First Draft

by Cherry Rie

Carbon

Chapter fifteen: Carbon

Sound was the first thing to return through the darkness, the deep thud of fireworks just as on the night of Sumidagawa. Sometimes woken by the muffled sound of the celebration, she had watched with childish wonder as the ever more colourful displays of competing artists fill the skies over Tokyo. She always loved the blue ones, but Green was her father’s favourite colour. To the weak eyes of the broken girl, the intricate explosions were more like a coalescence of dancing lights, flowering like cherry blossoms before passing their incandescence to yet another cascade of brilliance.

Yet here there were no flickering colours through a meagre window, playing across sensitive eyes and drawing her from the embrace of Morpheus. Here was a cold, dark place, the smell of decay and building dust choked her laboured breaths. Eyelids fluttered in the dark place as its captive tried to move, a questing hand rasping against the sandpaper surface mere inches above. Alone it explored the jagged contours, its twin pinned and useless at her side.

Pressed against the cold unyielding concrete, she could feel only the totality of encasement surrounding her frail body. Rushing to the waking world, a fist began to beat against the immovable barrier. Trapped within, the coffin gripping her like a python, she could feel the crushing weight pinning her chest and restricting her ever more panicked breaths.

Keening grew to whines and eventually shrill shrieks of terror.
She couldn’t breathe.
She Couldn’t Breathe!

Light! Crumbling dust filled her open mouth as a crack began to split beneath her flailing fist.
Fingers scrabbled, attacking the growing gap before sensing the debris loosen under the frenzied assault. With a last strained thrust, the rubble finally fell away, opening a slim breach through which cooling air rushed to meet her tear streaked face.

Wails descending to relieved sobs at the sight of freedom, the trapped girl gathered her breath and pushed her one free arm out as far as possible, gradually widening the rift. Dust and sharp fragments rained down from the painfully slow process, stinging her eyes and throat as more rocks were eased away from the growing passage. Fragile though the surface was, it was all the purchase she could achieve. Around her shoulders the space tightened as she wriggled up between thick slabs of broken concrete, the twisted rubble biting into her delicate flesh.

At last, bleeding hands dragged an exhausted body from the concrete coffin, crawling a few feet before collapsing on the wreckage covered ground. Rolling onto her side, one eye finally glimpsed the hauntingly familiar surroundings. Thick mist poured past the prone figure into the warehouse-like building, swirling about ruined desks, stacks of material and weaving machines. Half collapsed iron rafters ran its length, until meeting the jagged edge of the shattered façade, beneath whose remains she had been buried.

Rising like the relic of a fallen civilisation was the wreckage of a mechanised drone, an assault turret severed from its caterpillar treads by the weight of the falling building. Alien amid the common scree, its broken cannon armature pointed threateningly at the unseen skies, the body itself covered by fallen masonry. Fleeting images played within her mind’s eye, a plan hatched in a fraction of a second and the confidence of an attack, building to a sense of triumph over this indomitable foe.

Déjà vu pressed upon her weak senses. She knew this place, though where from was near impossible to tell. Ignoring the protests from sore limbs, the girl pushed herself to her knees to absorb both the scene and her own appearance.

None of this was right. She felt out of place… weak. Dim though the frosty daylight was, it still stung her eyes, objects fading into obscure blurs before the smog could swallow them from sight. Though bloody and torn, the hands that had dug to freedom were pallid, mirrored by the curtains of wispy glass like hair hanging lifeless before her pained eyes, only the chalky dust granting it any colour at all. Hadn’t she always been this way though? A long time ago, perhaps, before they had fixed her… whoever they were.

Now where there had been power, there was vacuum. Where there had been strength, there was vulnerability. Slowly drawing her arms around her frailty, the girl sat in shocked silence, listening to the sound of distant thuds echoing through the gutted streets. Despite the thick plated armour shielding her body from the harsh environment, she suddenly felt naked to the world. Hidden eyes seemed to watch with predatory gaze, each tallying her days on earth and what little she had remaining. Impossibly tall chimneys and warehouses leered in from the industrial city, blocking out the burning light but inviting a bitter wind that rasped against her revealed flesh.

Exposure demanding shelter, her eyes fell upon a familiar shape lurking behind a fallen slab that had once been part of the first floor. Crawling on hands and knees, the naked ape scrabbled towards the comforting tool, scooping in into her arms and flinging herself against the whitewashed masonry. Back against the concrete wall, she pulled herself into a ball and hugged the rifle close to her chest, as though it were a precious doll never to be left behind again. Symbol of protection in hand, a measure of calm descended over apprehension.

Memory stirred yet again, flaring at the sandy coloured body armour hung from her slight frame. Between the camouflaged vest and beige grieves, it was clear the suit had been designed with no element of comfort in mind. Woven plates of Dilatant Titanium covered every vital area, joined together by flexible straps rather than material, as though never meant to touch sensitive irritable skin. No wonder it had been so hard to escape the hole.

In the quietus, a slender susurration found its way through brick and mortar, drawing the girl from her stupor.

From beyond the heaped collapse came a telltale grinding of something heavy sliding across the asphalt. Drawing nearer with passing breath, the girl came to a terrible crossroads, too fearful to run and more terrified to stay put. Grip tightening on the cumbersome weapon, she slowly slid up the pebble dashed surface until shaky legs supported her full, insubstantial height.

Willing her limbs to move, the girl began to inch her way along the sharp barricade. Behind the fallen concrete the slither ceased abruptly, leaving nothing but the thunder of a tremulous heart crashing in her ears. Panicked breaths grew as short as her tentative steps, now barely a scraping crawl as the summit approached. Teeth gritted to pin back the constricting fear in her breast, she drew a long breath of courage.

One.

Two.

Three!

As though attached to rickety pistons whose rusted pipes had finally given in to the mounting pressure, she flung herself around the jagged boundary and brought her only defence to bear on her would be attacker.

Moments passed, the empty street staring back at the shaking girl, no more occupied than it had been minutes before. Sights wavered hesitantly, the disproportioned weapon too heavy for her slender form. Yet nothing moved beyond the scattering of dust motes across the cracked tarmac road. A shuddering breath passed slack lips, as, with the absence of any threat, the tension finally slipped its hold on her frayed sanity.

Blood turned to needles of ice in her veins as the pressure closed around her ankle.

Flight winning control of her body, the girl jerked away from the deathly cold grip, catching herself mid fall against the remains of a support pillar. Horror-struck eyes lingered on the creature whose unyielding grasp had stolen her balance.

It might have been human, once upon a time. Now it was a glance into the abhorrent future, a fission of living flesh and machine. Skeletally emaciated, its creased skin hung like dry leather from its exaggerated bones. Metallic plates erupted from the leathery skin around its twisted spine, fusing the soldier to his chitin armour. Below shattered hips, its lower half had been mangled beyond all recognition, bubbling and oozing as billions of microscopic machines fought to seal the horrendous breaches in its mortal flesh. One arm had been removed entirely, ripped away at the shoulder, the other hanging by reinforced bone alone, the nerves and vessels keeping the muscles working hanging loose from the visceral wound. There was no sound from the living corpse, only a look of desperation in its sunken black eyes, staring unblinkingly from a disfigured face lacking both jaw and tongue.

She was screaming, kicking out in a desperate bid to crawl away from the ghoulish abomination. Even with half its body either mangled or missing, the Revenant’s brittle fingers still held firm against her violent flailing. At last, a spray of clear fluids fountained from severed arteries as a boot found the machine’s wounded arm. Though still bent in a claw like rictus, the grip slackened enough for a last violent tug to set the hysterical girl free.

Tumbling from the debris heap, she found herself scrambling to her feet, running without even thinking about a destination. The darkness of the workhouse welcomed her fleet rout and proffered its maze of doorways. Shouldering one aside, she found herself within a dark corridor, leading first deeper into the complex and then out to the opposite street. Lungs burned and demanded payment, forcing their owner to slow her retreat as the exit approached

Half falling through the crewed facade, the girl stumbled back out into the uninviting streets, the smell of burning pitch and cordite assailing her nostrils. Her head spun and stomach turned as she drew in the theatre beyond the warehouse door. Though surely still within the industrial city, the road was lined with a hotchpotch array of buildings, each as ill fitting as its sisters. Metal, concrete and plastic all blended like a child’s chalk drawing. Houses of brick were unified with office blocks and living pods. And from every one came the shouting, gunfire and screams. Lingering too long upon one metallic edifice, the girl felt the memories clack into place, like film canisters dropped from a balcony into her brain.

Janitor has possible override to mission objective. Unacceptable risk

Four life-signs within.

Breaching.

African male, est-age fourty.
Mid build. Scarring to facial features, chemical source.
Armed; One four by thirty inch cudgel; Threat minimal.
African female, est-age thirty five.
Light build. Emaciated
Unarmed; Threat minimal.
African male, est-age seven.
Light build. Damage to facial features, suggests gang affiliations.
Unarmed; Threat minimal.

Preceding with mission objectives.

Barely able to remain standing, a hollow emptiness opened up within the watcher’s soul. There was no point in closing her eyes, the visions would have simply played across the darkness instead. Powerless, she witnessed herself simultaneously storm every keep and hovel, sweeping away any resistance before extinguishing all life within.

Systematic but efficient, pain was spared as life was taken, the prior serving no purpose to those who could not take satisfaction in suffering. Privileged and plebs alike were a simple statistic, a number that kept rising ever higher. Missiles flew overhead, seen but unseen and at the beckon call of the aggressors. Brigades of men picked up the weapons of their dead protectors, bringing about their own unnecessary destruction. Now filled with flames, the street played host to a thousand figures of perfection, their jade eyes looking on pitilessly, heedless of the anguish they had helped create.

That had been her one request for the procedure, hadn’t it? After all, green always was father’s favourite colour.

Confusion set its teeth as the girl began to run once more. It was horrifying, of this there was no doubt. But why? Even though the scenes of carnage should have brought about feelings of remorse there was only fear of the now, mortal dread that the same could happen to her.

She didn’t want this, to be a feeble liability again. Where had the strength gone? Her protective cocoon of unfeeling steel had abandoned her, leaving the pitiful mistake of a daughter exposed to fend for herself.

The world ‘glitched’ like a needle skipping across the valleys of a record. Asphalt rippled as a thin wave lush grass washed through the rubble strewn street, slicing a sharp gash through the illusion of walls as an alien horizon briefly bisected the buildings. Had she looked through the rip in her reality, the girl may have glanced an unending vista of white blossoms on the infinite prairie. As it was the pain was far too distracting.

Every fibre of her body screamed in agony as for an instant it was pulled apart by unseen forces. In the blink of an eye the torture passed. To her credit, she fell for only a moment before scrambling back to her feet, but it had been long enough. Gathering at the limits of her vision, the shadowy figures of her past selves began closing in around her like a noose.

She wanted to go to them, she wanted to be strong and safe. But the air of malice they exuded spoke volumes about the opinion of the machine, weakness could not be tolerated.

Instead she ran onwards, driving the butt of her rifle between two of the spectres and making for the smouldering buildings. The brittle door gave under a forceful shoulder, panic numbing the searing pain in the abused joint as she barrelled through the foyer beyond. Walls painted in decretive red and gold filigree framed a gutted ticket booth, its papery contents littering the floor. This was some kind of theatre. Heavy double doors led to the first tier of seats, leading up to a stage whose moth eaten curtain rose to dominate the view of any spectator.

Running towards the towering edifice of satin, the crash of splintering wood told of the outer door’s fate against the advancing army. In moments their Jade eyes would be upon her once more, sealing her fate in this dark montage. With nowhere else to run, the girl dove for the edge of the band pit, struggling over the simple wooden boundary and sliding into its hidden confines. Dividing the slim gap between audience and actor was a stairwell opening up into the under belly of the stage. Its unsightly presence had once been hidden from the rows of entertained watchers by a series of trapdoors, now open and bare for anyone to enter.

Hearing the thud of heavy footsteps, common sense finally lent the girl its presence of mind and sent her down the gifted exit. With the care of a soldier handling an unexploded bomb, she lifted the trap doors and closed the entrance behind her, drawing the latch across their face as an afterthought. Sure of her safety she began to examine her new surroundings, finding the hole far darker without the presence of the enlightened theatre above. Lamplight pricked shafts of dull luminescence between the shrunken boards of the stage above, but provided little in the way of substance to the storage space below.

Barely daring to breathe, she listened to the march of seeking monsters, each one searching the vast rows of seats before moving off to look elsewhere in the building. Carefully the girl groped the end of her only defence, feeling along its grip and barrel until at last her fingers came to the large torch slung underneath. Pointing the weapon away from the rickety ceiling, a quick twist produced a steady beam of brilliant light, stinging sensitive eyes that had welcomed the darkness. Within the newly cast shadows, something staggered backwards. Quickly she twisted the torch further, widening the beam to encompass the whole cellar, now somehow brightly lit by the single source. Faces stared into the light, fearful and cowering together. There must have been dozens of people down here, hiding from the onslaught in their crumbling world.

“Please!” She rasped in her mother tongue, staggering towards the possible allies, “Hide me too!”

But as the distance closed, déjà vu stole upon her again.

Ignoring the dizzying feeling she reached out to the first terrified woman in the crowd. Only slightly older then herself, the woman lent away from the outstretched hand, holding a quivering child held to her breast.

“Please,” Begged the girl, reaching out in desperation, “they come for me.”

Noiselessly, the woman’s frighten face vanished in a sanguine chrysanthemum. There was no scream or rending of splitting flesh. The body fell in silence.

Paralysed with shock, the girl looked down at the rifle now in her hands, unfired yet somehow responsible for taking this innocent life. Without so much as a scuffle of boots the crowd surrounded her, the confused girl’s gaze lifting to settle on each face that she somehow recognised. Panning around the room, each visage told a different story, reminding her who they were before blossoming into their own red fountain, just as the woman’s had.

She didn’t want this.

The last of them toppled like a puppet with its strings cut, leaving her alone. So much she wished to close her eyes, but they wouldn’t respond, unblinking in the shadow cast room, the walls of which had long since vanished from sight. Slipping to her knees, the girl allowed the heavy gun to rest upon the blood soaked floor, thin strands of soft unwoven threads dug into her skin, rather then the harsh concrete she had expected. A tremor had begun throughout the constricting endless space, gathering and resounding ahead of some unseen vehicle. Among the bodies of her victims the girl rose to the renewed threat, swinging the rifle up towards that which would hopefully be her doom.

What she saw shook her soul. A twisting mist of livid colours descended across the dark hills of a night time wilderness. Flowing like liquid, the contrived mass danced and contorted within its own confines before suddenly sweeping towards the terrified watcher. Drawing closer with ever thunderous hoof beat, the cloud began to become more distinct, patches of colour becoming sleek essences of the creatures they had once been.

There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Trapped in the open by this encroaching ghostly cloud of crushing hooves and wild threatening shapes, the girl did the only thing she could do.

She pulled the trigger.