Some eternity later, they reached the end of Bacon Grove. Horatio’s block was on the other side of the broad intersection. He couldn’t tell if the wind streaking along Grange Road was slightly slower. There was plenty of rubbish tumbling along; taxez bounced and gyrated past them. They watched as an unconscious woman rolled along the tarmac, her skirt acting as a sail, broken limbs flopping about, skin flayed raw, her face painted in blood. Horatio was pretty sure she was dead.
‘What the fuck is that?’ Niastus cried.
Horatio followed his frantic gaze upwards, just knowing it was going to be bad. The nearest Resolution ship hanging low above London was spilling a dark waterfall from an open slot in its aft fuselage – a cybernetic pterodactyl shitting on the city. His tarsus lenses zoomed in as best he could, and the outflow resolved into a dense stream of globes.
It had been twenty-five years since he’d last seen those shapes, and the sight of them made him whimper like a frightened child trapped in a looped nightmare. ‘Olyix huntspheres,’ he yelled as another taxez crashed past, twirling off into the Spa Gardens. ‘Move!’ It was insanity – there were so many lethal fragments scything through the air along Grange Road – but he preferred to take his chances with them. They crouched low and scuttled forwards, stopping once for a shop awning to cartwheel past. They ducked for a round table that spun and pogoed. Small particles were slamming into him constantly, impossible to see and dodge before they hit, but each one was like a kick from a pro cage fighter.
Less than a minute and they made it to the other side, and clung to the shelter of the wall, where the wind had eased a fraction. Horatio’s knee was in agony where a chunk of masonry had hit him. Blood was running down Maria’s face from a nasty gash on her forehead. A weeping Jaz was supporting Niastus as he tried to stand upright, the baby clutched to her torso.
The door’s glass panels were cracked, but not yet shattered. It wouldn’t open. Horatio could see the frame was warped. ‘Together,’ he told Niastus. They put their shoulders down and thumped against it. It held. They hit it again, finally shifting the obdurate frame. There was a terrific roar, and the air swirled violently. Horatio fell hard into the hallway, not understanding what had happened. Then he caught sight of the Olyix sphere streaking away along Grange Road – with things falling out of it. He looked down at the tarmac. Dozens of capturesnakes were lying there, starting to twitch. Of course they were the one thing the wind didn’t blow away.
‘Go!’ he screamed and grabbed Jaz, pulling her inside. ‘Go, go. Upstairs.’
The tips of the capturesnakes rose up like armoured cobra heads, tracking around. Horatio pushed Niastus towards the stairs. ‘Help him,’ he told Maria.
‘But you—’
‘Go. I’m right behind you.’ Several capturesnakes started wriggling their way towards the open door. It would be useless trying to shut it, he knew. Jaz and Niastus had made it up the first few stairs. Maria gave him a desperate look, then turned fast and started heading up. ‘Come on,’ she urged the others, half pushing, half lifting Niastus. ‘Second floor, number twenty-four. Move!’
Horatio backed into the stairwell. It was reasonably narrow, brick walls and concrete stairs with metal rails. Obsolete ducts ran along the edge of the ceiling. He’d made it to the first turn when his altme finally got a signal from the portal. Gwendoline’s icon splashed into his tarsus lens display.
‘Horatio!’
‘I’m here. Almost at the flat. Thread up, for God’s sake. Now!’
‘Horatio . . . are you secure?’
‘There are capturesnakes. They’re chasing us. Don’t worry, I’ve got them.’
‘Horatio!’
‘Hurry!’
‘I . . . I’ll try.’
‘Try what?’
‘We can’t let any Olyix through, not even a capturesnake. It’s security.’
‘Fuck! I said I’ve got this. No capturesnake is coming through.’
‘Oh, Christ.’
‘Thread up!’ He saw movement down in the hallway and pulled out his voltstick. It telescoped out to its full metre length. The bulbous end fizzed with purple static. He’d never been proud to carry it. After all, it was his job to reason and persuade the wilder kids – those who’d lost their way, who just needed some sympathy and guidance. Force was never the answer. But he knew those lost kids well enough to acknowledge some were beyond even his negotiating skills, and London was balanced so finely on the edge of anarchy. So . . . always the voltstick when he left the flat. A practical precaution.
Two capturesnakes darted forwards, undulating rapidly as they came up the stairs. His altme’s self-defence routine told him to strike the one on his left first. He jabbed down, catching it just behind the tip. The voltstick discharged in a brutal flash, and he was already swiping right. Another flash. Thin smoke puffed upwards, drenching him with the smell of burned plastic and oil fumes.
‘What the fuck was that?’ Maria demanded.
‘I told you I’ve got this.’
‘I got clearance,’ Gwendoline said. ‘We’re threading up.’
‘You’re a Zangari,’ he told her. ‘I expected nothing less.’ His altme highlighted another capturesnake squirming up the stairs. More were slithering into the hallway.
Horatio waited until the next one was a single step below him, then swung the voltstick down. The capturesnake flipped to one side, then lunged forwards at the same time as the voltstick struck the concrete. It coiled around his ankle, grating against his skin. Bollocks, this is going to hurt! He brought the voltstick back, scrunching it into the rear of the capturesnake. Where it was wrapped around his ankle became a tight ring of searing hot lava. Horatio screamed at the vile burst of pain, instinctively jerking the voltstick away. The smouldering capturesnake twitched as he shook his leg, dislodging it. The next three were already on the stairs.
Eyes watering from the pain, he started up the next flight
