CHAPTER 1

"They’re coming!" The whispers echoed through the darkness. "They’re coming!" Voices changed with accents and tones while the words travelled down the line. Dust sprinkled from the railway tunnel ceiling. Several muffled coughs drowned out the obscure commotion from above. The teams patiently waited, a routine carried out numerous times before.

"Definitely a Clan's bash," a veteran of the section uttered.

The remark conjured up images amongst those new to the section, nervously waiting for the moment when the order would be given to move up. Some experienced veterans rested against cold, concrete walls; this was nothing more than a standard surface sweep. They read inexperience in the trainee's expressions. Little conversation was exchanged, as no amount of words could prepare them for what they would soon see.

Dawn prompted the silent silhouettes to appear from the hideaway beneath the earth. In a disorderly fashion, some moved on, having seen it all before. Through the eyes of the novice, the barren earth was creeping over the scars of what was once referred to as the suburbs. The eerie remnants of such a time littered the landscape.

Surface dwellers had picked clean anything remotely salvageable. Both simplistic and great architecture were lost, leaving only concrete and twisted, rusted metals. Not even the imagination could perceive their original structures. Dividing the suburbs and city, a contaminated river retained debris from bridges and monorail lines, wrenched from embankments.

To those new to the section, the ghostly vision of the city, surrounded by devastation, stole their concentration. Having been protected from the initial blasts, the buildings stood like tombstones in a concrete cemetery. This colossal unmarked grave retained the bones of the dead, no longer remembered as individuals, but victims of a voice from the past. The insanity of power had almost succeeded in eradicating life from the planet.

An electronic security wall surrounded the main city blocks, having not seen life in them for over twenty years. One towering building stood out above the rest. Over one hundred floors of glass and steel were visible above the impregnable eight metre high shimmering barricade. By day, the reflection of the sun's rays made the building gleam, yet at night, every floor was lit up by internal lighting. Surface dwellers named it the Light Tower.

Riders began the era of terrorism and dictatorship. The name Rider originated from earlier survivors. These men on horseback used fear to enslave and expand their Clans. On foot, scavenging surface dwellers did their Master’s bidding. Though Clans fought each other for territorial supremacy, they all united on one issue, the loathing of an imaginary enemy.

Clan teachings drove fear of those allegedly keeping them from the city. Derived from a scientific era, these indescribable hideous life forms worshipped advanced technology and weaponry. No surface dweller could prove what was thought, fact. Fabricated stories of escape, death and injury fed the machine of terror. Clansmen regularly gathered at night on common ground, combining their efforts in vain attempts to bring down the barrier. These intervals of alliance saw more dead to skirmishes than working towards a common goal.

A ridge of baked earth concealed the manhole, one of many to the underground tunnels. Veterans of the section were privileged to wear full military uniform, were others a mixture of the old armed forces. The sun’s heat penetrated Roxanne's thick, navy, woollen coat, making it heavy and uncomfortable. The military emblems on her shoulders were neither representation of rank, nor decoration; trimmings came with the standard issue of clothing. Looking out over the flat lands, Roxanne's tall, masculine appearance reflected her personality. In her late twenties, her fitness was that of one many years her junior, which she flaunted at the opposite sex. Protective glasses sat on top of her short, dark hair in readiness for the morning glare. With no respect for the dead, Roxanne made comments that should have seen her reprimanded by her superior, standing beside her.

Important was the female officer's friendship to Roxanne. Around the same age as she, Alex was thought feminine, very pretty and petite in Air force blues. With her superior remaining silent, Roxanne lowered her tone and continued.

"No one survived this one; let’s just start the burning."

"You know the routine," Alex replied, continuing to search the area through binoculars, which electronically zoomed in on objects that drew her attention.

Shovelled dirt extinguished flames on the makeshift Clan transports, a combination of wood, metal and the inventive imagination of the eighteenth century. Teams used steel hooks to drag corpses to the mounds, their blood already drying in the early morning heat.

"Like lambs to the slaughter." Alex sighed disappointed.

"Lambs my arse," Roxanne scoffed, "more like frigging butchers." The stirring dry earth in the distance prompted a change of subject. "It’s starting early this morning, and I'm not getting showered in the shit. Already I've got so much crap in my boots I reckon I could grow a Rider in them."

Ignoring the woman’s candidness, Alex zoomed in on two males from their section. Immediately she recognized Shaun in full Army greens, the other knelt over something she couldn't quite make out. Shaun waved, indicating a survivor.

"We have one!" Pleased, Alex’s face lit up.

"That’s all we need." Roxanne kicked at the dirt. Taking her hands out of her coat pockets, she aired disgruntled views. "It’s bad enough disposing of the bastards, now we're up for a frigging nightmare. Bloody, filthy Riders; I’ll have the smell in my nostrils for weeks." With her friend not reprimanding her, Roxanne continued. "They’d eat us alive if they had the chance, but we welcome them with open arms. Come in, join the family, we’ll feed yah and…" Roxanne went silent, wondering why Alex hadn't pulled her up, especially as the woman didn't tolerate such negative talk.

Knowing the reason behind Roxanne's resentment, Alex didn’t intend to reprimand a friend, though would have if others had been present. Understanding and a compassionate expression usually saw Roxanne at ease. The woman’s deceased brother was sadly missed and Alex conveyed a familiar response.

"A.J’s death was hard on us all, but more so for you." Alex's blue eyes focused on the woman's agitated profile. "This is what it is all about Roxanne; preserving life, the survival of mankind. You know how long it has been since we found a live one." Alex paused, reading the frustration in the woman's expression. "You don’t have to do this; no one would see you as weak if you went to another section for a time."

"No!" Roxanne's sights shot to her friend. "No, I’ll be okay. I want to do this for A.J; it was his mission in life." She drew a deep breath, pulling up inner barriers to conceal the hurt.

Although Alex had gone easy on her, Roxanne knew the officer wouldn't hesitate to send her to another section if she thought it for the best. She now hoped her attitude wouldn't be brought up in the debriefing. Awkwardly glancing, Roxanne was not ignorant to her friend analysing her.

"I am going to let it go this time," Alex said. "Nothing needs to be said to the others." Having relieved Roxanne’s anxiety, she patted the woman on the arm. "It all takes time, even your brother used to say that." She again turned her attention to team members on the job.

"Yeah, I know." Roxanne rubbed tired eyes. "You know me, just hate those first few days." She sneaked a sideward glance, not anticipating that Alex would shift her sights to acknowledge her.

"A.J had a zeal for life. He would have saved them all if he could have."

Since the man’s death, Alex had conveyed this many times; however, the wedge between Roxanne and Riders remained firmly established. Reminding Roxanne of her brother’s work, Alex added to consider how many ex-riders where now their dearest friends due to AJ.

Roxanne battled within. Relinquishing her hatred would mean forgiveness and this she couldn’t do. Sighing troubled, she couldn't look the officer in the eyes.

"I’ll get a bed ready." Roxanne didn’t wait for a response. Hastily, she disappeared down beneath the earth.

Skimming the surface, Alex zoomed in on the mound of collected dead, having been doused in fuel. With the torch lighting the accumulation, she lowered the binoculars. The moment called for an emotion, yet this she could not express. Common sense told her that it needed to be done.

The underworld burnt the bodies to eliminate disease and out of respect for the dead. This differed from the practices of the Clans whereby the dead were stripped of belongings and left where they fell. In addition, Clans displayed the bodies of their enemies on boundaries, a flaunting of strengths and a warning to others.

"What a waste," Alex murmured. A shadow cast over her small frame before she felt the hand on her shoulder. The remnants of a Russian accent gave him away with his utterance.

"One is better than none."

"I know why you're here Stephen." Alex's eyes remained fixed on the burning mound. In his usual composed tone, he let her know that she was well overdue for a rest break.

The man's strong features, clean-shaven and neatly trimmed white hair gave Stephen a sophisticated appearance. As an authoritative figure, his arrogance and demand for respect caused resentment amongst some who worked closely with the mature aged man. Stephen saw himself as more than just the head of the Medtech section and personal physician to Alex. The relationship between the two went deeper. At no time had Stephen openly divulged his personal reasons or feelings for Alex, leaving everyone, including the woman, ignorant to his secrets.

The inability to control Alex in the manner Stephen desired caused him constant frustration. Considered a workaholic, she had no respect for her own wellbeing. As head of the Medtech section, Stephen could stand the officer down until he decided otherwise. He was now on the verge of doing so to teach her a lesson.

Alex's promise to comply shortly was a common response. Experience taught Stephen not to trust her in this area; running herself into the ground was nothing new. Rarely did Alex adhere to his warnings. Frequently, she lured him into a false sense of security before sneaking off to continue her duties. In a calm yet firm composure, Stephen gave Alex the choice to either come quietly or be restrained.

"And you know I will do it." Stephen added.

"I will be in soon, I promise." Alex’s eyes directed him to the men out in the field.

"This is neither mine nor your concern." Animosity rose towards those, Stephen perceived she mothered. "They are not children Alex. Shaun is head of security. He knows his job so let him do it." He continued with Alex just staring unmoved. "Repeatedly we have gone over this. You place more emphasis on friendship than leadership. All must do their fair share, friend or not. Do I make myself clear?" Stephen raised a brow and turned his hand towards the manhole.