Earthbound (The Reach, Book 1) (41 page)

“You’re going to be all right when you get out of here,” Knile said.  “Do you understand that?”  Finally the girl nodded, although she was still rocking back and forth and staring at the floor.  “Listen to me very carefully.  There are Enforcers outside the front door of this mansion right now.  You need to go to them and tell them you were abducted.  Tell them about Honeybul.  Tell them about the Candidates.  Can you do that?”

She nodded again, but Knile couldn’t be sure she was hearing anything he said.

“I’d take you to the Enforcers myself, but… well, they don’t like me very much.  Just keep your head down and don’t talk to anyone.  Don’t let Honeybul see you.”

She made no response this time, but Knile knew there was no choice now but to get moving.  It was only a matter of time before someone came to check on the gracious host of the pa
rty, and one look at this blood-soaked floor would be enough to set alarm bells ringing, even if Knile managed to hide the body.

He led the girl out and down the hall, the coat effectively covering the welts on her legs.  Knile decided it probably didn’t matter in any case – most of these people were so self-absorbed that they wouldn’t even notice the girl moving quietly in their midst.  Knile led her away from Honeybul and down the stairs to the first level.

“Remember,” he whispered.  “Out through this arch and on your right.  That’s where you’ll find the Enforcers.”

The girl made another almost imperceptible nod, and her mouth moved slightly as if she were saying something, but no noise passed her lips.  Then she shambled off toward the door through the throng of guests.

Knile got moving.  If the Enforcers came to investigate, he didn’t want to be around when the questions were being asked.

He made a straight line for Hoyer Honeybul, who was still sitting on the sofa with the boy Candidate at his side.  Ursie was nearby, trapped by a ring of eager guests who wanted to know everything about her.

“Mr. Honeybul,” Knile said, biting off each syllable with disdain.

Honeybul looked up at him.  “Ah, Mr. Remington.  Where is Mr. Preston?”

“Mr. Preston is spending some quality time in his bedroom.”

Honeybul laughed boisterously.  “Ha!  The man is insatiable!”

Knile smiled through his teeth, wondering how he had ever been fooled into believing that this man’s face contained any kindness or compassion at all.  Now it seemed like the bloated, pallid face of a demon, a far more accurate depiction of what lay beneath.

“A quick question,” Knile said, glancing over his shoulder.  Seeing no Enforcers, he continued on.  “If I desired to become involved in your program, to help you and your Candidates, would there be any way I could see the selection–”

“But of course!” Honeybul said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a tablet, almost falling over himself at the thought of gaining a new customer.  “You can look through the list of Candidates right here.”

Knile took the tablet with smile of gratitude, then began to flick through the profiles of the children contained therein.  With each motion of his hand, a feeling of dread began to creep into his bones.  Every single one of these children was condemned.  He was looking at boys and girls who would never reach life as an adult.  They would suffer and die horrible deaths, and their names would be forgotten, their passing unlamented.

Knile knew what was coming.  As each smiling, innocent face went by, he was steadily approaching the inevitable.

And then he found it.  The dark-
haired boy with a certain sadness in his eyes and in his smile that Knile knew only too well.

Roman.  Goddammit, no.

“This one,” Knile said, keeping his voice even as he handed the tablet back to the old man.  “Can I have him?”

Honeybul scrutinised the screen, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Remington.  This one has already been selected by another benefactor.  One of my regular clients, in fact.”

“I’ll pay you,” Knile said.  “More than your other benefactor.”

Honeybul shook his head.  “It’s just not possible.  This client is very, very particular–”

“Has the boy been delivered to the benefactor yet?” Knile said sharply.  The 9mm was sitting in his inside jacket pocket, and now the weight of it was beginning to feel like a great ball of lead.  It needed to be removed.  It needed to be pointed at the face of this grinning fucking monster, this wolf in sheep’s clothing.  It needed to talk in its own savage, uncompromising language, unleashing its fury at the man on the sofa.

Knile needed to put a bullet through Hoyer Honeybul’s wrinkled head.  He needed to spray the old man’s brains all over that spotless fucking sofa.

In a moment of clarity, Knile realised he was prepared to do just that.

“He has not been delivered yet, no,” Honeybul went on, oblivious to the thoughts that were bouncing around in Knile’s skull.  “This one has had some trouble with the Enforcers in the past.  It’s taking a little longer than usual to have his records expunged, but I’m confident he’ll be delivered in the next few days.”  Honeybul winked up at him.  “What can’t be fixed with a few extra creds, I ask you?”

Knile’s fingers crept inside his jacket, touched the butt of the gun.

A bullet through the head, that’s what.  Creds won’t fix that, you fuck.

There was a scream over by the stairwell, and Knile spun, expecting to see Enforcers coming at him.  Instead he saw something worse.

One of Alton Wilt’s men was there, levelling a gun in his direction as the woman beside him bleated in fear and fell to the floor.

Knile dropped to one knee, the 9mm in his hand in an instant.  Wilt’s man fired first, but the shot smacked harmlessly into the wall above Knile’s shoulder.  Knile returned fire, squeezing off two shots and hitting the man in the chest and shoulder and sending him tumbling back down the staircase.

As the partygoers screamed and began to run in all directions, Knile turned back to the sofa, but Honeybul had already bounded off, his blue suit barely visible amid the throng of people.  Knile pointed the gun in the old man’s direction, but knew he could never make the shot.  Reluctantly he shoved the 9mm back in his jacket, then scooped up the suitcase in one hand and grasped Ursie’s wrist with the other.

“Up the stairs, go!” he shouted.

Behind them there were more gunshots, and Knile heard shouts from the Enforcers.  He wasn’t sure if they were after him, or if they were engaged in an altercation with more of Wilt’s men, and he didn’t stop to find out.  He and Ursie had a lead on the others, and he wasn’t about to give that up for the sake of curiosity.

They made it up another two flights of stairs, and people on this level were just as panicked as those below had been.  Knile collided with a man running the opposite way and almost fell over.  He somehow kept his balance, then looked back to see the man cowering on the floor.  He was young and handsome, his skin tanned, and he wore a powder blue suit and a grey necktie.  He held one arm protectively over his face, as if he were expecting Knile to put a bullet between his eyes.

Then Knile heard something that made the very world tilt under his feet.  A sound that made his heart pound in his chest and which stole the wind from his lungs, caused a chill that rippled down his spine.

No
, he thought desperately. 
That’s impossible.

Ursie stood waiting for him up ahead, her mouth moving as she tried to shout something, but Knile couldn’t hear her voice over the deafening hammer of his own manic heart.

Knile heard the sound again, and this time he turned toward it.

On the other side of the room, a woman was being dragged away by a man in a white suit.  She wore a dress as blue as the azure skies of old, and her chestnut hair fell about her shoulders as she struggled to free herself from the man’s grip.

She reached out for Knile.

He saw her mouth forming the words, and her voice sounded distant but utterly clear.

I love you!  Don’t leave me!

Knile’s world fell apart at the sight of her.

“Mianda,” he breathed, stricken.

It couldn’t be her.  He strained his eyes wide as if that might dispel the illusion he saw before him, but the vision of the woman remained unchanged.  She was just as perfect as the day he’d last seen her.

Then she was gone, the man in the white suit dragging her through a doorway and out of sight.

Gunshots permeated Knile’s stupor like cannons going off in his head.  He heard the sound of footsteps on the staircase.  Men coming.

“
Knile!
” Ursie was screaming.

Knile got moving again, taking two sluggish steps before his instincts kicked in.  He moved into full stride, catching up to Ursie and leading the girl upward and away from their pursuers.

He dared not look back again.

35

They didn’t stop to catch their breath until they had made it to the next tier.  Knile’s knowledge of the layout of Lux undoubtedly helped them to give their pursuers the slip.  The old maintenance shaft he
’d located lay forgotten in the back of an Auto workshop, whose
workers had spilled out onto the avenue as they attempted to determine the cause of the commotion over at the mansion.  Both he and Ursie
had been able to slip inside the workshop while the workers’ attention was elsewhere, and from there they’d ascended through the shaft, where cobwebs and dust lay thick as soup.

Now they trudged through gloomy and dank industrial corridors, the mayhem of Lux safely behind them.  There were no Autos here, no avenues or marble statues.  No people.  There was only the relentless hum of giant pistons and fans, and other half-seen apparatus that whirred away under thin shafts of white light from the spotlights above.

“What is this place?” Ursie said, looking around uneasily.  There was a thick chemical miasma about the place that made her wrinkle her nose.

Knile, who hadn’t said anything since leaving Lux, didn’t answer for a long time.  When he spoke, his voice lacked its usual vigour.

“These are called the Plant Rooms.”

“So what does this stuff do?”

Knile looked around.  “These levels are like the nerve centre of the upper part of the Reach.  Those fans are the air intakes for Lux.”  Showing no modesty, he slipped out of his dress pants, which were stained with blood, and put his old trousers on again.  “There’s also water filtration units, air purifiers, and basically anything else that doesn’t fit the aesthetic of all of that gold and marble below.  Further up is the field generator for the Stormgates, among other things.”

“Where are all of the people?”

“This gear is automated.  You might see someone from maintenance in here now and again, but that’s about it.”

Knile suddenly stopped dead still and looked behind them.  Ursie froze, alarmed.

“What is it?  Are they coming?”

Knile did not turn back to her.

“I don’t think I can take you the rest of the way, kid,” he said in that voice that was bereft of conviction.  Bereft of hope.

“What?” Ursie said, walking in an arc so that she could face him.  “What are you talking about, Knile?”

“I’m not sure I want this anymore.”

“This
what?
”  She tried to move into a position that would catch his eye, but Knile kept his face down, avoiding the directness of her gaze.

“This whole fucking journey.”

Ursie shook her head, disbelieving.  “What happened down there, Knile?  Who
was
that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There was a woman.  A woman dressed in blue who was calling out for you.”

“No.  She was calling out for the man I ran into, the man on the floor.”

“Bullshit.”  She stepped closer to him.  “You know her.”

“No,” Knile said quietly.

“It was Mianda, wasn’t it?” she persisted, her voice raised.  “She’s alive.  She’s living in Lux.”

“No, she’s not.  That’s not possible.”  His voice was hoarse.

“She called out to you.  She said she loved you.  It was
her!
” Ursie said, practically shouting at him.

“It’s not
possible
,” Knile said again, raising his own voice and choking back a sob.

“Why not?”

“Because Mianda never loved me!”
Knile roared, finally meeting her glare, his eyes glistening with tears.  Ursie stumbled back, reeling from his ferocity.  “Is that what you wanted to hear?” he yelled, taking a step toward her.  “That couldn’t be Mianda, because Mianda hated my fucking guts!”

Ursie shrank away from him.  “I… I don’t understand.”

Knile sank to the floor, shoving his backpack away from him and lifting a trembling hand to his face.  He brushed the tears angrily from his cheeks and then violently yanked the tie around his neck, loosening the knot and then slipping it over his head, tossing it away.