Divided Worlds Trilogy 01 - Disconnect by Imran Siddiq Page B

new area in an orchestrated line. Tiny dots glowed blue where their eyes should have been. In an instant, flickering yellow-tinted light sprayed outward with the unusual sound of a hundred fingers rattling against tins.
    “They’re, they’re, they’re …” spluttered the man above Zachary.
    A large machine with wide legs and a body shaped like a giant beetle sauntered between the blue-eyed attackers. Its circular arms rotated giving rise to an orange glow in the centre. It ejected a fiery ball. Zachary froze as the fireball arched upward. High. Gaining speed. It changed course, sinking into Shantytown.
    Zachary leaped from the pole, hitting the ground as the fireball exploded onto the watcher’s home. He rolled away from volatile flash of light followed by scorching heat. Like a wonky stick set alight, the tower crumbled.
    Zachary coughed in the coarse ash. Figures disappeared inside the clouds that thickened across the horizon. Screams poured out amidst rattling machinery. Nearby, a four-storey tower erupted into flame. Limbs wrestled through the chaotic crowd. An elbow swung across his chin. Floored, he cowered from a fierce onslaught of charging feet.
    Thumping rumbles were coming closer. The walking machines, five so far, fired missiles that sliced through the air, hitting the towers and trailing white smoke.
    The lanes of Shantytown confused Zachary as to which direction to take. None seemed safe. A woman’s shriek spun him away from the corner he was about to take. Staying low, he inched forward to see her situation.
    “Please, let us go” she said. Dozens stood behind her. Men. Women. Children.
    Ahead stood a man clad in tight black armour with blue eyes glowing on his helmet. Puffs burst out of two vents around his mouth.
    “We’ll do anything you want,” she continued. “We’ll leave immediately.”
    The hum emitting from the rifle increased in pitch, then a click sounded.
    “Too late, lady,” wheezed an echo from the man. Gun pointed, he fired.
    Zachary collapsed onto his side, losing his composure at the sight of blood splattering across the opposite wall. Thuds drowned out the short-lived screams. Why did he fire? They’d surrendered. They all had.
    When the whizzing action of the gun stopped, he heard the attacker’s crunching footsteps wade through the dead. Zachary lay frozen, save for the unrelenting pumps of his heart that deafened him.
    Stop beating. Stop.
    The attacker’s boots, lined with sharp-toothed grippers, stopped an inch from Zachary’s hand. “Java Nine, calling in. Sections B-three to B-five cleared. Moving into B-six.”
    “Change of plan,” wheezed a similar voice heading toward them. “Puma and Lynx units have been forced back in B-eleven. Seems like these stinkers are packing some firepower.”
    “Sweet,” said Java Nine. “Control request for backup to B-eleven. Let’s go. General Sokolov isn’t going to like their tactics. Do you think they’ll be waiting for us in District Three?”
    “Who cares – I’ve been waiting to unload these cannons for months.”
    Zachary watched the soldiers run on. Appearing all of a sudden from a neighbouring street, a large walking-machine pursued them.
    Zachary’s head whirred. Ricochet marks on the walls. Strewn limbs. Tattered clothes. Death. Knees up to his chin, eyes closed, he counted the negligible gaps between long sessions of bullets firing.
    Using a wall to aid his wobbling legs, he stood. Fire raged from the uppermost homes of each tower. Absolute chaos. Zachary sprinted through tunnels of smoke. One street to cross, and he’d be home. A deafening explosion threw him into the air. Landing hard on an overturned ground sheet, he slid down into a charred crater. Hot debris scorched Zachary’s cheeks, and the high-pitched ring worsened the throbs belting his head.
    He crawled upward, nursing his sore back, to see a nightmare unfold. Flames dispensed downward from Horatio’s home to the third floor, leaving only a