by T. C. Edge
I cut him off and say: “Turn around.”
He does so, slowly, perhaps thinking that by following his orders I’ll spare him.
He’s wrong.
“Who are you?! Why…are you doing this?” he stammers, tears falling from his pathetic eyes.
Eyes that I don’t want to look at, but must. I stare right at him for a long moment, and his gaze falls away.
“LOOK AT ME,” my voice comes, deeper and more penetrative than ever, filling every inch of the room.
His eyes creep up tentatively again, so afraid to look upon me. His quivering lips threaten to speak, to beg, again. I don’t allow it.
I stare into his mind, and show him who I am.
I project an image of Nate, lying dead on that slab. I project other pictures of the boy, just an innocent child at the academy, doing his duty, living his life.
I show him Nate laughing, smiling, joyful. I show him images that will probably mean nothing to such a vile creature, images of the boy across the years, a shy kid, an orphan, made vulnerable by this war.
I project them all, and show him who Nate was. And when I’m done, I see the face of the man stare, mumblings dripping from his fat lips.
“I’m sorry about the boy…I didn’t mean it…”
I don’t care what he has to say. He’s said his last…
It takes nothing but a thought to paralyse him.
I enter his mind, and deactivate his muscles and limbs. I show him what a real Mind-Manipulator can do, and see his eyes widen at the thought of what I really am.
And then, as he stands there before me, I lift up the knife and aim it right where he stabbed my friend.
I see the fear, the utter terror. But he can no longer beg, he can no longer speak. He can do nothing but await the metal as it inches towards his flesh.
I lean forward, and whisper quietly: “For Nate.”
And plunge the dagger straight through his black heart.
181
“Oh my…what have you done?”
Kira stares at me as I step back into the dorm room, my body dripping with blood, splashed across my chest and face as I withdrew the knife from the boss’s heart.
I look to the children in the room, and see fear. Even those from the academy, those who know me, look cowed by my appearance, by the blood that drips and the fire that burns behind my eyes.
“The Voiceless are finished,” I growl, looking from one kid to the next. “All of you are coming with us.”
Brandon, head low, still sits back on the bed with the other two members of the gang. His eyes lift to mine, afraid of what I might do to him, afraid of what I’m capable of now.
“Kira,” I say. “Take them to the van. I have one more thing to do.”
She’s the leader of this operation, but defers to me right now. She can sense it all going on inside me. The turmoil, the grief, the rage. Nodding, she begins gathering up the kids and moving them off down the corridor.
Only when they’re gone do I reach behind my back and take a grip of my pulse rifle. Turning it on, I adjust it to the correct setting, aim at the bunk bed in the far corner of the room, and pull the trigger.
The blue blaze connects with the mattress and sets it on fire. Immediately, the flame begins to spread, working around the room, building to an inferno. I turn, and move down the corridor, walking slowly towards the steps and back up into the main station above.
The fire follows me as I go, working down the basement passages, filling the place with smoke. It will soon reach Nate’s room and engulf him too, cremate his little body and send it on to the next life.
But it will serve another purpose, destroy this entire building, eat away at this criminal gang who prey on the young and the innocent, forcing children to do terrible things.
I march through the hall, and see the adults here who we disabled earlier. I look at them, bundled in their states of paralysis, and keep on walking.
I don’t release them from their bonds. I don’t free them from this place. I leave them there to be taken by the fire as well, these men who are not innocent. These men who chose to be here, chose to take advantage of these children.
These men who will die today, not casualties of war like so many others, but of their own cruelty and greed. None, in my mind, deserve to live.
When I reach the outside of the station, the smoke is already beginning to pour from its doors. I walk towards the van as Kira drives it over to me, and turn to see the fire licking its way up from the basement and towards the ground floor.
I take one final look, and step into the passenger seat.
Kira is staring at the sight too.
“Good riddance,” she growls, her state of thinking just like my own. “The kids are in the back. We should head back to HQ.”
I turn to her with a scowl, and she quickly adds: “I know, I know, you want to go to the southern quarter and get the rest of your friends. We will, but we should get these kids back first. I’m on your side here, Brie. We’ll take them straight to the western gate, and head back out.”
“Thank you, Kira,” I say, quickly thawing.
She offers a consoling smile.
“No problem. I know what it’s like losing people.”
She revs up the engine, and the van begins moving off again, this time heading straight back towards the western gate. I stay quiet for a time, my mind consumed by the sight of Nate’s lifeless body, by the things I’ve just done to avenge him.
I feel the blood still wet on my face as I sit there, and my eyes turn down to see the crimson soaked into my uniform. I need to get out of them, rid myself of this stench of death.
I remove the shirt, leaving me in just a black vest, bundling it into a ball and tossing it from the window. The blood seeps through my fingers as I grip it too tight, and I realise that my hands are still shaking.
I can see Kira looking at me through her Hawk-eyes, keeping one eye on the road and another on me. I don’t want her to be distracted by me, and so make sure to take a firm hold of myself, sit upright again, and try to take my mind off things.
“So, this concert hall you’ve heard about,” I say. “Is it likely to be guarded?”
“It is,” she tells me. “We’ll have to scout it out and see if there’s a way in.”
“Guarded by who? City Guards?”
“Yeah, our scouts aren’t reporting too many Con-Cops around the streets anymore, and very few Stalkers have been spotted.”
“Accumulating around Cromwell, I guess,” I mutter.
“I’d imagine so.”
The journey back to the western gate passes by with a little less tension than the outward journey. While there are patrols and convoys of City Guards around, Kira remains well aware of just what the best routes to travel are, and just when to travel them.
In the back, the kids stay quiet, visible through the little window that we keep open to maintain a close watch on them. Kira, it seems, saw fit to tie the hands of the three initiated gang members, taking no chances despite the fact that they will, most likely, have been brought into the gang by force and mental manipulation, rather than choice.
The same is likely true of Brandon. A bully at the academy, yes. A kid who had a bad streak, and saw the state of emergency in the city as an opportunity, for sure. But no more than that.
He wouldn’t have given up the academy that gave him sanctuary for so long. He wouldn’t have led the wolves to our door to snatch up the kids and turn them to criminals, take their innocence.
For all his bad points, he’s just a kid himself who can never have expected things to go this far. I don’t blame him for what happened. I blame only the men, those who now lie dead and burning in the wreckage of that old, abandoned train station.
Before too long, we’re heading straight for the western gate once more, slowing to a stop as we near. From the door to the right, one of our guards comes out, and seeing Kira immediately orders for the gate to be opened.
It separates down the middle, retracting into the large metal wall that circles Inner Haven, and Kira drives us a little way in up the road and past the large trucks that are also moved aside. She stops the van there, and we both step out, drawing the eyes of the guards.
“Over here,” calls Kira, waving a couple of them over.
They jog quickly towards us.
“Yes, Kira,” they say deferentially, standing to attention.
Kira opens up the back of the van. The eight kids inside appear in the dim interior.
“We’ve got eight kids here who need to be taken to HQ. Can you arrange that?” she asks.
“Yes, of course,” nods a guard.
“Good. We’re heading back out, got a bit more to do. Keep a watch for us, and inform the southern gate that we might be returning their way.”
“Done.”
“Oh,” adds Kira, pointing to the three shackled kids. “Make sure these three are taken into temporary custody. We’ll see to them when we get back.”
The guards set about their work, calling for the kids to exit the back of the van. The three from the academy look at me with big eyes as they pass.
“I’ll see you soon, OK,” I tell them. “I’m going to go and fetch Mrs Carmichael for you.”
Hope lifts on their little faces. Then one drops into a frown.
“Is Nate…dead?” asks a little boy, new to the academy, whose name escapes me.
I don’t know how to answer the question. Such a thing has never been posed to me.
“I…”
It’s all I can manage before Kira steps in, kneeling down in front of the child.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “But Nate has gone to a better place, away from war. He’s free now.”
She smiles and stands again, and the children are led away, the little boy stumbling along on short legs as the soldiers guide them towards another vehicle.
Then Kira climbs into the back of the van and returns with a new shirt and jacket.
“Here, try these on. They look about the right size.”
They are, and once more my City Guard camouflage is complete.
We pass back through the gate with the sun yet to fully climb to its summit. The weather is fine, the sky blue and clear and the air crisp and clean. It makes visibility good, and across the skyline of the city, lingering columns of smoke appear, spiralling from the still-burning wreckages that pepper the war-torn streets.
We work quickly around to the south, keeping close to the perimeter wall. It’s so bizarre seeing the place like this, so empty and devoid of life and colour, the neon advertising boards and massive screens blank and grey, as lifeless as the streets they populate.
I wonder what it’s like for Kira, her perception of the world so different from mine. With her blend of powers, she’ll be able to feel, hear, and smell the hundreds, thousands of people hidden away in their apartments as we pass. She’ll have a sense of the life that remains here, collected behind brick walls where they think and hope they’ll be safe.
To me, the entire world seems like it’s had the life sucked out of it. To her, all those same scents and sounds will emanate, and the beating of hearts and the heaving of lungs and the worried, frightened voices that fill the thousands of unseen spaces around us will reach her sensitive ears.
Those same powers, of course, help guide us to where we need to be. As we move towards the south, she informs me that the old concert hall isn’t too far away from Culture Corner, a once vibrant place that has since become less popular as other forms of art and culture took its place.
In order to reach it, we pass down roads that link to Culture Corner itself, the large square appearing down the streets as I look upon the place that set so much of this in motion. For me at least, if not for the city itself.
We slow as we press on, and Kira parks the van down a narrow side street. On the building to the left, a set of stairs and ladders are attached, giving access to the roof. Quietly as we can, we climb up until we reach the summit, Kira making sure its unoccupied before leading me towards the far corner.
Then, her finger guides my eyes down the street, to a landmark I now recognise from my earlier days when I once worked a cleaning job around here.
“That’s it,” she whispers. “The concert hall.”
182
I zoom right in, scanning the large double doors and activity outside. It’s protected, although not that heavily. I see a few City Guards ambling about on patrol, a couple right outside the doors and another appearing from down a side street.
The latter is large, even from this distance. A Brute for sure, and a big one at that. His back is turned to me, his body lumbering along as he appears from the alley and begins working towards the front. He speaks with the two men outside the main doors for a moment, before turning back around in a wide circle and heading back where he came.
I focus on his face, half hidden behind his helmet and visor. But even from here, I think I recognise him. No, I’m sure of it.
“Magnus,” I whisper.
Kira, eyes shut, palm to the little wall surrounding the top of the building as she activates the Sight, opens up her lids and looks at me.
“You know one of them?” she asks.
“Magnus,” I repeat. “He was the Brute who guarded the western gate when I used to pass through. He was always friendly with me…”
Kira looks down towards the front of the hall, just as Magnus begins to lumber off down the alley once more on patrol.
“There are lots of people inside,” she says. “It’s hard to be exact, but hundreds. I think we should work around, check the back. We don’t know who else might be on guard.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” I say. “I speak with Magnus. I can get down there and into that alley. He’ll tell me all I need to know.”
Kira considers it a second. This is her sort of work, something she’s done for years. Scouting and spying and staying unseen.
But, my powers are different from hers. And this situation is different to anything she’s faced too.
Finally, she says: “OK. We’ll head down together, and I’ll work to the far side of the hall to offer a distraction. It looks like one of the guards on the door is a Hawk. He’ll likely see you trying to get down the alley, no matter how fast you go. I’ll draw their eye, and you make your move. Got it?”
“Sure do.”
“Then let’s go.”
We head back down to the bottom of the building and into the alley where the van is parked. Moving through the streets, Kira activates the Sight a couple more times, making sure that we won’t be sprung upon by an undetected band of soldiers and further improving her understanding of the current patrol patterns around us.
When we reach the building just down from the concert hall, we stop around the side.
“OK, I’ll move around to the other side as quickly as I can. You’ll only have a moment to get into that alley when I create the diversion. Don’t hesitate, or we’ll be into a fight. We don’t want that.”
“And what will your diversion be.”
“A whistle,” she says. “I’m good at that. It’ll be loud enough to draw all eyes and ears. If the Hawk is any good, he’ll realise something’s up quickly and look the other way. You need to be down that alley and out of sight before he turns around. I’ll wait until that big Brute is down the side of the building. Then, it’s over to you.”
“OK, I got it. Just a walk in the park, Kira.”
She grins, emerald eyes flashing.
“Good luck.”
With that, she disappears, shooting back from where we came and working her way around the streets until she reaches the other side. I wait patiently, barely able to creep my eyes around the corner in case the Hawk catches sight of me. Even the tiniest bit of moment on an otherwise still street might be enough for him, depending on his proficiency.
I don’t have to wait too long. Within only a minute or so, Kira’s speed has taken her in
to position. Listening closely, and barely breathing, I await the signal in silence.
And then, a loud, piercing whistle fills the air.
Even from here, it’s quite shrill, cutting through the quiet afternoon. I don’t delay for even a split second, and immediately burst around the side of the building and begin dashing towards the hall.
Kira’s instincts and experience are spot on. As I speed towards the hall, and the side-alley just to the right, I see both guards outside the doors staring away from me, their eyes and ears drawn by the sudden noise.
I’m into cover just in time before the Hawk turns, my gaze now working into the darkness. And there, about thirty metres ahead of me, I see Magnus’ huge form spinning around, drawn to the whistling sound as well.
I’m on him in a flash, materialising before his eyes as they widen in surprise. His cavernous mouth begins to open, but I quickly stretch out to my full height and cover it with my little hand, so small against the gaping space.
It takes a second, but behind his visor I see those eyes taking me in, the surprise passing and turning to recognition. And with one hand on his mouth, I draw the other to my own, lifting my index finger and covering my lips.
“Shhhhh,” I say. “Don’t speak.”
It may be enough just to say it, but I take no chances, slipping the order into his mind as well. Only when I know he’ll stay silent do I withdraw both of my hands, and get off my tiptoes.
His giant paws rise up and retract his visor, which slides up into his helmet, revealing more of his bountiful face. But still, with my order in his head, he doesn’t speak. He just stares, as if wanting to say something but being completely unable to do so.
“You’re wondering why I’m here,” I say.
He nods, eyes still wide, head shaking. Under this influence, he must now know what I am. It was only Titus, his older but slightly smaller brother, who knew I was a hybrid. He worked that out when he found me beyond the southern wall in the outerlands, secreting me back into the city to stop me from being taken to the REEF.
Magnus, meanwhile, never knew what I was. To him, I was just a regular Unenhanced, courting a Savant and moving to the High Tower.
