Afterglow, p.34
Afterglow, page 34
She nodded up toward the sky. “Eyes everywhere these days.”
“Who sent you? Del? To mop up some plague loose ends. Or are you a Convolver come to trick me into doing something else?”
She moved closer. A full head taller than Rex. Strikingly beautiful, her eyes were an optimistic shade of magenta, and she wore a simple, silver band around the top of her head.
“I’m Casima. Knoss asked me to be your guide.”
“Guide to what?” Rex said with a sigh.
“Life, I guess? He said you just saved the world but might need help getting back to those that really matter. Those you love.”
“Why you?” he asked quietly, noticing the profound sense of sadness that came at him through her eyes.
“Because we’ve both lost so much.”
She stood right next to him now, no escape, he thought, suddenly noticing the plastic look to her face. “You’re not really human.”
“I hear the same about you.” She looked out along the ravine. “I lost the man I loved, the only person who ever cared about me.”
“I’m sorry.” A breeze ruffled his fur, spurring the need to bound across fields and through grass and find his master and mistress once again. “I lost Mira. We never really had much, but it really was something.”
A tear leaked from the corner of her magenta eye. “Well, there you are; we’re both crazy cyborgs who want to bring somebody back from the dead. We have that in common.”
He laughed and it felt like the first time he’d laughed in years. His thoughts wandered to John and Millie, and suddenly he felt awkward and selfish. “Well, there are others, people I’d like to see again, and people that could use my help. You should come meet Mrs O. She lost her husband in the Nova-Insanity and runs a dog rescue now. She has ideas. Whacky ideas… but ideas.”
“Maybe I can help out there, do some walks. That could be my new thing: guided tours of the city… with dogs!”
Rex felt his knees giving way. The pain of infection, the rips and tears of muscles and tendons. The torture, it all came rushing back. He’d made it here and that was as far as he could go.
As he collapsed, he felt her grab him; not a harsh, violent grab, more of a catch, and suddenly he was laying across her arms.
She carried him back off the bridge and placed him gently on the back seat of a car. “Need to get you some medical attention.”
He heard the car’s front door open and felt it tilt as somebody climbed inside. “Millie used to be a nurse,” he said, voice like that of a sleepy child.
“Then let’s go find Millie.”
“I think you’ll like her. She’s lost a lot too but, hopefully, is in the process of getting it back.”
“I like her already.”
“All those others, in my head, they’ve gone as well,” Rex murmured. “It’s just me in here now.”
“Your mind is your own, Rex.” Through bleary eyes he saw her turn and look back at him. She clicked the motor on and eased the car off across the grassland, sending grasshoppers and seeds spinning around them like a vortex of tiny, unstoppable machines.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I’d like to start by thanking my readers. Thanks for your comments, your feedback, and for spending time with me and my creations. I assure you all that this is just the opening salvo from my quirky mind, and there will be more worlds and ideas in the near future. Maybe even a little more Glow, if you all desire.
Thanks, as always, to Angry Robot for taking on this project and letting me dig deeper into the world of Glow. Shoutouts to Eleanor Teasdale, Gemma Creffield, Antonia Desola Coker, and Caroline Lambe for coordinating everything and supporting my work.
Particular thanks to Paul Simpson whose tell-it-like-it-is editing style really appeals to my engineering pragmatism. Also, Rob Lowry’s eye for fine detail is greatly appreciated, along with his unwavering patience in unravelling and repackaging some of my more wayward sentences.
A big shoutout to Alexis Statler for shining her blazing, inspirational light on my manuscript and helping me craft what I thought was a great story into a great human story.
Thanks to my agent, Sam Morgan, for his vigilance, continuing guidance, and for nudging me in the right direction when I wander off track.
I always feel that having somebody interpret my work into a visual representation is a wonderful and personal thing. So thanks to Tom Shone for Afterglow’s fierce cover art.
As always, my family continues to support me and nurture my need to share the worlds swirling around in my head. Particularly my wife, Joanna, who is always there with editing help, advice, and a cup of tea, along with ideas for amazing places in the world to visit and gather inspiration for our next projects.
ONE
The shuttle crouched between skyscrapers, in the center of the desolate street, dwarfing rusted cars. Gouged and dirty wings – arched slivers of white metal – swept upward from the squat body of the craft like floppy ears from a fat rabbit. The underbelly quivered, radiating heat. Gray smoke drifted out from beneath the craft, swirling into oblivion as it met the perpetual Philadelphia gusts.
“What’s the level?” Bronavitch asked. The younger of the two crew members, he stood beside the monster engines, oblivious to the waves of heat pouring from the vertical landing jets. Their spacesuits were designed to protect them from far worse perils.
Kelly grinned. Parched walnut skin crinkled across his cheeks, made him look older than his forty-six years. “Nothing to worry about within five klicks of here.” Kelly twisted his neck forward, peeked out through the top of his helmet visor, and checked the readout counter mounted to his thick utility belt. “The scan reads less than point-oh-seven – we’re in a fairly safe area. We could probably even take our suits off for a minute or so.”
“Yeah,” Bronavitch grumbled, “and we could gulp some air and say goodbye to the Colonies.” Bronavitch did not need Kelly or a poison counter to tell him that there was enough organic death in the smog to keep a cleanup crew busy for years.
Kelly’s grin expanded. “The air does seem a bit thick.”
Bronavitch shook his head. He was not in the mood for Kelly’s humor. “I’m telling you, I’ve had it. I’m sick of the whole damn planet. My contract is up in two months and I’m not signing on for another tour. I’ve had it.”
His partner rumbled with laughter. “You told me that last year. Hell, admit it. You like it down here. You told me that you thought it was very serene.”
“It pays good.”
Skyscrapers – metal and concrete shells – lined the boulevard. A few smaller structures were nestled in their midst like scared children clutching at their mother’s skirts. Chunks of unidentifiable debris lay everywhere.
To the west, a mountain of trash poked up through the lower smog cover, interrupting the flow of the street. Bronavitch thought he detected form in the junk pile. It seemed to resemble a giant frog. He suspected some mad humans had been responsible for its creation during the final days. His theory seemed reasonable. Dying of radiation and a host of other ecospheric poisons would have justified the creation of such a weird monument.
“Do you know what they used to call this place?” Kelly asked.
Bronavitch shook his head.
“The City of Brotherly Love.” Thankfully, the black face had lost its smile.
Bronavitch booted a crusted brick. “Let’s get on with it. I want to get the hell out of here.”
They marched down the street. Open doors and glassless windows seemed to stare at them; dark eyes, full of death, contemptuous of the living. Bronavitch felt a familiar twinge of fear tighten his stomach. He hated these dead cities. It always seemed as if someone were watching, like they were intruding upon some private domain.
Kelly broke into a fresh grin. He appeared to be enjoying himself.
“All right, we know the pirates landed where we touched down. They must have been close to whatever they were looking for.”
“How do you know they were looking for anything?” Bronavitch argued. “Maybe the bastards just dropped in at random, hoping to pick up a few artifacts. Or maybe they had shuttle problems and were forced to land for repairs.”
“I don’t think so. First of all, they couldn’t have been here for more than two or three hours – in and out real quick, not nearly enough time for a profitable artifact hunt. And when did you ever hear of a shuttle dropping into a supercontaminated zone like this for repairs? Even if they lost their main engines, the vertical landing jets were still functioning – had to be in order to touch down safely in the middle of this mess.” Kelly shook his head. “No, if it had been an emergency landing, they would have coasted down toward the Virginia area. The contamination’s not as bad.”
Bronavitch sighed. “These are Costeaus you’re talking about. They’re not always that rational.”
Kelly laughed. “Maybe not, but most of the bastards got better ships than we do. Don’t believe all that Guardian crap about stupid pirates and their rundown equipment.”
It was no sense arguing. “All right, which direction? This is a goddamn big city.”
Kelly pointed toward the frog-shaped mountain. “That trash pile could have been their landing mark – there’s nothing else down here that’s so easily recognizable from the air. And if I were a Costeau captain, I wouldn’t have touched down any closer to it than this.”
“Landslides?” Bronavitch asked uneasily.
“Right. That mess doesn’t look too stable. At this distance, at least the shuttle would be safe even if the whole damn mountain came tumbling down.”
“That still leaves a big area to search. Why don’t we call base and request help?”
“No way. I’m not gonna get chewed out by some commander for tying up a whole unit just to find out what some pirates were looking for.”
Bronavitch clamped his mouth shut.
They had come from E-Tech – from the Berks Valley base, about a hundred kilometers to the northwest. Berks was one of E-Tech’s major experimental arenas where scientists and engineers sought methods for removing the contamination from the environment. Ecospheric Turnaround was the long-term goal of the huge organization, a goal in which Bronavitch no longer had much faith. Working down here as a shuttle pilot for the past two years had slowly eroded his belief.
Too much of the Earth was dead. There were still insects and a few of the hardier forms of plant life, and there were humans in their protective garments. Most of the evolutionary links in between had perished; the complex chain of life had been broken by the madness of two centuries ago. Bronavitch believed that the Earth would never again be a hospitable place for humanity.
He and Kelly were assigned to perimeter duty. They checked on the status of various bioprojects that Berks initiated, searched for signs of natural life, ferried scientists to and from other bases and policed the zone surrounding the Berks Valley. Today’s duty fell into the last category.
Early this morning, Berks radar had picked up an unauthorized ship heading toward the Philadelphia area. Although the fix had been lost before the ship landed, projections had indicated several likely touchdown locations. Naturally, the pirates had already departed by the time he and Kelly located this landing spot. Costeaus generally knew just how long they could remain in an area before E-Tech tracked them. Heavily smogged cities like Philadelphia made visual detection nearly impossible, and with E-Tech’s severe limitations on AI and other tracing technologies, sensor analysis took time. Pirates were rarely caught on the surface.
The best that could be hoped for now was that he and Kelly might locate some evidence identifying the pirate clan. Then E-Tech or the Intercolonial Guardians would launch an official investigation up in the Colonies. With exceptional luck, the trespassing pirates might be arrested and their DNA added to the intercolonial database.
Unofficially, though, Bronavitch knew that this Costeau incident would be treated like most of the others – largely ignored. The Costeaus’ antique-hunting expeditions to the surface were tolerated as long as they did not directly interfere with any of E-Tech’s projects. Today’s hunt, and the subsequent official report, would be made primarily to assuage the Irryan Council, which, in its wisdom, was demanding a final solution to the pirate problem.
Kelly halted and directed a gloved finger toward a large hole in the side of a small, brick-faced building. “That looks new.”
Bronavitch nodded. This could be easier than he had thought. The five-story structure appeared a bit better preserved than the surrounding skyscrapers. The building had probably been shielded from the higher-elevation nuclear shockwaves that had mutilated Philadelphia back in the twenty-first century.
The hole was rectangular and larger than a man in a spacesuit. It was also newly formed. One learned to easily recognize such anomalies after a few trips through any of Earth’s decimated urban areas.
Kelly stepped carefully over the lip of the opening and turned on his helmet spotlight. “Looks like some kind of an old food store.”
Bronavitch followed his partner into the darkened interior, panned his helmet light across the rows of dusty shelving.
Crushed cans and smashed plastic jars littered the racks. Ceiling rubble, foodpaks, and shattered fragments of glass covered the floor. Kelly’s spotlight froze momentarily on a human skeleton slumped over a low counter. Bronavitch looked away.
“This is it.” Kelly shined his spotlight down the center aisle, traced the trail of overlapping boot prints that led toward the back of the store. In a few spots, the centuries-old layer of deep dust had been disturbed enough to reveal the original tiled floor.
“Looks like there were at least four or five of them,” Bronavitch observed.
“Either that or they made several trips through. C’mon.”
He followed Kelly down the aisle, keeping his attention along the upper edge of the surrounding shelves. It felt as if they were walking through a dark canyon. The only sounds were their footsteps, picked up by external suit mikes and amplified into their helmets. He shivered. Outside, at least there was the wind and the smog-filtered sunshine. In here, silence and darkness created an entirely different mood. Bronavitch imagined that something was waiting to leap down on him from the top shelves.
Kelly halted when they reached the back of the store. Bronavitch followed his partner’s downward gaze.
The hole in the floor was roughly the same diameter as the one the Costeaus had cut into the outer wall, although more circular in shape. They knelt carefully at the edge and shined their spots into the opening. About three meters below was a cellar floor of pale concrete. That floor also had been cut through. Their spotlights reflected off a dark pool of water well below the basement level.
“Oh, shit,” Bronavitch muttered. He did not relish the idea of climbing down into some sewer beneath this dead city.
“Must be at least fifteen meters to the water level,” Kelly said quietly. “I wonder why they made such big holes? They must have used at least two beam cutters to be in and out of here so quick. Hell of a lot of work.”
The question had a simple answer. “They hauled something up from down there that was bigger than a man in a spacesuit.”
Kelly nodded. “They probably used a portable winch. Want to run back to the shuttle and get ours?”
“A ladder will do.” They might as well get this over with as quickly as possible.
The portable ladder was in Kelly’s backpack. In a few minutes, they had unrolled it and fastened one end to a sturdy pillar near the edge of the hole. There was no question as to who was going down first. Kelly eased himself over the lip and began the descent.
“What if this place caves in?” Bronavitch asked nervously.
“If it didn’t cave in on the pirates, then it probably won’t fall on us.”
Somehow that did not sound very reassuring.
Kelly passed the cellar mark and rapidly approached the pool of dark water. Bronavitch could hear the end of the ladder flapping against the surface of the liquid.
“What if the water’s too deep to stand in?” he called down. “It might be a couple hundred meters to the bottom.”
Kelly laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re almost at sea level.”
Maybe it was the ocean.
His fears were eased by a loud splash as Kelly hit the water. “It’s up to my waist and everything feels solid underneath. It’s way too big to be a sewer – must have been one of those old subway transport tunnels. C’mon down.”
Bronavitch took a deep breath and climbed over the lip. In a minute, he was standing beside Kelly in a meter of water.
They stood silently for a moment, playing their lights over the dank and slimy walls. The water had a slight flow to it and the gentle current licked at their waists. They could not see the bottom – the water was almost black. Bronavitch took a step toward the left wall, tripped on something solid, and almost fell.
“Shit!”
“Old railway tracks,” Kelly said. “This tunnel looks wide enough for two sets of them.”
“Yeah, right. So which way do we go?”
“I’ll go upstream and you go downstream.”
Bronavitch thought his partner was joking until he flashed his spotlight into the solemn face. “Look, Kelly, this is weird enough down here without us separating.”
“Relax. The Costeaus obviously had a map of some sort. They knew just where to cut that hole in the food store and just where to make their descent. I’ll bet they knew exactly what they were looking for and exactly where it was located. It’s got to be real close by.” Kelly turned and began a slow march against the current.
Bronavitch repressed a shudder. Two more months. Just two more months and then his contract was up and he could be off this damn planet forever. He thought briefly of home, the orbiting colony of Kiev Beta – even in perigee, more than a hundred and sixty thousand kilometers away.
Kelly vanished from sight as the subway tunnel curved gently to the right. Bronavitch sighed and began moving in the opposite direction, splashing his gloves against the dark liquid to create as much noise as possible. He hoped he would not trip over anything. There were probably rotting corpses in this foul water just waiting to snag his ankles.
