by T. C. Edge
Running onwards, we join a small group fleeing in the same direction. Panic spreads throughout the building, all available exits sought out by those with a more intimate knowledge of the area. Walter and Astor are clearly two such men, their place among the Nameless making this area of the city familiar to them.
Flashing his eyes backwards occasionally, and with his pulse rifle perpetually primed, Astor continues to drive us further towards the rear, Walter ushering me along and sticking close by. Soon enough, we’re heading through a series of rooms and into another long passageway, retreating from the fighting through a network that to any other person might seem like a maze.
Pressing on, we reach a door and pass through onto the street, reaching the open air once more. I search left and right down the dimly lit alley, and see a few more shadows rushing away in either direction.
Customers escaping back to the safety of their other quarters. Merchants slipping away down streets they know well. Other Disposables, caught amid the fighting, trying to seek refuge as they sink deeper into the darkness of these forgotten streets.
Or at least that’s what I thought. These streets clearly aren’t forgotten by the people here. By the Disposables who call them home. By the Nameless who use them to sneak around in the shadows. Even by the Con-Cops and the forces of Inner Haven, waging their unseen battle down here, behind the curtain and concealed from the general population.
Amid the fleeing shadows, however, others come seeking us out. As we move left, reaching a slightly wider street littered with derelict old buildings and rusty, antique cars, we catch sight of a fresh platoon of Con-Cops covering the rear of the station.
We switch direction, Astor’s keen gaze helping us pace through the darkness at speed, our footfall slapping the concrete streets and creating a map of our presence that specialised Enhanced could follow. I’ve heard that Bats, with their supernatural sense of hearing, are quite capable of using nothing but their ears to determine the location of a single person across several city blocks, even if they’re hidden out of sight.
All they need is a single footstep, and they can zero in on their quarry. And right now, all three of us are being extremely noisy as we run…
And that’s to say nothing of Sniffers, our colloquial name for the Enhanced with an extraordinary sense of smell. The same sort of principle applies with them. Once they catch a scent, it can be pretty tricky evading them, particularly when they work in league with other Enhanced.
I can only imagine what a Stalker made from all those types of Enhanced would be like. Dashers and Hawks and Sniffers and Bats. Maybe even throw in a bit of Brute blood for good measure.
Truly, they’d be unstoppable…
Still, there’s nothing we can do but run, just like the many hundreds across the district. With so many sights and smells and sounds assaulting the senses of the Stalkers, we might just be able to sneak away unnoticed.
Or not.
As we come around a corner, I have no time to react as a flashing figure flows in from down the street, a blur of black as the man looms in front of me. Then another, storming in, weapon primed and ready to strike.
I stumble back, and notice Walter doing the same. Only Astor, with his keen eyes, is able to see them coming, lifting his weapon to send rounds of pulsing energy right at them.
But it’s no good. They’re too close, and too quick.
They dodge his blasts, swinging immobilisers from their belts as they come. With a couple of thrusts, Astor’s body gets zapped. I sit helpless on the ground as sizzling darts of blue lightning appear to spread around his body, his limbs growing stiff and straight and his entire frame immobile.
Then, as he falls to the ground, eyes still narrow and searching, but body unable to move, the two Stalkers turn on Walter and me. For the first time, I get a good look at one of these hybrid hunters, their eyes dim behind their black helmets, their bodies wreathed in sleek black armour.
Both step forward, one towards me, the other towards Walter, brandishing their menacing rods as blue lightning dances around their ends. Neither of us are able to do anything, caught up by this sudden and devastating attack on the market, sweeping in and scooping up those who linger in the shadows of the city.
I wonder how many have been caught, or even killed. And for those who are merely snared in the net, who will be executed, and who will be sent for reconditioning?
I can think of few worse fates than being taken in and turned into a Con-Cop, or another servile slave of the state. If they find out I’m actually a hybrid, I’ll no doubt be executed.
Personally, I’d prefer that than the alternative.
Caught at their feet with nowhere to go, I can do nothing but shut my eyes and wait to be zapped. I’ve heard being stung by an immobiliser is a horrible experience. Not painful, just horrifying.
With one tap, every muscle fibre on your body is turned rigid, every part of you locked in place in whatever position you happen to be adopting. But you don’t lose consciousness. You merely have to endure your temporary paralysis, not knowing how long it will last, carted off like a living statue with your future presided over by those with no sense of compassion or empathy for your plight.
As the Stalker comes at me, I instinctively shut my eyes, despite knowing that doing so will lock me into the darkness as well. But I’m unable to stop myself, ducking my head, closing up my body into a contorted, protective position that will no doubt be incredibly uncomfortable when fastened in place.
Eyes closed tight, I await the terrible zap, my heart rate flaring to unprecedented levels.
Nothing happens.
Are they toying with me? Will they spare me the torture of being immobilised?
A rush of air, flowing past my cheek, presents an answer. I can hear Walter exclaiming loudly to my side, and creak open my eyes to see that a third figure has appeared before us.
The flow of air signalled his introduction. He moves like a whirlwind, his body a blur as he tangles with the two Stalkers. I can barely make out what’s happening before, suddenly, he stops and grows visible in front of my eyes.
And as he stands ahead of me with his back turned, the two Stalkers become visible too, collapsing into mounds of black armour on the concrete floor at his feet, knocked out cold.
The figure turns and reaches down to me, and I see the keen hazel eyes of Zander staring into mine.
“Hi there, Brie,” he says casually.
“Zander…” I whisper. “How…how did you find me?!”
“Instinct,” he says quickly, pulling me up to my feet. “We’d better get you out of here. You too, Walter,” he adds, turning to the chemist, who creakily stands from the dirt.
As he does so, Zander moves over and kneels down beside Astor. He conducts a quick check as Walter says: “He got zapped,” as if that needed explaining.
I watch the proceedings, still feeling in a slight state of shock, my breathing hard and pulse soaring and body trembling in a way it’s never done so before. I feel as if I might just pass out as I watch Zander pull out a little device from his belt and set one end to Astor’s neck.
Shaped like a wide pen, Zander presses a button on the other end, and a little shock appears to pulse through Astor’s body. The reaction is immediate, just as quick as that of the immobiliser. This particular device appears to offer an antidote, his limbs relaxing and eyes blinking and body coming back to life.
A remobiliser…
With a groan, he sits back up as Zander stands and moves back to me.
“Did they see you,” he asks me, eyes fierce and probing.
“What do you mean…”
“Your face? Did they see your face? Did they recognise you?”
“I…I don’t know.”
Truly, I hadn’t thought about it. In the heat of the moment, I wasn’t exactly caring if they’d recognised me from the ceremony. But, now that I think about it, it could be important. Very important.
If they did, then I have
no chance of going back to the academy. If they know who I am, and who I was with, then tonight has turned me into an outlaw.
A rebel.
A Nameless.
The reaction on my face makes my concerns clear to Zander.
“OK,” he says, rounding on the two downed Stalkers. “It’s not a problem. I can fix it.”
“Fix it?” I ask. “You mean...kill them?”
“That’s the easiest option,” he says. “I’d shield your eyes, Brie…”
I shake my head.
“I’ve seen people die,” I say defiantly. “I’m not afraid.”
“Suit yourself,” he says, withdrawing his own pulsar gun from a sheath on his belt.
He aims the weapon right at the heads of the two Stalkers, firing two blue shots of energy, one after another in quick succession. There’s something methodical about his actions, the systematic murder of two men having no impact on him at all.
He turns back to me as I watch the blue haze fade around the freshly cut holes in their heads.
“Now what the hell are you doing here, Brie?! I told you to stay safe back at the academy!”
“I came looking for you. I need to know more, Zander! I need to know everything!”
His eyes soften a little, and a smile arches gently across his lips.
“And you will,” he says. “But not here. We need to get off the streets. It’s not safe around these parts, and you can be sure that two dead Stalkers will cause a fuss.”
“Then where?” I ask.
His eyes sweep to the north, right towards the boundary of the city and the outside world beyond. And a single word issues from his mouth.
“Home,” he says.
25
We venture further north, the fighting behind us growing distant to our ears. Around us, the streets grow darker than ever, a dead space with no functioning streetlights, no advertising boards.
Here, only the natural light of the moon and stars, or the occasional fire flickering down an alley, give shape to the buildings. A derelict portion of an otherwise flourishing city, left to rot by those in power.
Running alongside Zander, it becomes evident that his position among the Nameless has been fully confirmed, and Mrs Carmichael’s concerns assuaged. He gets caught up with what happened from Walter and Astor, who tell him the attack was sudden and unexpected.
“They’re growing more bold, more aggressive,” says Walter. “It’s escalation after the hijacking at the ceremony…”
“Someone must have talked, or been followed,” says Astor. He glances at me, and I feel compelled to defend myself.
“I wasn’t followed! And I certainly didn’t talk!” I say.
Astor appears a little doubtful.
“You can trust her,” says Zander authoritatively. “She’s got more to lose by coming here than anyone.”
We stop down a deserted street, and gather into a four. Zander pulls out a pair of goggles from his jacket and steps towards me.
“Put these on, Brie,” he says.
I take them and place them over my face. Immediately, my vision is completely blocked, the world turning black.
“What’s this about?” I ask. “I thought you said you trusted me!”
“It’s not about trust,” says Zander. “We can’t have any outsiders knowing of our secret passages, not this far north.”
“But I won’t tell anyone!” I counter.
“I know you won’t,” he says, laying a hand on my shoulder. “But our enemy have powerful means of extracting information. It’s best if, for now at least, you remain in the dark.”
In the dark. Literally…
I choose not to argue, despite wanting to tear the goggles from my eyes as I’m led further on. In truth, all this has happened so fast I’m finding it impossible to keep up.
Perhaps Mrs Carmichael was right. Perhaps I should have just forgotten about all of this, gotten on with my simple life. Right now, I’m being led towards something I don’t properly understand, something I feel I have no control over at all.
And it’s that total loss of control that I don’t much like.
Now walking blind, I feel my other senses beginning to grow more attuned as we go. The sounds of our footsteps become more pronounced. The smell of the overgrown, rotting streets fills my nose, the changing of the air noticeable as we move through a secret door and enter into a passage.
Staying by my side, Zander guides me on, talking me through it when any obstacles come my way. Despite my quickly improving senses, my bearings are swiftly lost as we wind to the left and right, moving downwards towards the underlands of the city, the old tunnels and passages that were once part of the thriving metropolis that existed here.
Soon, my senses give shape to wider caverns as our footsteps echo louder, and the air seems to grow less dense, spreading out over a wide space. Other scents waft up my nose too, those of people and their odours. And the quiet sounds of talking filter into my ears, growing louder the further we progress.
“What is this place?” I ask as I gingerly make my way through the caverns and caves.
“Refuge,” answers Zander.
“For who? The Nameless?”
“Anyone under the thumb of the Court. We give shelter to all those who’d see a terrible fate under their doctrine. Hybrids who’d be executed. Enhanced who want to escape Inner Haven. Unenhanced who have committed minor offences and would otherwise be reconditioned. All are given sanctuary here.”
Soon, we’re stopping once more, and saying goodbye to Walter and Astor.
“Thank you again, Zander, for your help,” says Walter. His voice turns to me. “And you, Brie…I hope you find what you’re looking for down here.” I feel his hand take a light grip of my upper arm, and his voice lowers as he leans in. “Welcome to the cause,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”
With that, I hear two sets of feet shuffle away as he and Astor move off. Alone now with Zander, I ask if I can take the mask off.
“Not yet, I’m afraid. We still have a little way to go.”
We press on, continuing along passages that feel more narrow than the others. Interconnecting passages, perhaps, that link the larger caverns where these people come to seek safety from the Con-Cops and Stalkers who prowl the streets above.
I find myself asking if what happened this evening was a regular occurrence around here.
“Unfortunately, yes, and it’s been getting worse recently. Platoons of Con-Cops often come here to mop up some of the Disposables, take them away to their secret facilities for reconditioning.”
“To be made into more Con-Cops?” I ask. “Are they building an army or something?”
“We don’t know for sure,” answers Zander. “But it’s been more regular, and it’s forced us to act. This is just the beginning…”
We continue on, and my mind now begins to flood with more questions. Questions about the Nameless, about what they’re looking to achieve. I think back to the ceremony, and try to think of the words the man used.
He’d said a reckoning was coming. He’s said the Fanatics were not who we thought they were.
“Who are they,” I find myself asking out loud, my thoughts becoming vocal.
“Who?” asks Zander.
“The Fanatics. Something doesn’t add up…the explosion the other day at the warehouse. What’s really happening, Zander?”
With his hand on my arm, he stops dead in the quiet passage. I feel the urge to remove my goggles, and so reach up to pull them up onto my forehead. He doesn’t object as I do so, my eyes first spying his, typically intense, and then the long passage stretching both ways into the darkness.
“You have a keen mind, Brie,” he says, raising a little smile. “And it’s only going to get keener. Tell me, what do your instincts say?”
I think for a moment, looking into the depths of his irises as if mining for information. And then the thought comes to me.
“They’re being suppor
ted by the Court,” I say. “They’re people they’ve reconditioned. They’re slaves.”
He nods slowly.
“Yes,” he says. “The Fanatics aren’t just normal Unenhanced. They’re not just zealots and radicals who believe that emotion is evil. They’re people who have been conditioned to think that way, to act under the orders of the Savants. Most likely, they’re Disposables who have been taken to their facilities and then sent back out to perform these atrocities…”
“But why? I don’t understand. What are they looking to achieve?”
“Fear,” answers Zander immediately. “It’s a tool of suppression, a tool of control. We believe that the Savants have it in mind to spread their therapies, limit our liberties even further. Their experiments with Con-Cops and the Fanatics and their other slaves have proven to them that they can take a firmer grip on us. In time, we believe that they will remove emotion completely, suck the life right out of Outer Haven, and all those Enhanced living in Inner Haven too.”
“So they’ve been behind it all along…” I say, shaking my head. “I guess, in a way, I’m not surprised. I mean, seeing Inner Haven for what it was, seeing all these people live without colour and art and culture. I suppose it was only a matter of time before they spread that thinking to us.”
“Exactly. They’ve been doing it for years, trying different things, moving the chess pieces into place one by one. In the end, they want the people to volunteer for this, to make them more compliant. But if they don’t manage that…they’ll just force it on the people anyway.”
“And who’s behind all of this?” I ask. “Why now?”
“The Consortium determines this policy, as you know. But it’s only grown worse in recent years since they elected their new leader.”
“Director Cromwell?”
He nods.
“Director Cromwell is as callous a Savant as you’ll find. His mission is simple: create a society of sheep, rebuild this world under his watchful eye. In the end, only those with something to offer will remain, with all those considered useless phased out or reconditioned to perform the tasks he deems important. With him at the helm, the human side of the city will gradually be lost. In the end, an entirely new species will emerge…”
