Chapter 26: No Way Back
Murph and his group confront their past as they face the dangerous Numbers, navigating fear and uncertainty in a treacherous underground world.
They were out of time.
A ring of neon flickered ahead, casting strange shifting shapes across the tunnel’s consuming black. Murph shivered, reminded of a silver-blue winter moon rising over a corpse. He shoved the difficult memories down and focused on the here and now.
They'd reached their underground journey’s end—no more hiding from the Company. Powerful allies were their only shot at avoiding a corporate prison. He smiled wryly, they’d leave the underground to join the Underground.
But, did it have to be the Numbers? Murph sighed.
A feral fear traced his mind, pulse quickening, nerves humming. Another presence offered warmth and steadiness—Syn was there.
Syn?
< Yeah, cowboy. >
Be ready for anything.
< Aye, Captain. Compute locked and loaded >
Don’t call me that, Murph chided softly. Then, without words, he let Syn see the memory of the Numbers’ leader, the Hawk—also called ‘Captain.’
< Right, sorry. >
Murph smiled slightly and sent, No harm done.
A spotlight glared through the tunnel's mouth—strategically placed to blind and disorient intruders. Murph's gut twisted. The four fugitives stood tense, hesitating. They knew stepping forward meant no turning back—this was the lion’s den.
Murph watched Farook squeeze his daughter's hand. "We'll be alright," he said with forced cheer.
Omni's eyes traced the metal ladder, its surface gleaming from countless Numbers' hands and feet—but never outsiders, Murph thought.
Ash spoke first, assuming his false joviality again. “They’ve extended tunnels for years. Smuggling routes, backdoors from under the Company’s jackboots.” Despite the casual words, the air crackled around him.
Murph watched Ash grip the cold metal ladder, whispering a mantra to himself.
“You don’t leave but by blood.”
Murph’s heart raced, and he grabbed Ash’s sleeve. “You say somethin'?”
Ash hesitated, the dark tunnels pressing close. “It's not easy going back. Especially not for turncoats.” He gestured bitterly to his metal-enhanced body, a corporate-branded exoskeleton—a mark of past obedience, now a heavy burden.
“You don’t leave but by blood,” Murph echoed. Ash’s eyes widened, gleaming blue in the artificial moonlight. He nodded slowly.
Murph pulled up his sleeve, revealing faded numeric tattoos. “Maybe we’ve earned redemption.”
“Maybe,” Ash said softly, climbing up. “When we’re up there, follow my lead.”
“I’ll follow,” said Murph decisively. “Omni, rear guard.”
Omni’s protest died as Farook stepped protectively ahead.
Murph emerged into a familiar courtyard, scarred and battered from old battles—his mind flashed to an autobus under his control smashing into those barriers and tearing deep gouges into the tar of the road.
Ash moved first, hands raised openly.
Murph’s skin prickled as the drew closer to the building and he looked up at the windows above, knowing that they were in the sights of hidden gunmen. Multiple unseen marksmen sat behind darkened glass or on ledges like Zeke once had.
“They’ve learned new tricks,” Murph murmured, raising his hands as well.
< Want me to locate their snipers? > Syn asked.
“Déjà vu,” Murph whispered, meeting Omni’s wary gaze. He managed a weak smile.
Firm hands grabbed and searched them quickly as magnetic locks clunked behind them.
“Don't resist,” Ash hissed urgently.
Murph forced calm, thinking clearly, Syn, map exits discreetly. No noise.
< Subtlety’s my middle name. >
They’ll recognize me sooner or later. Be prepared.
< Got your six. >
Murph’s warning became instantly prophetic. His nose broke with a sickening crunch, and rough hands yanked a hood over his head, twisting his arms painfully behind him with cable ties.
< Guess they haven't forgotten you. >
“We're under a white flag!” Ash shouted, struggling. “We sent word!”
Blood filled Murph’s mouth, his vision blurring as he fought to stay upright.
“You’re safe, traitor. This one isn’t,” growled a voice.
“He’s Numbers,” Ash snapped defensively.
“He should’ve remembered the laws,” sneered the unseen captor.
Dragged along blind and bound, Murph sensed they’d entered a lift as his stomach churned on ascent.
“Omni, hold tight,” Murph urged softly.
< Inside their systems. >
No, Syn! Panic surged. They’ll see you!
Her voice splintered.
< I know wha—ngh! Override detected— >
Then—silence.
Syn?
He reached instinctively—mentally, emotionally—for her. Nothing. Just silence.
A cold, numb emptiness filled the space where her presence used to hum at the edge of his thoughts. His world shrank to guard’s breathing and the blood rushing in his ears. Deafening until the lift jolted to a stop. And the knot in his stomach cinched ever tighter.
Hands grabbed them, rough and fast, shoving the group into a cramped, stinking room. A makeshift cell carved from damp concrete and bad memories.
“Take the pretty one. Leave the rest.”
Murph tensed at the sound of struggle. Omni fought her voice sharp and defiant. Then a sickening thud silenced Farook’s own protest.
“Omni?” Murph whispered, urgent.
“They took her,” Farook groaned, breath ragged.
“We’ll get her,” Murph said through clenched teeth. “You okay?”
Farook grunted. “Fine.”
The cell fell into movement—quiet, desperate. Hands tested restraints. Fingertips scraped along concrete seams.
“Ash?” Murph called, low but tight. “See anything?”
“Nothing useful.” Ash’s voice was bitter, brittle. “The walls are solid, and my exo’s dead. Busting out’s not an option.”
Farook’s voice cracked. “Can Syn help?”
Murph shook his head. “Override took her down. We’re blind.”
The three settled back in the dark. No one spoke. The silence grew thick. An unwelcome guest pressing in from all sides.
Murph sat with his back to the cold wall, the sting of dried blood on his face and the silence where Syn used to be still ringing in his mind. His wrists throbbed in the restraints, but that pain was nothing compared to the weight on his chest—the same old grief, the same old ghosts.
He didn’t mean to speak. The words just pushed out of him, like a crack in a dam.
“I’ve faced Overrides before,” he said softly.
Ash shifted slightly in the dark, and Farook said nothing. The darkness seemed to press tighter around them.
Murph stared into the gloom. “Back when Vin got shot… I went after the Override myself. Alone.”
A pause. Then Ash’s voice—low, cautious. “Why?”
Murph exhaled slowly. “Because someone had to. Because I thought it would save us.”
He leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. “But it nearly killed me.”
The memory rushed in, vivid and sharp.
A nightmare he couldn’t escape. Murph’s voice tightened as he spoke, pulling the others into the shadows of his past, even as Farook fumbled with the restraints and Ash traced the boundaries of their prison, desperate but futile.
“The strike had already imploded. Vin airlifted out. Zeke chasing ghosts. And me—still pressing forward, even though deep down, I knew we’d already lost.”
He paused, his breath hitching.
“The Override. You know what that is, right?” he asked bitterly. “A brutal, lesser djinn pairing—a DDoS attack made flesh, but exponentially more powerful. It turns your own implants against you, flooding them with junk code and feedback loops until they lock up, overheat, and fry. My ocular implants went first. I went blind. Stumbled forward anyway, because I didn’t have a choice.”
I could still feel the blisters forming around my neck where my djinn’s lamp hung.
He stopped, shaking his head, feeling the ghost-heat crawl over his skin again.
“I knew pushing deeper into its field would only make it worse, but I had no choice. The closer I got, the stronger the attack became. It was suicide. But retreat meant death too.”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
< Mur… we ne.. .ou — followed Vinn home, > Magda’s voice crackled in his mind. He didn’t know how that message made it through—but it did.
“Then I heard Magda—barely. A fragmented, desperate whisper. Something about Vin being followed home. I couldn’t quit then. Not after everything.”
Murph’s words were measured, each step recounted with painful clarity. “I stumbled through that lab—past tanks of greenish fluid, shadowy bodies suspended like specimens in formaldehyde. The floor was littered with shattered glass, toppled chairs, and scattered papers.”
Each step careful, deliberate, as I searched for the source of the signal jamming my connection to ____, my first djinn—the one whose name I still can’t remember.
“My oculars had already burned out. I was blind, staggering through the wreckage. The pain was blinding too—a relentless, burning fog. The Override laughed at me from somewhere in the dark. Each step felt like walking into a furnace. My implants dumping heat into my flesh.”
I fucking hated Overrides. I knew the deeper I pushed, the greater the pain would become. The hotter everything would burn. My overloaded circuits trying—and failing—to dump heat fast enough.
Murph shuddered visibly.
“I heard Magda’s voice again, static-filled and faint: ‘Murph, we need you. They followed Vinn home.’ It barely reached me, but it was enough.”
“I can’t stop now,” he whispered, feeling the ache in his chest. “Not when they’re counting on me.”
The pain in his heart had nothing to do with where he was and everything to do with who he was leaving behind. He was getting desperate. The heat unbearable. Circuits frying.
He knew he couldn’t last much longer—but he had to find the Override first.
Images and voices swam in his mind—his djinn’s voice mocking him for failing his crew. Vin getting shot, over and over. Blood everywhere. Zeke’s anger. Magda’s fear.
And her too. His sister.
“Ayanda…” he whispered, reaching out to her memory. Nearly faded now, but still the reason he pushed so hard.
Then he thought of the bastard responsible for all of it. The one who made them run, made them bleed. And he climbed back to his feet.
Blood dripped steadily from his nose, a crimson trail marking his staggering path.
The crunch of boots echoed. He froze, pressing himself into the shadows. His breath ragged, heartbeat thunderous in his ears.
“I raised my gun—blind—and fired into the dark. Heard a whimper. A terrible, terrible sound.”
His listeners fell silent.
“When I grabbed the Override, it was just a kid. A teenager. Painfully augmented. Wires and antennae grafted onto him like some sick experiment. Bleeding from the gunshot, eyes wide with hate and fear.”
I yanked him from the shadows—this horribly altered, terrified child. A dying child.
“Where’s the Doc?” Murph demanded, gripping the kid harder than he meant to. The boy’s breathing grew shallow, but his pride burned bright.
“Gone. Left me to hold you off. I’ll be in the Lists. Remembered for stopping someone like you.” The boy’s voice trembled, fierce pride warring with the pain.
“You stopped me alright,” Murph whispered, gently closing the kid’s eyes as his struggles ceased.
Murph’s voice thickened, haunted.
“I stumbled out of there, circuits cooling, connections frayed and broken. My djinn silent. A hollow space inside me—like a missing limb.”
His throat tightened.
It felt like an empty tooth socket. Raw, tender. Terrifying in its emptiness.
“Then I saw it—the bus I’d rigged for the distraction. Crashing into the barricades. A blazing inferno that shattered every window on the street. Glass like razors raining down.”
And then—darkness.
The room was silent as Murph’s voice faded. Calloused hands rubbing at his eyes, at memories he hadn’t dared touch in years.
Author’s Notes
I combined the last two chapters here to keep the tension rolling and dig a little deeper into Murph’s past. Hope it gave you a better sense of what’s driving him—and what’s still haunting him.
What did you think about the Override reveal?