Toxicity (54 page)

“Don’t do it. Don’t plant the
HighJ.” He was looking around, at all the dead soldiers. Tentatively, he picked
his way through the corpses. The psi-children let him be.
Why?
screamed
Jenny’s brain.
He’s alien evil a fucking piece of shit who should be on a
noose kicking. Why?

“I want you to stop. I want you
to walk away from Greenstar. This is not your fight. This is not your war.”

“Fuck you.”

“Jenny, trust me...”

The bubble burst. The tears came.
A riot of rage engulfed her brain. She opened her mouth and the words poured
out, spilled out, puked out, and she said, “I’ve got to say, Saul, and this is
a long time in coming, but you are a sorry fucking excuse for a human being.
Yeah. You and your back-stabbing, cock-sucking wife. Look around, Saul - you
have NO friends, cunt. Maybe you should ask yourself the fucking question -
why? I remember you, remember your drug paranoia, remember you driving like a
wedge straight through the heart and soul of our family... You say we behaved
appallingly. What?
WHAT THE FUCK?
This just underlines your dual
stupidity, and your dual ignorance. The truth is, Saul - you were stressed
about all your stupid life decisions... no doubt TWATTED and PUKED up to fuck,
on your needles and drugs, and with a few brandies chucked in there, eh, mate?
And I
dared
to question you? About money? About responsibility? About
our father? About your twisted fucking bitch of a wife? So you attacked me, and
demanded the things you knew I could never deliver... Oh, you fucking cunt. You
threw away your sister and our friendship - forever. And because of what?
Because of your cheating wife, fucking her army of secret lovers. And I found
out. And that made
ME
the bad fucking person. You asked my advice, and
tracked her with the tracker in her car, and you bought that PI, and you caught
her, Saul. You fucking caught the bitch. Yet you chose to take her back and
forgive her, even though you told anybody who would listen what she did to you.
You told me you would slit her throat and dump her in the canal. I truly
believed you meant it. My advice to you was
don’t do it,
you’re my brother,
I love you, don’t do it, don’t go to prison for that scum white trash. You told
me how she fucked all those men, including the one in the wheelchair, sucking
his cock and saying your name as he came down her slick, eager throat. You told
me how she was fucking you financially, and what did you expect me to think?
What did you expect me to
do?
Well, fuck you. Fuck you real bad,
motherfucker. Your lack of humanity in the past always disturbed me. I saw it
when no other cunt did. You’re not just immoral and illegal; you’re just
bad.
Bad to the bone. A bad fucking egg. Bad blood, through and through. So. We
have two ways forward, fuckwit. We can agree to disagree - and you never, ever
come near me again. You walk away now and that’s the end of it.” She cocked her
SMKK. “Or I’ll give you a present you’ll never forget.”

Saul stared at her. His eyes were
burning. But there was no love there. No sense of family. No joy. No kindred.

Just hate. Pure hate.

Saul leant forward, slowly, and
spat on the ground. Then he looked back at Jenny and his eyes were masked; his
face was a mask. He smiled then, a slow evil smile, and she knew she’d lost him
-

This was no longer her brother.

This was some other thing...

They raised their guns at the
same time, but Jenny fired the first round. Bullets screamed from her SMKK and
hit Saul in the face. His own bullets cut into Jenny’s shoulder and then off up
the wall, chewing tiles and spitting plaster and sparking from steel joists.
But Jenny struck
first
and her bullets chewed a hole in his face so big
she could put her fist through it.

Saul hit the ground dead, his
face destroyed. Smoke rose from the charred rim of the hole.

Zanzibar put his hand on Jenny’s
shoulder, and she jumped.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Fuck him,” she said, but she did
not mean it. For, once, they
had
been best friends. Once, they
had
been
brother and sister. But he’d destroyed it. Now it was gone and done and over.

~ * ~

IN
GRIM SILENCE they planted the charges, the psi-children watching and standing
guard against further attack. Jenny, Zanzibar, Nanny and Meat Cleaver moved
methodically around the laboratory, planting the small black cubes that looked
so harmless in gloved hands-, and yet could deliver a punch big enough to destroy
cities.

Jenny placed a cube next to a tub
of tox, which, Chorzaranalista had informed her, contained a skein of lirridium
fuel that would spread across the entire Greenstar Factory network and
beyond...

Jenny’s mouth was dry as she
planted the final cube of HighJ. Slowly, carefully, she slid in the charge
relay, and it blinked with a tiny green light. On. Active. Ready to blow...

As Jenny stood, mind whirling,
Chorzaranalista approached her and stood, looking up, head tilted to one side.
Jenny had the horrible feeling her mind was being rifled with the same
precision as a professional burglar going through a jewellery box. She blinked,
and felt...
something
withdraw.

“Now you must get as far away
from this place as possible.”

“We must detonate,” said Jenny.

“No,” said Chorzaranalista, and
her finger lifted and touched Jenny’s lips. “You cannot detonate
here.
It
will not work. Your conventional detonators and charges have been neutralised
by focused EMP blasts. Greenstar has protected itself - and protected itself
well.”

“So how do we blow this shithole?”
snarled Jenny, feeling suddenly cold and empty inside. All this way for - for
nothing? So many dead to fail at the last hurdle?
What use a bomb without a
detonator?

“We will take care of it,” said Chorzaranalista,
and her toxic, ravaged face smiled. She winked, then turned and leapt,
splashing into the toxic tub, a pipe leading
down, down, down
to the
bowels of the Factory.

The rest of the psi-children
left, clambering into the black waste. One by one, with a splash and a kick of
their legs, they disappeared from view. Jenny stood there, arms limp by her
sides, wondering what to do.

“Come on, let’s get the fuck out
of here,” growled Zanzibar.

“We’ve failed,” said Jenny,
crestfallen.

Zanzibar grabbed her chin, and
lifted her eyes to meet his own. His dark brown orbs were triumphant. “No. We’ve
won. It’ll happen, Jen. Trust me. I promise you. I can feel it, here, in my
breast.” He thumped his own heart, then ran a hand through Jenny’s hair
affectionately. He growled, “Meat, check our exit. And Nanny, cover the rear
with that beautifully devastating E3 Accelerator. Let’s go.”

They ran across the laboratory,
HighJ planted but...
dormant.
Jenny hated herself, hated herself for
leaving the job unfinished. And she realised - she no longer trusted
anybody.
Except, maybe, the tattered remains of her ECO terrorist squad. They had
become closer than family. They were her
friends...
in life, and death,
and oblivion beyond.

Meat Cleaver reached the lab
exit, slid to the edge, peered around the corner - and was blown across the
room by a shotgun blast. He hit the ground hard, face a bloody pulp, sliding
across tiles to slam into a bank of steel cupboards, denting their fascias. He
twitched, then lay still.

Jenny and Zanzibar sprinted
forward, SMKKs screaming, bullets howling out into the corridor. Nanny, behind
them, fired a random blast with the Accelerator across the lab. Cupboards and
computers and equipment were picked up in a maelstrom of swirling violence and
with a huge
WHOOSH
slammed across the space, disintegrating everything
in the blast zone. Jenny and Zanzibar reached the doorway, and Jen fired off
random rounds as Zanz crawled over to Meat Cleaver. He rolled the big man onto
his back and checked for a pulse. He shook his head, once.

Growling, Jenny fired off another
ten rounds and then slammed her back to the door. She glanced to Nanny; they
were too open, in too big a space. They needed cover. They needed a new escape route!

A red dot appeared on Nanny’s
skull, and a silenced round hit her forehead, drilled through her skull and
brain, and exploded the back of her head in a mushroom shower of pulp. She was
still chewing her cigar.

“No!” screamed Jenny, searching
for the sniper, disbelief ringing in her skull.

“Get down!” yelled Zanzibar, and
crawled back towards Jenny, slamming his back to the wall alongside her. Their
SMKKs shifted and weaved gentle patterns, searching for the enemy. They were on
edge, fingers on hairline triggers.

Suddenly, Zanzibar turned his
head and stared at Jen. She could read his eyes. Read his face.

We’re going to die,
said that expression.
There’s
no getting out of this shit alive!

She opened her mouth to speak,
and Zanzibar smiled; an
it’s been great knowing you, working with you,
fighting with you
smile.

Suddenly, bullets yammered down
the corridor outside, and there were crumpling noises, then silence. Zanz and
Jenny stared at one another. Jenny licked her bone-dry lips.

Shoes clicked on tiles, and a
figure appeared in the doorway. He was tall, physically big, brown hair greying
at the temples, and with a broad, strong face and neat moustache. He lit a
thin, evil-looking cigarette and took a long drag. In one hand he carried a
small 9mm pistol. He wore an expensive black suit, long overcoat, and brown
polished shoes. He looked more like the director of a company than a killer or
assassin. He was smiling.

Jenny looked up, and he was
gazing down at her. “Hello, Jenny,” he said, and the voice clicked immediately
and Jenny found herself unable to speak. The voice was instantly recognisable
because,
because
she’d been dealing with this man and his orders for a
decade. This was Mr Candle. He organised the Impurity Movement terrorist cells.
Hell, he
was
the Impurity Movement, handing out contracts to McGowan and
all the other Cell Commanders. Candle organised funds, guns and explosives, and
decided which targets to hit.

“Mr Candle,” she said, blinking
rapidly.

He held out his hand to her, but
she glanced about nervously. “Get down, sir! There are still enemy in the
vicinity!”

“No,” he said, gently, smoking
his cigarette. “I have neutralised all enemies in the area. You are safe, now.
You can stand up, Jenny Xi.”

Still Jenny did not move, her
eyes fixed on Candle’s strong, open, honest face. Then she glanced sideways at
Zanzibar, who was also looking at Candle, but wearing a different expression.
His eyes were narrowed, his expression one of confusion. As if to say:
Why
are you here? How are you here? What the fuck is going on?
Didn’t Zanz
recognise their illustrious terrorist leader?

Suddenly, Mr Candle levelled the
pistol at Zanzibar and shot him through the head. Zanzibar slid slowly
sideways, leaning against Jenny, blood tricking down from the gunshot wound
just above the bridge of his nose. His hands went slack, and the SMKK shifted
slowly down his crouched body to
clack
on the floor. And Jenny was
staring at him, watching, and she could not believe this, could not understand
what was happening, and what had just happened. Zanzibar’s eyes were open, but
she watched the light die in them, slowly, going out like a starved (Candle,
hush)...

“No,” she sighed, and took
Zanzibar’s head in her hands, and stared at him, then stared up at Candle with
tears streaming down her face. That was the last of it. This was the end of it.
They were all dead. All dead and gone. And she was alone. Alone in a cold,
cruel world, and without the job done.

Greenstar were laughing at her.

She looked up at Mr Candle, who
was still smiling, still holding his smoking pistol. He took another drag on
his cigarette, and Jenny sat there, waiting for the bullet. But it did not
come.