The Forge: Fire and Ice

BLIND ALLEY Emily Wootton

An aphotic murk descended upon the alley, humid and repressing; all was still and silent.

Until it wasn’t.

Propelled by instinct, Martha shot up off the stones. There was a flicker of movement in the darkness ahead. She hissed at her companion, Jason, to move! before whipping around to run somewhere that their assailants weren’t.

But she felt the pressure of his hand on her elbow, a signal for her to stop. ‘It’s just cats,’ he said, his voice a cool whisper.

Martha crouched back down, much slower this time. She allowed herself to lean on the wall and took a deep breath. It reeked of rot and rubbish. It reeked of death. ‘I thought it was–’

‘Careful,’ he said. ‘You’re not turning rogue on me, are you?’

Martha flinched. How could Jason joke about that? Once human, now anything but, rogues were people who’d had their brains sliced and spliced. The state’s pets. With no emotion, no identity, rogues had only one goal in mind: to uphold the state. Anything else wasn’t just irrelevant but a threat to be destroyed.

They’d both spent the last few years posing as state researchers to discover just that. Martha herself had nearly turned rogue. They wanted to test a ‘new procedure’, and as a loyal subject, she couldn’t argue. She’d been drugged up on the table with the hot point of the laser primed and ready when Jason had managed to slip into the system and trigger the emergency alarm.

No harm done, they said. Just a few cells gone. The op had been rescheduled, but the two of them had to run. One unexplained breach could be covered up, but not two.

Martha turned to face Jason. In the half-light, she saw that he was smiling. His eyes were not. They were icy, reflecting the caution which she herself felt. Martha realised that Jason wasn’t joking about her becoming a rogue. He was serious. Deadly so.

‘Ha ha. Very funny,’ she said, while wondering, Which of us do I need to reassure the most?

Martha’s breath was white smoke; they huddled close together, needing the body heat now night was approaching. They didn’t have long. Warmth dissipated, or, as Martha well knew, it could be destructive.

‘When do you want to leave?’ Jason asked.

Martha liked how casually he spoke, as if they had a choice. As if they were stopping to sightsee. But she was happy to indulge the fantasy.

‘Maybe a couple more minutes.’

Her head was banging. What she really wanted to do was sleep. But sleep was something stolen in snatches, in abandoned buildings and old dumpsters. Something that was close friends with death.

Instead, she rummaged in her pocket and produced an energy bar. ‘Want to share?’

Jason nodded. So she broke the bar into two. It was bland stuff, but after going on the run for the whole day, anything keeping her alive was welcome. She hoped any pursuers wouldn’t suspect that two fugitives would seek shelter at a dead end.

Martha knew how risky it was, to quite literally have their backs against the wall, but the risk was a necessary one. Pursuers could only charge from one direction, giving her and Jason precious seconds to climb. They’d made sure to assess the place. On the other side of the wall was a block of flats leading to the outskirts of the city; it was best to rest on this side, where no eyes could see them. There were a few cracks and uneven bricks that made suitable footholds; Martha just had to think of it as a rock-climbing wall, one of many she’d scaled in training. Except now there was no harness.

‘Time to climb,’ she said when they’d eaten.

‘Ladies first.’

Ignoring the stones that scraped through her trousers, Martha began hauling herself up the wall. She was just halfway when a bullet sunk into the concrete, just missing her left shoulder.

Her hammering heart sent both adrenaline and panic shooting through her. They’ve found us! Aware of being too conspicuous – though what did it matter, at this point? – she lay flat on the top of the wall and reached down to help Jason. He was nearly there when another bullet burrowed into his thigh. A strangled scream escaped his gritted teeth. Martha heard trampling feet and saw faint outlines of state agents advancing, burning with bloodlust.

Damnit, Jason! she thought, grabbing his hands and heaving him up. They plummeted down on the other side. He winced as his feet hit the concrete.

‘Want me to dig it out?’ Martha asked.

‘There’s no time.’

‘Can you run?’

‘I hope to God I can.’

Sticking close to the wall, they pelted across the concrete. Martha could hear the agents as they jumped off the wall. It wouldn’t be long before they started shooting again.

She scanned the area as she ran. To their right, an open stretch of concrete lay between them and the nearest sprawl of buildings. Straight ahead was a main road. If they wanted the best chance of losing their pursuers, they had to head for the buildings. That meant streaking across open ground, too close to the streetlights to be safe.

Beside her, Jason was panting, his eyes narrowed with the effort of running. No, not running, Martha realised as she looked at him, but limping.

‘I can make it, you know,’ he spat.

Martha swallowed her doubts, the dull ache in her head worsening as she nodded.

They veered away from the shadows and across the concrete. Martha tried to close her mind. A bullet shot past, taking part of her cheek with it. Martha knew she should feel the warm blood splatter on her cheek, the agony of losing a chunk of flesh, but she felt nothing. It didn’t feel like this was happening to her, but to someone else. Someone she didn’t know.

She had almost reached the buildings when she heard a cry from Jason. Something sharp had lodged itself in his arm and he stumbled to the floor. Martha raced back and put her arm around him, prepared to drag him if she had to. Instead, he placed a black file in her hand.

Jason had given up.

‘Don’t you dare!’

‘And don’t you dare stop me,’ he said. ‘Run. Do it. For both of us. For all of us.’

Martha wanted to ignore him and die fighting. But something in her brain ordered her not to.

She stuffed the file deep into her pocket. She began to run, but a heavy weight yanked her back. An agent. His blade bit into her throat. More blood. More numbness.

Then the weight was lifted. Jason! His eyes had dwindled to a pale blue, but had no shortage of determination as he grappled with the agent and hissed at her to go one last time.

Martha couldn’t disobey, not now. She sprinted towards the buildings, ducking as another bullet flew past her. She sped down a small alley before swerving to the side and up a stairwell. The metal railings hid her from view. Just about.

There was no sound beside that of her breathing. No one had followed her. At least, not yet. Before she moved on, she squinted through the gaps, allowing herself one last look. Over the roofs, illuminated in the haze of the streetlights, she could see Jason and the agents still in the clearing. Two of them held him back as the other stood in front of him, brandishing a weapon. But though he had given himself up, Jason would never give up the information.

Just before Martha turned to run, she saw the agent thrust something in Jason’s stomach. He fell to the floor. Dead. Vaporised. Frost in the glare of the sun.

Martha blinked. She wanted to feel pity. She wanted to feel something. But it was almost as if something in her brain was blocking all emotion…

the end