The Dawn: The Bombs Fall (A Dystopian Science Fiction Series) (9 page)

“Emily, wait,” he said. It was at
that moment when he looked down at her wrist that he saw it. A clean wrist. No
numbers. No black triangle etched onto her skin. Instead she had a different sign.
Omega. It was a small black half circle with two tails, the mark of privilege,
the reason that she didn’t belong here. The sign that everybody in Delta
craved.

 “I have to leave,” she said, the
iPod toppling from her hand to the floor as she pulled away.

“Let her go, Shiner,” said Ronson
stepping in and resting his arm out in front of Zack's chest. “You have to let
her go.”

His advice was superfluous because
she was already free. She took a step backwards and began to run, but she toppled
to the ground over the barrel. Zack stepped forward to help her up and in doing
so stepped one foot over the iPod, blocking it from her reach. He was trying to
help her, but instead he looked like a threat.

“I have to go,” she said, scrambling backwards
on her palms as if she was being chased. She clambered over the barrel onto her
feet. She didn't look back as she ran out of the bar, her blonde hair flowing
like fire behind her. Zack edged forwards to follow but Ronson was a strong man
and pushed against his chest.

“Wait,” said Zack, trying to get his
brain to function, for him to process what had just happened. But he couldn't
because what had just happened was impossible. “Wait a minute!” He reached down
and picked up the iPod, he himself also tripping on the upturned barrel before
he started after her. “Emily, wait.” Ronson was holding on to his wrist but
Zack shook him free. He pushed open the container door of NAVIMEG and staggered
into the corridor. He looked left and right but she was nowhere to be seen,
able to disappear it seemed, at the speed of a lightning bolt. He turned back
into the bar.

“Ronny,” Zack said, sitting down on
the barrel as Ronson turned the other barrel the right way up. He was trying
hard to coordinate his thoughts so that he could explain to Ronson what he had
seen. “Did you see that?” he said, panting. “Did you see what was on her wrist?”

“Probably a number and a triangle like
the rest of you lucky bastards. Not like us stuck down here.”

“No,” Zack said, shaking his head. “It
wasn’t a number. It was just a symbol. Omega. Just an Omega. She isn’t from
Delta.”

Ronson erupted into laughter to the
point that the flaps on his deerstalker hat trembled. “Nice one, Shiner. You're
funny tonight.” He slapped his hand down on the flimsy bar, almost sending it
to the ground. The tablet that he had placed in front of Zack earlier rolled to
the floor and he leaned down to pick it up, still laughing. “I think that
Moonshine is starting to affect your brain, Shiner.”

“No, I saw it.” Zack looked down at
the iPod still clutched in his hand. The screen no longer orange. He pressed
the button and the screen lit up again. “Do you know, nothing up there works
that The Republic didn't install. The only devices to survive were underground
at the time of the bombing. And this,” he said, holding up the iPod. “This
works. That means that she was underground when the bombs went off. She had to
be.”

“There is no way that girl isn't from
Delta. You've just had too much Moonshine, that's all.”

“I saw it. I know I’m not wrong.” He
wrapped the earphones around the iPod and slid it into his pocket against the
ration cards. If she was from Omega there had to be a way into Delta. That
meant there was also a way out. He had always assumed himself to be one of the
unfortunate. But now he knew that he was wrong.

Zack let one eye follow the numbers
on the screen as the lift descended towards him, but he kept his other eye on
the Guardians standing at the door to the sublevels. They hadn’t questioned him
when he surfaced, but he was certain they were watching him now. To make sure
he followed the rules. Their job was to make sure that every citizen of Delta
Tower did what he was supposed to do. Right now the only thing they wanted Zack
to do was to step back into the confinement of the upper levels. The Guardians
were supposed to be the protectors, the people who created harmony. They
granted the illusion of freedom by turning a blind eye to the illicit movement
between the upper and sublevels. Omega had fooled people into believing that
they were in control of their lives and that they had a choice. They permitted
just enough freedom that you couldn't feel the weight of the chains. Just
enough to stop the revolt that bubbled beneath the surface of control. Zack
glanced back over his shoulder to the old entrance doors of Delta Tower, the
same doors he used to make his final journey into the building. Two more
Guardians stood either side, the path sealed by layers of glass, tarpaulin, and
force. One was tightening the strap on his glove, the other was watching Zack. Zack
stepped inside and pressed the button for level thirty. The lift jolted like
the pull on a parachute line and he began to ascend. The walls of Delta were
caving in on him, a tiny two by four in which he was imprisoned by a lack of
choice, and now an absence of truth. He pressed one hand against the lift to
steady himself and another reached up to his throat. He snatched at the
neckline of his T-shirt and jumper, the ring of material feeling like it was choking
him. It was as if air was being sucked away, leaving him floating in a vacuum
of falsity where nothing was real. Even the air he breathed was created by The
Republic of Omega. Supplied by Alpha Tower.

The lift stopped on level nine. Two
Guardians and two residents stepped in. The Guardians were dressed in the same
white uniforms, the black gloves covering their hands fastened tight like a
noose at the cuff. Now Zack was convinced that Emily was from Omega it made him
doubt everybody around him. He couldn't remember ever seeing a Guardian's
number. Had he ever seen any proof that they were trapped here like he was? Were
Sam and Croft really on the fifth level where he believed them to be, or were
they enjoying a different life in Omega?

Zack waited behind the Guardians who
were standing motionless and silent, their eyes on the doors. The other two, a
man and a woman, slouched against the wall of the lift. The woman looked dirty,
her face marked by grime, her hair lank and greasy. She looked like Delta, lit
by the harsh lighting of the lift. She wore the same overalls as Zack. The man with
her turned to the woman and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and he
pressed the button for level forty eight. Zack thought about his time up there
earlier on that day and realised that he recognised the woman. It was the same
woman who had been sprawled out on the settee. It was the woman he had assumed
to be Billy’s mother. He watched as she ran her grubby hand up towards her
head, her fingers sliding through her hair. He caught a glimpse of the black
triangle which he had held to find a pulse, her number illegible but present. She
had three others tattooed on her wrist. She belonged here, but she wanted out
too.

The man was standing with his hands
in his pockets, one foot up and flat against the wall. Zack arched his neck to
get a better look at him, to get a view of his wrists. Who else was in Delta
that didn’t belong here? When Zack looked up again, he realised that it was he
who had become the watched.

“What’s your problem?” the man asked,
defensive like every Delta resident. “What are you looking at?” The Guardians
turned to face the man, but he didn’t flinch and he held his vacant gaze on
Zack. The Guardians twisted their necks, and Zack noticed that the one closest
to him, the one on the right, moved his hand onto his Assister. It was the
thing that most people in Delta still called a baton, at least when out of
earshot of a Guardian. Zack heard the leather of the Guardian's glove creak as he
gripped the wooden handle.

“Nothing,” Zack said, his eyes
dropping to the floor. He raised his right hand like a white flag of surrender.
“Sorry.”

“So why were you staring at me?” The
second Guardian, the bigger of the two, turned around so his body was square
onto Zack's. He too reached down to his Assister, but it wasn’t necessary. The
Guardians were protected by every rule and every condition of life within
Delta, and nobody wanted to rise up and pretend to be a hero. There was no
messiah in Delta who wanted to save the world. Zack had no intention of causing
any trouble, but with the Guardians you didn't have to look very far before it
found you.

“Nothing,” Zack said again. “It’s
just, you know, with the lottery. I was just wondering what number you have?” The
lift had stopped at level twelve, the original destination of the couple. Zack
saw now that the woman’s eyes were red and swollen. She could have been crying,
but it could also have been because of the drugs. The man didn’t say anything
as the doors opened but he stepped out and the woman followed. Zack wondered
for a moment if they were searching for Billy, and if they were going to the
sick bay. Every human urge within him told him to stop them, but there was
little of humanity left in Delta, and he suppressed the impulse.

“Just watch it,” Zack heard the man
say after the doors began to close when there was no chance of retaliation. The
Guardians could have accosted him for that kind of talk. Tower Protection is what
the Guardians called their form of law. Nobody knew if it was under the guise
of The Republic or not.

The lift began to ascend, and Zack,
still under the watchful eye of the two Guardians, allowed his head to drop
back down. He wanted to appear small, insignificant like an insect that was
nothing more than a bother to them. Not an easy task when you stand at six foot
three and tower over one of the Guardians confronting you.

“So you’ve got number fever, eh?”
laughed the smaller of the two Guardians, the one on the right whose
trigger-happy hand had been quick to his Assister. His teeth were blackened and
intermittently missing. It could have been radiation related, but more likely was
due to tobacco chewing and poor hygiene. There was a smell coming from him that
made Zack want to be sick. He was certain that he had never seen this Guardian
before. “Thinks he might win!” he sniggered as he slapped the quieter, bigger
Guardian on the arm. “You think a scummy Deltarite like you is going to win the
lottery?” He took his Assister out and in one single fluid movement he slid the
handle straight into Zack's side. A movement of memory. The Guardian was
cackling like a hyena back and forth as Zack buckled to his knees in pain. “You
ever heard of somebody from Delta winning?” he spat as he leaned over Zack, a
brown globule oozing from his mouth and dribbling onto Zack's cheek. From the
corner of his eye Zack saw the Assister rise above him, the Guardian's arm high
and ready to strike. All the while he was sniggering, drunk on the power of his
position, a fire raging in his eyes as if he was God and creator. Zack braced
himself, but as the lift stopped and the doors opened he saw the calmer of the
two Guardians grip the wrist of the other before nodding at Zack to get out. Zack
scrambled to his feet, the eyes of the nearest onlookers wondering what he had
done wrong as he fell to the floor outside the lift. He turned back just before
the doors closed behind him to see the Assister of the larger Guardian uppercut
the jaw of the other.

Zack ran up the corridor ignoring the
sounds of the televisions, dodging people as he passed. He hammered his fist
against the door of Leonard’s room until he saw a finger poke through the blind
to pull down a slat. Leonard’s eye peeped through. He opened the door, his hair
dishevelled, his eyes puffy and narrow as arrow slits on the tower of a castle.

“What the hell do you want?” Leonard
said. “I haven’t heard the bell for dinner. I was resting.”

“Screw dinner,” said Zack, pushing
Leonard back into the room and closing the door behind him. “I want to hear
everything you know about the lights you have seen. Where are they?” Zack was
at the window, hands pressed against it, and for the first time ever since he became
stuck in Delta he saw nothing of the ruins outside the window. Now he believed
there was something more than the surface truth which he saw all around him. “When
do you see them? Where do they show up?”

Leonard scratched his head, his eyes
wrinkled as his palm and fingers investigated the sockets in an attempt to
force himself awake. He smoothed his hair into place and sat down on the edge
of the bed. “I thought you said I was crazy. That the lights were nonsense.”

“I was wrong, Leo. This,” Zack said
pointing out of the window, “this is not our world. There is something more to
it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I met a girl.” Leonard rolled his
eyes, stood up from the edge of the bed, but Zack dashed over and put his hands
on Leonard’s shoulders to encourage him back down. “Not like that. I met a girl
in the sublevels.”

Leonard rolled his eyes again, more
exaggerated this time, sure about where the conversation was going. He shook
his head, shook Zack’s hands from his shoulders. “No, Leo. Not like that
either. She isn’t from Delta.”

“No. You mean that she is from the sublevels.
I’ve heard the stories from down there, Zachary. I know what goes on. But I
thought you were better than that.”

Zack took a step back, inhaled a deep
breath, and filled his lungs with The Republic of New Omega air. He looked
towards the black clouds, the blanket of death that no person would be able
survive if they went outside. If Emily had got into Delta, what he saw before
him could not be the truth. Not the full extent of it. He turned to Leonard who
still wore the look of a disappointed father, and Zack knew that he was about
to disappoint him even further. “She is from Omega.”

“We are all from New Omega, Zachary.”

“I don't mean The Republic of New
Omega. I mean Omega Tower.”

“Nonsense,” Leonard scoffed.

“She is from Omega Tower, I'm telling
you. I saw her wrist. She has a tattoo of a small black Omega sign. And she
left this.” Zack reached into his pocket and pulled out the iPod. He watched as
Leonard’s face turned from sceptical to confused. As if he had just provided
proof of alien life on Earth.

“What is that?” Leonard said,
reaching out a cautious hand.

“An iPod. It's from the old world,
Leo.” Zack crouched down onto his heels, leant in closer to Leonard’s face. “It's
from the past. And it works.” He took the earphones and positioned them in
Leonard’s ears. He pressed play and watched as the music began. He watched as Leonard’s
muscles relaxed, his shoulders sinking into the melody of the music. Leonard
closed his eyes and for the duration of the song Zack waited and didn’t disturb
him.

“I haven’t heard something so
beautiful in so long,” Leonard said as he fumbled at the earphones. Zack
reached up and pulled them out.

“You see,” Zack said as he took the
earphones. “For this to have survived she had to be underground when the bombs
landed. But she can't be from the underground because there is no electricity
down there to charge this. She has to be from a tower and her wrist doesn't say
Delta. Her wrist says Omega.”

“But how? Look at it out there. If
you go out in that it’s as good as suicide. And how would she get out? The
Guardians stop us from going out. Why would anybody want to come here from
Omega?”

Zack sat down on the edge of the bed
next to Leonard. “I've never seen a Guardian's number. Have you? Maybe they are
all in on it. Maybe there are tunnels, cars, something. I don't know. But she
got into this tower, and she is not from here.” Zack fumbled with the iPod
whilst Leonard thought about what he had just said.

“No. I have never seen a Guardian's
wrist. But they wear the gloves. It's to stop the spread of infection. The
scabies mite is a real problem, Zachary. What would we do if all the Guardians
got sick? The tower would fall apart.”

“Would it? Would it really?” Zack turned
to Leonard, bringing one bent leg up onto the bed. “Leo, I saw something else
today. Something awful.”

“What?” Leonard asked, as he edged
closer.

“I found a boy. From level forty
eight. He was sick.”

“What were you doing up there?”

“I was coming down from forty nine. I
was up there to look at the old city.”

“Torturing yourself again,” Leonard
said as he rubbed his hand across Zack's shoulders, his disappointment long past.

“He was in the corridor. He was sick.
I carried him down. I took him to the sick bay. I'm still covered in his piss.”
Zack got up, walked over to the window, pressed both hands on the sill before
resting his head against the glass. The chill of the air outside crept across
his skin. “He died, Leo. This place. It killed him.”

“I'm sorry, Zachary, but you did what
you could. Most would have left him there.” He stood up and joined Zack at the
window. “You have to accept that, Zachary. You must because you cannot undo
what is done.”