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25. The Addicted Enemy
The stink-junkies were people the Smog had caught and, horribly, forced to breathe it. It synthesized powerful mind-altering drugs with its chemicals, shoved them into its captives’ lungs, and took them over. If they were conscious it was in a deep dream. They would do anything the Smog made them do, while they breathed it. The stink-junkies were the Smog’s addict-slaves.
The binja came at them. Perhaps because the stink-junkies were such tragic figures, victims themselves, even the ruthless binja didn’t use their weapons. They attacked with chops, punches, and spi
They were not so restrained. Their hoses sprayed oily fire. The binja dived between jets of flaming Smog.
“Quick!” said Mortar, hustling Za
“You what ?” wailed Deeba.
A binja was caught in a blaze. It slammed down its lid to protect its eyes, and retracted its arms and legs. The flame licked harmlessly over its metal body.
“Where are we going?” Lectern shouted.
“Anywhere,” Mortar said. The stink-junkies were getting closer. “Let’s go!”
“Where?” said Za
She turned, her fists clenched; she stamped, looking halfway between petulant and impressive. She grabbed a slat from one of the broken chairs and raised it like a club.
“Just leave me alone!” she shouted, and ran towards the fight.
“Za
“Wait!” said Mortar, as Deeba and several Propheseers stepped forward to intercept Za
“Leave me alone!” Za
“It’s time,” Mortar said.
Za
“Feel it rising, Shwazzy,” Mortar shouted. The Propheseers stared.
“What you doing ?” shouted Deeba.
“What she was born to do,” Mortar said.
The stink-junkies came close. Deeba clutched Curdle. Air streamed around Za
She raised her right hand, with its club-wand-splinter, and a wave of wind swept through the fight, and made the stink-junkies stagger. The binja leapt to Za
“Za
A stink-junkie shoved through the cordon of binja and smacked Za
Instantly, Za
“Za
“What…?” shouted Mortar.
Za
The binja surrounded her, trying to shove back the attacker. It raised its arms.
“Stop it!” Deeba shouted. “It’s going to kill her! What’s happening?” Deeba grabbed Mortar’s lapels.
“I…I…I…” he gabbled, staring at the unconscious Shwazzy. “Book?”
“I don’t know,” the book whimpered. Lectern was flicking through it rapidly, her expression appalled. “That…wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Help her,” Deeba said.
The stink-junkies outnumbered the binja. Despite the dustbins’ heroism, the attackers were closing in, stamping towards Za