Marcus shivered in the back of Harvey’s vehicle. Spending that much time locked up had really done a number on him. He’d no idea he was claustrophobic until the moment he’d felt fresh air on his skin.
That asshole Taggart had ordered the guards to keep air at a minimum—to sweat out his confession. Fuck if he was going to give up his secrets. He’d become used to fighting for air on Earth. But not having it on a planet with an abundance of it? A cruel and torturous act.
He’d make Taggart pay.
Harvey was sitting in the driver’s seat, checking something on his DPad. The car was on autopilot, the controls still hidden inside the dashboard.
‘Hey, thanks for rescuing me back there,’ he said to Buchanan.
The man didn’t respond.
The silence bothered Marcus, not least because Harvey had yet to explain why he’d freed him.
‘I said I’m glad you came back for me.’
Harvey turned partially. ‘So you said already. Don’t make me regret it.’
It wasn’t much of a “you’re welcome” but he’d take it. Settling back in his seat, he hoped Harvey had forgotten about his attempts to align himself with the Elite and Conditioned.
Harvey turned again. ‘There’s something I’ve wondered about.’
‘Yeah?’
‘When Tanya and her hosted Elite crew were busy attacking the Indigenes, where were you exactly?’
The question sounded innocent, but Marcus sensed Harvey was feeling out his loyalty.
He shivered again. ‘I got as far as the entrance.’
‘Then what?’
‘I told you already.’ Marcus smiled. ‘Must’ve hit my head. I woke to find one of the Indigenes standing over me. He handed me over to Taggart.’
Harvey faced the front. ‘That’s what you told me, all right.’
Buchanan had been to visit him in prison once. They hadn’t spoken much about the events leading up to the infection in the district. Harvey had been more interested in telling Marcus he had a plan for the future.
He’d been vague on the details, though.
‘So what’s the plan now?’
‘Now, we head to New Tokyo.’
Marcus leaned forward. ‘Yeah? What’s there?’
‘People I know.’
Marcus sat back with a sigh. It was like dealing with Gaetano Agostini all over again. The more time he spent with Harvey Buchanan the more trouble he was having separating their personalities. Marcus eyed his rescuer. The former geneticist must be pushing eighty now. He had light, sandy hair that had turned silvery-white in several places.
Something big had happened while Marcus had been locked up. And he sensed something bigger was about to happen.
He sized up the man. Marcus had youth and strength on his side. It wouldn’t take much to overpower Harvey.
So why hadn’t he done it yet? Because Buchanan reminded him of someone, and that someone had told him once to play his cards close to his chest.
A loud bang in the back of the vehicle startled Marcus.
‘Fuck!’ He pressed a fist to his chest and hissed, ‘Hey, the turd is awake.’
Harvey focused on the road. ‘We’ll be there soon.’
☼
The vehicle approached the entrance to New Tokyo. It was a differently designed city to New London and that city’s old-world architecture, green spaces and newer glass structures. High-rise buildings dominated the skyline of New Tokyo. The car approached a blockade similar to the one guarding the exit to New London. The guard peered inside the vehicle, then waved it on.
Marcus eyed the men and women wearing ITF uniforms who protected the entrance. Were they part of Taggart’s team, or had they stolen uniforms from people they killed?
The vehicle travelled on a central road before turning right and entering an inner ring road. The narrow street sandwiched between two rows of high rises had barely visible neon signs promoting the latest in VR tech, and food stalls. Lots and lots of food stalls. He cracked the window a little and caught the strong smell of Kung Pao Chicken. His favourite back on Earth. Whenever Enzo and the boys had planned a night of cards, it had been Marcus’ duty to replicate an array of Asian dishes.
Trade was being done under lights stored with solar energy. Marcus had seen similar ones at the construction site where he’d worked for a time. Except for the neon signs with a scrap of power, there appeared to be a similar issue with the power that he’d seen in New London, when they’d nabbed Ben from his boarding house. This city differed to New London in that it favoured innovation over tradition. If he were being honest, he preferred New London and its lack of tech—Marcus still didn’t feel comfortable around it.
‘We’re going to need to enforce a curfew here. I want everyone off the streets.’ Harvey spoke into a walkie talkie and gave the command down the line.
The car entered a weakly illuminated tunnel. The lights in the cabin dimmed while they passed through. On the other side, the car emerged and headed towards an isolated structure inside city limits that Marcus assumed was another biodome. The one inside the military hospital grounds had been his prison for a short time.
His hands shook from excitement, or fear—he wasn’t sure. This could be his chance to make a name for himself, to put his command skills to good use. Or Harvey could lock him up again.
Not if he had anything to say about it.
Marcus narrowed his eyes at Harvey. He wished he knew what his end game was, and how Marcus fit into it.
Another loud bang startled him. He beat the panel between the back and the cabin. ‘Shut the fuck up!’
The noise dissipated.
‘We’re here,’ announced Harvey.
Marcus looked outside. The car had stopped at a tall set of gates leading inside a compound.
‘Where’s here, exactly?’
‘Your new home. Yours and the boy’s.’
Heavily armed guards opened the gates and the car travelled down a single dirt road to a corrugated-roofed building not far inside. It stopped and Harvey jumped out. He walked to the entrance of the building with no signage, leaving Marcus in the cabin with an irate prisoner.
‘Let me out!’ The boy banged on the partition between the boot and inside cabin.
Marcus’ blood boiled at the demand. Nobody would push him around again. The Elite had used him and discarded him when they hadn’t needed him anymore. This time he would play his cards close to his chest. If Harvey planned to do the same, Marcus wanted to have the winning hand.
He got out and opened the boot. Ben Watson’s hands and feet were tied, but he still managed to kick Marcus in the gut.
Marcus fell on his ass.
‘Get the boy in here,’ shouted Harvey.
He scrambled to his feet and hauled the kid out. He was strong, stronger than Marcus remembered. But then, the residents of Waverley had been living on rations. Not many of them had had the strength to fight the Agostini faction.
He smacked the kid across the cheek with his gun. The boy yelped and shrank back from him.
Marcus quickly untied his feet, keeping his Buzz Gun on him. No way was he carrying the little dipshit.
‘Move, before my itchy finger does something you won’t like. You remember how cramped my finger can get, don’t-cha?’
With a huff, Ben shuffled on to the building where Harvey was waiting by the open door. Marcus pushed Ben inside and sniffed the air. He couldn’t detect any lingering odour of manure. This was not a biodome.
‘One of the old docking stations,’ said Harvey, as if he’d read his mind. ‘Too small to start up again.’
The geneticist walked down a corridor past several doors, and crashed through a set of double doors into the next room.
Marcus paused at the entrance to the new room. He peered inside and saw a team of men and women waiting. They carried Buzz Guns. There were also several trestle tables laden with guns of all kinds, walkie talkies and DPads.
The room was large, but not as big as the docking station in New London. The floor was a cool grey colour, the walls a similar shade. Windows covered the upper third of the walls. A balcony, accessible by a set of stairs on either side, ran part way around the room. At the back was a separate room with a window.
Harvey pointed to the room. ‘Put the boy in there.’
Marcus shoved the boy on while Harvey spoke to a man with a thick neck who looked a lot like Carl, his dipshit friend who’d ratted him out on Earth to save his own ass.
The men conversed like they trusted each other. Harvey smiled and shook his hand. Then he clapped him on the back and the Carl lookalike headed out. Seeing Harvey show respect to someone who looked like his old foe irritated the hell out of Marcus.
He pushed the teen past the heavily armed onlookers and into the room. Inside was a single metal chair and nothing else. Marcus untied the teen’s arms and retied his legs and arms to the chair. He returned to the main room just as a sudden gust of wind picked up inside the old hangar.
He startled at the sight of eight—no, ten—new additions. The tall Indigenes towered over the others already gathered in the middle of the hangar.
Harvey proffered his hand to one. The Indigene shook it confidently.
‘Glad you could make it,’ said Harvey. ‘Welcome to the hub of my operation.’