Back on the J-way. Back to one-twenty on the gauge and making a blur out those fat wagons with their rickety engines. Wisely had a special kind of helmet, and the Okü had a port on the handlebars you could plug the helmet into and listen to the radio while you rode. Mateo was just cruising, traversing Zone Six on Jadranju. What time was it? Three AM or so. The best time to take a real ride. He wanted to hit the Wall so badly, but he knew he couldn’t. Not with so much heat on him, not on Wisely’s wheels. Not when a synthcard was suddenly attainable. So he just rode the J-way aimlessly, wind whipping into him, listening to the glittering, fluty synths and bass that 98.8FM played non-stop at night. He had a head full of fantasies, dreaming up all that might be his, and in such a mood he could only feel certain they would be. There was a squawk on the radio. Advertisements. He switched channel.
That’s right Marie, more than four months since the last Muster. That’s the justification coming down from First Response for the recent increase in cape activity. They expect an attack at any time. The last muster was an E-level Lumin incursion in Zone Two. More than four thousand were left dead after a cave in at the Moneycombs preceded the invasion of hundreds of H-scale Lumin, and no less than seven T-types. Such a period of inactivity is almost unprecedented since the days o—
Mateo switched back to 98.8. He’d rather hear ads than that garbage. The Lumin would come as they always did and the city would crumble. People would die, FR would swoop in and make a dramatic display of killing monsters. He was only dimly aware of the advertisement occurring in the background, extolling for the effectivity of supplements that improved blood flow to the male sex organ. That sultry advocate made her closing arguments and was replaced by the thump of music. The road ahead was empty. No more cars. He accelerated. The bike wavered ever so slightly beneath him. He could feel every little bump of raised tarmac. The gauge said 150. The road curled ahead of him, sloping gently up. Tower blocks passed to either side. There were two loud pops in the sky as two zus appeared, rocketing through the air. Mateo watched them disappear behind a building. There was another squawk from the radio.
*WARNING. WARNING. Lumin activity has been detected in your area. Be advised: Lumin activity detected in [Westside Szuisk]. Be advised, those nearby should move to their nearest assembly point. Do not move closer to or into [Westside Szuisk]. This is a D-level threat. Repeat: Lumin activity detected in [Westside Szuisk].*
He felt the fear rise in his stomach. The message had barely started before he had guided the bike off the J-way and slipped back down to earth. Szuisk was his sister’s neighbourhood, maybe fifteen minutes out if he sped. Beetles with cameras were the last thing on his mind. The whole way the message repeated in his ears, cycling, only growing clearer as he approached Szuisk. The message continued to repeat, but Mateo only heard it once. Nor did he hear the screech of the taxis as he cut them off, see the red lights he ran, or notice the civilians which jumped squealing onto the sidewalk. He made it in twelve.
The Beetles had already set themselves up on the edge of Szuisk, standing around their police cars consoling civilians, putting up lines of tape, squinting at the sky expectantly, and generally performing the usual charade of judicial security which was their only tangible contribution to the city. White light filled the street, beaming from floodlights stationed by zus on the top of buildings with small generators, or from the many police cars. He parked up and jumped from the bike, jamming in the key and locking the back wheel before dashing forward.
A Beetle stood with a clipboard, directing people here and there and holding his hand up when they approached the red tape. He was currently talking to a man and woman. The man was crying. His girlfriend had one hand on his arm and one pointed accusingly at the Beetle, who calmly repeated that it was impossible they return to the building to save their dog. Behind him, several buildings down at the end of the block, Mateo recognised the building where Raia and Sevit lived. He ran up to the Beetle. He couldn’t see any Lumin.
“Where’s the fucking incursion?” He yelled. “I don’t see nothing.”
“Please, sir, I can assure they are in the area. This perimeter is set up to prevent you encountering them, understand. It is an internal breach.”
“The fuck is an internal breach?”
The Beetle let out a deep sigh, perhaps calling on some personal god to sustain him through the long night to come. He turned to Mateo.
“Within one of the buildings, kid. They’re here. Stay put.”
“What’s that?” Mateo gestured at the clipboard. The Beetle waved it dismissively.
“Inventory. You live around here? What’s your name?”
Mateo snatched the clipboard from the Beetle and jogged backwards. The man followed, hand raised, reasoning with him. It was a thick sheaf of names in alphabetical order. Mateo leafed through until he found their names, near the end. They hadn’t been found. He tossed the clipboard at the Beetle and dodged passed, dashing under the red tape and jogging along the street. He sniffed. He could smell flowers.
“Kid!” The Beetle yelled. “You’re killing yourself. There’s a T-type in that building. KID!”
Mateo had already forgotten hin. He noticed he was stilling wearing his helmet and went to take it off, then changed his mind. Perhaps it was better to stay anonymous for this. He slid the visor up, scanning the street ahead of him with his new eyes. The street work was a patchwork of black and white where the spotlights raked through the night. Nevertheless, every detail of the long street was clear to him. He could look into the windows of the rooms high above and clearly discern their contents. He could read the signage all the way at the end of the block, more than 500 meters. He glanced around. He was jogging faster than most men could sprint.
But it was more than that. The simple mechanics of his body improved, sure, but so had his executive functioning. He only had to look as something for a fraction of a moment before he categorised and understood it, flicking his eyes to the next.
He could sense a kind of strange, undulating vibration in the ground—different to the seismic waves of an olmet. This was something perverse and chaotic. He’d never felt it before.
He reached the end of the block. Here, the smell of flowers was crisp, as if he stood in the middle of a rose garden in spring. Raia’s building was a twin apartment block, identical towers, eighty stories high and connected by three bridges at different heights. Between the buildings was a small courtyard with a bare playground, some parking spaces, and a barren patch of greenery—home of the homeless, where the dogs pissed. Mateo swore under his breath. He must have got turned around driving over: this was the far building. Raia was on the other side.
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The road outside was swarming with Beetles: F-Beetles, the rubber suited rhata you always saw on TV on the site of a Lumin attack, standard uniforms, plain-clothes calling out orders, as well as several armoured maicha. Mateo slowed his jog and two uniforms broke from the back of the pack and approached him, waving their hands.
From behind the mustered Beetle came a sound: the wrenching noise of splitting metel. A huge geyser of steam erupted from the ground, venting into the courtyard and blowing aside a swing-set. Spotlights swung to attention, illuminating a crack spreading through the street. Around it, the tarmac was melting, bubbling up as if superheated. Beetles ran towards the widening crack as a large, florescent yellow hand reached up and slammed onto the ground. The yellow gel sizzled and oozed into the melted tarmac, crackling. A Lumin levered itself free of the crevice and slowly stood, mutely assessing what waited it. Fire fell from a dozen directions and bathed the creature as it took a step forward. It barely slowed it. Two more Lumin followed behind.
“WHERE THE FUCK IS RESPONSE!?” screamed a plain-clothed officer, fumbling with the radio in his hand and jabbering into it.
The three Lumin stood before the crack in the ground, large, blobby humanoids with thick necks and thick fingers and blazing eyes like stars. The first of them continued to walk forward, quick for its size, and the team of Feetles back away from it, raining fire. It reached forward, arm stretching like rubber, and grabbed one. Mateo heard the man’s scream very clearly. There was another desperate call for FR.
Above them came the rotary thunking of helicopter flight, peppered with the endless popping as zus arrived or moved between the buildings, air lifting children from the highest stories. It took two zus to lift even a small girl. More Lumin were clawing their way to the surface, smaller kinds and a strange, spidery looking thing Mateo had never seen on TV. The large Lumin on the right opened its face, gel stretching like jagged teeth before snapping wide to reveal a yellow gullet. It reached into its face, arm disappearing, and pulled something out—something bright and yellow that writhed in its hand.
“PHOS,” screamed an officer. The handful of goo wriggled faster, brightening in the monsters hand as Beetles dove, burying their faces in the ground. Mateo shoved down the visor of his helmet and watched as the gel in the Lumin’s hand exploded with a flash of searing yellow light. Beetles staggered to the ground, holding hands to their faces. Hoarse, helpless screaming were everywhere. Spotlights swung wildly around, the zus holding them blind. Mateo saw blood running down the face of one woman.
Where were FR?
How could they stop the Lumin without capes? It would be a massacre.
“Mateo, you forget yourself.”
Poros voice was sickly, quiet. It was as if the figment was talking from down a deep well. Mateo scowled. If he didn’t step in, these people were going to die. But that was nothing to do with him. He was responsible for his sister, not a bunch of strangers, never mind the freak coincidences of a few days. But could he really just leave them?
He stood, frozen in indecision.
It was hardly a choice. She was family, all he had. He had to get her to safety. Then he could come back and help.
There was no way he could cut his way through the growing hoard of of Lumin. Nor did he want to bring himself to the attention of the Beetles. He’d have to go up on this side and cross one of the bridges. He ran, dashing around Beetles which had collapsed on the floor. His vision was fine. He glanced around. Everyone else was blind. Nobody would see him. As he ran, he pointed a finger at the Lumin crushing the man in its hand and let the energy flow through his arm.
With a smacking sound, the head of the creature exploded. The yellow gel started to melt, running down the body of the creature like wax and exposing the black skeleton beneath. As the strange bones met with the air they popped, dissolving into black dust and floating away on the wind. The two remaining Lumin turned towards Mateo, one tilting its strange head and stepping forward. But they were far from him. In a few moments he had run into the building.
Inside, the strange vibrations were almost deafening, throbbing up through the earth and rattling his jaw. He had a thought. What if they weren’t mere vibrations, like the olmets produced? They were seemingly complex, musical even.
What if they were war songs?
Along with the rattling bass of the music came strange thumping. Something was moving beneath the building. The stench of flowers was very strong here, wafting up the stairs from the basement. Again he froze, caught between going up and going down. He was afraid. He couldn’t move.
In the distance came the music of bells, increasing in volume and then bathing the building in the pure sound of it, scales rising and falling and cascading all around. Mateo hadn’t noticed he was holding his breath. He released it. FR had arrived. They’d deal with whatever was in the basement. He ran up the stairs, pulling himself up with the handrail, leaping several at a time. Residents ran down the stairs in an endless stream, shoving against him. Often he saw people in the hallway, messing around with bags, crying, frozen looking out the window, and he’d scream at them, run over and shake them before continuing up. If there was a T-type in the basement it would break through momentarily and cut off their escape.
The music of the bells finally stopped. In its place came the sound of combat, the wet crunches and pops of the Lumin, the shudders and detonations and strange, singing sounds of the Mantled. He wondered dimly if any major FR had come. He sure hoped so.
The first bridge was on the 15th floor. It didn’t take him long to reach it. The stairs opened onto a kind of lobby, with sofa chairs and plastic houseplants and a vending machine, the short corridor of the bridge stretching away. People were on the far side, running into Raia’s building. A man pushed passed him and dashed into the corridor, a briefcase in one hand and the hand of a young boy in the other. The boy was wailing openly but the father ignored him. They were followed by two young women, one of whom was holding a cat. He joined the group, following.
They were only a few steps down the corridor when, preceded by a kind of whining sound, the body of a small young woman blasted through the wall, demolishing it and letting in the wind. She slammed into the far wall and collapsed, a lifeless, twitching bundle. She wore the uniform of FR. Her hair moved slowly over her head, writhing like a nest of serpents. Mateo looked closer. Her hair was seemingly made of blue string.
Everyone froze for a moment. There was a wet thunk. A huge lump of yellow gel had collided with the cavity left by the woman and was now gently oozing through it. Mateo fired a shot at it, and chunks of gel flew in the air. They splattered in front of the group of civilians and started to burn, eating through the material of the bridge with a chemical sizzle. Again there was the stench of flowers. One of the girls screamed, dropping the cat. It had splattered her in the face. Mateo swore. The man glanced over his shoulder, then tugged his son forward, tip-toeing over the gel.
The unconscious girl spasmed, as if shocked, and her eyes snapped open. She groaned, standing. She glanced at Mateo.
“The other way, idiots!”