Back from the Dead by Nick Kyme

Author:Nick Kyme
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2015-03-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER: NINE

Bane sat alone, swathed in the grey light issuing through a wide crack in the roof. The constant dripping of the dysfunctional precipitator nagged at him. It was a huge device, rusted and dilapidated but still impressive. It dominated the vaulted ceiling of the disused refinery, reaching up with ancient pipes, a dormant gyroscopic engine at its core. Thick coils of armoured tubing twisted from it like exposed intestine, conjoined to multiple banks of moisture condensers. Trapped water vapour was fed up the tube to a confluence at the zenith of the mighty machine, where a huge pressure sealed vat still existed. It was almost empty. All it contained was rusty sludge.

Bane cradled a battered shotgun in his lap. He had found it in a warden’s lockbox when he had checked out the refinery. It had a full load of ammo: six standard solid slugs, plus one in the breech. Not enough, but something was better than nothing.

They had put a few miles between themselves and the chapel. The Precinct House was not far away, but Bane’s detour had made the journey more arduous. With little knowledge of how far the plague had spread uphive and what safe zones still existed, they had had to take the most oblique route. Fatigue had set in quickly and the disused water refinery had seemed safe enough.

The others were resting in an old labour dorm. Nark was look-out. None of them had any weapons, except Bane who carried the shotgun and his dysfunctional service pistol, a weapon tarnished by age. It was an item that epitomised his failure, the symbol of it tarnished by memory.

He had thought about asking MacDaur to keep watch. He trusted his deputy more, but he looked weak and needed rest. He had railed against Bane’s decision at first. The young deputy hated the ganger. His vision of the law was an ideal, black and white, with no room for grey. Strange then, how he had turned a blind eye to Bane’s misdemeanours. Maybe he had not noticed. Funny what you see and do not see when you want to. In the end, MacDaur relented and the gang lord dutifully agreed.

It was a risk. Nark might make a run for it, but Bane had seen the fear in his eyes more than once. It seemed as if Nark was with them for the time being. What choice did he have? Out there, in the unknown darkness, predators stalked them. There was safety in numbers. Nark knew that. It was a dogma indoctrinated in every Underhive ganger. What would happen when they got closer to the Precinct House? Bane did not know. He resolved that was when the shotgun would come in most useful. He was taking Nark in, whether he liked it or not.

A sudden bout of the shakes made the shotgun jump from his lap. Bane breathed deeply and fought down nausea and the stimm-craving that felt like it was eating his gut. He felt sweat on his forehead.

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