“See anything?” asked Ella, straining at the stiff bolts with a wrench as long as Gold-Eye’s arm.
“No,” replied Gold-Eye, turning a complete circle, shading his eyes with both hands cupped against his eyebrows. “But I can’t see against the sun.”
“Keep looking as close to either side of it as you can,” Ella said absently, kicking at the spanner with her heel. “Should have brought some sunglasses—’cause that’s where they’ll come from, if they do.”
“What are you doing?”
Ninde and Drum both started, for the voice didn’t belong to either of them. Ninde almost dropped the silvery disc she had just taken out of the open CD drawer in the storage silo.
“You’re working for Robert, aren’t you?” continued the disembodied voice, becoming clearer and more recognizable as the one they’d heard before. Professor Leamington. Only now there was no image to go with it.
“Go to sleep, Professor,” said Drum slowly. “We’ll take care of everything.”
“I’m not sleepy anymore,” said Leamington. “Robert’s stealing my data, isn’t he? Planning to publish before I do, stealing my life’s work. I dare-say he wants the new radiation to be named after him. But he won’t, he won’t! He’s gone too far this time. I’ve called security, you see. And the police.”
“Ninde,” said Drum suddenly. “Hurry up.”
“And I’ve set off the burglar alarm,” Leamington continued. “You’re not the only one who’s good with gadgets, Robert. I’m not just a theoretician, oh no. I know how things work. It’s all in the Projectors, Robert….”
His voice continued to rave on, descending into meaningless chatter as he talked about tenure and chairs, grants and committees—and his arch-enemy Robert, who seemed to stand out among many enemies.
“What’s the hurry?” asked Ninde, raising her voice over Leamington’s whiny ramblings.
“Some phones still work,” said Drum. “Alarms too. Overlords listen.”
“But the Death Markers will keep them out….”
“Overlords can ignore them. Hurry up!”
It was Gold-Eye and Ella’s bad luck that the closest flight of Wingers included one with a mind-call. Receiving urgent instructions from their Overlord, they banked to the left and started to descend below the high cirrus—ready for the long dive down. Down to the University.
“That’s it,” said Ella, pulling the last bolt out of the concrete. “Sky still clear?”
“Ye—” Gold-Eye began, and then as his soon-to-be-now vision flashed, with a single picture of Wingers plummeting onto the roof all around them, “No! Wing—”
He had the word only half out when a shadow whisked across them—the wide, long leading shadow of an attacking Winger. Instantly Ella grabbed Gold-Eye and pulled him onto the concrete, just as the Winger shrieked overhead, taloned hands raking the air where Gold-Eye had stood.
In shock he watched it pass, seeing over and over again the human body stretched out with arms stretched longer still; the taloned hands; the stumpy legs ending well above the knees; and the great leather-bellows bat wings spanning twenty feet or more.
And the face, or lack of it. The shrieking, saw-toothed ear-to-ear mouth. The lower jaw thrust out beyond the reach of any lip; the empty socket where once a nose had been. And the bright, shining eyes, twice the size of any human eye but still somehow human.
He didn’t have long to look. Ella grabbed him with one hand, picked up the instrument ball with the other, and sprinted for the stairs.
“Lead Winger,” she gasped as they crashed through the door and down several steps. “Fastest in the flight. Others will be close. Come on!”
Drum heard the Winger scream above and was almost at the door when it burst open to admit Ella and Gold-Eye. Leamington was still raving on about income tax and academic salary reviews, and Ninde was still no more than halfway through removing the CDs from the storage silo.
“Wingers,” said Ella unnecessarily. “Ignoring the Death Markers. What’s that noise?”
“The artificial intelligence,” replied Drum. “Leamington. He…it called the police and set off an alarm.”
“An Overlord?” asked Ella, and then answered her own question. “Has to be, doesn’t it? Gold-Eye, Drum, look out a window—if you can get one open. I’ll help Ninde.”
Putting the instrument ball down, she took a folded nylon backpack out of one of her belt pouches, shook it open, and started packing it with the boxes of CDs. Ninde caught her sense of urgency and worked even faster, pulling the CD drawers out of the silo without waiting for their slow, powered extrusion.
“Forget the cases,” Ella said as she dropped one putting it in. “Just chuck them straight in the bag. Come on!”
Across the room, Drum and Gold-Eye wrestled with a window that had been stuck shut and painted over. Or more correctly, Gold-Eye got in the way until Drum wrenched it open, showering them both with flakes of black plastic paint.
Fresh air, sunlight…and sound came in the open window. Myrmidon marching chants, the whistle of Trackers, the scream of Wingers flying low over the building…
Looking out, they saw two columns of Myrmidons marching across the lawns toward the Abstract Computing building. Three maniples in all, with a Myrmidon Master marching at their head, the black feathers from its plumed helmet cascading down its back. Black squares fluttered on the Master’s sleeves, and one of the Myrmidons carried an ornate battle standard fringed with gold. It had no device, just a plain black field.
Trackers coursed in front of the Myrmidons, noses pressed against the grass. Every few yards, they leaped into the air and whistled, catching the human scent wafting from the building several hundred yards away.
A shadow passed across the window as they watched, and Gold-Eye flinched, but it was gone in a moment—only to be followed by something worse. The shape that had cast the shadow.
An enormous Winger, easily twelve feet tall, with wings forty feet or more across, glided lazily in to land in front of the Myrmidon Master. The Winger knelt, and a smaller, man-sized figure in jetblack armor leaped easily off its back, striding over to the Master. That creature knelt before it, and the Myrmidons behind sank to their knees in rows. The Trackers practically fell down where they were, tongues lolling, and the Wingers ceased their screeching.
“An Overlord,” Drum said, bleakness sounding even in his strange voice. “Black Banner.”
Drum’s words chilled Gold-Eye, even standing in the sun. Suddenly he felt very afraid, more afraid than he had ever been of anything, even a Ferret. He felt dizzy and he heard words over and over again in his head.
“Now, what will we do with you? Now, what will we do with you? Now, what will we do…?”
The Overlord spoke with the Myrmidon Master for a moment. Then it turned toward the building, and the spreading horns on its helmet flashed from black to deep wine-red.
“It sees us,” said Drum, pulling the window closed with a final-sounding thud. But not before Gold-Eye saw the Overlord raise one spike-gauntleted hand and point—straight at him.
VIDEO ARCHIVE—CONVERTED FROM DISK STORE 34–786 TO ARRAY 23–56 • STEPHEN
I guess I was twelve when the Change happened. My old man was the gardener at the Uni and used to go down there early—about six in the morning. He’d leave the breakfast stuff out for me and my sister, Gwen. Mum had left a couple of years before with some other guy.
So this morning I got up about seven to get ready for school—and no cereal on the table, no bowl. I went out to see if his car was still there—and it was stopped on the road outside.
I ran over, because I thought he’d had a heart attack or something. But he wasn’t there. The keys were hanging in the ignition…. I guess it was about then that I realized something strange had happened. It was so quiet, for a start. No traffic. No planes—and we lived right under the flight path.
There were other cars stopped out on the road too. Then this kid I knew—lived four doors
down—came out on the lawn and started screaming.
“They’re all gone, they’re all gone!” or something like that. It freaked me out, so I ran back inside to wake up Gwen. She was sixteen and pretty silly, but she was older than me, so…
Only she wasn’t there. Just disappeared right out of her bed. I didn’t know what to do then, so I just hid in the house. Tried to watch TV or get something on the radio, but there was nothing. Some of the cable stations were still showing movies and cartoons and stuff. But no news.
That afternoon these weird-looking buses came around. Really narrow, sort of segmented carriages with an engine at the front—like those toy trains at fairs. They were driven by these guys in suits—like spacesuits, with helmets and everything. You couldn’t see who was in them.
They had loudspeakers and they kept calling out to everyone to get on the bus. All the kids, because there wasn’t anyone else left.
I watched whole families—or what was left of them—get on. Ten-year-olds carrying babies, five-year-old twins holding hands…there were heaps of them. All trusting, because the guys in the suits looked like grown-ups.
The bus came back every day for two weeks, until there was nobody left to collect. Or people like me.
I didn’t get on. Not because I knew about the Dorms and the Meat Factory…not then. I just had this feeling….
A few weeks later, the first creatures started to appear. They didn’t have the formal battles and stuff then. They just hunted us. I was living in White’s Supermarket by that time. Close to supplies. And I had a rifle—a thirty-thirty that was too big for me. I found out the hard way that the creatures could take six or seven shots before they went down. Steel worked on them better—so I got an old bayonet from an army-disposal store. Not as good as one of those gold-plated swords Shade’s robots make…but it worked.
That was two years ago. I was lucky, I guess. Whatever else the Change did, it gave me a sort of sense that tells me what’s going to happen. Sometimes, that is. Enough so I lasted on my own for longer than most.
I joined up with Shade six months ago, and that’s made quite a difference. I never really thought I’d make it much past fifteen…but now, I reckon I’ve got a good chance….
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“We have to get out,” said Drum. “There’s an Overlord and two maniples crossing the lawns now.”
“Okay,” replied Ella calmly, still stuffing CDs in the pack. “But we’ve got to get these first. Drum—shake out a pack, for the instrument ball. Ninde—see if you can get into one of the Master’s minds, or the Overlord. Gold-Eye, empty that last tray into here. Just pull it out.”
Everyone moved quickly at her orders, incipient panic serving as extra energy. Despite their separate tasks, everyone’s attention was half focused on Ninde. She stood in the middle of the room, chewing her knuckle, trying to ignore the constant mad whispering of Professor Leamington.
“I can’t get the Overlord or a Master,” she said, almost whimpering. “But there’s more Myrmidons on the other side…. We’re surrounded!”
“Ha ha ha ha ha ha,” gurgled Leamington, possibly in answer to her words. The others were silent. Everyone was looking to Ella now, waiting for the word to run, the tension building as she put the last few CDs in the bag and closed the zip with a final whirr.
“What we do?” asked Gold-Eye, unable to bear it any longer. His instinct was to run, run down the stairs, get out of the building…
But Ella didn’t answer. She kept staring down at the zipper of the bag, as if she could somehow see her way out in the linking of the steel teeth. Then she cupped her palms, and the pulse in her neck began to throb, the blood vessels suddenly prominent, blue beneath her skin.
“What…” Ninde began, but Drum motioned her to silence. He knew that look. Ella was trying to imagine something, to bring it to her, or create it. Even Leamington quieted down, till the only noise was the muffled shouts of the Myrmidons and the high rise and fall of Winger shrieks.
Then Gold-Eye felt something twitch in his forehead, as if the soon-to-be-now had just struck him for a second. The feeling was centered on Ella—and he saw that something had appeared in her cupped hands.
A metal egg about the size of a large lemon. Green, with a bright yellow band around it, and a metal handle secured to the round part with a split pin.
“What is it?” asked Gold-Eye simply. How could a metal egg be the way out?
“It’s called a grenade,” said Ella, carefully putting it in one of the pouches on her belt. “It’s a weapon.”
As she spoke, she looked at Drum for just a second, and he nodded. Ninde didn’t see it, but Gold-Eye thought he knew that look. He’d seen it before, between Petar and Jemmie. Weapons weren’t always there to be used on the enemy. The Myrmidons had taken Petar before he could use the knife….
“But let’s hope we can save it for later,” continued Ella. She picked up her backpack and headed away from the door, a confident smile confusing everyone else, who’d instinctively started toward the exit.
“Where—” Ninde began, but she was interrupted again, this time by a tremendous crash that shook the whole building. It was followed by a cheer from the Myrmidons below. Obviously they’d just used something to smash through the ground floor doors. It would be only minutes before they were on the sixth floor.
“Earthquake!” exclaimed Leamington, suddenly coherent again. “Earthquake! We must get out. Somebody help me!”
“Drum, bar the door as best you can, then follow! You two, follow me!” Ella’s commands cut through Leamington’s pleas for help and the Myrmidons’ triumphant bellowing.
Gold-Eye looked at her blankly, but she didn’t wait to see if he was following. She ducked under one of the tables and disappeared behind a curtain of hanging cables.
“Well, go on!” exclaimed Ninde, pushing him forward. “Hurry up!”
It seemed stupid to Gold-Eye to try and hide under a table load of computers, but he obediently got down on his knees and crawled under the table—to see that Ella had opened a panel in the wall behind, revealing a small elevator shaft descending to who knew where.
“Service elevator,” explained Ella hurriedly. “Shade mentioned it as a possible point of entry…or exit. There are no handholds in the shaft, so you’ll have to climb down the cable—quickly.”
“Where?” asked Gold-Eye apprehensively, as he lowered himself into the shaft.
“Underground parking lot,” replied Ella. “I hope. Now, move!”
She pushed him a little in the small of the back, and he shuffled forward a bit farther, till his legs were down the shaft and all he had to do was reach forward and grab the cable. Still he hesitated, and Ella pushed him again.
Overbalancing, he fell forward, hands grabbing the steel cable to take his weight. Only they didn’t. The cable was thick with grease, and instead of climbing down, he started to slide, totally out of control.
Desperately he tightened his grip, wrapped his legs around the cable, and shouted just one word in total panic…before plummeting into darkness.
“Slippery!”
Gold-Eye’s panicked yell coincided with the Myrmidons’ arrival on the sixth floor and a Winger attempt to smash through the windows.
With their first rush, the two leading Myrmidons smashed the door out of its frame, pushing back the makeshift barrier of tables and computer equipment Drum had piled up. He shoved it back against them and, without looking to see what else he could find, wrenched another computer cabinet from the wall and threw it across as well.
This one was still plugged in, and it burst into sparks and flame with an explosion that was marked by the sudden cessation of Professor Marcus Leamington’s voice.
In that same second a Winger flew against the glass, shrieking and battering like a giant moth against a light globe. The glass bowed inward, but it held, at least for a few moments longer.
Under the table, Ella pushed Ninde into the shaft, forcing her to tak
e hold despite her protestations that Gold-Eye had already fallen to his death and she preferred to take her chances elsewhere. Fortunately, Gold-Eye’s manic grip had taken most of the grease with it, so she could descend under reasonable control.
Ella shouted at Drum to follow, then grabbed the cable herself, rapidly catching up with Ninde and forcing her to increase her speed by simply putting her boots on the younger girl’s shoulders whenever she slowed down.
Drum, coughing from the sudden bloom of toxic white smoke from the burning computers, dove under the table, practically sliding into the shaft without even really thinking or looking at it. Unlike the others, he was tall enough to wedge his back against one side and feet against the other.
Using this chimneying technique to keep himself in position, he reached behind his head with one hand and pulled the covering panel across to hide the shaft. Enough to fool a Myrmidon for a while, if not a Master. Then he started down.
Gold-Eye regained consciousness to witchlight, and pain let him know there was trouble in his head and left hand. The others were bending over him, looking very concerned.
“Can you move?” asked Ella.
He looked back at her as if she’d asked a very silly question, then realized he didn’t know the answer. Hesitantly he tried to find out. Pain flared in his head and hand again, but everything seemed to work. He got to his feet, grateful for Drum’s steadying hands.
“Anything feel broken?” Ella wanted to know.
Gold-Eye lifted his right hand to his head and drew it away sticky with blood—but not too much of it. Then he raised his left hand, flexing the fingers—and sharp agony let him know that his forefinger was either broken or very badly bruised.
“Finger,” he said, holding up his hand. Ella looked pleased, which wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He guessed that she was glad he could move.