"We can just fly under them, stay there, if we are close enough they won't drop bombs," Stephanie said.
"Are you confident about that?" Daniel replied.
"What other choice do we have?"
A voice came from the back, "I reckon I could get inside if we're underneath."
Stephanie and Daniel looked to each other, saying, without words, 'it might work, what other choice do we have?'
"I'll need a pilot with me though, someone to fly that thing."
Stephanie nodded to Daniel, who replied, "no, no, no. I'm no action man, I can't get into that thing."
"I would do it," Stephanie said, "but I've got a steadier hand than you. You'll probably flip the plan with the door open."
With a grunt, Daniel unclipped himself. As he got out of the seat he said, "if we survive this you'll owe me one."
He placed his hand on a pad next to the hatch that faced toward the back of the plane. The scan completed, the area below the hatch swung forward, creating a doorway. As Daniel entered the rear of the plane, the one who suggested the idea had started to get ready. She had more muscles in her little finger than Daniel did in his entire body. Her brown hair was pulled tightly across her scalp and braided into two plaits, and colourful cartoon tattoos covered both arms. She appeared like a child in a marine's body, complete with dusty green tank top and camo trousers.
Unsteady on his feet, Daniel edged over to his colleague. She had stowed a handgun in each holster on the side of her body, grabbed a grappling hook gun and picked up a mini blowtorch. It did not take a rocket scientist to work out the intended plan. Dangling from a plane whilst cutting through a metal chassis was not Daniel's idea of fun. She looked up, straight into his face, with her mouth down-turned. With hands raised, Daniel stepped back, losing his footing and sitting on another passenger.
"Sorry," he said, getting up.
"If you've finished," the woman, Alejandra, said, "we can get this mission sorted."
"Erm...yeah," Daniel stuttered. Noticing she had no more equipment, he added, "are you going to get any breathing apparatus?"
"We're too low down, we won't need any."
"I know, but given the speed we are moving it will help."
With a reluctant node, Alejandra agreed. Daniel took on his duty of retrieving them. Opening a locker behind him, he pulled out two masks, small metal tanks fitted to the front of them. He barely took a step when Alejandra shouted, "we're ready, you can lower the door."
"Alright," Stephanie replied, "everyone hold tight."
The chill came instantaneously, a heavy wind whipping at their faces. Those buckled in shook whist Alejandra and Daniel danced on the spot before grabbing handles near the door. Half of the wall descended, making a ramp for when the airship landed. At least this gave them a platform to work on. Like a majestic tightrope walker, Alejandra let go of her hand hold, slipped on the breathing mask, and walked out onto the open platform. Panic built in Daniel; she did not have a parachute on, surely he was not expected to head out without one. How easy it is to feel emasculated, how easy it is to do something foolish. Rather than grabbing a parachute, Daniel followed. His legs shook, stumbling every time the plane adjusted position. The lack of light, which the bomber blocked out, did not help. Daniel forgot the cardinal rule, don't look down. The dusty yellow slum below gave the image of a child's sandpit. That thought stopped him taking notice of where his feet went. Kicking a metal grove, Daniel tumbled forward. His hands shot out to stop the fall, but the floor was not there, only the slum below. A surge of anxiety filled his body, and the entire world stopped. He leaned, motionless, staring at the slum, but it did not move closer. He had heard of moments when time slows, but never thought it would completely stop. No, that was not it. Something held him in that position. Could this be the afterlife? Had he fallen and died? Was some ethereal creature coming to take him to the next life? Daniel felt a tug on his shirt. Soon he sat on the platform, staring up at a woman.
"Look where you're going, I was just about to shoot this," Alejandra said, telling Daniel he was a fool.
A pitiful, "sorry," was all Daniel could reply.
"Just stay there while I get the job done. I'll get you when we have a way in."
"Yes, maam," Daniel immediately regretted the sarcasm.
Alejandra turned away from him, her mask dulling her grunts. She set about her task once more. Moving to the centre of the platform, she aimed at a point she hoped contained no explosive shells, and fired. The arrowhead speared into the bomber. Satisfied there would be no explosion, Alejandra pulled the rope, making sure the spear had caught. Happy, she clipped the gun to her belt, flicked a switch and ascended to the craft above them. Daniel looked on with awe, amazed at how calm Alejandra appeared. This daredevil life was not for him, he just needed to get this mission done then could wipe any thoughts of ever hanging from the bottom of a plane again. He had not had thoughts of doing it before, so did not expect them to come back.
Above him, Alejandra readied the blowtorch. The rocking of the plane did not affect her. Even with the wind whipping at the flame, Alejandra managed to create an almost perfect circle. Below, Daniel flinched at a loud clang. Next to him, a circle of metal appeared.
Alejandra cared not where the debris landed, instead focusing on flipping herself into the hole. It took a few swings, but she got her foot hooked and used the power in her legs to back herself into the gap. A few seconds for a breather, then she unclipped the gun from her belt and threw it down to the platform. Daniel stood as it swung in the breeze, then went to collect it. A few tentative steps found him near the edge of the platform once more. Panic overcame his body, and he stepped back. Above, Alejandra lent out the hole. Grabbing the cable, she attempted to swing the gun closer to Daniel. Like some bad arcade grabbing game, Daniel missed the gun with every swing, Alejandra’s frustrations becoming more audible each time. Daniel only took one step left or right, not wanting to see the view of the slum coming closer. Despite Alejandra taking the wind into account, she could still not find her target. Both these factors caused the escapade to last much longer than it should have. When Daniel finally had the gun in his hand, he let out a little cheer and fist pump, which only caused more annoyance in his colleague. He struggled with the clip on the end, attaching it to his belt after some fumbling. Daniel hoped the gun would magically reel him in, instead he stood there for a few seconds before realising he needed to press a button or flip a switch. He knew he had found the right switch when pain flared around his waist. The force ripped him forward, slamming him into the bomber. Only Daniel's arms stopped the impact from knocking him unconscious, and only the sound of battle stopped the clang from ringing through the skies. Alejandra had been a graceful ballerina, he had been nothing more than a clumsy oaf. Once more, Daniel's lack of athletic ability struck. He flapped in the wind like a loose flag, unable to get his body in the right position to enter the hole. Alejandra leaned out. Grasping his ankles, she hauled him up next to her, mumbling more frustrations under her breath before saying, "this way." They started a crawl toward the back of the plane when Alejandra heard a grunt from her partner. Looking back, she saw him unable to move, tethered in place by a cord. With more signs of unhappiness, she lent back and unclipped the gun from his belt.
As she started on her journey once more, Daniel said, "don't we need to get the gun?"
"It's stuck in the metal, do you want to hang out that hole and try and pull it out?"
"Errr...no."
"Then leave it and let's get going."
Daniel knew when to succumb to a higher authority. They crawled past metal pipes and boxes, over rivets and joints. It was slow going in the cramped environment, so much so, Alejandra asked, "why is it so tight in here?"
"It's for fuel pipes and technical instruments, the space wasn't designed for people to move through." Daniel now the expert.
"Fair enough." A few moments later, Alejendra appeared at a hatch. "Wait here, I'll check we are clear."
Daniel lay in the confined area, trying hard to listen for any resistance above. Realising he still wore the mask, he removed it, though this did not aid his hearing. It was only when he jumped as Alejandra opened the hatch again, that he realised he had been shaking.
"All clear, come on up," she said.
Daniel shuffled through the crawl space and squeezed up the hatch, appearing in a small room. The whirring of the engines filled his head as he stared at a wall covered in silver orbs, each the size of a football. About five racks, each ten wide and three deep, stood in front. Tubes and runways ran around like a large marble run, allowing the balls to roll to the next rack down, then disappear somewhere into the space he and Alejandra had appeared from.
"Please say these aren't what I think they are," Daniel said.
"Bombs? Yes."
"There is an awful lot. Aren't they supposed to be bigger?"
"Princips must have been working on making them smaller."
Daniel felt the breath sucked from his lungs, his body drooped, energy drained. If each bomb was as powerful as the older ones but a fifth of the size, there would be a whole lot of destruction.
~
It did not matter that he had screamed in pain; the battle was too loud, and the explosion had caused their ears to ring.
"We can't stop here," Solomon stated through the pain of cuts and burns on his face.
"What?" Imka replied, her hearing dulled from the bombs.
"I said," Solomon raised his voice, "we can't stop here."
"Why? They've all been blown apart."
"And you don't think they will send more?"
"But where can we go?"
Solomon pointed a shaky hand upwards.
"On the roof?" Imka exclaimed, "but that puts us out in the open."
"Why do you think they have sent soldiers in? With that rocket launcher, they can't drop bombs before their bombers are destroyed. It's the safest place."
Imka knew she would follow his orders, it was what she did. In silence she rose and grasped Solomon's tattered top under his armpits, dragging him to his feet. The rub of clothes on cuts and bruises made Solomon roar. With an arm around Imka, they made their way up the bare concrete stairs, towards the sound of battle above, sounds which were barely audible to their ears. Solomon tried his best to show strength, to appear as if no pain racked his body, but clenched teeth and slow, deliberate movement told a different story. With every step he stung, with every movement he wanted to collapse. The small flight of stairs felt more like a pilgrimage to an ancient temple. When they came to a wooden hatch, Imka dumped Solomon down. Ignoring the rocking and what grunting she could make out, she pushed open the doorway and scrambled into the daylight. Guns pointed at her. Small pistols, the bazooka and rifles trained on the sky and streets instead. Imka was sure they were about to shoot, but something crawled by her legs, and hard scowls turned to smug grins.
"Well, Solomon," one said, "lookin' a little worse for ware eh!" Solomon pointed to his ears. With a laugh, the man said again, louder, "I said, lookin' a little worse for ware."
The response came as a raised middle finger.
The man laughed, "always so welcoming." Without turning to his comrades he said, "guns down, these are some old friends."
"Friends?" said one of his colleagues, "this is the head of the biggest set of criminals in this place."
"That may be, but we have a joint enemy now, so I guess that makes us friends."
The leader lowered his weapon before the rest of the group followed suit. He moved to Solomon, helping the injured crime lord to a sitting position. "So, where have you been? What have you seen?" he asked, starting at normal volume then raising his voice to compensate for the loss of hearing.
"Why do you care?" Solomon spat, "I thought you would be glad to see me dead."
"Not dead. Behind bars maybe, but never dead. Anyway, we are in this together now. The more information we can get, the better our chances of survival."
"You think we are going to survive this? I told you Princips hated us. You may have helped them by trying to instil law and order, but I think now it shows I was right to infiltrate them and take what they refused to give us."
As the debate continued, Imka stood a few metres away like some spare part.
"I did what was right for the people, not Princips. It was not my place to attack the establishment."
"Then you are to blame for the position we are in. You should have been fighting them, not for them."
The man laughed again; a laugh that told of scorn, pity and a small amount of shame. "Don't pretend you are some sort of freedom fighter, Solomon. You are a petty crook, I don't suppose you were out there trying to find others, trying to save people." Solomon looked away, unable to hold his counterpart's accusatory gaze. "I knew it. So where have you been then?"
Meekly, Solomon replied, "up at the crashed bomber."
"Scavenging, eh? Always did worry about your luxuries over the fate of your people?"
"You can hardly talk, you call yourself law and order, but you have killed as many people as me."
"But those were bad people. A lot less criminals on the streets thanks to us. Without Princips keeping this place on the straight and narrow, someone had to step in."
Solomon, forgetting the pain in his body, was about to shout out, but one of the men holding rifles at the far end of the rooftop said, "if you have finished your love in, there's another group of soldiers headed this way."
"Sorry," the leader stated, "looks like I am needed." He got up and ran to the far side of the roof, readying his handgun as he went. Before he reached his position, he looked back to Imka, who stood between him and Solomon staring into the distance, brow wrinkled and lips tight. "Well? Are you going to stand there, or come here and help?"
"Err...yeah," Imka gave a last look to Solomon before joining her new comrades. The building stood on a kink in the road, giving an excellent view both from where they had come and down towards a small plaza, denoted by sets of corrugated iron sheets laid on the ground. This area was only really used as a performance space for any small shows or concerns put on within the slum so, naturally, had become devoid of human activity. Across from their building, Imka could see straight down another road, a myriad of low, poorly constructed abodes skirting either side. In this direction came another platoon of soldiers. As yet, they had not spotted the small band of resistance, but one shot would change that.
The leader, hushing his voice to a volume only just audible above the fighting near them, said, "wait till they are about a hundred metres away, then we need to fire quick bursts and take them out quickly."
The other members of his crew, guns pointed at the soldiers, nodded their acknowledgement. Imka, tinnitus still ringing in her ears, said, in nearly a shout, "what?"
The entire crowd looked toward the noise, worried that the sound told them of another issue. A few seconds later, a worse sound rang across the rooftop, that of a scream. Next came the clattering of a bazooka as the holder fell to the ground. Instinctively, the team dropped behind the small lip surrounding the rooftop. "You idiot," the leader uttered to Imka, no need to keep his voice down now.
~
The sheet pulled back, "what's going on?" Kira screeched.
Near the exit stood Eliana, her pistol raised, pointing at something at the other end of the room. That something was Louisa, arms raised, stern look on her face.
"It was her, she did it. The soldiers didn't shoot Luka, she did," Eliana said through tears, almost spitting the last words.
Kira's face contorted, revealing her teeth like she was about to growl. The anger grew, shaking her body, calling it to action. Being shot would dispose of Louisa, but Kira did not want that; she wanted to beat her, use her rage, let the beast loose once more. Deep down Kira had never trusted Louisa, something about how easily she left her village rang alarm bells. One minute holding Kira hostage, the next her best friend. Living in the slum with little contact with others, Kira had never known the phrase 'two faced,' but if she had, she would apply it to this situation.
Two steps forward and Kira's face changed, her teeth sunk back behind her lip, her face straightened out, leaving only a furrowed brow. "She's got a bow?" It was more a question than a statement.
"What?" Eliana asked, confusion written over her face.
Kira turned to her only real friend, "she's got a bow. How do you shoot people with a gun when you've only got a bow?"
Eliana blew out, "you're not here to think Kira."
"Sorry?" the rage was moving directions, pointing toward her friend.
"You don't have all the evidence."
"Show me then."
"I....err....look, it's her, she needs to die."
"It's you, isn't it? You're with Princips."
"Oh Kira, sorry it took you this long to work it out," every word dripped with condescension.
"But you were so nice to me, you helped me."
"If it is any consolation, I do like you...I mean in a friendly way, not that weird loving way you look at me."
"But...but....how can you do this? You hate Princips," Kira's voice was getting louder and louder, "you found out about the history they covered up, you knew how they were treating poor people, and still you want to fight for them?"
"What can I say? I have been given certain....assurances. A nice house, a good job, lots of credits. I can have a good life, and all I need to do is disrupt this silly little rebellion."
"Not if I kill you first," Kira roared, moving back toward the imposter. Two words stopped her movement.
"I'll shoot. You can take me down, but you can't save Louisa as well."
The quandary was too much for Kira to bear. Her fists clenched, she closed her eyes and let out a roar of frustration. Her instincts would have to take over, she could not decide wrong from right, best to let emotions overtake when the head could not make a decision.
Eliana became the focus of her attention. She did not wish ill on Louisa anymore, but this young woman in front of her had slighted her. Eliana was the enemy, part of the enemy that enslaved Kira and, for all she knew, were behind the disappearance of her mother.
Again, however, words were enough to stop her. Guessing what Kira would do, Eliana said, "think of your mother. I am part of Princips, I have the power of the company that rules the entire world behind me. Join me, join us, and we can find your mother, keep her safe."
Kira looked to Louisa, a pained expression across her face. In case Louisa did not get the message, Kira mouthed the word 'sorry.' Louisa nodded her understanding, a tear breaking from the corner of her left eye. "Ok, I'm with you," Kira said, little conviction in her voice.
"Good. Let's dispose of this one and we can move on before the bombers come."
"No," Kira shouted. Realising she sounded like she had changed her mind, she added, "why don't we leave her and let the bombers kill her?"
"Really?! What makes you think she won't shoot us in the back as we leave?"
"OK then," Kira racked her brain, looking for any way to spare Louisa's life. "I'll do it, prove my worth to you."
"Go on then."
Kira pulled one of her guns from its pouch and aimed at Louisa, whose face was scrunched, trying to stop the tears, trying to imply she was not afraid to die. Kira stood for a few seconds, heart threatening to tear through her chest. "Can I have a moment? I need to do this by myself," said squeaked, holding back her own tears.
Eliana laughed and gave a slow clap, "you must think I'm stupid. The old, I go outside and you let her sneak out the back before firing a random shot trick. No games Kira, just shoot her, or I will."
Kira breathed in deeply, willing the tears back into her eyes. She nodded to Louisa, a slow, deliberate nod. With the lightest of touches, she squeezed the trigger, gradually adding more force when it would not let loose its bullet. The bang echoed around the small abode and, in less than two seconds, Louisa lay on the floor.
Silence descended, broken only by Eliana's shoes on the floor. She took a few steps toward Louise and asked, in an accusatory tone, "did you miss on purpose?" Kira looked on with wide eyes and open mouth as Eliana raised her own pistol and shot Louisa.
The scream was louder than the gun shot. The beast was out. With a devastating right hook, Kira knocked Eliana off her feet, sending her sprawling into the wall and bouncing off it to crumple in a heap on the floor. "YOU KILLED HER," Kira raged, raising her gun to the bloodied face of Eliana.
"Go on then," Eliana said, noticing her pistol had been knocked from her hand and landed out of reach. "Shoot me, kill me, but without me, you'll never find your mother."
With every limb shaking and tears streaming down her face, Kira lowered her weapon.