City of Lights

PAUL BROATCH

CITY OF LIGHTS

Book 1 Red and White Series

Also by Paul Broatch

THE WORLDS WITHIN

RUNNING THE RIFT

This is a work of fiction. Characters, institutions and organisations mentioned in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.

First published 2015 under the name White: A Shard of God

Copyright Paul Broatch 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher. Paul Broatch asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Published by Paul Broatch at Smashwords

The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.

― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Remember that all through history, there have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they seem invincible. But in the end, they always fall. Always."

― Mahatma Gandhi, The Story of My Experiments With Truth

Contents

1 The Attack – July 7

2 Home

3 Species

4 An Offer

5 Escape

6 A Killing - July 8

7 Friends and Enemies

8 A Touch of the Divine

9 The Hive – July 9

10 The Warehouse

11 The Raid

12 A New Face

13 Evidence

14 Jail Break

15 ChaosPlague - July 10

16 Running the Gauntlet

17 Fighting Back – July 11

18 Plans

19 The Broadcast – July 12

20 Meeting – July 13

21 Firestorm

22 The March – July 14 – Bastille Day

23 Lights Out

24 Power Station

25 Confrontation

26 A beginning and an End

27 Pandemic

Acknowledgements

Discover other titles by Paul Broatch

1: The Attack - July 7

The demonstrators marched down the road towards the Government precinct. A noisy, rag-tag coalition of green groups and poverty protesters. They waved placards and flags and chanted slogans, led by an acne-scarred youth with dreadlocks and an old loudhailer. It was a passionate riot of noise and colour. The scruffily dressed people seemed like alien invaders as they passed through the Core ̶ the heart of the city ̶ the roads lined with trees, outdoor cafes, ultra-modern shops and towering buildings. Customers and shop owners stared warily at them from behind the protection of armour glass, and the residents shouted abuse from the safety of upper story balconies. Between the demonstrators and their destination stood a solid line of police in black riot gear. As the two groups converged, the noise and chanting reached a crescendo. Then they were face-to-face: unarmed, passionate, peaceful protesters demanding justice and equality facing down the silent, menacing line of armoured men and women in gas masks.

An amplified voice rang out. This is an illegal demonstration. Disperse now or you will be fired on.

The orders were met with shouting and jeering. The acne-scarred youth screamed his fury and defiance, just inches from the wall of plastic riot shields. They refused to back off; refused to have their demands ignored.

Trucks with large cannons mounted on them swung in behind the police. There was a moment of calm ̶ time stood still for just a moment ̶ and then sudden violence exploded. A baton struck out, and blood flew from the face of the leader. He stumbled away clutching his head and tried to flee into the crowd. In seconds, a ‘snatch squad’ of five riot police rushed out, shoving the crowd back as they dragged the leader down and beat him mercilessly with batons while he desperately tried to protect himself. Then they dragged him back behind the police line for processing.

Tear gas canisters started raining down on the protesters, spewing out clouds of acrid vapour. The police line moved forward. Dogs charged through the lines, teeth bared, grabbing at men and women, dragging them down. The protesters defiance began to crumble; they began to run. There was a heavy thump and a projectile arced out toward the rear of the march, expanding as it went into a net of fine, sticky fibres. The protesters tried to get out from underneath it, but they couldn’t move quickly enough, tripping and trampling over one another. The net descended, its sticky filaments adhering to bodies, entangling and immobilising them.

Protesters fled the chaos down side streets and alleys, anywhere to avoid the attacking police and dogs. They were hunted down, beaten, and thrown into waiting vans.

A young couple with a small girl of eight or nine ran for their lives. The man went down suddenly, hit by a plastic bullet, sprawling on the concrete, clutching in pain at his back. The woman dragged him to the glass wall of a shop. She called out, but the terrified child just stood there frozen in the street. Armoured men emerged from clouds of tear gas behind them.

The man looked back down the road towards the chaos and the advancing police, then he turned to his family. Run! You can still get away.

The woman shook her head and tried desperately to help him to his feet, refusing to leave him to his fate.

Suddenly, the door to the shop opened and a huge man stepped out between them and the advancing police. The child screamed. Another man emerged and strong arms grabbed the wounded man under the arms and dragged him inside. Quickly, inside before they get here, he said.

The woman darted out and grabbed the child and the little family hurried inside, followed by their huge guard. The second man, a tall, handsome man, with longish brown hair and blue eyes ushered them to the back of the shop and through a steel door. Stay here and stay quiet. He turned.

Eric, he called out to the giant. Close the outside door and opaque the glass. Then he went back into the shop, shutting the door behind him. The family huddled together, the girl sobbing with terror. They were in what looked like a museum warehouse.

After about half an hour, the door opened and the brown-haired man walked in. He knelt down next to them. How are you? he asked.

We're ok, the woman answered unconvincingly.

How’s your back? he asked the man.

I think I’ve got some broken ribs, but I’ll live. Thank you. Thank you for helping us.

The brown-haired man smiled. You’re welcome. The police have cordoned off the area, so you're going to have to stay here for a few hours until things die down. Once it's safe, we’ll take you home.

Thank you, the woman said.

You're welcome, he paused, look, you might want to avoid protest marches for a while. He glanced at the little girl. The police are getting more and more violent all the time. It’s just not safe. The couple nodded sombrely.

The big man came in carrying some food and drinks. As he moved, they could hear the humming of the augmentation of his exoskeleton. He squatted down and handed the tray to the woman. The little girl looked at him with great, wide eyes. He looked at her and smiled. Then, from his pocket, he produced a small, green origami frog. He put it on the floor and pressed down on it making it jump and land on the girl’s lap. She looked down at it, and the tears were replaced by an uncertain smile. He gave the girl a wink and returned to the shop.

**

The music was loud, so loud she thought she could feel her bones vibrating in time to the beat. It was almost a physical force, causing her to resonate to its rhythm as she danced in the seething mass of people. The air was hot and stifling: poorly ventilated and breathed too many times. It made her feel claustrophobic. She glanced up as she turned. Part of the floor above had collapsed, forming a kind of mezzanine level. People stood at the edge, looking down on the dancers. The people around her were frozen in stroboscopic flashes of light, pushing and shoving as they jumped and gyrated. Between the flashes, bioluminescent neons pulsed in time to the beat, buried under the skin of a group of Augs. Living light shows.

Maria was tiring. Her body was slick with sweat and her dress clung to her, soaked and stained. Next to her, Nina was dancing with wild abandon, eyes closed, mesmerised by the pulse and flow of the music and probably the drugs in her water bottle. Maria had to get out, had to find fresh air.

She grabbed at Nina's arm. Her friend’s eyes flicked open, failing to focus for a moment but then registering her, she smiled. Maria mimed that she needed a break, and Nina nodded. Together they forced their way through the crowd to the edge of the room. Maria cupped her hands to Nina's ear I need to get out of here. I need some air. Nina nodded, and they pushed through the people standing at the edge of the dancers to a doorway that led in turn down a short corridor to a balcony. At one time, a door would have closed off the end of the corridor, but now it was open to the air. A breeze flowed past them, drawn in by the heat of the dance. It felt cool and fresh on her skin. A small group of jackers sat crouched, backs against one wall, eyes unfocused, their minds in a different place.

Damn jackers, Nina muttered under her breath.

They don’t hurt anyone, Maria said, pushing her forward.

They walked slowly past them, keeping close to the opposite wall, even though the jackers were clearly plugged in and oblivious to everything around them. As they passed, one looked up at them suddenly, his gaze vacant, maybe reacting to the sound. She could see the flashes in his eyes from the projections on his contact lenses, and the small silver disk imbedded in his temple that was his jack. Then he looked away again, drawn back into whatever electronic dream world he inhabited.

Damn, it freaks me out when they do that, Nina muttered.

They stepped out onto the balcony. The tiles were chipped and broken, cracking under their feet. The breeze was stronger in the open, chilling the sweat on their skin. Maria felt goose bumps beginning to rise. Above them, they could hear the steady thrumming of the wind generators on the roof that provided the power for the party. A single, red glow-globe was fixed just above the door, bathing them in a ruddy light. They went to stand at the edge of the balcony. The steel and glass balustrade was still in one piece, but they didn't trust it enough to risk leaning on it.

The dance party was being held on the tenth floor of a derelict building on the edge of the city, deep in what was known as the Flooded Quarter. Below them, she could see the shallow water that soaked the feet of the buildings, and beyond that the sea. She had heard, once, that this part of the city had been a commercial district with towering skyscrapers and broad avenues leading down to a vibrant harbour with bars and restaurants that overlooked the water and gleaming yachts. She'd never seen it like that; it was long before she was born. Now it was a desolated ghost town of ruined, rusty buildings, where the only sounds were usually the lapping of water and the occasional cry of a night bird. She looked up; between the scudding clouds she could see the bright stars; one benefit of the dark neighbourhood.

You ok? Nina asked, touching her arm.

Yeah, just tired. What's the time?

Just after one. The night's still young. She did a little pirouette.

Maria just shook her head and pulled her water bottle from her hip belt. Maybe, but I'm getting too old for this.

Maria laughed. Nah, you just need a little assistance. She waved her laced water bottle at Maria.

No thanks. They stood there in silence, breathing in the cool night air for a few minutes. The claustrophobic feelings began to subside, and Maria started to feel better.

Hey ladies. How's it going?

Maria started and twisted around, expecting to see one of the jackers behind her, but they remained crouched in the corridor. She heard a small chuckle. Two men stood quietly at the far end of the balcony in the dark. Maria hadn't even seen them when she had come out. They must have been standing there, watching them for some time.

Hey guys, we're good. How are you? Nina could be a terrible flirt at times.

You're certainly looking very good. The man took a step into the light. He was tall with longish, blond hair and piercing, green eyes. He was strikingly handsome, but there was something about the slightly arrogant tilt of his head and the smile that Maria took an instant dislike to. His companion came forward into the light. He was shorter and stockier than the leader, with short hair, a two-day stubble and looked slightly shabby. He was smiling and looked friendlier than his companion. They weren't jackers or Augs at least, Maria thought.

Nina walked over to them. We're just out getting a breath of fresh air. You interested in dancing?

The shorter one said Sure. He took Nina's arm and they turned to go back down the corridor. The blond one came over to Maria.

How about you gorgeous? Like to dance? Maria's instincts immediately told her to refuse and to get away from this man as soon as possible. Something about him just didn’t seem quite right.

Sure, she does. Nina came back to her and rolled her eyes, mouthing the word 'gorgeous' to Maria. Nina grabbed her arm and dragged her back inside with the other two following. One of the jackers was slumped on the floor of the corridor, overloaded. The blond one kicked him hard, causing him to curl up like a foetus. He gave a cruel laugh. Damn jackers.

Maria turned on him. What's wrong with you? They don't hurt anyone.

They’re all useless. He shouldn't be lying all over the floor.

As they came back into the dance floor, a tall, brown haired man pushed out of the crowd and came toward them. His long hair was a tied up in a short pony tail and his deep blue eyes stared at them as he approached. He was a wearing a loose, white shirt and jeans. Maria felt the two men they were with instantly tense as they came to a halt. The newcomer looked hard at the group as he stopped in front of them. There was a definite challenge in his demeanour. The blond leader stood his ground for a moment, and then stepped aside to let him pass. As he passed, the man looked carefully at Maria and then at the blond man next to her. There was clearly something between the two of them. Then he was gone, vanishing into the crowd.

The blond man muttered something she didn’t catch over the music. He took her arm and they pushed back into the crowd on the dance floor. Maria forced herself to dance with the man for a few songs. He smiled and tried to be friendly, but something in his expression made her skin crawl. He seemed to be sizing her up, in almost a predatory way. After a while, she couldn’t take it anymore. She reached out and grabbed Nina's arm. Nina was dancing very close to the shorter man, gazing into his eyes. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

Nina, I'm out of here. You want to come too? Maria yelled.

Nina gave her a smile and shook her head. No. I’m good. Stay with me. This is fun!

Maria shook her head and leaned in closer. I don’t want to. I don’t feel comfortable. We should leave; something’s not right.

Nina glanced at the blond man quickly. Looks ok to me. If you want to go, that’s fine. I’ll be ok. I’ll call you in the morning. Tell you everything. She gave her a wicked smile See you later. She gave Maria a quick hug.

Maria felt uneasy leaving Nina with these two, but Nina could be stubborn when it came to men. She turned back to the blond man and yelled.

Sorry. Not feeling good. Bit of a headache. I'm heading home. Thanks for the dance. She pushed away quickly, before he could ask for her number or offer to take her home, but she couldn’t help but see a flicker of annoyance pass over his face. She quickly shoved her way to the exit.

There was a huge Aug bouncer standing at the top of the stairwell, his head encased in a black, alloy helmet, probably scanning for concealed weapons. He glanced at her, then stepped to one side to allow her to pass. She headed on down the stairwell. Glow-globes had been strung up along the ceiling to light the way, but the stairwell was still full of deep shadows. As she descended, she came face to face with the brown-haired stranger who had intimidated the two men. He smiled at her as she passed; a gentle smile, very unlike the blond’s.

Take care, his voice was deep and strong. Something about the way he said it made it seem like a warning, rather than a casual farewell, and put her instantly on edge. There was something going on here that she didn’t quite understand and didn’t really want to know about. She passed quickly down the stairs and out into the night.

She looked around; there were no tuk-tuks or rickshaws in sight. They wouldn’t turn up until the end of the dance party to take the revellers home. She'd have to walk back to Victoria Square to pick one up. She glanced uncomfortably around the dark buildings. There were a few people around, mostly partygoers wending their way home or homeless people carrying their possessions and heading for one of the abandoned buildings for a place to sleep. It should be ok, she’d done this many times before with other people, but tonight she felt nervy and on edge. She began to walk. It was cool in the night air, and she could hear the lapping and gurgling of water. It was eerie out here all alone with the dark skeletons of the decaying buildings and the unfamiliar cries of the sea birds. She stuck to the route that was marked with luminescent paint and the occasional glow-globe: the dry path through the flooded neighbourhood. She turned and looked back at the building hosting the party. The lights formed a bright, horizontal line in the otherwise darkened silhouette, cutting the building in two, like a blade. You could hear the music clearly, even from here. She had another pang of guilt about leaving Nina. Still, it wasn’t as if Nina hadn’t ditched her at a party sometimes when she’d met some cute guy. She turned to continue, a dark, hooded figure loomed out of the gloom in front of her. She slowed, cautious, but it was just a jacker. She could barely see his face as he passed by; all she caught was the faint flickering of his contact lenses.

After about half a kilometre, she came to a small park. She quickened her pace. The park was little more than a soggy, grassed area with a few trees and shrubs and some decaying children's play equipment. The trees all looked sick or dying, probably from the salt water getting into their roots. She was almost past it when she heard the crunch of a boot on the gravel. She turned, hoping it was just another partygoer, but she had a horrible feeling it was going to be the two men from the party. They were no more than twenty metres from her, the blond one in the lead: a dreadful leer on his face. She turned and sprinted down the path, but they were on her shockingly fast. A part of her mind said no one could move that quickly, but then a powerful hand grabbed her arm, bringing her to a painful stop. She cried out, but the blond man quickly covered her mouth with his hand cutting off the sound. His face was right beside hers. She could feel his cheek on hers and smell his warm breath.

Hello gorgeous. I wasn't ready for our night to end just yet. He pressed himself hard into her back. She struggled, but he was far too strong for her. She stamped down as hard as she could on the top of his foot and he let go in a howl of pain.

Fuck you! he shouted.

She turned and lashed out, trying to punch him in the throat, but he was too quick and just batted her hand away. The other one came walking slowly up, and stood behind her. She screamed as loud as she could, trying to draw some attention. The blond man backhanded her across the mouth. The blow was so hard it stunned her for a moment. She tasted blood in her mouth.

You're going to pay for that, bitch. They grabbed her, and dragged her into the park behind the bushes and threw her onto the ground. She could feel the wet grass through her dress. She kicked out, connecting with the knee of the short, squat one. He went down in a howl of pain, and she tried desperately to scrabble away from them. The leader grabbed her by the leg and hit her hard in the side of the head. Pain exploded in her temple, and she blacked out momentarily.

Wakey-wakey, bitch. We don't want you to miss anything. The blond one was kneeling over her, shaking her head.

Maybe it was the blow to the head or the adrenaline, but when she looked at him, he barely seemed human. An aura of red and black energy flared around his entire body. Two streams flowed out from his back like two blood-red wings. She desperately glanced at the other one, only to see the same strange energy flare, a dark red laced with black. Until then, she had been consumed by the thought of getting away, of fighting off her attackers, but now her fear flared into outright panic and she began to gasp for breath, struggling and writhing on the ground.

What the hell are you, some kind of demons? Get away from me. Don't touch me! she screamed.

The leader’s voice changed. What did she call us? Demons?

What are you? No one has an aura like that. Maria began to sob.

She can see us, the short one said. Kill her.

I want some fun first. The blond one grabbed her and flipped her over onto her stomach, pressing her face down into the mud. She felt him fumble for a moment and then pull her dress up and grab her underwear. Then, she heard a crash. She lifted her head up and saw the leader crash into the ground in front of her. She felt the weight come off her and she struggled to turn over. The brown-haired man from the dance was fighting the other one. He moved in a blur of speed, kicking and punching. The