A Fractured World: A Post Apocalyptic Adventure (Gallen Book 1) (16 page)

“I’m Nuria. I founded the SOT. We hadn’t agreed to …”

Emil ran along the corridor, seeing more bodies.

“Why won’t you answer me?”

“Talk again,” said Stone. “And you die.”

He turned to face Gozan. Finally. The face was older, much older than he had anticipated. There was a long ugly scar running to his jaw. Gozan frowned at the tall man, his blood stained long coat, his grubby shirt and trousers and dusty boots.

“I kept your name,” whispered Stone.

Gozan frowned at him.

“What did you say?” he asked.

The siren continued to wail. Stone silenced it with a bullet. The bang was deafening. Smoke curled from the barrel of his revolver.

“Will you at least let me have the name of my assassin?”

“You get nothing,” said Stone.

He squeezed the trigger and Gozan screamed as the bullet punctured his knee cap, dropping him to the floor. He rolled in agony, blood gushing from his shattered knee. There was a burst of gunfire from the corridor as Tomas began shooting down the stairwell. Stone heard his family screaming. He saw their faces. He saw the tears and the pain. Emil ran into the room. She saw Gozan bleeding and sobbing. He looked up at her.

“Is this the man?” she asked.

Hands raised, Nuria studied her. She had never seen a Pure One. She was a mere child. This was what all the fuss had been about? A tiny, unkempt girl with scruffy clothes and pitted skin and oddly shiny hair.

“Yes,” nodded Stone.

Emil raised the pistol.

“It wasn’t for me,” said Gozan. “I only followed orders. Always. That’s all I’ve ever done is follow orders.”

“You lie,” said Nuria, her cheek still stinging. “You’re the Chancellor. You rule everyone and everything. No one tells you what to do.”

Gozan dragged himself onto his feet and leaned against his desk, grimacing, holding his leg as blood ran from his shattered knee.

“I can give you anything, anything you want.”

“Your General made you spare some of the children, Captain,” said Stone.

It took a moment, a long moment, and then the colour drained from Gozan’s face.

“Facundo, it was always Facundo. It was his orders to exterminate outsiders. He was afraid you would attack Chett again.”

“I never saw my father raise his hand to any man,” said Stone. “Nor my mother. Or my sister.”

Nuria stared at the bearded man.

“Stone,” yelled Tomas. “We need to go.”

“Facundo is still alive,” said Gozan. “Kill him.”

“What?” said Nuria.

“He ordered the killings at the camps,” said Gozan, panting. “We knew the raiders had been driven back. It was Facundo, have your vengeance on him.”

“He was exiled fifteen years ago,” said Nuria. “He’s dead. What are you talking about, Gozan?”

She stared at him across the office.

“What did you do?”

“He’s still here,” gasped Gozan, clutching his knee. “In Hamble Towers. The main tower. Top floor. He was never sent away. This is why I need the girl. He’s dying from the sickness. I need her to heal him. It was always Facundo. Please.”

“You’re a monster,” said Nuria, shaking her head.

Gozan looked at Emil.

“Please save him. Come with me and save him. I can protect you. You have nothing to fear.”

Stone had heard enough. The name Facundo meant nothing to him. He put his finger to the trigger. It had all come to this. He wanted to feel more, hate more, but inside he was hollow. The shots were rapid, a blaze of noise and smoke, several missing, gouging the floor and desk, others hitting Gozan in the chest, his stomach, snapping back his head. His body jerked violently and erupted as the bullets raked him. He rolled over and still Emil fired until her gun clicked empty. Stone blinked. Tomas came running down the corridor, pistol empty. He slammed the door shut and looked around the room. He saw Emil standing over the blood soaked body of Gozan.

Nuria closed her eyes, knowing she would be next. She waited but the bullets never came. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at the rabble that had attacked her city and invaded Gozan’s office and committed cold blooded murder before her eyes. And what had she planned for today? What other acts of treason had she already set in motion? This motley trio had accelerated her plans and achieved more in a single hour than she had in the past few years.

“I can get you out of here,” said Nuria, to no one in particular. “I’m General Nuria, of the Red Guard. I am also leader of the SOT. There is no one in this city with any authority above me. Not now.”

She glanced at the dead Chancellor.

“He deserved to die.”

There were footsteps in the corridor outside.

“This is Captain Andozini,” called a voice, through the door. “Drop your weapons and release the Chancellor and the General.”

“Last chance,” said Nuria.

Stone nodded and she lowered her hands.

Twenty Two

“Captain, this is General Nuria, pull your men back.”

There was silence beyond the door. Nuria knew they were preparing to enter the room.

“I have given you a direct order, Captain. Pull your men back.”

Again the silence, and then she heard the Captain issue the order and the shuffle of boots as his men retreated back to the stairwell. Tomas ran to the window and saw hundreds of soldiers in the street below, forming a ring around the building. Beyond, he could see citizens looking towards the House of Leadership, many of them pointing.

“Who are you?” whispered Nuria. “Were you hired to kill Gozan? We spoke of a bold statement but …”

The three of them looked at her with puzzlement. Tomas reloaded his crossbow and said, “We need to get to the basement.”

“Captain,” said Nuria, through the closed door. “I trust you have withdrawn your men?”

“Yes, General,” he responded.

“You need to follow my orders very closely. Chett will need brave men today. The Chancellor is dead. The Ministers of the House of Leadership are dead. Take your men from this building and onto the streets. Calm any trouble with minimal force. No live weapons. Do you understand these instructions so far?”

“Yes, General, but … I have bodies everywhere; ministers, stewards, clerks, I cannot just walk away.”

“Captain, you have to. I am giving you orders. I am the highest ranked officer in the city and you have your orders. I also want a detail of men sent to Hamble Towers. No one is allowed access until further notice.”

“Yes, General.”

“And, Captain, ensure that no one leaves, either.”

“Yes, General.”

Stone heard the man sprint back down the corridor. He counted at least two other men. The Captain had not been alone.

“Did you come through the tunnels?”

Ignoring her question, Stone edged open the door and peered along the corridor. He saw bodies. No soldiers.

“I know about the tunnels. You don’t need to …”

Stone clamped a hand around Nuria’s neck and, as she attempted to wrestle free, placed his revolver at the base of her spine.

“Walk,” he said.

She led them slowly along the corridor, the barrel pressing into her lower back. She saw the bodies lying twisted and bleeding in the side offices. She felt nothing. She had met nightly with the
real SOT
whilst managing the
fake SOT
and, despite wanting to strip the city back to its roots and rebuild, no one had ever been committed to wholesale slaughter. This had been her desire, a radical shake of the Chett tree, the only solution, violence to end the violence that had infected the city for years. She had declared an interest in hiring mercenaries to complete the task but it had been voted down. It had been agreed, instead, to strike where it would hurt the most, with the withdrawal of workers from the plants and factories. She had allowed Jorann’s murder to implicate Gozan and today the weapons used that night would soon be uncovered in his private rooms within the House.

They reached the stairwell and saw two Red Guard soldiers, both armed with automatic weapons and holding round shields.

“I ordered you to withdraw,” she said. “I am your General and you are being given a direct order to withdraw from the building. Help Captain Andozini.”

The men wore body armour and helmets with lowered visors. They looked up at the dishevelled man in the hat and he stared back down at them, his face grim. They saw he had a weapon jammed into the back of their General.

“We cannot allow these men to leave,” said one of the soldiers.

Tomas leaned into view, and raised his crossbow.

“For the last time,” said Nuria, losing her patience. “I want every man withdrawn from this building. Lower your guns and withdraw.”

Teeth clamped together, she waited for what seemed an eternity but was only a matter of seconds. The men complied and retreated. Stone nudged her forward and she carefully went down through the building until they reached the ground floor. She could see through the broad, grilled windows that the streets were teeming with citizens and soldiers. The bearded man shoved the revolver against bone and she led the way along a short corridor, through two connecting rooms, where two House security lay face down in blood and into a back hallway where metal stairs lead into the basement.

Boots clattered loudly as they descended. They walked quickly to the shutter. Nuria saw more bodies.

Stone pulled the revolver from her and spun her away from him, shielding Tomas and Emil, who backed into the dark tunnel.

“Where does that go?” she said.

Stone said nothing.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

“I’m low on bullets.”

She stared at him, unsure if it was a sick joke, and quickly realised it wasn’t. She felt cold air ripple her shirt.

“There’ll be chaos,” she said, tipping her head. “Up there, in the city. You killed everyone …”

“I don’t care,” said Stone.

“Who are you?” said Nuria, lowered her hands. “I need to know who you are.”

“Why?”

“I want to go with you.”

“You’re not coming with us,” said Emil.

“Stone,” said Tomas. “We need to go now; we really need to get out of here.”

“She’ll cut our throats the moment we sleep,” said Emil.

“If I stay I hang for treason,” said Nuria. “The House of Leadership is dead but at Hamble Towers there are powerful men still alive. If Gozan was telling the truth and Facundo is there then we all need to get far away from here. The people hated him. This city will erupt.”

She looked at Stone.

“You might as well shoot me. I’d prefer a bullet than a noose.”

He grabbed her by the arm.

“Try anything and you die.”

Breathing laboured from running, they emerged back in the ruined hamlet, coughing from the poor air below. Nuria was astonished at where they were. She stared back at the city walls and doubt filled her mind. Was she really prepared to abandon her life and career for this? Wander the wasteland with a pack of murderous strangers? She knew that was a lie. She had no life inside those walls. She had rigid routine and daily training but no life and no life partner and she hated what the uniform had become, sullied by the men who ruled, abusing loyalty and honour. She had been sickened by the recent hangings. If she ran now, if she turned her back, she would be cast a traitor and would be executed if she ever returned, but if she went back, explained what had happened, how Gozan had set in motion a devastating chain of violence, how he had kept a former Chancellor concealed all these years … would anyone listen? No, she would have to run, find a way, stay with this group until she could forge a path of her own.

Stone waved them all down. Crouching behind a collapsed wall, he reached into his pocket and took out his scuffed binoculars. He focused his attention on the city gates. They were still closed but the patrols on the walls and in the watchtowers were more active. He saw soldiers running back and forth. Spotters on the walls were looking across the wasteland. If a hunting party of soldiers were to be sent out after them there was no immediate sign of it. He knew they had to keep moving. Crossing the open land in daylight was reckless but they could not hide here until nightfall.

He made hand signals and led them away from the hamlet, across the rough scrubland, towards the mountain track.

As they trekked up the rocky slopes, his spirit felt crushed, his thoughts were a mess. He had kept the name for a lifetime and had seen nothing beyond the moment when Gozan would be killed. He had even been robbed of that. Seeing the man dead and bleeding had healed nothing within. It hadn’t mattered if it was his or Emil’s bullets that had killed him. His death was meaningless. The man had looked at him like dirt on his shoe.

Absorbed in thought, it was Tomas who first became aware of the noise vibrating towards them.

On the horizon, travelling hard east, dust clouds swirled, as a column of metal powered along the highway.

“No,” said Emil.

The air filled with the snarl of engines, the ground churned up with dozens of tyres.

“Who are they?” asked Nuria.

Stone recognised the lead vehicle, mounted with the heavy cannon, fitted with armour, daubed with the emblem of a blood streaked sun.

“The Cleric,” said Stone.