The Duellist

Emma stared at the screen, she could see the new wariness in Jay's stance, a tension in the way he moved. She looked over at Wim, who was staring intently at the screen.

"Wim?" she said, pitching her voice low. The room had filled substantially since the duel had got under way, every seat was now filled and people were standing along nearly every stretch of wall. Under the overblown tones of the commentator the room was filled with a steady susurration of conversations carried in hushed tones. "Wim!" she said again, louder. He looked up.

"What?"

She leaned toward him, almost across Peter. "What did he see? Do people still live in the ruins?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, there aren't many places that people won't live..." He looked over at the screen. "Those ruins have got to be pretty inhospitable, though."

"Ferals," Peter said, leaning back in his chair and looking between the two of them. "The ruins are home to gangs of people called ferals."

"What?" Wim said.

"Most often people with mental health problems, criminals, those that society has rejected or that have rejected society. People unwanted in the remaining domed cities still on the surface or here in orbit. They aren't unique to old New York, but they've been there for a few generations now."

"Good God," Wim said.

"Quite," Peter said, looking at the screen.

"Are they dangerous?" Emma asked.

Peter shrugged, rubbed his chin. "Everyone's dangerous in the right circumstances. Would they attack the duellists? Don't know. Maybe, if they thought they had something they wanted."

They fell silent, their attention reverting to the screen.

******

Niamh jogged slowly towards the dot that was Stanislav. On her monitor she was acutely aware of Jayden's position, his proximity, knew that if he put his mind to it he could reach her before she made the relative safety of Stanislav's presence. Jayden didn't scare her, it wasn't that that spurred her on, rather it was the thought of losing the advantage she enjoyed over him. There was no way that he could take them both down and he had to know that.

Taking account of Jay's presence was forcing her to move out of her way, though. The ruined streets followed nothing like a regular course, twisting around between collapsed buildings, so that she couldn't move directly towards Stanislav but had to keep moving sideways to find a clear course forward in the rubble.

She passed through a doorway into the shell of a building, open to the air above, little more than a façade of crumbling concrete and twisted metal. A steady drizzling rain was falling now, warm and unpleasant, the mist bringing a premature twilight to the city that only added to its despondent atmosphere.

Most of the interior was choked with rubble and she was forced to climb over several low piles to reach a low window to exit at the far end. A glance at her monitor showed her that Jay was still a way off, to her left, but not so far off as Stanislav. She dropped lightly through the window to the street below, turning to the right.

At the end of the street, partially hidden in the misty, rain stood two figures, sheltered beneath several multi-storied building stumps, indistinct against the damp ruins behind them. She paused, assessing. Almost without thought her assegai dropped into her hand, its weight perfectly balanced, a supplemental blade crafted at the base of the short haft. For a moment they watched one another in tense silence, then the figures melted away into the ruins and were gone.

With a last tense look about she resumed her progress at a slower, more careful pace, keeping her assegai in hand. When she reached the spot where they'd been standing she looked about carefully. Nothing distinguished the spot from any other and there was no trace of the figures.

The street she was on reached a junction with what must once have been a substantial multi-lane avenue. Even choked with rubble there was still a largely clear area at the centre and even some road markings visible on the less obscured parts of the surface. The twisted remains of a traffic signal and some crooked lampposts completed the scene. As far as she could see in the obscuring mist, building remains stretched like damp, mouldy cliffs along both sides of the street. There was no noise, an eerie peace hanging in the air.

She glanced at her monitor again. Little had changed, according to her view Stanislav should be ahead and on the left, some five hundred metres as the crow flew, maybe a little more. She moved into the street, picking her way to the clear stretch.

She had gone no more than a hundred paces when the first cry split the air, a wailing, indistinct call like some unholy muezzin calling the adherents of a perverted faith to worship: "Woman!" The cry echoed around the building line, wailing higher and lower, bouncing back and forth so that there was no way she could pinpoint its origin. A moment later it was joined by an answering cry in a different voice, a different origin but equally indistinct.

"Woman!"

She froze, her blood like ice in her veins, felt the hairs on the back of her neck lift. Behind it, from a myriad different places, flowing through the still city like a plague, came wordless cries - incoherent, meaningless but full of bloodlust and hunger so that she didn't know whether they wanted to rape her or eat her.

She had no doubt that she was the target of their calls. Slowly she looked about, there was no sign of movement, yet, but she had no doubt that she was being observed. She checked the monitor. Jay was only a few hundred metres to her left. She took a moment to think, making no hasty decisions. For her at least, the rules had suddenly changed. With one round of ammunition there was no way she could defend herself against a gang, she needed support, fast.

She orientated herself on Jay's signal, hefted her assegai and set off towards him.

******

Conversation in the room had fallen silent with the cries, even at this remove their effect had been chilling, hair-raising. Wim and Emma shared a glance, Peter staring intently at the screen.

"...idea what that was. What do you think Terence?" The presenter placed his hand on his ear as if he was listening to something else.

"Don't know," said Pressure Wilkins. "Never heard nothing like that before..." He looked at the screen nonplussed. "Of course, there's always hazards."

"And we're just hearing news that duel control has contacted Orbital Police," The presenter added. "It could be that we'll have an intervention to call off the duel in the next few minutes. .. The duel controllers are at a meeting now and as soon as we get some news we'll bring it here first."

******

Niamh, he thought, listening to the cries bouncing around the building line. He checked his monitor, picked out her dot. She'd been steadily moving away from him, towards Stanislav, now she suddenly changed course, heading right for him.

Good girl, he thought.

He drew the duelling pistol, hefting the bulk in his hand, his eyes wary.

He checked his position, the crater would still be to his right, his route taking him on a wide circuit of it. Although he was in a relatively clear area, little more than piles of rubble, wet and muddy all about him, he could see taller buildings rising on all sides. One in particular seemed mostly intact, ahead and off to his left, the lower storeys of what must have been a substantial skyscraper. Some of the windows still had the jagged remnants of broken glass standing in their frames like crystal teeth. From his estimates, the building would be nearly between Niamh and himself, he thought.

With a last glance about himself he set off towards it, forcing himself to a loping jog, his chest protesting every breath of the polluted muck he was sucking on.

******

She watched her monitor. Jay had switched course at almost the same time as her, she noticed, heading straight for her then jinking to his left, her right. She looked up, breathing hard, her chest burning. Every exertion was difficult in this atmosphere, it was like trying to perform at altitude but worse, she thought. You couldn't seem to get enough air and that which you did get left your chest irritated. She bent over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath.

There was only one landmark in Jay's direction, the base of a tower that seemed mostly undamaged, mist clinging to its upper reaches. Of course, she didn't know if he would kill her as soon as she walked in...

Rubble shifted in the ruins to her left, bricks falling with a clattering sound. She whipped around, assegai in hand, but could see nothing moving outside and what she could see of the interior was too dark to make out well. She backed away slowly, keeping her guard up. Gradually she turned, her walk becoming a slow jog as the distance between her and the ruin increased.

"Woman!" The cry came again, closer this time - from the darkened ruin behind her. She put on a burst of speed, the hungry cries wailing, echoing once again from the stones like the baying of hounds with a scent - all around her, closing in on her position.

******

"And we can now confirm that duel control have asked for the Orbital Police to dispatch an intervention team. At this time they are considering the request. Apparently there are jurisdictional problems involved," the presenter said, glibly. "But this is certainly a very worrying development, Terence?"

The camera cut back to the image of Niamh struggling through the rubble at a straggling run, intermittently she stopped, coughing, retching, before struggling on again.

"Yeah, this is different, man," Wilkins said. "The duel is still on, but, man, those calls are creepy. I just hope that we get an outcome before the police intervene, you know?"

"Uh, yeah, Terence," the presenter said.

Emma sipped a coffee that Wim had brought her, the pair of them staring rapt at the screen. The room around them remained quiet, an occasional comment all that could be heard, conversation stilled.

******

Reaching the building proved more difficult than he'd anticipated. Every street leading to it was choked with rubble, almost as if it had been deliberately protected. Which was, of course, a possibility he thought.

To add to the complications the already gloomy day was rapidly fading to night, a true twilight turning the gloom to darkness and making the passage of the ruins increasingly treacherous. Finally he clambered over the last pile before the gaping doors at the front, slipping and sliding down the far end and into the relatively clear space in front of the doors.

Once the main entrance had been protected by an awning, a substantial metal platform that must have stretched between the building and the road, it was still in situ, hanging twisted and warped from the wall above the doorway, drooping to the ground to offer some protection to the gaping interior. Above it the building reached up almost six storeys in total, the upper ones little more than jagged shells but the lower ones seemingly intact. There were numerous windows, mostly empty, gaping black holes, but a few on the ground floor had jagged shards of glass still present and there were even a couple with the dangling remnants of blinds in their frames, the white fabric swaying torpidly like maggots on a corpse.

A glance at the monitor showed Niamh closing rapidly on his position. Idly he noticed that Stanislav had also switched trajectories, further away but approaching with a steady pace. He twisted about, setting the monitor so that he could identify the direction from which she was approaching - off to his right and behind the building. He walked the frontage, picking his way amongst the fallen masonry of the upper levels, until he reached the corner. There was no sign of her, nothing to see in that direction but the stumps of buildings obscured in the mist and approaching darkness.

He turned his attention to the building. By his estimates even if duel control decided to intervene it was a minimum of six hours before any kind of extraction could be achieved, assuming they called it off. They would need to secure somewhere to defend if they were attacked. For a moment he paused at the entrance doors. Even with twilight rapidly closing there was enough light through the broken windows to allow him some view of the inside. He slotted the pistol back in his holster and proceeded inside.

The lower storey was a large reception area making the building a hotel of sorts, he guessed. At the far right hand side a long desk stretched across a substantial part of the interior, its surface filthy with mould and damp. The main hall was largely clear, though small amounts of broken fittings, the remains of a couple of doors and some chairs, littered the open space. At the back, furthest from the door he could make out the doors to lift shafts, one closed the other gaping open, its closure prevented by a pile of broken ceiling. A staircase opened to one side. All in all, almost completely indefensible, he thought.

He had just started moving towards the staircase at the back when he heard the cries from outside again, a new urgency in their tone - like hounds that had caught scent of their prey. There seemed to be more of them. That or they were closer this time. He dropped his eyes to the monitor, Niamh was just entering his proximity zone. He had a second to note her position, which hadn't changed, then there was a harsh chime from his suit's proximity alarm and her dot vanished.

Okay, he thought. Two hundred metres that way. Which probably explained how the cries had seemed so much closer this time...

******

Niamh struggled to the top of yet another pile of rubble, her feet slipping on the loose, damp stone, its surface slipping and giving way with each step. She was breathing hard, her chest phlegmy and painful. She stopped at the top, using the vantage point to orientate herself on Jay's position. He must be in the building, she thought, it was exactly in the direction indicated and about the right range. Unfortunately, between her and him a maze of blocked streets and broken buildings stretched before her. It couldn't have been more than a couple of hundred metres, she knew, but to get to it would mean backtracking and-

A figure detached itself from the street to her left, standing, hunched, looking at her. She stared at him, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. That he was male seemed obvious from his size, a big man in a long green coat, head obscured by a hood, hands swathed in rags like his feet. For a long moment he did no more than stare at her, then he threw back his head and howled - not the call of a wolf. More a chilling, incoherent cry of triumph or despair, barely identifiable as human. From all around her similar cries sounded back, echoing through the damp air.

She felt a cold hand clamp itself around her heart, fear surging, driving her to action. With a small cry of fear she turned and stumbled down the far side of the rubble, her protesting body struggling to a slow run. Behind her she heard the man clambering up the rubble, the sound of his footfalls accompanied by the sound of falling rubble.

The cries were continual now, no sooner did one stop than another would take up the call, a pattern of short barking noises. They were surrounding her, she realised, working together to bring her to bay...

She stumbled along a narrow street, clambering up and down rubble, always making for Jay's position. Off to her left she heard the grating, ringing sound of metal on stone, something being dragged. She spun about, a figure had a metal pipe in hand, running it along the wall of an alley as he approached, running towards her down a small rubble pile.

He hit the level surface of the street, howling much like the other man had, the metal pipe lifted above his head like a club, his clothes not dissimilar, long coat open, flapping about his legs. In three paces he'd crossed the street and she moved to meet him, jogging forward. His face was pale, sickly, open sores visible on his skin, only a few scraps of hair clinging to his bald pate. He reached for her as if he wanted to embrace her, his club almost forgotten, his face twisted with a desire she didn't want a name for.

At the last moment she dropped, saw the surprise in his face, rolled forwards across her shoulder and came up, driving the blade of her assegai deep into his body before he'd recovered from the roll. He spun with his own momentum, falling dead with a low grunt even as her spear came free.

"Fucker," she spat, taking a moment to glance about. Nothing.

She struggled into a run again.

Behind her the cries came again, howling, barking and over it all a call that sounded like 'woman'. Two figures appeared in the road in front of her, howling their incoherent cries of rage and lust, one standing hunched, the other crouching on the road, both blocking her way forward. She stopped short, glanced about. A narrow alleyway opened to her right, ending in a pile of rubble between two shells, but she had no desire to be caught in that place. To her left, nothing but the broken mess of buildings, some intact, others no more than façades. All of them would be treacherous places to be caught.

From behind she heard a low barking cry, then another. A quick glance, two more figures emerging from the rubble.

Shit, she thought.

She ran for the two ahead of her. For a time they didn't react, watching her come seemingly impassive, then, when she was no more than fifty paces distant, they stood, the one who'd been crouching calling out, "Now!" Twisted syllables, a voice more bestial than human but unmistakeable.

Something clanged against her helmet, knocking her head sideways, stunning her momentarily. She dropped to her knees, a large brick bouncing away in the corner of her eyes. She blinked, for a moment disorientated. The figures hadn't moved, watching her hungrily. Instinct made her roll, diving forward even before she knew why.

Her shoulder hit the concrete a little hard, flaring with pain. As she went over she caught sight of the greasy net, its edges weighted with bricks. It flared over the spot where she'd fallen, two shuffling figures slinging it between them. She came to her feet, wasted no more time, sprinted a little unsteadily towards the two that blocked her way. All about now she could hear their weird calls, barking, howling.

The first died easily, staring stunned as she stabbed him in the chest. The second staggered back, pulling a heavy cleaver from under his filthy coat as he did so. With a low, feral growl he slashed at her, lunging forward with yellowed teeth bared in a snarl that barely counted as human. She parried, catching his ill timed blow on the assegai's haft, kicked him in the knee, felt his cap give with a sharp shriek of pain, and crushed his wind pipe with a two handed jab of her spear's haft that took him off his feet.

She was already moving when she was hit from behind. She rolled, throwing her attacker off to land heavily in front of her, came smoothly back to her feet in time to get hit by the second attacker. He hit her head on, running recklessly straight into her. She went down heavily, her breath bursting from her in a mad rush as she landed awkwardly against a lump of masonry, the assegai skittering free across the strewn street.

Her attacker bore her backwards, his weight pulling her to the floor. For a moment she had a glimpse of his face, pale, blotchy skin, the smell of his rancid breath, then he bent over trying to bite her neck. For a horrible second she felt his mouth gaping at her neck then she plunged her bootknife into his groin, felt him twist, recoil from her - screaming.

For a moment she was able to get free, struggling to catch her breath, her chest so tight she could hardly draw breath. Her initial attacker was back on his feet, a metal bar clutched in his pallid hand, two more shambling figures were almost on her, skipping along the street with a deceptively fast pace.