Z 2135 (29 page)

Jonah had once met with a visitor from City 1. He had been
was assigned to drive the visitor during his stay behind The Walls. The man had
worn a long leather jacket. Immediately, something struck Jonah as odd, but he
didn’t realize what that something was until the third or fourth day of driving
the man around. The visitor’s jacket was made of real leather, rather than the
imitation leather found in City 6. Once Jonah recognized the difference, he
couldn’t stop noticing it.  Real leather, once identified, seemed somehow even
more obviously authentic.

Jonah thought of the jacket as he stood on the train station
platform, waiting for the train’s arrival. Like faux leather, he was a sham,
walking in a city where he didn’t belong. His life, his entire world, was an
imitation. An ugly copy of something so much better.

The train pulled into the station and Jonah stepped into one
of the long cars. Powder-blue doors whooshed closed behind him. The cabin
lulled forward with a sound that reminded Jonah of hovering orb.

Jonah passed many seats with smiling people, their eyes
reflecting no worry. They smiled at Jonah, oblivious to his promise of death.

I can’t
do this.

 The old man chirped at Jonah through an earpiece. Jonah
could feel the man watching his every move via the train’s camera system,
ensuring that Jonah live up to his end of the deal.

“I’m sure you’re having second thoughts, Jonah. That would
be perfectly natural. You’re a good man with a strong conscience, whose life
has done much to warp perception. Doubt is expected, but results required. I’m
sure you don’t need a reminder of consequences, or my plea that you keep me
from unfortunate choices and inevitable barbarism.”

Before Jonah could respond, the old man said, “Keep walking,
and press the button … now, or else your daughter dies.”

Jonah put his hand inside his jacket pocket and flipped the
cap covering the detonation button. He hovered his thumb, pressing nothing as
he looked around at the dozens of people filling the train car—innocents going
about their lives heedless of his threat.

Jonah had been to enough crime scenes, including bombings
from The Underground when the group was more radical, to know the aftermath of
such monstrous acts. He’d always wondered what kind of person could do that.

Now he was forced to be that kind of person.

His heart pounded, his throat tightened, and his legs began
to tremble. He hadn’t been this nervous since the first time he slept with
Molly.

Jonah noticed someone looking at him—a small girl, around
six or so. She wore a pretty blue dress, formal, with a matching bow in her
hair. Her mother (Jonah assumed) sat beside her, typing something into some
sort of small rectangular piece of glass, with graphics similar to those
broadcast by the lamppost. The woman was ignoring her daughter, no idea their
last few moments were wasted.

The girl’s large brown eyes met his.

He thought of how Ana used to look at him, when he was the
man who could do no wrong.

Before he murdered Molly.

Before he failed her.

Before he wasted a train of innocents, and likely, a city.

I can’t
kill this child.

Can’t
kill these people.

If he didn’t, Sutherland and his new cult
would
kill Ana.
Hundreds—thousands—of lives to his precious one.

The girl smiled and cracked Jonah’s heart.

He looked away, walked past her, two more rows, and then
pressed the button.

He couldn’t tell for certain if the poison was being
released or not. He felt the vials in his jacket, but had no idea if the vapor
had been released.

He kept walking, passing by the soon-to-be-poisoned people,
forcing himself to stare in their eyes. They deserved at least that.

Jonah passed through the first car, and stepped into the
next. He continued his death march, meeting eyes, slowly stepping into the
impossibility of what he was going to do.

Jonah was murdering normal people who had done nothing
wrong.

People who hadn’t chosen a side in this war, let alone known
they were even in one.

People who were probably guilty only of being born into City
1’s seat of power by the sea. Sutherland could justify the citizens’ guilt by
saying they were somehow culpable for living here, and doing nothing to rise
against their leaders.

But that was radicalized bullshit.

Not everything was so black and white. Most people, even
people who lived in the “evil empire,” were probably just average people living
their lives, taking care of their families, and waking up the next day to do it
all again.

They weren’t
guilty
.

It didn’t matter now. They were still being sentenced by a
coward, ordered to by a committee of weaklings. Perhaps Jonah was the biggest
coward of all, knowing how wrong this was even as he kept sentencing passengers
to death.

He stepped into the next car, spreading death with a false
indifference.

Three cars from the end of the train, Jonah ran into another
Watcher—dressed exactly like him, though obviously feeling more comfortable.

The Watcher looked up at Jonah, smiled as if confused, maybe
wondering why there were two Watchers on one train, or perhaps who Jonah was.

Shit.

Jonah started to turn around, heart racing, expecting to be
outed.

The man would know he was an impostor. He was seconds from
discovery, a minute from death.

Voice friendly, the man called, “Hey, you must be new. I’m
surprised they put us both on shift, especially without introducing us.” The
man laughed, and held his hand out for Jonah.

The Watcher said, “They sure do some funny things sometimes!
I’m Andy, good to meet you.”

In Jonah’s ear: “This man is a threat, eliminate him.”

“No,” Jonah said quietly.

“Pardon me?” Andy the Watcher asked.

“Nothing,” Jonah said, smiling awkwardly as he tried to
pass.

Again in his ear, but louder. More insistent: “Don’t be a
fool, Jonah. This man is dead already. Do your job—finish him, then go to the
rear car, tell the conductor to slow down, and jump off the train.”

Jonah ran instead.

The Watcher called out, “Hey!”

Jonah raced through the doors and into the next car, people
turning to look at him as he ran through without stopping. The Watcher
screamed, “Hey!” as his boots pounded the train’s metal floor behind Jonah.

Jonah raced ahead, not knowing what the hell he was going to
do. He couldn’t jump to instant death, and had to live long enough to ensure
that Sutherland kept up with his part of the deal—that he’d not harm Ana.

As Jonah bolted into the next car, a large man was making
his way toward him, headed either to the bathroom or back to his seat.

The aisle was too narrow, and the Watcher too close behind,
his footsteps now pounding a few feet away.

Jonah leapt at the man blocking the aisle and threw him into
the coming Watcher.

Jonah bought himself a few seconds, and kept going.

He pushed through the next doors.

The old man was in his ear.

“What’s happening? The camera feed is stuttering.”

 “I’m running!” Jonah shouted.

An arc of blue light flashed by, crashing into the roof
above, sending fractured, burnt metal chips flying at him.

Shit.

Jonah reached into his holster, rolled to the ground, and
came up aiming back at his pursuer, squeezing a shot as he did.

He missed, blasting a wide hole in an elderly woman wearing
a garish yellow-and-orange dress. Jonah corrected his aim, and pulled the
trigger twice, hitting the Watcher once in the knee, and a second time in the
chest.

The Watcher screamed as he fell, moments from death. The old
woman in the dress looked down, mouth agape, eyes widening at her incinerated
chest as life left her body and her body slumped over.

An alarm’s blare filled the car, a repeating and deafening
bray. Jonah saw the last thing in the world he wanted, or expected, to see—a
hunter orb zipping through the aisle in the car behind him, turning its camera
eyes on the passengers.

Jonah stared at the orb through two sets of windows—it had
yet to spot him in the next car.

He had to move quickly before it came. His blaster was no
match for the hunter orb, unless he managed to get off the luckiest shots of
his life before being vaporized.

Jonah kept moving forward, smashed through the next set of
doors, pushed a woman out of his way, apologized with a grunt, and kept on,
into the next car, racing toward the train’s rear.

What now?

Jonah had planned on ordering the conductor riding in the
rear car to slow enough so that he could jump, but if the orb sensed the train
slowing or spotted Jonah jumping, it would chase him down and leave him dead.
Out in the open, in the land outside the train, Jonah would last only seconds.

He kept moving forward, glancing back at the orb, which was
quickly scanning people as it made its way through the car. He saw a man
pointing forward, at Jonah, directing the orb toward him.

Jonah pushed through the next set of doors, and then he saw
that the doors into the car ahead were already open. Two people stood in the
doorway. A young man in a suit, and a second man, older and dressed in casual,
colorful clothes. The older man’s eyes were wild, and he launched forward,
biting the neck of the man in the suit.

The victim screamed as the infected tore a chunk from his
throat and swallowed.  Behind them, pandemonium—more infected, maybe even
everyone in the full car.

Shit!

Panic filled Jonah’s car as the situation seemed to dawn on
the passengers at the same time. Jonah couldn’t turn back, though. He’d take
his chance rushing through the confusion of zombies rather than risk facing the
hunter orb.

There was a mad scramble toward the door to the rear car, and
it stopped his progress dead.

“Back!” Jonah screamed, shoving his blaster in a man’s face.

The man was too panicked to recognize the threat, and shoved
Jonah aside before he could squeeze off a shot.

His blaster fell to the ground as people stampeded toward
the rear, over both Jonah and the gun.

Jonah was buried in legs, arms, and raining bodies. Shrieks
filled the air.

Pain exploded through him—legs, arms, ribs, head—everything
was battered. He tried to stand, crawl into the safety of the seat to his left,
but was shoved down by the mass of people clawing and climbing toward the exit.

Then, new screams. And a worse sound: in the car behind him,
Jonah heard the orb vaporizing the poor souls who’d run into the car for
safety.

He lifted his head, looked to the seat, and began crawling
out of the way.

Too late.

Passengers who had fled the car began pouring back in,
trampling him, as they attempted to escape the orb.

Zombies in front, an orb behind, and dozens of scared people
on top of him.

Jonah’s world was chaos, his heart racing as fast as the
train barreling down the tracks. He expected the orb to catch him.

He had to stand.

More vaporizing behind him.

Pinned to his spot, Jonah looked up to see a woman coming
through the doors at the car’s front—the little girl’s mother, screaming as she
tried to pull something off her back.

It was the girl, holding tight, howling as she gnashed at
her mother’s face, trying to eat her. The girl bit into her mom’s cheek,
ripping a chunk away with a loud growl.

The mom screamed, and spun, swinging her daughter to face
her. The mom’s eyes were wet and afraid. Her scream was desperate.

She raced forward into the row and smashed the back of the
girl’s head against the glass. The girl screamed. The mom smashed again,
repeatedly, until the girl fell limp in her arms.

The woman cried out in anguish as Jonah’s heart broke,
again.

A second later, she was pulled down by another infected.

Another woman fell down in front of him, stood, then kept
running until she froze at the sight of her zombie-filled path.

She looked back and forth, then crawled into the row opposite
Jonah and fell to the ground, trying to hide from both the zombies and the
approaching orb.

More screams from behind, hot blood and ashes splashing
everyone unfortunate enough to be in the orb’s path.

Jonah had an idea.

He managed to twist himself around and tried to get up.
Another man stepped over him. Jonah grabbed hold of the man’s legs and wrestled
him to the floor, pulling him into a choke hold and down for cover in front of
the seat.

The man screamed, trying to writhe and push Jonah away.

“Stop screaming,” Jonah yelled into his ears as he choked
the man’s neck tighter. “I’m saving you!”

In the aisle, a woman racing by was obliterated. The orb was
attacking anyone and everyone it saw as a threat—anyone running and screaming.

She vanished in a rain of ashen blood.

The man cried out, shaking, trying to break free as the
woman’s remains spattered around and over them.

Jonah held tight as the orb peered through the open doors
and hovered above them.

The orb looked ahead, completely missing them—for the
moment.

The woman across the way looked up, shaking as she
whimpered.

The orb spun toward her and fired a blast, vaporizing the
upper half of her body.

Jonah held his hand tight over the man’s mouth, so hard he
thought he might break the man’s jaw.

Jonah whispered in his ear, “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

The orb moved forward, and fired, though Jonah couldn’t see
the targets from under the man.

Jonah listened to more blasts, screams, and the sounds of
fallen bodies until the orb pushed its way through the zombies and into the
next car.