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.She looked up at the sign, looking for the bus numbers that stopped here, wondering if she could guess from their destinations where they might have gone.The sign was empty; useful only to someone who already knew the routes the buses took.It was futile.They could be anywhere.Dreggo cursed again, turning around on her heels in despair.She’d have to go back to her original plan, which was to track them down the traditional way: find out who they were, where they hung out, who they were friends with.But that could take days, and she wanted revenge now.What little life she’d had as leader of the Cross Jumpers was gone, and her hatred for the Tube Riders burned through her soul like acid.They wouldn’t be back, she knew, the Cross Jumpers.They might form again in small gangs from time to time to practice their dangerous hobby, but their unity had been undermined, and that was her fault.She had thought they wanted the same as she did, the urban legend, the infamy, but with the exception of Maul and a handful of others they were just cowardly street kids looking for a way to pass the time.It had been fun until too much blood was shed.I should have known better.Dreggo wanted to blame herself but that was mental suicide, and she had blamed too much on herself already.The abuse, the suffering, the violence, the rapes; for years she had shouldered the blame.Not this time.The Tube Riders had caused this.And the only way to restore her pride and build the infamy for herself that she wanted was to track them down and kill them, one after another.‘.orders.’Dreggo jumped.She looked around, searching for the source of the word, faint, almost indistinct.There was no one behind her, no one anywhere near her.Then she heard another sound, a buzzing sensation like a radio stuck between stations, the crackling of static.The sound was inside her head.She felt suddenly uncomfortable, as though plumes of blood were pressing against the inside of her skull, and she pushed her hands against her forehead as though to stop her brain from bursting out.The buzzing paused for a moment and then began again, louder.She started to hear more words, faint and indistinct.At first she thought she was going mad, and then memories of another horrible chapter in her life began to resurface; a time she had been held captive underground, a prisoner of the government, used as a test dummy for experiments.From those dark days she remembered little other than fear, pain, and suffering, but her skills had come from that time, too: her strength, her tracking ability, her ability to jump higher or run faster than any normal human, her ability to sense fear or danger just from breathing in the air.She sat down by the side of the road as the buzzing got louder.She had no choice but to listen as the words became clearer, but she squeezed her eyes shut anyway, trying to push them out, waiting for them to end.‘.orders.five people.two women.three.all die.known as.Tube Riders.’Her eyes flicked open.Dreggo began to listen.I know you.Huntsmen.So, they were loose again, after so long.And they were hunting the Tube Riders? It hardly seemed possible.What could those worthless fools have done to have the Huntsmen set loose on them?Dreggo didn’t know and didn’t care to know.What it did mean was that her dead end had suddenly opened up again and she had another trail to follow.Maybe the nightmares from her past could help her settle her own score.Despite the growing nausea she felt, Dreggo smiled.Chapter FifteenScentClayton hung back at the rear as the group of handlers led the muzzled Huntsmen down into what had once been St.Cannerwells London Underground station.One hand rested on the butt of his gun, in a holster at his right hip.The creatures were surprisingly sedate as the men led them along, walking upright like respectful prisoners with their heads bowed, their faces invisible beneath their cowls.Unseen metal collars encircled the Huntsmen’s necks beneath their robes, with a thin chain that reminded Clayton of an overlong watch strap leading back to a loop that each handler held as they walked about three metres in front of their respective charges.The five handlers, one for each of the creatures, wore metal face protectors, thick bulletproof jackets and padded leg wear.It wasn’t bullets that they feared, though, Clayton knew.It was ripping, tearing claws.So far, everything had gone to plan, even though sitting in the back of the DCA’s van with them had been perhaps the most terrifying experience of Clayton’s life.‘They won’t move,’ the head handler, a man called Jakob had told him.He had indicated a button on the loop of the leash he held.‘See this? The thing moves and I shock him.These give electric shocks strong enough to render an elephant a gibbering wreck.They won’t move because they’ve all been given a demonstration of what it feels like.The part of the brain that still contains human thoughts and cognitive processes understands how much it’ll hurt if they try anything.But –’ and here Jakob gave a devilish grin, ‘– if I let go of this leash for just one second, that boy’ll tear us all apart before you can even think about getting your gun.’Vincent, sitting beside Clayton, had scoffed.Lifting his hand, he had put two fingers together in a gun shape, pointed it at the Huntsman opposite and made a quiet popping sound.‘And even if you did,’ Jakob had continued, with a dismissive smirk at Vincent, ‘You wouldn’t get off enough iron in time.You black coats have any idea what it takes to bring down a Huntsman? Get it square in the face and you’re doing good, but those bodies can take some beating.Next to these boys, killing revolutionaries is like blowing away bits of paper.’Jakob had sounded almost proud.Clayton had plucked up the courage to look through the metal grill of the face mask-cum-muzzle the creature opposite him wore, beneath the low cowl and into the unblinking human eyes that watched him from above the dog-like snout.There was intelligence there, he saw.Intelligence and hunger; hunger to be free.‘This way,’ Vincent said up ahead of them.‘This is where we found evidence of the kids.’‘You found this place on a map?’ Clayton said, glancing nervously back at the Huntsmen.He noticed Vincent had one hand under his jacket, on the handle of his own gun, no doubt.That insolent bastard would as soon as put a bullet in my back as in one of those monsters, he thought.‘We just backtracked along the line, checking in anywhere those kids could have come from, once it was apparent that they used those bits of wood to hang off the trains.The abandoned station wasn’t on the most up-to-date map, but we got suspicious at the large gap between the two stations either side and so we checked the archives.And there it was, St.Cannerwells, forgotten for more than a decade.The perfect place for those kids to hang out.’‘And what did you find?’‘Not much.A pile of old mattresses at one end, and some chalk lines along the side of the platform.At the other end a dried puddle of blood, and some pretty nasty leftovers on the tracks.’‘Leftovers?’Vincent sighed.‘Come on, Clayton.The remains of a kid.Maybe more than one.It’s hard to tell after they’ve been diced up by a bunch of train wheels.’‘You think they had a bust up?’‘From the evidence I’d say they didn’t plan to be leaving the station.I think they were running away from something when they came across us, and our.business.Knowing this town, probably trouble with a rival gang.’It was Clayton’s turn to sigh.‘Fuck.It sucks, this city, doesn’t it?’Vincent didn’t look at him.‘Not our problem.They dig their own graves, we just deliver them.’Clayton felt a sudden surge of hatred for the younger man.He had an unsettled score with Vincent for going to the Governor behind his back [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.She looked up at the sign, looking for the bus numbers that stopped here, wondering if she could guess from their destinations where they might have gone.The sign was empty; useful only to someone who already knew the routes the buses took.It was futile.They could be anywhere.Dreggo cursed again, turning around on her heels in despair.She’d have to go back to her original plan, which was to track them down the traditional way: find out who they were, where they hung out, who they were friends with.But that could take days, and she wanted revenge now.What little life she’d had as leader of the Cross Jumpers was gone, and her hatred for the Tube Riders burned through her soul like acid.They wouldn’t be back, she knew, the Cross Jumpers.They might form again in small gangs from time to time to practice their dangerous hobby, but their unity had been undermined, and that was her fault.She had thought they wanted the same as she did, the urban legend, the infamy, but with the exception of Maul and a handful of others they were just cowardly street kids looking for a way to pass the time.It had been fun until too much blood was shed.I should have known better.Dreggo wanted to blame herself but that was mental suicide, and she had blamed too much on herself already.The abuse, the suffering, the violence, the rapes; for years she had shouldered the blame.Not this time.The Tube Riders had caused this.And the only way to restore her pride and build the infamy for herself that she wanted was to track them down and kill them, one after another.‘.orders.’Dreggo jumped.She looked around, searching for the source of the word, faint, almost indistinct.There was no one behind her, no one anywhere near her.Then she heard another sound, a buzzing sensation like a radio stuck between stations, the crackling of static.The sound was inside her head.She felt suddenly uncomfortable, as though plumes of blood were pressing against the inside of her skull, and she pushed her hands against her forehead as though to stop her brain from bursting out.The buzzing paused for a moment and then began again, louder.She started to hear more words, faint and indistinct.At first she thought she was going mad, and then memories of another horrible chapter in her life began to resurface; a time she had been held captive underground, a prisoner of the government, used as a test dummy for experiments.From those dark days she remembered little other than fear, pain, and suffering, but her skills had come from that time, too: her strength, her tracking ability, her ability to jump higher or run faster than any normal human, her ability to sense fear or danger just from breathing in the air.She sat down by the side of the road as the buzzing got louder.She had no choice but to listen as the words became clearer, but she squeezed her eyes shut anyway, trying to push them out, waiting for them to end.‘.orders.five people.two women.three.all die.known as.Tube Riders.’Her eyes flicked open.Dreggo began to listen.I know you.Huntsmen.So, they were loose again, after so long.And they were hunting the Tube Riders? It hardly seemed possible.What could those worthless fools have done to have the Huntsmen set loose on them?Dreggo didn’t know and didn’t care to know.What it did mean was that her dead end had suddenly opened up again and she had another trail to follow.Maybe the nightmares from her past could help her settle her own score.Despite the growing nausea she felt, Dreggo smiled.Chapter FifteenScentClayton hung back at the rear as the group of handlers led the muzzled Huntsmen down into what had once been St.Cannerwells London Underground station.One hand rested on the butt of his gun, in a holster at his right hip.The creatures were surprisingly sedate as the men led them along, walking upright like respectful prisoners with their heads bowed, their faces invisible beneath their cowls.Unseen metal collars encircled the Huntsmen’s necks beneath their robes, with a thin chain that reminded Clayton of an overlong watch strap leading back to a loop that each handler held as they walked about three metres in front of their respective charges.The five handlers, one for each of the creatures, wore metal face protectors, thick bulletproof jackets and padded leg wear.It wasn’t bullets that they feared, though, Clayton knew.It was ripping, tearing claws.So far, everything had gone to plan, even though sitting in the back of the DCA’s van with them had been perhaps the most terrifying experience of Clayton’s life.‘They won’t move,’ the head handler, a man called Jakob had told him.He had indicated a button on the loop of the leash he held.‘See this? The thing moves and I shock him.These give electric shocks strong enough to render an elephant a gibbering wreck.They won’t move because they’ve all been given a demonstration of what it feels like.The part of the brain that still contains human thoughts and cognitive processes understands how much it’ll hurt if they try anything.But –’ and here Jakob gave a devilish grin, ‘– if I let go of this leash for just one second, that boy’ll tear us all apart before you can even think about getting your gun.’Vincent, sitting beside Clayton, had scoffed.Lifting his hand, he had put two fingers together in a gun shape, pointed it at the Huntsman opposite and made a quiet popping sound.‘And even if you did,’ Jakob had continued, with a dismissive smirk at Vincent, ‘You wouldn’t get off enough iron in time.You black coats have any idea what it takes to bring down a Huntsman? Get it square in the face and you’re doing good, but those bodies can take some beating.Next to these boys, killing revolutionaries is like blowing away bits of paper.’Jakob had sounded almost proud.Clayton had plucked up the courage to look through the metal grill of the face mask-cum-muzzle the creature opposite him wore, beneath the low cowl and into the unblinking human eyes that watched him from above the dog-like snout.There was intelligence there, he saw.Intelligence and hunger; hunger to be free.‘This way,’ Vincent said up ahead of them.‘This is where we found evidence of the kids.’‘You found this place on a map?’ Clayton said, glancing nervously back at the Huntsmen.He noticed Vincent had one hand under his jacket, on the handle of his own gun, no doubt.That insolent bastard would as soon as put a bullet in my back as in one of those monsters, he thought.‘We just backtracked along the line, checking in anywhere those kids could have come from, once it was apparent that they used those bits of wood to hang off the trains.The abandoned station wasn’t on the most up-to-date map, but we got suspicious at the large gap between the two stations either side and so we checked the archives.And there it was, St.Cannerwells, forgotten for more than a decade.The perfect place for those kids to hang out.’‘And what did you find?’‘Not much.A pile of old mattresses at one end, and some chalk lines along the side of the platform.At the other end a dried puddle of blood, and some pretty nasty leftovers on the tracks.’‘Leftovers?’Vincent sighed.‘Come on, Clayton.The remains of a kid.Maybe more than one.It’s hard to tell after they’ve been diced up by a bunch of train wheels.’‘You think they had a bust up?’‘From the evidence I’d say they didn’t plan to be leaving the station.I think they were running away from something when they came across us, and our.business.Knowing this town, probably trouble with a rival gang.’It was Clayton’s turn to sigh.‘Fuck.It sucks, this city, doesn’t it?’Vincent didn’t look at him.‘Not our problem.They dig their own graves, we just deliver them.’Clayton felt a sudden surge of hatred for the younger man.He had an unsettled score with Vincent for going to the Governor behind his back [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]