by T. C. Edge
Around me, the wind rushes and the world turns to a blur. His torch, which was illuminating the world ahead and giving structure to the tunnel, merely becomes a white glow, with nothing but blackness around it.
I find myself struggling to breathe until, suddenly, he stops and the world comes back into view. I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“This way,” he says, not giving me a second to rest or regain my faculties.
He pulls me up onto a little ledge to the side of the tunnel, and through a door. A series of rooms follow, all as overgrown and infested as the rest of this place, before another tunnel appears. This one’s like the one that led from the shelter, more recently dug into the earth.
By the looks of things, the Nameless have been creating a whole load of them all over the city. I wonder how many of them are secret. I wonder whether I’ve given the game away, luring the Stalkers to the shelter with my stupid, loud, laughter.
The one thing I’m not wondering about now, however, is that Zander is definitely with the Nameless. And that our pursuers are definitely Stalkers. The sound of their feet, dashing along the dirt, only a little way behind us makes that clear. No one else could have kept up…
Into the new tunnel we go, this one even narrower than the first. We have to duck and stay low to clamber through, before hitting what looks like a dead end.
But it’s not.
This time, Zander doesn’t need to feel about for a lock, not on this side of the secret door. Pushing forward, the door opens and we pile into what seems, at first sight, to be another shelter.
When we move up another set of stairs, however, and emerge into a corridor, I realise it’s just a building up on street level. We dart through another door to the left, and find ourselves in a tight alleyway.
“This way,” says Zander again, guiding me down the alley and onto another street.
I look around, trying to get my bearings, but have little idea as to where we are, the darkness largely obscuring any landmarks I might recognise.
After winding down a couple of roads, Zander stops and guides his laser-focused eyes to mine.
“You need to go,” he says. “I’ll draw them off…they’re after me, not you, and we need to keep it that way. They can’t know who you are…”
“Why not?” I hear myself asking, my voice high pitched and riddled with panic.
“There’s no time to explain,” he says quickly. “Go back to the academy. Stay secret, stay silent. Say nothing about this to anyone.”
Though the network of tight streets, voices are heard now. They’re on our scent again.
“That way,” points Zander. “The academy is that way. Now run, and don’t look back. GO!”
He pushes me off, forcing me to turn and run. I go, my heels kicking up grime as I launch myself at full speed away from him. And when I spare a glance back, he’s gone, speeding away in the opposite direction and drawing the Stalkers along with him.
I turn again and don’t stop for some time, now barely caring if a Con-Cop should catch me, or a drone spy me from up in the air. My lungs call for oxygen as I thump the ground with my heavy work boots, barely knowing where I’m going until the streets become more familiar, and I naturally gravitate back to Brick Lane.
Skipping from shadow to shadow, I finally arrive back at the academy with the night at its deepest and darkest ebb. I stop outside, and catch my breath up against a wall. My heart feels set to burst from my body. My lungs are on fire. My legs ache, trembling beneath me as they try to keep me standing.
And yet, my mind is wild and charging with a thousand questions. Questions to which I need to know the answers.
I hold myself outside under the cold night sky for a few long minutes, waiting for my heart-rate to return to normal, for my breathing to grow regular once more. Then, slowly, I creep back into the academy, stalking the place as I have so many times in recent days.
Only now, it looks different. Just like when I returned to Outer Haven from Inner Haven only days ago, and the entire place took on a different air, a different feel. I felt like something had changed. I looked upon the streets in a new light, knowing that it wasn’t quite what it seemed.
And now…now I’m doing the same here. As I move up the winding stairs, I wonder what secrets this place holds too. I wonder what lies have been whispered to me throughout the years. Is the academy really what it seems?
But mostly, my mind lingers with another query. There’s something else that I look upon with new eyes, with a new mind.
Myself.
Reaching the second floor, I sneak into the bathroom and flick on the light. I step in front of the mirror, holding my eyes down. And then, I raise them up and meet my gaze, and see a different face staring back.
Because if what Zander says is true, then I’m not the girl I thought I was. I’m different. Like the city, like the academy, I look at myself in a new light.
And I see a stranger staring back.
21
I know the picture of my parents so well I could quite easily draw it from memory. The smallest of details are emblazoned across my mind, as familiar to me as the features of my own face.
I’ve always felt some solace in the fact that, should the picture be lost, it shall forever remain fixed in my mind. If the academy should burn down, or some cruel child see fit to take the picture from my room, I’ve always known that it would not deprive me of looking upon it.
That’s something only time, and the fading of my memory, can take away.
Yet today, all that has begun to change. Now, the picture looks different. The one link that I have to the past, so long a mystery, has begun to grow clearer. All the theories I’ve come up with over the years have been swept away, replaced by a fresh suspicion.
My parents were Enhanced.
I spend the entire night looking at the picture, illuminated by my glowstick as Tess gently snores across the room. I look at it until the dawn comes and the academy rises and a new day begins to canter to life.
And all the while, my mind tumbles and flows with so many questions. Questions about them. Questions about me. Questions about the truth that has never been so fiercely sought.
But now, I will seek it out with everything I have. Now, it’s the only thing on my mind.
As that day begins, I stay in my room, unwilling to leave. I make it clear to Tess that I had a bad sleep, my mood cantankerous and grouchy enough to get her to leave me alone.
For the first time, too, I’m happy for being off work, happy for the total solitude of my room. Alone, I do nothing but think, desperately hoping that Zander managed to make it past the Stalkers alive. That he’s already preparing to seek me out again, to fill in the many gaps in my knowledge about who I am.
For so long I’ve wondered why I was abandoned. Why my parents left me here to be raised an orphan. Now a firmer picture is forming. If what Zander told me is true, then it must have been for my own safety. And, surely, they wouldn’t have just left me with anyone.
They must have known Mrs Carmichael…
I think back to what Zander said.
She’s done a great job hiding you…
Hiding.
Has she been doing this for my parents all along? Has she been keeping me in the dark all of my life, keeping my true identity a secret?
If they were two different types of Enhanced, then their relationship was illegal. They’d be hunted themselves, and me even more so. So they hid me, left me in the care of Mrs Carmichael, destined to live without knowledge of who they were or what they did. Truly, I don’t even know if they’re alive or dead. I’ve always considered that the latter was most likely.
I twist and turn down strange alleys in my mind, the hours of the day passing in a blur until night falls. Only then do I realise how hungry I am, my stomach churning and begging to be fed.
Needing a break, I head down to catch the tail-end of dinner, the canteen mostly cleared and only littered with a few final stragglers.
One of them is Abby, her little frame crouched at a table alone, absent-mindedly swirling her spoon around her gruel as she reads an old comic book from a bygone age.
Fetching my own bowl from the kitchen, I go and join her.
“Mind if I sit?”
I seem to startle her. Her big, blue eyes widen at the sight of me, broken from the spell of the comic, a story of superheroes and people with weird powers. These days, that’s not such a fiction.
“Hey, Brie,” she stutters. “Yeah…OK.”
I sit down and note the strange awkwardness that pervades her. She needn’t feel that way. I know it was her who left the letter for me from Zander. I just want to know why.
So I ask her, and she nervously recounts her tale.
“He came to me outside the academy. I was just out playing, at the end of Brick Lane. I promise I didn’t go any further…”
The youngsters here aren’t allowed to move beyond the confines of our narrow, busy street. Unless, of course, they’re accompanied by our guardian herself.
“It’s OK. I know you’re a good girl. Go on, Abby.”
“Um, well, I was just there, and the man came to me. He was wearing a jacket and a hood and he asked if I lived at Carmichael’s. I nodded, and he asked if I knew who you were.”
“And then he gave you the letter?”
“He said to put it on your bed, and to not let anyone else see. He seemed nice…and gave me some money. Did I do something wrong?”
I reach over and give her hair a little stroke.
“No, nothing wrong. You just passed on a message.”
“So…do you know who he is?”
“Sort of,” I tell her. “But I’m sure I’ll find out more. I assume he told you not to tell anyone about this?”
She nods.
“Good. And he’s right. This is our secret, OK Abby?”
She grins a devious little look.
“OK. You can trust me, Brie.”
“I know,” I say, looking at the comic. “You’re like my little side-kick.”
Her face beams.
“Yeah, always!”
I laugh, Abby’s energy and sweet disposition always helping to cheer me up when I’m having a bad day. I sit with her for a while, letting her tell me all about the comic she’s reading, about the good guys and bad guys and the battles they have together.
For a while, I forget about my own struggles, looking upon her innocence with a smile on my face. Remembering what it was like when I was young and ignorant of all the terrors of this city, of this world.
Confined to this academy, she knows little of what it’s truly like out there. For her sake, I hope that continues for as long as possible.
When I leave her, however, the brief period of respite ends, and my mind fills once more with the questions that won’t budge. Not until they’re answered.
It’s the appearance of Mrs Carmichael that draws the end to dinner, coming to check up on things. She wanders in, clapping her hands and telling everyone to clear up and clear out.
As Abby scampers off, I look at the woman who raised me differently too. Everything I know, it seems, has now been cast in a new light.
“Ah, Brie,” she says, coming over to me. “I wanted to have a word with you…”
There’s some displeasure to her voice. Does she know I snuck out last night?
“Yes,” I say bluntly, her presence, given the many questions in my mind, drawing some displeasure from me as well.
“Hmmmm, I heard you were in a bad mood,” she remarks, noting the tone to my voice. “According to Tess you’ve been cranky all day. Anything the matter?”
I shrug and look away from her, my heart beginning to pace. A large part of me wants to confront her now, find out what she knows, whether she’s been lying to me my entire life. But I don’t, heeding Zander’s words once more.
Stay secret, stay silent. Say nothing about this to anyone...
“Nothing,” I mutter. “I just don’t feel well.”
“I see. Well a good night’s sleep will see to that. I just wanted to tell you, I need to pop out this evening, so I was going to put you in charge. However, given your state, perhaps I’ll ask someone else.”
“No,” I say quickly. “No, that’s fine. I’ll take care of things.”
“Are you sure? You know how unruly the kids can be when trying to get them to bed.”
“It’s fine. I can do it. So…where are you going?”
“Nowhere interesting. There’s a council meeting that I’m going to attend. It won’t last too long.”
“How long? When…will you be back?”
Her eyes narrow a little.
“Not late,” she says. “It shouldn’t go much past 11pm.”
I nod silently, my mind ticking over.
“Remember, the youngsters need to be in bed no later than 9pm. Don’t let them run rings round you, Brie. They respect you, so use that authority.”
“I got it,” I say. “Leave it with me.”
She peers at me a moment longer, then appears satisfied that I can do the job.
And when she leaves me, a smile creeps up in one corner of my mouth as I stand there, now alone, in the canteen.
I don’t need to ask her for answers. I don’t need to confront her at all. No, I can find out what I need all on my own…
***
The corridor is silent and still. The floors below equally so. The kids put up a bit of a fight, but in the end I got them all in bed a little past nine.
Inside my room, Tess is drifting off, ignorant of my plans and everything that’s swirling in my mind. Soon enough she’ll know the truth. For now, she needs to be kept in the dark.
Ahead of me, Mrs Carmichael’s office awaits. I creep forward and grip the door handle, pulling down in some vague hope that she’s left it unlocked.
Of course she hasn’t.
The handle stops half way down, the door fastened shut. I note the time – 10.15pm - and set about fiddling with the lock, quietly unscrewing the mechanism and removing it from the door.
It’s old fashioned, and easy enough to figure out, if a little time consuming. One by one, the screws come loose, and eventually I’m able to get inside and manually open the door.
I hear a little cough down the corridor and stop for a second in the shadows. The hallway is almost entirely dark as I stand there, watching as a door opens and one of the boys on our floor emerges. He turns the other way, moving towards the bathroom and disappearing inside.
I let out a long breath, open Mrs Carmichael’s door, and slip inside. Then I shut it tight and wait for the boy to reappear. Only once he’s safely back inside his own room do I flick on the light and begin my search.
The cluttered office lights up before me, stinking of smoke and stale air. I hastily move around to the back of the desk, a side I’ve never stepped foot, and take a seat in Mrs Carmichael’s chair. Before I do anything else, I scan the room carefully and note everything’s position.
I cannot leave a single thing out of place. I can leave no trace of my presence.
Once satisfied, I start by opening the drawers on the desk. I know Mrs Carmichael has files for each kid here, past and present, detailing where they came from, how long they’ve been here, their work duties and experience, and so on. When any kid leaves, she tends to continue to keep tabs on them, unable to let go as they fly the nest and strike off on their own.
She’ll have a file on me, I know she will. If she knows anything more than she’s letting on, then it’ll be right here in this room.
I go from drawer to drawer, sliding them open, gently perusing their interiors for what I’m looking for. The three down the left of the desk hold nothing of note.
I move to the right and continue my search. This side of the desk is different. At the top is a drawer, which I open up and shut just as quickly. Nothing.
Beneath it, however, is a little door. Behind it I find the safe that Mrs Carmichael uses to store her money
, opened only by knowledge of a code. A code I don’t have.
The desk, it would appear, isn’t going to yield what I’m looking for.
So I turn my attention elsewhere, looking to the stacks of boxes that litter the floorspace to the left and right. For someone who has to manage so many kids, Mrs Carmichael’s filing system is, for want of a better word, shambolic. If she wanted, I’m sure she could afford one of the electronic tablets that would make her life so much easier.
Yet, old fashioned as she is, she prefers to keep paper records, something that’s almost unheard of across the city. I’ve always thought that she did so, partly at least, because of her mistrust of the authorities. Paper records, after all, are physical. Electronic records aren’t, and can be hacked.
Now, however, my mind grows with conviction that I was right all along. If she’s been hiding information about me, and perhaps others, then surely she wouldn’t want it floating around in cyber-space.
As I renew my search of the boxes, I quickly check my watch once more. 10.32. Time is ticking.
I have to act faster.
Scrambling more frantically now, I begin working my way through the boxes, uncovering promising looking files than turn out to be disappointing. Mostly, they’re admin based, noting various jobs that have been completed.
Soon, my confidence is waning as quickly as the clock is ticking. One box after another leads to dead ends. Decades worth of accumulated notes that might as well be chucked out but for Mrs Carmichael’s hoarding tendencies.
Then, as my hope fades, a fresh spark ignites. Hidden towards the back of a stack of boxes, I look upon a bunch of more tidily separated files, lined up one after another. I brush away the dust and see the faded letters scribbled onto the front – Resident Files.
Jackpot.
I pull out the first that my fingers can grasp and check the front. Jack Lawson.
I slide it back in and check the one next to it. Melanie Lester.
Yes! They’re alphabetical!
Now my heart is pumping, and my fingers are working at twice their usual pace. I flick along the list and come to the letter ‘M’. Pulling each file out, one by one to check the front, I quickly find a Phil Medvedev.
