The Best Team
14th September
King Henry Archibald III! Thats how the old man announced himself, smoothing his wispy white hair back as he settled across the table from me. All that pompMaster of Devils Bridge, Lord of
“Your Majesty!” I interrupted, trying my best to hide my exhaustion. “Apologies, but after the Collapse, there are hundreds of kings, lords, earlseven great emperors, each ruling their own little house. Spare me the long tale, would you? I wont remember. Your name is enough.”
The man hesitated, eyes furrowing. “ErHenry,” he answered tentatively, only to catch himself”Archibald the third!”
I lounged back on the rickety wooden chaira relic from the sort of cheap offices that barely existed now. These battered creatures had become rare treasures since the world went sideways. The din of the bleak tavern vibrated painfully in my skull. The fug of smoke and sour odours from cheap lager made me half-drunk without a drop passing my lips. Id sat through countless interviews, faces of would-be hires blurring together. Honestly, I could barely recall which poor sods Id agreed to meet later. The ridiculous fashion of discussing business in pubs had taken root after the Collapse, almost law amongst the rural hamlets. Cafés had all become alehouses and inns, their landlords doubling as both sources of gossip and, naturally, informants for the local authorities. I loathed it, but out heremiles from Citadelnew rules held sway.
“Suppose you were what, before it all? Maybe Harry Archibald Trevelyan?” I pressed.
He nodded, looking glum. “Archibald HenryTrevellin.”
“What brings you here, then?”
“They say youre assembling a what is it, a crew? And paying well!” His eyes flickered with desperate hope as he fiddled with his ragged flat cap. “Thought you might have work for an old chap, perhaps. Ive little left except the title.”
“We do need a team,” I admitted, surveying the self-styled monarch. “But for something risky. Youd face gangs, mutants, maybe even army remnants. What can you offer?”
He sat up, eyes glittering with nervous energy. “I was well-off when the portals opened up. Bought land with a lucrative anomaly, made myself king. But my childrenthey squandered the lot! Only the title remains. I want back inthe league of the rich and successful. For good money Ill do anythingsay the word, Id fight tooth and nail! Loyalty is all Ive left!”
I grimaced. “Moneys a questionable motivation these daysthough frankly, about all thats left. Truth is, every candidate chases the same thing. Only, with respect, most are younger and stronger. Maybe you should seek something a bit more peaceful, Mr. Trevellin.”
“Henry Archibald the Third!” the old man insisted, rising with quiet dignity. “Thank you for your courtesy. Respects scarce out here, even for age.”
He bowed and hobbled out, leaving an awkward voidquickly filled by a solid, blond fellow in his mid-twenties. An old man in grey robe silently trailed behind, like a ghostly shadow. The young man flashed a perfect grin, swung his leg over his seat and announced, “Ready!”
“Hello. Who are you, and what exactly are you ready for?” I kept my irritation plainly visible.
“I am The Chosen,” the lad declared, chin jutting forward. “Thats my oracle, and the prophecy says”
“Stop,” I groaned, hand smacking the table so hard the oracle jolted. “Look, we dont take on messiahs, oracles or clairvoyants. Sorry. Goodbye.”
“But why? The prophecy”
Should I bother reasoning, or simply send him packing? After the Collapse, anomalies had spawned all sortstelekinetics, pyros, animal-talkers, but more often than not, madness. The world was full of proclaimed Chosen Onesmore charlatans than notthough some genuinely believed their nonsense. A pity, really.
“Goodbye,” I repeated, more firmly.
Deflated, the Chosen turned to go. The oracle shuffled out after him, slippers hissing on the flagstones. And then, a woman quietly took the seat in front of medressed in travel-stained, military-style overalls. Her auburn hair, pulled tight in a ponytail, simmered blood-red in the gloom, and her green eyes glinted oddlymutation, no doubt.
“Rosie. Rosie-Margaret,” she introduced herself softly.
“Guide?” I hazardedthough it was obvious.
“Pilgrim,” she replied, a small smile flickering.
I paused, genuinely surprised. Guidesthose who could sense hidden anomalieswere rare but not unheard of. Pilgrims, who could actually enter portals and bring others with them, were almost mythic. I whistled under my breath.
“And what brings you to my crew, Pilgrim Rosie? Surely you could find better-paid, more respectable work.”
“Not interested in money.”
Now, that was a new one. “Go on, then. Lets hear it.”
***
“Youre all going to die!” trilled Professor Godfrey, hands clasped behind his back as he paced before our scruffy team. “Some of you, rather sooner than you think!”
“Hardly a rousing speech,” I muttered in his direction.
Id met Professor Godfrey some six months back in one of the settlements built on the ashes of the old Birmingham anomaly. I was repairing small gadgets in my makeshift workshopa battered coach turned electronics shopwhen hed come in, clutching a broken laptop. It was like finding treasure to me; I hadnt seen a working one in decades. Quickly, we became friends. The Professor was a goldmine of ancient knowledgeremnants of a civilisation nearly forgotten in thirty years.
Hed told me hed fled Citadelthe capital of one post-Collapse states. His tales of what clung to life there fascinated me: proper electricity, still running water, technological marvels. Most mind-blowing, though, were his ideas on how these portals could be sealed, anomalies erased.
“I offer a chance to die for a greater cause,” Professor Godfrey went on. “To save humanity! To return our world its borders, to restore life as it should be!”
“Oi, chief!” boomed Clintnicknamed the Gunmanour main muscle alongside his two silent blokes. “Alright, less nattering, more action. We do the job, split the fee, and bugger off. Big speeches are for the sentimental.”
He leered openly at Rosie, pulling his black beard. His henchmenBullet and Blade, he called themgrunted indistinctly, echoing his laughter. They were an odd pairalways identically kitted out, balaclavas masking their faces. I still couldnt tell them apart.
Rosie sniffed, crossing her arms and pointedly looking away. Shed joined us only to free her fiancé, locked up in the Citadels dungeons; everything else was noise to her. Weapons werent just fashion for hera battered SA80 on her back and a heavy revolver in her thigh holster made that quite plain.
“And this is the lot I have to work with!” Professor Godfrey groaned. “Right! We reach Citadel in two parties: one with me, one with my deputy, Max! Rendezvous at the safe flat. Understood?”
“Why not a boozer?” piped up Vaughan, a young bestiologist.
He could control the creatures that seeped into our world through the portalsa skill rarer than hens teeth. Sadly, Vaughans intellect wasnt so rare. It took ages to explain our mission, and even now I doubted hed grasped the aim. He was born after the Collapse and didnt see why anything ought to change.
“Friends!” Godfrey bellowed, toggling back to orator mode. “We have our Pilgrim, a Bestiologist, professionals in the Gunmans lads, and myselfthe last hope of mankind! Max is as ordinary as porridgebut brings people together. We are the best team, and we shall change this world!”
***
The trek to Citadel took us eight days. If only I had a shred of literary talent, itd have made a fine adventure novel. But Im not a writer, and promised myselfnever again through a portal, even with a Pilgrim.
Godfrey and the Gunmans trio had arrived by carriage a few days ahead and were already living it up with luxuries unknown in the outlands. He greeted us in his bathrobe, strutting about our gloomy flat, beer in hand.
“How was the journey?”
“Lets see,” I grunted, collapsing into an armchair. “Vampire almost had usVaughan sorted that. We barely made it away from a pack of wasteland jackals, and finally, a Citadel patrol took all our pound notes at gunpoint. Still, weather held, and the companys goodso its grand, really!”
Godfrey ignored the sarcasm. “We go tonight. Clints men infiltrated Citadels guarddont ask how he pulls these things off!”
Spent, I tried to nap, but as soon as I drifted off, Godfrey clapped his hands for a rally.
Citadel could be entered two waysmarching to the main gate, guarded tighter than the Bank of England, or sneaking in through a hidden tunnel, pre-Collapse vintage. Godfrey knew it well.
The tunnel started beneath one of the old science buildings. Clint had thought up a ruse: orange robes of the Order of the Sacred Anomaly. In them, no patrol would suspect a thingblasphemy meant instant hanging.
Cloaked and sweating, nerves building, I was sure every glance was ready to expose us but nobody cared; monks drew no interest here.
At the fire door, Gunman unlocked the padlock, and we quickly ducked inside. Down concrete stairs, two “guards”really Bullet and Bladeawaited, silent as ever. We stripped off our disguises; in here, they were useless.
Godfrey led us to an old security door. The real guards were already asleepBullet and Blade always thorough. “Just two?” I frowned.
“The tunnels laced with traps,” Godfrey explained, swiping the access panel. “And trained creatures roam it. Its well-guarded. But we know the map.”
“But your contact?” Gunman asked.
“Hes dead,” Godfrey said, opening the door. “Never mind. In we go! Ladies first,” he grinned.
Rosie moved straight in, hands tracing the air, eyes scanning for traps. I marvelled, once again, at our luck in finding her. Acting on her gestures, we ducked, crept, or hopped over hazardslike a grim game of hopscotch.
An enormous, fanged lizard roared from a portal, nearly panicking our lot. One of Gunmans blokes almost opened fire. Vaughan, though, saved ushe simply muttered something and stared it down. The beast retreated, the portal rippling shut.
We pressed on: Rosie spotted the threats, Vaughan averted monsters, and the muscle rattled their weapons while Godfrey and I trailed, painfully aware how much we depended on others.
Halfway through, we found a previously hidden tunnel. “New addition,” Godfrey said, peering in.
There was no chance for debate. A chorus of mutant screeches, jaws snappingtrapped from both sides. Vaughan fought to hold them back, but the things pressed in regardless.
“Here!” barked Rosie, leading a dash into the new passage.
Ive never run so fast. The growls and snapping jaws were quite the motivator. I crashed straight into Rosie, sending us both toppling. Gunfire hammered behind usGunman, his fighters, their silhouettes thrown into sharp relief by muzzle flashes. Bullet or Bladeone of them dropped with a shout. I slammed Rosie low to the ground, and, emboldened by panic, fired blindly into the shadows.
“Enough!” bellowed a new voice, overpowering the din. The shooting stopped. Lights sputtered on, and I peered around. Godfrey lay cowering. Both henchmen were downmaybe now Id never learn which was which. Gunman, bleeding, braced himself, submachine gun drooping. Three grim strangers kept weapons pointed at us.
“Your little adventure ends here,” said their leader, a burly man in his fifties, sporting cropped hair and yellow protective glasses.
“Im BoreCitadel Head of Security. I have a proposal.”
“How did you know?” Gunman snarled.
“Word travels,” Bore smirked. “Vaughan here tipped us offhe likes cash, more than once.”
A gunshot cracked the tunnel. Vaughan fell without a word; Gunman lowered his weapon, resigned.
“Thats better,” Bore said coolly. “You cant trust a traitor. Professorstand up.”
Godfrey protested, but Bore cut him off. “Save it. I want rid of Citadels ruler as much as you do! Ill help you take him out!”
***
The plan was simple: surrender our weapons, pose as prisoners, and walk in under guard. I hated the idea, but nobody asked for my vote. To my surprise, it workedno one batted an eye as ‘prisoners’ were led right in.
The room Bore led us to was light and spaciousa cloying mixture of medicine and incense. Its grand central table was covered in books and sheaves of scribbled notes, while a would-be throne stood empty.
The ‘prisoners’ were left in the centre. Gunman slumped by the wall, cradling his wound, eyes shut. Bore and his man flanked us, alert.
A plain door swung open, and in walked a small, slight figure in a threadbare blue boiler suit, looking every bit of sixty.
“Ah, Professor Godfrey!” the man beamed, squinting. “What brings you here?”
In an instant, Bore swung his rifle at the new arrival. But the shot never came. Rosie moved like lightninga pair of throwing knives flashed out, and both captors fell.
“Rosie, my dear girl!” the Citadel rulers eyes shone with delight. “Hows anyone meant to rule here? Treachery everywhere!”
Stunned, I almost laughed. Godfrey looked just as lostthe ground had shifted again.
“Rosie, your fiancé” I mumbled.
“There,” she said, approaching the ruler and, wrapping her arms round him, kissed his foreheadshe was nearly a head taller.
“You think a pilgrim at her level wanders the Wasteland by accident?” the Citadel ruler chuckled. “She tracked Godfrey for me! Shes earned her reward and will be my wife. Isnt that right, love?”
The gunshot this time almost seemed routine to me.
“Too many traitors for one day,” rumbled Gunman, and as he said it, he slumped, pistol clattering as he died. Rosie, clutching a wound to her side, collapsed, the terrified ruler just catching her.
Banging and alarms outsidethe guard hadn’t forgotten us.
“Lets go,” Godfrey hissed, dragging the Citadel ruler toward a secret door. “Open it, or Ill gut you!”
A blade glittered in Godfreys stubby fist. I almost didn’t care where the weapons kept coming fromBore had frisked us all. I stumbled after, too dizzy to think.
“Dont be daft, Alex,” the Citadel ruler whimpered, scanning his retina at the lock. “Lets just turn off the machine. The world can be normal again!”
The electronic lock chirped. Without a word, Godfrey stabbed him and shoved the convulsing body aside, storming into the hidden control room. I followed, shaking.
The secret chamber was huge, crammed with humming stacks of equipment. Two rows of terminals awaited at opposite ends.
“Why kill him? He was going to help us!” I demanded.
“The times are savage, Max,” Godfrey replied. “Now, get on the terminal! We need to synchronise inputs.”
“Its not the timesit’s people who choose evil.”
He snarled, exasperated. “Terminal!”
Reluctant, I keyed in the password as instructed, then rapidly scanned the swirling data.
“Readypress enter,” Godfrey urged.
“Wait. Youre reprogramming it for yourself. Youre not going to shut the anomalies off, are you?”
He finally stopped to listen, almost incredulous. “You really bought into this whole ‘saving humanity’, did you?”
“That was the plan!”
“Was it? Everyone wants money and power. Im not going to hand the world back after fighting so hard for a key to it!”
“So this whole thing was for you to replace the ruler?”
“Yes.”
“Ill kill you,” I said, advancing.
He ducked, rummaged for a gun, firing as I bore forward. I flinched with every shotbut did not fall. Godfreys magazine emptied with a click.
“Best team indeed,” I told him with a broken grin, rubbing sore spots. “We were all unique. Even me.”
I took the empty pistol away as he sank back. He looked shattered.
“I was at the heart of an anomaly when it all started,” I explained. “Since then, I havent aged, and bullets wont touch me. But I do want to set things rightgive folk back their lives.”
Godfrey shook his head. “With your abilities, we could rule the lot!”
“I dont want to rule. I want to see humanitys sunrise, not its dusk.”
“Butif you shut it all down, therell be chaos! These anomalies are tools. Without, whats left?”
I shrugged. “Turn it off.”
He grumbled, “If only you knew whats coming,” and pressed the button, flicking a new page in the history of mankinda blank page, upon which anything whatsoever could be written.
