The Book of Josiah - Chapter 14a

    The searing heat from the explosion still tore at his face and hands, a hundred scorpions striking one after the other. Josiah could see only the afterglow, nothing else was real. But even before he fully realised what was happening, Josiah had drawn his gun and was diving for cover. A soft-drinks dispenser now served as a barricade. Someone was shouting orders but Josiah couldn’t tell who it was. As his eyes began to clear, colour returned in stark contrasts. Stuttering flashes drove spears of light across the hall. What the hell was going on?
    Somehow, Lovecraft materialised beside him, hands nervously twitching as they held a sleek pistol. He popped his head around the machine, fired twice and darted back.
    “Where’s Amber? Where’re the others?” Josiah asked, fighting to concentrate.
    “I do not know,” Lovecraft replied jerkily, “I lost them.”
    Flashes of light burst across his eyes. Josiah felt the machine behind him shudder with sudden impacts. His hands were shaking and he looked at them curiously. He was holding a gun. What should he be doing? He had to do something. The noise was too loud. Bursting volcanoes of sound. Bones quaked, teeth shook. What should he do? What could he do? More flashes of light, gut-tearing eruptions. He had to get out of here.  Where was the exit? There had to be a door, a window, a way out. He shouldn’t be here. He had to get out!
    “Breathe slower,” Lovecraft said evenly, not looking at him. “We can get out of here if you concentrate. Pick up your gun, then wait for a lull. Shoot the people shooting us.”
    For a moment Josiah did not comprehend the words. It was all noise on top of noise. His pulse beat strong and fast in his ears, throbbing. Breaths were short and shallow. But when he became aware of this Josiah could fight for control. Lovecraft was right. He tried to slow his breath and waited for a pause. Without letting himself think, he was shooting across the platform. One shot, two shots. He hardly registered the recoil before ducking back into cover. Two more. Back into cover. They came more easily now. A fifth.
    Then he caught sight of Amber, crouching behind a stack of metal barrels in the ditch that had once held the railway lines. A weight lifted from his chest - at least she was okay. And beside her was Theano, pale but seemingly uninjured.
    Josiah slipped back into cover a moment before the return fire slammed into the wall behind him - for a moment the air was full of dust and shards of concrete. When it cleared, he peeked out from behind the drinks machine, searching for a target.
    The smoke from the explosion obscured everything, all the overhead lights had gone out as well, Only the flickering glow of flames and the flashes of gunfire lit the room. The sound of shots filled Josiah’s head from ear to ear until it became nothing but background noise. Between the staccato sounds he heard someone barking orders.
    “MOVE WIDE!” someone shouted but Josiah could not tell who it was.
    There! He could see one of the Nightmares behind a metal crate. Carefully, Josiah took aim.
    Cold metal pressed against his neck.
    “Drop your gun,” the voice hissed, “your friend as well.”

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 7 - JOSIAH

Not sure what this is about? Here's my introduction.

Chapter 5 is the continuation of the story of Josiah begun in chapters 1, 2 and 5. But remember Jos and Joe, as all three stories impact each other.

Josiah woke with a start, shaking and trembling. What was going on? It was too dark to see anything. He looked around in panic, eyes wide, breathing quickly. He was drenched in an icy sweat, bed sheets clinging to his body. Then he realised that he was in his room and collapsed back into the bed, shivering with cold and the remains of terror. It had all been so real, Security was everywhere. Duke had been killed, and Amber… crushed beneath falling barrels. Amber was dead.
    Wasn’t she? No, it was just another stupid bad dream, Amber was fine.
    But they had gone to the market, followed the small man, hadn’t they? When did reality end and the dream begin? As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he wasn’t sure. He needed a drink. But first...
    “God of Steel, watch over my soul as it drifts from my body,” he began automatically. What are you doing? There is no God of Steel, no soul to leave my body. You aren’t a Priest and you don’t believe in Steel. Why are you still praying?
    After a few words he gave up. There was no comfort there.
    Josiah clambered from bed, switched on the light that swung just above his head, and poured himself a glass of water. His hands were shaking and he spilt half the glass on the floor. Why was he so clumsy? Fact and fiction continued to intertwine inside his head. The blood exploding from Duke’s body, the barrels falling for eternity. He had been too far away, there was nothing he could have done. Was Amber dead? He knew that he had dreamt it but had the dream reflected reality or was it all in his mind?
    A coffee would help straighten his thoughts. He pressed the button for coffee but nothing happened. A gurgling sound and a smell of burning drifted from the Provider. The steel fist emblazoned on the machine stared at him. He sneered at it and knocked the Provider to the floor. It was some sort of cosmic joke, and he had had enough.
    He turned to the wall and ripped down the fist that hung there. Its sharp edges cut his finger but that only made him angrier. He threw the damned thing with furious strength. Shards of grey plaster scattered as it hit the wall.
    Then the phone rang.
    He switched on the monitor, aware that he was not yet dressed and was still trembling.
    “Merlin!” cried Amber excitedly, “good morning.”
    Confusion and relief intermingled in Josiah’s mind as he struggled to think of an appropriate thing to say.
    “What time is it?” was all he could come up with.
    “It’s 5:56 am precisely,” Amber answered, “I thought you might want to come for a drive.”
    “Do you normally call people at six in the morning?”
    “Well, you’re up aren’t you?”
    Josiah had to smile, all anger evaporating. “I suppose I am,” he answered.
    “Then what’s the problem?” Amber rejoined, “I’m on level 28, see you when you’re dressed.”
    Before Josiah could say anything else, the screen went dark. Embarrassed, he had to laugh.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 2 - JOSIAH

 One moment he was scurrying along the city bottom, the next he was lying face down on the concrete. A taste of copper told him that his lip had been cut in the fall. A sharp kick in his left side knocked the rest of the air out of him.
    Dazed, Josiah found himself being lifted off the ground. A huge, leathery hand held him firmly  by the scruff of his neck. He wasn’t going anywhere.
    “Give us your money, and we might not have to hurt you,” growled the man who held him. He was very tall -  well over two metres - with mismatched eyes, a chin covered in bristles and a stud through his lower lip. His nose was reddened by too much drink, his teeth burnt from too much smoke.
    “I don’t have any money,” Josiah protested, struggling vainly.
    “We think you is a liar but it’s more fun this way. We think we start with an ear or two. You ain’t using them, right?”
    He chuckled to himself - empty and cold - and leered at Josiah, revealing blackened gums. A knife flashed in his hand.
    And then he crumpled to the floor, part of his torso obliterated. Blood spray hit the walls - a sombre red against the psychedelic spray paint.
    Josiah put his gun away and hurried off down the tunnel.  He glanced from side to side. There was no one else around. That made his life a lot easier. He wanted to get off these streets as fast as possible and into the Lock. He quickened his step; kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
    Then it hit him hard, like a blow to the chest. He had killed a man. Shot him with the gun he held in his hands. He had never used it before today. There had been no time to think, no choice. Him or me. Josiah’s guts twisted themselves into painful knots, the smell of blood still clung to his nostrils like a stain, the dying man’s eyes, suddenly and paradoxically alive with shock, filled his mind. I had no choice, he thought furiously, fighting down the urge to panic. I have to focus on my objectives. Where am I going?