty of room for a desperate woman to climb in. To easy, too obvious, this must be the trap.
But where were the guards?
There was nowhere to hide, straggled grass then the walls of the industrial units, no cover, no vehicle full of enforcers waiting to jump out and start shooting. No possible place for the guards to hide. Could it be it really was this easy. She was making her mind up to go somewhere else when a smell drifted on the gentle breeze and her stomach suddenly rumbled. Was that meat, potatoes, some sort of pastry. REAL MEAT. She could smell it cooking and suddenly her mind was made up, the window was a few quick steps away and she was looking into a store room and from there into the front where the staff were sitting.
The ping of what sounded remarkably like a food reheater sounded and the smell was suddenly stronger then a man walked across the opening, visible through the curtain made up of strips of bright plastic, some sort of pastry held in his hand. Sarah was drooling before she realised just how hungry she was. Real meat, actual REAL MEAT.
A quick jump, roll across the window sill and she was crouched inside the store room, knife in her right hand, ears and eyes alert for the slightest sign of alarm or movement. But there was nothing, just the sound of people talking in the front area. Was this place actually unguarded. How was it possible, no corporation could be so lax. Or was this world as different as the blue sky suggested. Was it really so peaceful and safe?
As silent as an experienced burglar, which she was, Sarah checked the contents of the room, goods piled on shelves, mostly in open boxes. Some jackets, light cotton in blues and reds with corporate logo on the right breast, better yet they had hoods. One box labels men, one labelled children but the smallest man sized one was a fairly good fit and the bigger hood covered her face well. Boxes of little foil packets with pictures of pastries on them, vegetable, chicken and ham, beef and vegetables. Meat, actual meat, just sitting here in little packets. For a second the absolute strangeness of this world left her frozen before she shook herself and kept checking.
Bottles of water, they would be useful. Some sort of small bottles with brand names, anti freeze, windscreen washing liquid, engine oil. Useless, none of it would burn hot or make a bomb. THERE. A box of backpacks, black with orange straps and edges. She grabbed one and opened the top then tipped water bottles and food packets in till it was full and as heavy as she could manage. There was nothing else here but as she started back across the room to the window something in the main room caught her eye, a display, metal wire formed into stands and pockets, right by the opening into the store room, some sort of cards with pictures on, paper covered in printing and most importantly big yellow books labelled as maps. Moving slowly so she didn’t attract attention she stepped to the opening and looked through, a few people queuing, no one looking toward her, she snaked out her left arm and carefully lifted one of the map books out of the rack and into the store room then she was moving like a ghost, to the window, out and moving away from the building and along the edge of the industrial estate.
Half an hour later she was sitting inside a little wooden building without a roof, the front had a door locked with a chain and padlock but the only thing inside was a big metal container on legs, a cylinder with rounded ends, painted white with red markings, some sort of pipes came out of one end and vanished into the ground. It was right at the end of the industrial estate and made a good hiding spot. She had eaten two of the pastries whole then with the edge taken off her hunger she had picked three more apart and just eaten the meat, even cold and greasy it had been wonderful, like a birthday or to celebrate a very successful raid on a corporate facility that served meat to the managers and kept it on site to be stolen.
One bottle of water to drink, one to wash her fingers from the food and her hands from the day and a third to clean some of the filth from her trousers, they were still dirty but drying in the sun they looked, and smelt, a lot better. The rain coat had been used to scrub the wet cloth and now sat beside her, piled high with the pastry and vegetables she hadn’t bothered to eat.
She was well fed, warm and seemed safe but she fought off the desire to doze in the sunlight and instead opened the map. The first few pages were all writing and place names, most of which she recognized. Then a map of Britain, oddly comforting to find that despite all the strangeness it still looked the same. There was an index in the back and a minutes searching fond the town she was looking for, the roundabout had been dotted with road signs so she had noticed the number of the road and from there she could find her location, the map marked the places called petrol stations so she had found her location as well.
The problem was the distance between the two, quick measurements using spread fingers and the little scale on the map said twelve miles, not a hard walk for someone who was fairly fit but a very long walk on open roads where she could be so easily seen. She may have been lucky so far but twelve miles, a few hours walking alongside a busy road. No way she could do that without being noticed, unless, she could wait till dark and make the trip at night. Good cover from the cameras but she would be spotted on thermal and anyone walking that far at night was sure to be caught.
What options did she have, she couldn’t risk trying to catch a ride in a car, with a stranger, locked inside a metal box, what sort of person would give a stranger a ride unless they were security running a plain clothes entrapment. Stealing a car was useless, she had no idea how to drive it, likewise the small two wheeled bikes with engines, they were fast but so noisy. No one used them at home, no protection against the acid rain, they would be suicide to use if you got caught by a high ratio storm.
Then something rumbled past so close it rattled the wooden walls and she started upright in shock, peering over the top then ducking her head back to avoid snipers.
A huge wooden box was going past, with more behind and in front, slow moving and rattling as they went by. Was it, could it be, it was wood but the big boxes, the noise, she risked another look. IT WAS A TRAIN! A look at the map revealed another type of line she hadn’t bothered with, the front page listed it as a railway and following it along there was a station in the town she wanted. Perfect, shelter, cover and transport all in one. A nice slow cargo train, no passengers to report her. Just what she needed.
Climbing over the wooden fence then finding a way onto the railway tracks was easy, the wire fence would barely keep children out and was no problem for Sarah. Now she needed somewhere to hide, close enough to reach the train as it went past but hidden from the driver. A small hut of some sort was just what she wanted and a pile of concrete sleepers made a handy bench so she settled down to wait.
Twenty minutes later and she was starting to get bored when she heard the rumble and rattle in the distance and risked a peek, another train was coming and just as slowly as the last one, she could catch up with a quick run and would have little trouble climbing on. She ducked back out of sight and waited till the engine was past her then stepped out and looked at the cars. Mostly big boxes but further down there were several flatbeds with big lumpy items under canvas sheets. She started to jog then broke into a run as the first flatbed drew level, aiming for the gap between the last box and the first flat bed, running to keep pace she reached up to one of the metal bars that were welded to the back of the box, grabbing hold she ran and jumped, hauling herself up with her arms until she could stand on the thick metal bumper. From there it was easy to step across to the flat bed and grab the straps holding the sheeting down.
A look under the canvas revealed a big industrial unit of some sort, with a crane arm and tracks. Better yet there was plenty of room under the sheet for her to sit out of sight and a quick knife cut gave her a small hole to watch the countryside roll by. According to the map it was all countryside till the train went through the edge of the next town so he could relax until she saw buildings.
The minutes went past and she was fighting to stay awake, the rumble of the tracks, the gentle movement side to side and the heat under the canvas sheets had her fighting yawns and nodding off, the train had already entered the town before she forced herself awake and looked outside again, startled to see buildings going past, THE TOWN, she was already there. Scrambling under the sheet and outside she could see more industrial buildings to one side and some trees and a hedge on the other side, the train didn’t seem to be slowing down and she didn’t know how big the town was. Checking her pack was on tight she swung down over the side of the flat bed and then rolled, trying to run would have been stupid and risked serious injury, falling off and rolling just hurt and left scuff marks on her new coat. By the time she picked herself up and finished checking the pain was just bruises the train was vanishing into the distance.
She was almost there, at least she was in the right town. But where to go from here. On one side was old industrial units, wood, brick and some corrugated, faded and flaked paint and the run down air of something old and unloved. Probably small low profit businesses the corporations didn’t care about. She was looking for a house and couldn’t see anything beyond the factories, maybe through the hedge.
There was a mesh fence hidden in the hedge but the bushes made a good ladder and she was over in seconds and standing on a walkway looking at a grass verge and brick wall beyond which was the tiled roof tops of houses, thousands of houses.
There was a break in the wall that looked as if the path led into the houses so with a careful look around she walked that way and found herself on the walkway beside a road, houses on both sides. So many houses, bright colours, grass and flowers in the gardens, no cameras, no high security fences, no armed guards but the houses looked so expensive only managers could have lived in them. Another strangeness in this strange world.
It took an hour of criss crossing the houses before she got up the nerve to ask someone and then she carefully picked someone alone and isolated where she wouldn’t be seen if she needed to kill them. An old man walking with the aid of a stick though that could easily have been a weapon. But she had to ask, there were thousands of houses here, she could search for days and the risk of being seen was too high. So she had taken the risk and asked a complete stranger, not for the hose number, just for the road. He thought it was on the far side of the estate so she had walked that way and then stopped someone else to ask. The same precautions and a second person gave her directions and then she was standing staring at a little sign with the name of the road she was looking for. Her mission was almost finished, all she had to do was find this other version of her and everything would be over.
The houses were numbered so finding the right one was easy, set back from the road and with a low hedge, cover from the road and she couldn’t see any cameras or security, she casually walked up to the address, looking around her carefully, no one seemed to be watching but the hood made it difficult to see everything. She reached the little wooden gate and turned quickly, pushing it open.
It didn’t move, just rattled. Was it locked, she could jump over it but that would attract attention, maybe it was stuck, she pushed it again and once again it rattled, metal banging on metal, coming from a little curved arm on the side of the gate, with a flat pad on the end furthest from the gate post, almost as if it was designed to be pushed. Sarah reached over the gate and pushed down the bar, it hinged in the middle and the arm lifted out of a hook on the gate post, the gate swung open on its own and she was inside. She pushed the gate shut again, never leave an open door or window that had been closed when you arrived, everything had to look the same, no trace of the entry. A few steps took her to the front door and she checked for alarms and locks, no alarms and just a single lock, a round metal disk with an odd shaped hole in the middle.
DAMN, an old mechanical lock. She had the skill and tools to open any electric lock in seconds but a mechanical one, so old fashioned, that would take time and she could be seen. Looking around to see if she was being watched she saw a path down the side of the house and darted that way, a back door would be safer, less eyes watching the back.
A nice tidy garden, flower beds and grass, shockingly green and colourful, so many flowers just looking at them felt wrong to someone who had grown up in a world where flowers lived in pots and people had a few to add colour to a room or house. An odd glass house stood out from the back of the building, all glass panels that gave Sarah a clear view of chairs and tables inside then she found the back door. Another mechanical lock but the garden had fences and none of the surrounding houses had windows that gave a good view of the door, a watcher would need to lean out to see her and she couldn’t see anyone doing that.
The lock was tricky, she knew how to pick mechanical locks but it wasn’t something she did often so she was rusty, three tries and three failures then she got the tumblers lined up and the lock clicked open. SHE WAS IN. Almost finished now.
Walking like a cat she stepped into the house, no noise, no voices, no entertainment channels. Was the house empty. Was this Theresa working in some corporation, a daily job that left the home empty till night fall? Sarah could wait but it was risky, someone else might come in before her target, the man in the pictures maybe, she could probably kill him but was it worth the risk. Best to check the house and make sure it was empty first.
Sarah moved through the kitchen, such a marvellous kitchen, clean and bright, so many expensive items, this Theresa must be at least a senior manager or maybe ever a board member, a wage drone couldn’t have bought such a kitchen in a lifetime. Beyond was the hall and the inside of the front door, stairs going up and a door leading into the room behind the glass hut. She stepped through into the hall and looked around, coats on hooks and books on a rack, very nice boots, new, real leather. A glance in the lounge, good furniture, even some real leather, something else only a manager or board member could afford. Was that why she was here, was this Theresa running the corporation that was behind the threat to her world.
Upstairs were bedrooms and a bathroom, so much luxury, soft pillows, a big quilt that covered the entire bed, shelves full of bathroom products and make up. Whoever this woman was she must be soft, to live in such luxury. Still the house was empty, the cupboards upstairs were an obvious place to hide, if she had a bodyguard they would check there first of all, she needed somewhere better but there wasn’t a spot she could hide and not be seen. Well she could wait and watch to see when the target came home.
A final look around and her gaze fell on the boot rack again, the woman was her exact double and her boots were fantastic, real leather and cloth, well made, they would last years. Dare she, should she, it was bad tradecraft but even for a few hours the thought of such comfortable boots, ones that actually fit her feet, just till the mission was done.
Then before she knew it she was trying the boots on, they fit like gloves, broken in and perfect. She was bent over to do the laces when she heard the bark coming from INSDE THE HOUSE.
A DOG !
They had a guard dog and she’d missed it, how had she missed it. Fuck, she hadn’t checked the glass hut, it was probably sleeping in there. They had a guard dog, was it enhanced, attack trained, carbon fibre teeth, chemically increase aggression like the riot squad attack dogs. The scrabble of claws on a polished wooden floor told her it was coming and she stood up and stepped backward so quickly she crashed into the front door, her head banging against the wood painfully hard and stars dancing across her eyes, she lunged forward again and stumbled, the untied laces trying to trip her up and her glasses falling from her face to bounce on the wooden floor and skitter across the hall.
She grabbed her old boots and started to run, the new boots gripping the floor easily so she was in the kitchen in three steps, behind her the dog burst out of the lounge, barking furiously, she glanced back and part of her mind noted it was small but the rest of her mind was filled with memories of a huge riot squad dog dragging her out of an abandoned building, the place where a young girl had found a few others and a roof against the rain, dragging her by one arm as if she was a toy, the teeth biting bone deep and leaving scars she still had.
She reached the back door and dived out, she could feel the dogs breath on her back and she pulled the door shut behind her and without stopping to lock the door she ran round the side of the house and back to the street then turned and kept running, she had to get clear before anyone responded to the dogs barking. The hood on the coat filled with air as she ran and flapped backwards leaving her hair and face on display but she couldn’t stop to fix it, she kept running, looking frantically for somewhere to get off the street.
Then a figure stepped round the corner ahead of her.
A dark grey ankle length great coat, in this heat, crew cut hair, sharp face, cruel eyes, the way he stood and walked. The sudden recognition on his face as he saw her. CORPORATE SECURITY! She was running too fast to avoid him, she tried to dodge but he moved to block her, his coat flapping open as he lifted his right arm, the assault carbine coming into view, grey and charcoal plastic gleaming in the sunlight. She crashed into him, his one arm reaching to grab her while she fended him off with her left arm, her right flashed forward, driving the short bladed knife she was suddenly holding into his stomach, he stopped as if punched then started to bellow, trying to push her back. She stabbed again, aiming this time, reaching to the side and stabbing inward just as she’d been taught years before, then as she felt the blade sink deep into soft flesh she twisted it as hard as she could.
A gout of dark blood flooded from the savagely wounded man as his kidney was ruptured and he sagged at once, Sarah pushed him over the closest garden fence and started running again. Now close to panic, the whole thing was blown, she had been seen by a corp thug and now she had left a dead body in the open, in a corporate housing estate. They wouldn’t send the enforcers for her, she would have corporate agents on her trail now and only speed could save her. She ran across streets and road, turning at random, trying to spot the drones or security vehicles. Then the road ended and she was on grass and then pushing through a hedge and into a field. Huge brown animals of some sort lifted their heads to stare at her, as tall as she was, four thin legs and big barrel shaped bodies, they stood there and watched but she couldn’t risk them attacking her or making noise. She turned and continued running along the hedge row then across a ditch and then she found herself amongst trees and threw herself to the ground, panting and trying to listen for pursuit over the pounding of her heart in her chest.
For a few minutes she hid there, no drones, no sirens, was she safe.
Maybe.
###
“Inspector.”
The man looked up from his desk, fitness reports piled around his keyboard. It was the sergeant in charge of the dispatch room next door, due to the cuts they had one room now to coordinate three counties and if you included the city lot four police forces.
“Got an odd one just come in, two units responding, report of a man stabbed to death but the caller said he was armed, some sort of rifle. Two of your lads are responding as well but they said they couldn’t reach you.”
Inspector Patrick McNally, Pat to his few friends and sir to everyone else, including if rumour were to be believed, his wife, glanced at his official mobile, the screen had three missed calls showing but he had turned the sound down so he could concentrate on annual qualifications for every armed office in four police forces which had somehow become his job.
“Damn, thanks sergeant. I’ll get on it.”
All three calls had come from constable Doyle, a fifteen year man, good shot and steady as a rock but pushing the edge of failing the fitness tests. Still nothing that couldn’t be ignored for a few more years, too good a man to lose because of some box ticking. He picked up his phone and redialled the last missed call.
The call was answered almost at once. “Doyle.”
“What’s the situation there Doyle, report just reached me.”
“Well he was armed but don’t ask me what the hell it is, maybe some sort of pellet gun, looks like something from a science fiction film. One person, very dead, well dressed, overdressed given the weather, long trench coat over a decent suit. The body wagon is here, time of death recent enough the local police are going house to house and sweeping the area for the knifeman. The doc says it was a very nasty kill, knife, one in the guts then a killing blow in the kidneys with a twist to finish the bugger off quick. Doc reckoned it was some sort of special forces ninja blow.
The body has a wallet, some credit cards but I’ve never heard of the banks, no cash. Some sort of ID card, very high tech, hologram of his face, embedded chip, the works. Says he’s a level eight security agent for a company called Deltatech Focused Research. Never heard of that one either but the locals are checking for a number and address so we can ask what their man was doing running round a housing estate with what looks like a kids airsoft gun.
Their bagging the body now, the cleaners will need to steam the path here, blood everywhere, the guy bleed like a stuck pig. We’ve got the weapon in the boot of the motor, all other belongs are bagged and tagged and going with the body. I reckon we should stay here a while, the way that body was cut up, the locals have truncheons and pepper, be better if they had some firepower handy.”
“Agreed, remain on site for an hour. I’ll send another unit to take over then bring the weapon back here and get it down to Madge in the lab, she likes playing with guns, maybe she can get some prints off it.”
“Will do inspector.”
###
Just over an hour later the local patrols had covered all the connecting roads and streets but apart from a few people who had seen a woman with short blond hair running like someone was chasing her no one had seen the murder. Cards were left in case anyone had home cameras that had caught the action but that didn’t seem likely, there weren’t any cameras to be seen, not on a nice safe up market estate like this one. The marked patrol car with another pair of armed response constables had arrived and after an exchange of information and a bit of speculation Doyle told his partner to drive them back to the base, but with the afternoon traffic just starting it took nearly an hour before they dropped the strange rifle on the desk in the lab which also doubled up as the maintenance area for all their weapons.
###
It was beginning to get late when Inspector McNally walked into the lab in response to an email a few minutes before.
“You got something for me?”
The woman looked up from her computer screen. “More questions than answers I’m afraid.” She turned to look at the weapon sitting on the table beside her. “It’s got to be some sort of high tech prototype.”
“It’s real?”
“Very real and very deadly, I’m guessing German, it’s factory made with a lot of very high tech components so it’s not some cheap far eastern product. I’d put money of some new German experimental weapon.”
The inspector grunted. “German? I would have guessed American, it looks like something out of star wars with all the plastic and round edges, what makes you think German?”
The woman swivelled her chair and stood up then took three steps along the table and picked up a small square block of grey plastic, she turned it to reveal it was oblong but one end was a rounded cap painted bright red. “The rounds for one, these are incredible, caseless with a double bullet, a sabot inside a deforming head for maximum kinetic transfer, very nasty.”
Inspector McNally coughed. “Let’s assume you’re talking to a policeman and not a specialist in weird weapons shall we.” He received a cheeky grin in return.
“Oh all right then, I’ll talk slowly and use short words.” Both grinned but then the tech got down to business. “Normal bullets are made up of two parts, the actual bullet which is the projectile and the casing, which is the cylinder that holds the propellant, most commonly called the brass. All weapons have to be designed to handle the cylinder shape and it wastes some space in magazines but it’s still the easiest way to do it.” The inspector was senior office of the firearms squad, he knew this much but didn’t argue the point, he had worked with the tech on a number of cases over the years and she did get to the point, eventually.
She was still talking. “Caseless is a block of propellant with the bullet sitting inside it, the round is fed into the weapons breach, the bullet lines up with the barrel and the propellant is ignited, filling the breach and forcing the bullet down the barrel.
The Germans made a caseless assault rifle, the Gee eleven, years ago, four point seven mill, tiny rounds but high velocity and high rate of fire, so with this being caseless and the small size round I thought of them first, plus it’s a bullpup and we do them in Europe, the Americans are fixated on having the magazine in front of the pistol grip which is why I don’t think its them. Heckler and Koch, yea same people that make your em pee fives, had a lot of problems with misfires and unburnt propellant fouling the breach to start with, just getting a type of propellant that would burn away completely but still be tough enough to survive being handled and loaded was a major job.
Thing is with caseless, you don’t need to eject the spend casing and the rounds can be square so you can stack more of them in the magazine and the mechanism to handle them is simpler. This rifle has an ejection port and a rotary breach which is electrically driven so any misfire is carried round and ejected without slowing the rate of fire. Which is scary. More than twice the rate of fire of the em pee fives your lot carry and the muzzle velocity is half again your nine mils. But the round is smaller, only five mill and a bit lighter than the nines so it has a shorter effective range and weird penetration characteristics. The main bullet is designed to deform on impact but given its weight even with the higher velocity it won’t penetrate much, maybe not even penetrate a leather jacket or jeans much beyond fifty feet.
But inside that range or against lighter clothing it will cause very nasty but shallow wounds, mostly flesh and muscle damage since it won’t reach the bone. The other part of the bullet is a sabot, a little needle of tungsten carbide as long as the entire round at thirty millimetres but only one mil in diameter. It’s free floating in the round so when the main bullet hits something and slows down the penetrator keeps going and it’s heavy with a tiny impact area. I haven’t tested it yet but I reckon it will go through the standard issue vests no problem, thing is after penetrating two or three centimetres of anything it will be tumbling so it will be going sideways fairly quickly which drops its penetration to nothing, of course by that point is like a little buzz saw going through your body.
These rounds, the rate of fire, eighty rounds in the magazines. Ask me this thing was designed to hurt people as much as kill them. Kick in a door and spray a room to cause maximum casualties. Short range, nasty wounds but low penetration of the main round and the ability to go through light Kevlar and still hurt with the sub round. This isn’t any military weapon, more the sort of thing I’d expect in some police state where they used them on civilians.”
The inspector had been listening and the look on his face said he wasn’t happy about what he was hearing. “Any way to find out who made this, how many could be out there. Fuck, a few of these in a crowded place, I need to go upstairs with this, national alert, home office, counter terror, everyone will need to know. Can you find the makers; I need some idea of how many they are missing?”
“I’ve already sent a message to every German company I can think of that could make this, which isn’t many, this thing is real cutting edge, the barrels some sort of ceramic and I’ve never heard of anyone who can do that. As soon as I get a reply I’ll give you a shout.”
“Good, anything you hear I want to know about it, no matter the time.”
The tech nodded and was about to say something else when the inspector turned on his heel and walked out of the room, his thoughts filled with worst case scenarios and body counts.
###
It was almost eight in the evening when McNally finally walked out of his office heading home, he glanced into the dispatch room and the same sergeant was sitting talking to his replacement, the night shift team leader. Both looked up as he crossed the doorway.
“Inspector.”
McNally stopped and turned back to look into the room.
“That call out from earlier, the armed dead guy. No sign of the killer so the locals called off the search but something odd, the bodies gone. Some blokes flashing security service badges met the ambulance at the hospital and took the body and all the belongings, no one seems to know where it went, they took it and vanished.”
The inspector grunted his thanks and started walking to his car. More strangeness, by the time he got in tomorrow the rifle would probably have gone as well. MI-5, bloody spooks and security types, all need to know and you do the dirty work while they steal anything you find. If the spook squad were involved this was probably terrorists. Just what he needed to start tomorrow morning with, it was going to be a five coffee day tomorrow, five mugs of coffee not those stupid little cups from the canteen. Proper pint sized thermos mugs full of strong coffee. He wouldn’t be sleeping much tomorrow night.
Shit, terrorists, prototype mass murder weapons, he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep much tonight either.
###
Sarah woke up slowly then was shocked into fully awake when she noticed the damp feel to the air and the sun just coming up above the tree tops across the field in front of her. Was that dawn, she’d slept the entire night. SHIT SHIT SHIT.
She’d been exhausted, too much fear in a single afternoon, too much running, a few minutes resting somewhere safe and she’d fallen asleep, cursing herself for being stupid she frantically looked around, fields and hedges in every direction. The only thing moving was the strange brown animals from yesterday, big elongated heads on the end of long necks reaching down and tearing chunks of grass from the ground with teeth big enough to take her arm off.
Were they aggressive, would they sound an alert if they saw her, they hadn’t last night but they were much closer today, close enough she could smell them, an odd smell, hot and damp but not unpleasant, not the carrion stench of the riot dogs though so maybe they just ate grass.
She used her arms to push her body up enough to peer over the bushes that grew between the trees, a quick look then duck, never be there long enough for a sniper to target you, just a pop up and back down, don’t look, remember. The woman who had taught her how to survive on the streets and how to fight with the rebellion had been some sort of ex special duty agent, Sarah never found out shy she was with the rebels or why she hated the enforcers so much but the training had been harsh and painful but had kept her alive many types. The woman was gone now, she’d been training some of the guards, one had gone on his solo mission and come back wounded, a tracker drone had followed him and a corporate strike team had levelled the building, a drone gunship had risen into sight over the next door roof and just torn the building apart with rockets and cannon fire.
No one survived, not the woman, not the people she was training and not the twenty or so squatters who lived on the other floors. It was strange, Sarah couldn’t even remember her name now, so many people had come and gone, most of them dead. Nameless men and women and sometimes children, some she had met for a single night in an abandoned building sheltering from the endless rain, others in the rebellion bought together for a raid or just to steal from a warehouse or corporate shop. So many people, so many faces, just blurs now, nameless blurs. The last few years she had even stopped asking their names, it wasn’t worth it, they were gone so fast
No drones hovering in the sky, no vehicles anywhere other than some odd looking thing with oversized wheels chugging along two fields over. Nothing moving apart from the big brown animals. Had she escaped, she’d been moving fast enough to escape the response teams, they would have locked down the estate but she was outside the boundaries.
FUCK. If the estate was locked down how would she get back in?
She couldn’t stop, couldn’t fail, not now. If the estate was locked down there would be guards on the roads, patrols, she would be able to see them from the edge of the fields, maybe scout the area, find the weak points. There were always weak points, unless they were traps. Somewhere that looked easy to get in but the enforcers were waiting, Sarah had been behind someone where that happened.
A break in, some rebels, some thieves, nothing major, just an electronics shop in a corporate centre, small gadgets, portable, good price on the black market. Best of all the place was at the back, nice and quiet. An air vent, nothing but a grill and a short crawl then into the back of the shop. Nice and easy, in and out. Sarah had been second, the youngster ahead of her was skinny and short, perfect to lead the way and open the grills, a good lad, this wasn’t the first time she’d worked with him and they’d made some good money every time.
Then they were in, he had the grill open, was leaning out to look around and his head exploded. Sarah was right behind him, blood and something else sprayed into her face, blinded her, there was screaming but it wasn’t the lad, it was her. Security were standing there, one tugging at the dead boy while another reached up to fire into the vent, she screamed and blinked and saw the gun barrel over the blood splattered legs.
Full automatic in such a tiny space, she could barely see and now she was deaf, the bullets had passed above her, killing the man behind her as he stood on the roof of the van waiting his turn to climb in, she was alive, they were dead. The barrel vanished and she crawled backwards, knees and hands slipping in the blood of both people, sliding out of the vent and landing on the van hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs, rolling over and dropping to the concrete. Sirens in the distance, the others had run, she was alone, flashing lights on both sides.
They hadn’t found her, they opened the big industrial bin, gagged at the stench and went somewhere else to stand around. An hour, a day, she didn’t know. Fighting not to throw up, the stench burning her nose, the rubbish burning her skin. So long she hid, till they finally left.
She never did find out who had informed on them, reported the raid in return for the reward. But she never worked with any of them again so it didn’t matter. What was his name, the skinny kid. Sarah tried to remember but even his face was forgotten, he was just the skinny little kid now.
Walking back along the hedge line took a few minutes but there was no one about that she could see, just the big brown animals who stopped eating grass and watched her with big liquid eyes before deciding she wasn’t worth eating and wandered off.
The estate looked the same, no drones, no security vehicles, no obvious guards. Just to be safe Sarah crouched there and watched for an hour, nothing, why wasn’t it locked down, she had killed someone here, a corporate goon, they must have responded, but where were they. Hiding, they must be waiting in hiding, an ambush. Where were they, where were the spotters, the snipers, would they try and take her alive or just kill her as soon as they saw her. After all they knew what she looked like.
THEY KNEW WHAT SHE LOOKED LIKE. The guard, he’d recognised her, she’d seen it on his face, and he knew her. HOW? How had some guard known what she looked like, the council had given her the mission and here she was a few hours later. No way they could have known she was coming, but the guard knew her face.
Or did he.
Did he see Sarah, wanted criminal, thief, rebel. Or did he see this Theresa woman, the one who had the same face and body, her identical twin. Had the guard recognised her target, that must be it, they couldn’t have known Sarah.
FUCK. How important was her twin, if the guards knew her on sight, board member, director, what was she. But why was there so little security on the house, no camera’s, one little dog and one guard. Or did her security move with her, was there twenty agents who followed this Theresa around.
It didn’t matter, all that mattered was to reach her, she was the target, there was no coming back from this mission. Reach the target and it was over. She could do that, Sarah could do that. She was a thief, one of the best, she could get to her target and fifty guards couldn’t stop her. Then it would be over.
Sarah just wished she’d had more time to say goodbye to her husband, a few words and a lingering kiss to mark the end of their life together wasn’t enough, not by far. Too late to worry now but even a few more minutes would have been good, just to be held within his arms for a few minutes, something to remember before the end.
Too late now, she had a mission and a target. Time to move.
###
Sarah risked another quick look, nothing moving, no human she could see, no drones in the air and no one shot at her. Had she really escaped notice last night, was there just the one guard. Given how important this woman Theresa seemed to be why was she so lightly guarded. It wasn’t like corporate security would need to catch her red handed, even the suspicion that she was with the rebels would get her shot, or captured, tortured and shot.
Not that there would be much suspicion involved, she’d been on enough rebel missions over the last few years to be a fully fledged member. So they wouldn’t hold back, if they knew she was here they would just shoot her.
Unless. Did they know she was alone, did they think she was part of a team maybe, advanced scout for a larger team. Were they waiting for the rest of her team to arrive so they could up the body count? She hadn’t done anything to suggest she had a team with her, had she? Maybe they just hadn’t spotted her when she ran; maybe they weren’t waiting for her to move out of the trees.
Sarah looked over the bushes again but this time didn’t pull her head back down. She still couldn’t see anyone and she wasn’t shot. Maybe it was safe.
Standing up she winched at the pain in her back then twisted her shoulders to and fro, trying to relieve the sudden shock and the ache that ran from the small of her back all the way up to her shoulders. For someone who had grown up sleeping on concrete or wood more often than not she should be more used to sleeping in a field, though the last two years of having an actual mattress had probably made her soft.
The big brown animals watched her with liquid eyes but didn’t charge her so for the moment she ignored them, instead she started walking along the hedge line between the fields and the estate, pausing to peer though any gaps she came across to look for guards. But the estate was peaceful, no one moving, vehicles all parted in front of the houses, the only sound was an odd noise, lots of little high pitched sounds, somehow familiar but also unknown.
Something, a park, running and playing as a child and looking up at the tree tops.
Birds, the sound was birds. How strange and wonderful. Actual birds. They didn’t exist anymore, except in the domes or a few rich people’s homes. The rain had done for them all, the first few weeks the acid had been intermittent, so a lot of birds died but the rest survived, learning to find shelter. But then the rain became more and more common until it was a rare sight to not have rain, weather became torrential downpour and light shower and everything in between. So the birds had died and so had most of the cats and other pets.
Dogs were still around, you could keep them indoors if you were rich enough, some cats too but outside, in the streets or in the wild they were long gone.
Funny how quickly she had forgotten what they sounded like, as a little girl birds had been everywhere, now she could barely remember the different types and the sound was just chirps.
A rumble, an engine, close! A TRAP! SECURITY! She dropped to the grass and rolled closer to the hedge, under the branches and pushing hard against the roots and trunks. A vehicle was moving, backing out of it’s parking space, it was turning onto the road, she could see inside. A man, SECURITY? No, too old, well dressed, glasses, grey hair, yawning. A manager, middle management probably, no one important would be going to work at this time, some failure who hadn’t reached far enough up the company to sleep in.
His age, he would never be promoted again, long since gone as high as he could. Sarah stared at him as he yawned again and did something inside the car, the windows slid down, smooth, soundless, strange. No one ever opened the windows, if the car didn’t have air conditioning you just suffered, not worth the risk. No one ever opened the windows of a car or transport!
The vehicle started moving, gathering speed on the black surface of the road, then as it turned into another of the roads that formed the grid of this estate music began to drift behind it, a man’s voice, shouting something, drums pounding and some sort of guitar as well, a clashing noise. Sarah grunted, not liking the music of this world, it sounded like crap.
Rather than retrace her steps she walked another road, the estate was all straight lines and grids, she could reach the house from another direction, don’t be predictable, change your route, change your time, stay alive. More lessons from long ago, she could remember the woman, remember her voice, STAY ALIVE, that’s the victory, stay alive, keep fighting. Her face, her voice, not her name, that was gone.
Each street was much like the next, no security anywhere they she could see. Were these managers so confident, so arrogant, did they think no one would attack them here? A few houses had lights one behind curtains on the upper floors, on, just ahead, had lights on downstairs. MOVEMENT!
Someone inside the lit house, a figure, looking out the window.
Sarah twitched and lifted her hands to pull her hood down further then almost screamed in panic, the hood was down, they could see her face, she had forgotten to pull up the hood when she pulled on the coat, THEY COULD SEE HER FACE! She yanked the hood up but it was too late, ten minutes at least she’d been walking and everyone had seen her face, they would report her, cameras would have seen her, facial recognition software would have named her in seconds.
She looked around frantically, listening for the scream of sirens, the rush of guards coming for her.
Nothing.
She started moving again, walking slowly, head down, shoulders hunched, hood pulled far enough down to hide her hair and most of her face. Without meaning to she was walking like the drones, trying to hide in the crowd, but here as the morning sun rose above the roof tops, she was alone, out in the open, where everyone could see her.
She kept walking , looking for the road name she wanted then turning into the last road she would walk today, the last she would ever walk, she wasn’t coming back this way, not after the mission was done. The house was ahead, a light upstairs but no movement, closed curtains shutting out the world or shutting in an army of security thugs.
There was something, at the far end of the road, beyond the target, a vehicle, a small white van, lights on, a figure moving beside it, glowing white in the early sun, yellow and black flapping in the light breeze, lines of the colour across the path, something else, the man was holding something, a weapon!
Then a jet of white smoke, no not smoke, steam, he was spraying the walkway, that spot was familiar for some reason, she had, THE GUARD, that’s where she killed the security guard. A cleaner, using steam to clean up the mess she had left behind, more expense for the corporation, probably docked the dead guards last pay check for the cost of the cleaner.
Ducking out of sight into the closest garden she risked a look over the wall between the houses, the figure ignored her, hooded and masked, she couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Then she relaxed a little, not security, a wage slave, cleaning up where she killed the guard, just another minimum wage drone in the corporate system. She wasn’t safe though, most of them would sell her out for the reward, what was she worth now, two years wages for the lowest drones, maybe even three. To someone paid the least the law allowed, a law well paid by the corporations not to rock the boat and probably on contract as well, working all hours or none, a few years wages in one go, well worth reporting some terrorist.
Terrorist. That had hurt, at first. A terrorist, fighting the corporations meant the media called you a terrorist, beyond criminal, a threat to society at large, to be killed, the very worst scum. Just another mad dog killer. Still the pain had faded, the hatred for the corporations never would.
Sarah stepped back onto the path when the cleaner turned their back, quickly walking past three more houses and into the one she wanted, still one light upstairs, still dark downstairs. Moving quickly but like a ghost in her new rubber soled boots Sarah went down the side of the house, the same alley she had used before, then into the garden, round the glass hut and to the back door, she reached into her coat for her lock picks then suddenly looked up as the door opened, a woman standing there, looking back into the house, calling someone, a scrabble of claws, then the woman was turning, staring, Sarah’s head was up but the garden was in shadows till a man’s voice came from inside the house and the kitchen light went on.
Sarah stared at Theresa, Theresa stared back, living mirrors so close they could touch. So alike they could have been the closest of twins, one began to shout, one lunged forward, hand touched hand, and the universe stopped.
###