Requiem (8 page)

Just keep it
simple

'I really
appreciate your...'

Assistance?
No. Friendship? No. Companionship? No. Help? Yes!

'I really
appreciate your help, Abigail...' said Seline, 'and your company'
she quickly added. 'I'm happy I came'. She stood with her head
slightly bowed and her hand holding tightly to the strap of her
bag. Abigail gave her a gentle nod and smiled warmly at her. The
melancholy of the old ticking clock narrated the brief moment of
silence.

'It was my
pleasure, Seline. I know you had to come a long way to get here and
I'm glad you did. But before you go...'

She rose from
her armchair and walked over to one of the piles of books that
Seline had re-stacked. 'I've been holding onto these books for a
long time. Some of them I've read through dozens of times and
others I haven't even touched.' She ran her fingers along their
spines just as Seline did when she first arrived. 'Would you do me
a favour and take some of these old things with you? To my memory,
you're the only one who's expressed any real interest in this
collection.'

The book Seline
thought of was small, blue, hardbound. The words
The Erebus
Sleeps with Night
were printed along the spine in thin, gold
letters. The stories were undeniably quaint yet she enjoyed looking
at the pale, washed over sketches that adorned every fourth or
fifth page. Apollo's chariot dragging the sun, Medusa's stoney gaze
and snake riddled hair, Icarus's burning, waxen wings. She wanted
to ask but remembered the words that had been scrawled on the
inside of the cover in a child's hand 'Dear mum. I hope you have a
good birthday. I'm sorry I ate your birthday cake. Love Rodney.'
Seline decided not to ask and instead inquired on behalf of
Belameir.

'Well... I have
a friend who would kill me if I passed up the opportunity.' Her
eyes, though hidden behind her fringe and the natural shadows of
the candle light, led Abigail to the copy of
Sherlock Holmes
resting atop one of the smaller stacks where Seline had placed it.
Abigail took the book in her hands. 'He's been looking for an
original copy for as long as I've known him,' said Seline.

'To be honest,
dear,' said Abigail as she held the book to the light, scrutinising
the frayed edges of the cover 'I forgot I had this! All the more
reason for you to take it off my hands, I suppose, eh?' She laughed
her boisterous, croaking laugh and handed the book to Seline.

'Are you sure
you want to just give this away?' Seline asked.

'If it's going
to someone who can fully appreciate the contents inside of it and
what the book represents then, my dear, I am happy to part with
it.'

Seline
refrained from checking if Abigail was sure for a second time and
decided to ask her about the enigmatic record with the photo of the
burning man on the cover. 'Is the music anything like the cover?'
She asked as she held the disk up to Abigail.

'I'll tell you
what. If you promise to drop in again sometime I'll promise to have
my record player up and running so we can both enjoy it.' She
looked at Seline. 'Perhaps with a side of that green tea you love
so much.'

A slight,
ironic smile crept onto Seline's face. She glanced at Abigail and
then back down to the photo. 'I'd like that.' She looked at the
time. 'Damn, I really better go.'

'Oh, yes! I
better let you out. Here, let me get the door.'

She guided
Seline back down the hall towards the front door. Jessie the
paternal shotgun still hung patiently from the ceiling. As the two
unlocked, unbolted and struggled with the massive, wooden blast
shield of a door Abigail slipped a small, blue, hardbound book into
Seline's bag. Abigail had noticed Seline's interest in the book and
knew she wouldn't dare ask her for it herself or take it if she
offered it any other way. She hoped Seline would find something, if
not in those pages then at least in the gesture. Seline stepped out
into the fading, afternoon light. She turned to Abigail and thanked
her again for returning the blackbox before helping her pull the
door closed.

Abigail
returned to the living room and sat in the chair amongst the towers
of her paper fortress and poured some tea. She took one sip before
putting the cup down and picking up one of the candles from the
side table. She stood up again and squeezed her way between several
rows of scientific journals and periodicals to a cupboard nestled
in the corner of the room. She opened the small door and dusted off
her old record player. Out the corner of her eye she noticed the
light from one of the candles shiver softly. Still with her head
buried in the cupboard, she carefully placed her hand on the grip
of an old steel revolver that had been left loaded directly next to
the player. She held her breath and waited to see if the shadow in
the corner of her eye would make the first move.

Seline stepped
away from the big green door and looked down the street. A cloud of
dust had swept over the streets. She could just make out the thin,
metal antennae of the radio tower rising above the rest of the
stunted buildings and stabbing into the sky. Shadows stretched down
the length of the street like the tired children being put to bed
with the sun.

She walked
along the footpath towards the tower. The city's sickly orange
powder-coat brushed over the concrete around her feet and on down
the footpath. She rounded the corner. The street was crowded with
more piles of concrete, steel, and rubbish. Homeless lay on the
bare concrete, torn rags and blankets draped over their bodies.
Seline walked along a clear path on the road to get around the
wreckage. She looked into the hooded eyes of one of the men lying
still against a small mound of shingle and dirt. The sunken,
expressionless eyes followed her as she walked. His skin was
weathered and sanded raw and held taught and shrunken over his
skull. A child's blue blanket with yellow cartoonish ducks
patterned over it was held loosely under his chin, covering only
the top half of his body. Every face Seline looked at held those
same black doll eyes in the same hollowed out, wooden expression.
She wasn't sure which were dead and which were living or if there
was even a difference. Her mouth was dry again. The city she had
occupied in those darkened years; was this what she had been
running away from? She was helpless under the vacancy of their
lifeless eyes. Not begging her for food or water but for
answers.

She quickened
her pace and turned right at the next corner. She could hear busy
voices echoing between the buildings. They were coming from the end
of the road. Probably some kind of market she thought. She made her
way along the broken remnants of the footpath. The gravel and
stones pushed up against the thin soles of her shoes. She focused
on the crunching sound the gravel made. She’d always loved that
sound. The feeling of leaving footprints provided a sort of
comfort; something tangible to keep her tethered to reality.

A gust of wind
funnelled down the street, staggering her. Something flew past her
chest, ricocheting off the brick wall and bouncing to the ground at
her feet. She glanced around curiously before kneeling down to
examine it. It was a small metal dart. Not quite a bullet, more
like a tranquilliser. She rose and glanced across the street. All
the windows into the houses were blocked or boarded up. She scanned
the lines of the roofs. Another gust of wind picked up and shoved
her back as another dart shot past her and collided with the wall.
She didn't need another warning.

She threw the
dart in her hand to the ground and started sprinting toward a
collapsed piece of wall that was leaning up against one of the
buildings. The small gap could provide some cover. She hurdled over
a pile of debris and tried to look back over her shoulder to see
where the shots came from. Another dart flew past her. A delayed
reaction sent her ducking as a hand thrust out at her from the
shadowed entrance of an alley. It grabbed hold of her arm and
pulled her from the footpath, dragging her legs across the
ground.

A second hand
clasped onto her other shoulder and shoved her against the wall of
the alley. She struggled and kicked at the figure, her eyes still
adjusting to the rushing darkness, breath pushing against her face.
The massive hands wrapped around her biceps, their warmth
smothering, pressing into her skin. She half guessed at where his
groin was and threw out her knee. She hit something. The man
grunted and his grip loosened. She tore her right arm free and
punched wildly. Her fist glanced across his jaw. The taste of
strawberries in her mouth. The man swore, stumbled to the side. His
hand still grasped onto Seline's left arm. She grabbed his wrist
with her free hand, gritted her teeth, and let every ounce of her
fear and strength flow through the synthetic nerves and into her
finger tips. A deep crunching sound. His bones cracked and
splintered between her fingers. His screams filled the alley. Blood
squirted from the breaking skin as she twisted her hand around the
bones and ligaments. The hand fell limp. He howled in agony,
falling back against the wall.

'You bitch! You
fucking bitch!'

A voice came
from out in the street. 'Someone fucking sedate her!' Seline looked
down the alley. A dead end. The man writhed in pain on the ground,
clutching his arm.

'Get in there!'
Another voice cried.

Another man
appeared at the entrance to the alley. An arc of blood spurted from
the side of his head, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the
ground.

'Oh shit!'
Another voice from out in the street. 'What the fuck just
happened?! Who the hell is that?'

Seline stood
with her back hard against the brick wall. Her eyes shifting
between the dead men and the opening to the alley. Muffled voices
and the splitting report of gunfire filled the street. A figure
darted past the alley. More gunfire then silence. Only her heavy
breathing and the groans of the injured man. A hooded figure
appeared in the entrance.

'Are you hurt?'
The voice was feminine. The words scratched at her throat.

'What the hell
is going on? Who are you?' said Seline. Her voice was shaking.

The stranger
strode towards her, casually glanced down at the man.

'We'll find
you, you son of a -' A sharp pelting sound as a bullet was
discharged into the man's skull. She kept walking towards
Seline.

'NeoCorp is
after you.'

'What? Why?
Don't come any closer. Who the fuck are you?' Seline pressed back
against the wall as the stranger approached. She tried to ignore
the two dead bodies. She looked down at her hand. Blood was
dripping from her fingers.

Another figure
appeared in the entrance. 'Seline, it's okay.'

'Sear?'

'Athene, get
the others. Prep the ship.' Athene turned to Sear and stared at him
for a moment before leaving the alley.

Sear spoke to
Seline. 'That was NeoCorp. We think it's something to do with your
mother. We have to leave – now.'

Seline looked
at the blood from the man's head running down the wall, soaking
into the sand. Her words were slipping away. Sear stood between her
and the body and approached her. He placed his hand on her
shoulder. She pulled away sharply and set her eyes on his. They
were darker than the shadows in the alley.

'I don't have a
choice do I?' she said.

'Of course you
do. Coming with us just happens to be the best option.'

No reply.

'NeoCorp's
reinforcements will be here any minute. We have to go.'

'Go where
exactly?'

'Off Earth. Out
of Sol. Probably to Saranture.'

Probabilities,
scenarios were racing around her head etching their tracks into the
inside of her skull. If it really was NeoCorp who were after her
then getting off planet could be problematic; made harder by the
fact that she didn't actually know how to get back to the maglev
station in Vale. Sear had been kind to her over the past couple of
days but there are a million different reasons for someone to lie.
He said he worked for the Yurrick government – not exactly known
for their violence – but that other Yurrick, the one Sear had
called Athene, had just shot that man in the head, point blank and
it's so hard to tell what someone's thinking when you can't even
see their eyes.

If I stay here
and go it alone, I'm fucked. If I go with the people who were
trying to drug me, I'm pretty sure I'm fucked. If I go with Sear I
still might be fucked but better the devil you kind of know when
the other devil is openly trying to drug you... I guess.

She looked at
her hand again. 'Alright, fine,' she finally said, speaking more to
herself than to Sear, 'but we need to get Abigail first. They'll
probably be after her as well.'

Another voice
came from the street. 'Sear get a move on! They're already
here!'

Sear rushed
back towards the street. Seline followed, keeping her eyes trained
on Sear to avoid having any more details of the two corpses commit
themselves to memory. There were two more hooded figures standing
in the street, black, carbon rifles held loosely in front of them.
Yurrick. Friendly. Gunfire came from back down the street.
Somewhere close to Abigail's house. Faint, rasping screams soon
followed. The two rifles were now pointing down the street. A
naked, skeletal figure hobbled from around the corner, running its
hand along the outside wall of the building to keep itself up. A
faded, raggedy blanket was clutched in its hand. The ground shook
and the dust itched against Seline's skin as an explosion of fire
and bellowing smoke reignited the fading light. The walking
skeleton stumbled forward and fell. Seline looked at Sear.