Into the Dust Storm

by Logan Brookfield

‘To a house so you can rest on those soft cotton sheets again,’ the guard said, causing his comrade to laugh.

  Carl looked at the small machine gun slung over the guard’s front. ‘Big joke to you, I know. Can you tell Elias I want to see Amy and the baby?’

  ‘Tell him yourself. What do you think I am, your personal messenger?’

  As they turned the corner onto the street where Elias’s house was, the door of a nearby two-story building opened. Several stretchers with black body bags were carried out by synths dressed in civilian clothing, and one by one the bags were loaded onto the back of a military truck.

  Carl and the guards stopped as the procession passed in front of them. ‘Who are they?’ Carl asked.

  ‘Brave soldiers of Hope Point who gave their lives to free us,’ the guard said.

  Carl counted fifteen body bags as the last one was loaded onto the vehicle. He wondered if Amy could be amongst them, or if they were all other people who had made their way from the Crystal City. The truck’s exhaust bellowed a plume of smoke as its engine started and it pulled away, disappearing around the corner and down the main street.

  The stock of the gun thumped between Carl’s shoulder blades. ‘Move along, nothing to see here,’ the guard said.

  As they arrived at a house a few doors up from Elias’s property, Carl turned around. ‘Tell Elias I want to see him urgently. I’m not staying here another night without seeing Amy.’

  The guard pointed to the door. ‘In the house, princess. You concentrate on being a good prisoner, I mean guest. Things are coming to a head here; you need to do as you’re told if you want to keep feeling the sun on your pale skin.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Carl asked. ‘What’s coming to a head? What’s happening?’

  The guard raised his weapon and released the safety catch with a loud click. ‘Go inside, stop asking questions.’

  Carl closed the door behind him and slid down onto the floor. He cradled his head in his hands and screwed his face up to try to deal with the physical pain and the overwhelming sense of loss and loneliness that flooded through him. He felt motionless and numb. The will and energy to move had left him and he opened one eye, scanning the unfamiliar room and wondered how quickly and easily he could now end it all. The room was small and well-furnished. A pale green sofa sat against a wall, a dark wood dining table dominated the rest of the space and a brick fireplace surrounded a black wood burner.

  Carl sat up and scanned the rest of the room. Maybe he could get some privacy here while he cleared his head and tried to formulate a plan, or at least get his strength back so he could tackle Elias. He looked at a family photograph on a nearby table: a man and woman with their two young children, posing in a traditional family portrait. He wondered who they were, if they used to live here and where they were now. The room was basic and comfortable and apart from the picture, there was no sign that any children had ever lived there. Perhaps they were human, or perhaps they were synthetic androids programmed to not know any difference.

  Carl walked into the kitchen. It was basic but well stocked, with a ceramic Belfast-style sink and large black stove. He searched the cupboards for food. They were full of everything anyone could need. The place had enough provisions for several people. He gulped down a cold glass of water and peered out of the window. From the kitchen he could see the front door. The two guards stood either side of it, laughing and joking. There was going to be no escape from that entrance. Several more military trucks drove down the street and Carl stretched to see if they stopped outside of the building where he saw the stretchers. Although he couldn’t quite see that far up, he could hear the screech of the brakes as each truck parked up nearby.

  A noise drew his attention and he looked out of the kitchen towards the dining room, off the lounge. He took a few steps forward and turned his head to one side. There it was again, a low-level talking or mumbling. He could barely make out what was being said but with each step it grew louder. He tiptoed through the lounge he grabbed a poker that sat in a brass fireside bucket, wrapping his hands around the wooden handle and flexing his fingers to feel its grip and weight. As he passed by the dining table he nudged a chair. The sound of its wooden feet scraping across the tiled floor caused the voice to stop. It appeared he wasn’t alone in the house.

  Carl’s heart pounded in his chest and beads of sweat grew on his forehead as he approached an archway that led into the dining room. He held the iron poker with both hands up and behind his ear, ready to swing down on anything that moved. He wasn’t going to be threatened or bullied any more. If he was going to be attacked or even killed he was going to make sure his attacker felt this lump of metal across their head first.

  As he stepped through the archway Carl stopped and lowered his weapon. ‘No,’ he said, releasing his grip on the poker as it fell and hit the floor. He rubbed his eyes as his heart plummeted through the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The technician peered at the data streaming across his monitor and punched in a string of code that would provide the necessary clothes for this model synth. This droid was unique in many ways. Built to a particular specification, it was light years ahead of any other model and therefore would hold its position of authority firmly in place.

  Deep inside a storage warehouse the commands were received and a small, free-floating robot picker gathered a leather jacket, camouflage trousers and boots. The clothing was neatly folded, shrink-wrapped and placed on a conveyor belt where it quickly made its way to the technician’s lab. It was unpacked and placed neatly on a table near where the synth was stretched out on.

  ‘Well, my friend, looks like the download of your new firmware and memories is just about complete,’ the tech said, scanning the hundreds of bits of data that cascaded down his monitor like a binary waterfall. He surveyed the naked body, squinting as he looked through the high magnification goggles he was wearing. Every skin pore and hair was fifty times larger through the optics and this last visual scan was the best indication that the build process was complete and successful. Error in code would often manifest itself in the skin, the most responsive and easily read organ of a droid. Silver patches or red lesions were a quick indication that not all the coding had taken. But this droid was perfect, in every way. He was the most advanced model yet and had been eagerly awaited by all those involved.

  The tech brushed the short brown hair and smoothed the eyebrows of the machine with his fingers. He then wiped some oily residue from the ears. Every droid leaked a little fluid during initiation. It was as if all components were settling down and the system was stabilising.

  ‘Vincent, wake up,’ the technician said, placing his hands in his white coat pockets as he leaned over the droid.

  Vincent became aware of his surroundings, but the world was still dark. His central processing unit acknowledged the command and started its internal tests before allowing the eyes to open. If all tests passed then full awakening would occur. If there were any anomalies found then further diagnostics could take place and any repairs initiated.

  The droid’s eyes flicked open, shut tight as he squinted, then opened wide again. The new model Vincent, head of security and the most advanced droid built to date was awake and fully functional.

  The tech stepped back and smiled. ‘Welcome home, Vincent. You’ve been on a long journey, I’ve just completed the memory dump together with your new instructions so everything may feel a bit out of sorts for a while.’

  ‘My head hurts,’ Vincent said.

  ‘Yep, it’s a bitch isn’t it?’ the tech said nodding. ‘Never could get rid of the brain freeze that you all suffer. It does diminish in time though, so just rest a little and wait for it to fade. You’ve just been born, created even. Whichever you prefer, I don’t mind. Once you leave this lab your programming will kick in, your new memories will flow in and any memory of me and this event will be erased.’

  Vincent got up and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked down at hi
s hands, which he opened palms up, then closed into a fist. He then examined the rest of his body.

  ‘Yes, all that functions too. You’re as able as any healthy man to carry out certain natural bodily functions. Quite a marvel, aren’t you?’ the technician said. ‘But why I’m wasting my time talking to you, I don’t know because you need to get dressed, leave here and continue your programmed tasks. It does get quite lonely working in here so I talk to everyone and everything I can.’

  Vincent stood up, stretched and tried to make sense of his surroundings while all of his senses fed information back to his brain. He took the items of clothing and put them on, one by one. They fitted perfectly and he looked down and listened to the creaking leather of his jacket and boots.

  ‘So long as men can breathe and eyes can see,’ Vincent said.

  ‘What did you say? Where did that come from?‘ the technician asked.

  Vincent shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

  The tech approached his workstation. ‘Curious. I’ve not heard that before and I’m not sure what it means,’ he said as he scrolled through the long list of vocabulary upgrades that had been applied. ‘Very strange. Maybe we should keep you back for one more day, just to rerun diagnostics.’

  ‘I’m not going back in there,’ Vincent replied.

  The tech stopped and looked up. ‘Back in where?’

  ‘Where I’ve just been, trapped in the blackness. The void.’

  ‘I don’t understand, Vincent. You haven’t been anywhere. You’ve been manufactured here over the last day or so. You’ve only just become aware of your surroundings. There was nothing before. You only have some low-level memories of your previous version.’

  ‘He killed me. Then burned me,’ Vincent said.

  ‘OK, we have some central processing issues here. There is no way you should be able to access your previous versions’ memories on that. Let’s shut you down for a short while and run some tests. You’ll be right as rain soon enough.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ the tech said as he accessed the main droid control console.

  ‘I said no.’

  ‘OK, Mr Disagreeable. Let’s just shut things down from here, and we’ll get you sorted,’ the tech said as he repeatedly pressed the button to kill the network and power to Vincent’s central processing unit.

  Vincent looked at a nearby table where his sidearm and hunting rifle lay. All had been serviced and polished for their new owner.

  The tech put a hand up. ‘Easy now, buster. Malfunctioning droids don’t need to be running around with weapons like that. Lie back down on the bed, please.’

  Vincent walked forward, towards the tech’s desk and operating console.

  The technician picked up a checklist, a long piece of paper with a list of diagnostic results on it. ‘Look, all your levels are normal. You need to comply to network and verbal commands.’

  Vincent snatched the paper out of his hand and scanned the list. He rolled it up into a tube and approached the tech.

  The tech stepped back. ‘Easy now, let’s contact Elias and explain that you’re not feeling too good. We can get you some deep diagnostics going and sort this little pickle out.’

  Vincent grabbed him by the throat. ‘Let me give you some deep diagnostics,’ he said as he forced the rolled up paper into the tech’s mouth.

  The tech grabbed Vincent’s wrist and tried to struggle free but he was too strong. He felt a wave of panic hit him as he struggled to breathe. Vincent squeezed his throat with one hand as he pushed the paper down it with the other. He crumpled into a heap on the floor, coughing and spluttering as Vincent let go. Vincent knelt down, took the tech’s head in both hands and turned it sharply with a crack, breaking his neck.

  He stood up and looked at the lifeless body on the floor. He examined his hands back and front, then walked over to the table to fetch his weapons.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Carl placed his head in his hands. Tears dripped through his fingers as he struggled to look at what lay before him. He glanced to his right where a middle-aged man stood in the corner. He wore a long black robe, a black hat and had multi-coloured beads around his neck, which he held as he rocked back and forth mumbling. His eyes were firmly closed and he didn’t acknowledge Carl.

  Two coffins sat on metal gurneys. One adult sized with the lid removed and the other no bigger than a newborn baby with the lid fitted. Carl swallowed hard and took a few steps forward. As he got closer he could see blonde hair and a white shroud which covered everything but the face. He clutched the edge of the coffin; it was Amy. Carl fell to his knees and sobbed into his knuckles. Her hair was parted down the middle and neatly swept behind her ears, and her skin was pale and looked like wax. Someone had attempted to add lipstick and makeup to her face but it looked terrible as Amy never wore makeup; she never needed to.

  Carl reached out and touched her cheek; she was as cold as ice and it made him flinch. He placed his hand on her mid-section then looked at the child’s coffin. Everything he ever wanted was in this room and at the same time it was all lost. He doubled up on the floor and lay there hugging his knees. The pain was too much; it hurt more than anything and he couldn’t ever see how he could feel good about anything again.

  ‘Love transcends everything, brother, in life and death,’ the man said.

  Carl shook his head and couldn’t look up. Nothing that could be done or said could ever heal him. His pain was real and forever.

  The man took a step forward. ‘I’m praying to the highest that they will be accepted, and continue their journey in the afterlife without hindrance. All is forgiven when all is lost, and love conquers all.’

  Carl wiped under his eyes and got up off the floor. He walked over to the small coffin and placed a hand on top. ‘We never had the time to discuss a name. Didn’t even know if it was going to be a boy or girl.’

  The man nodded. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Carl. It shouldn’t be this way. It’s not for me to say but Hope Point was a haven once. Things have changed recently.’

  ‘What will happen to them now?’ Carl asked.

  ‘That’s up to you. It all depends on your beliefs and your wishes. If you prefer a traditional burial I can arrange that, or if you prefer incineration, forgive me I mean cremation, I can arrange that too.’

  Carl nodded and looked again at Amy. ‘She looks asleep. She looks peaceful.’

  ‘Nobody can hurt her now, Carl. All suffering is gone and everything is forgiven.’

  ‘She didn’t need forgiving. She never did anyone any harm. In fact she was perfect in every way.’

  The man closed his eyes and nodded.

  Carl looked around the room. ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘We need to lay them both to rest tonight, and with your permission I’ll start to arrange the cremation.’

  ‘Can I be there with them?’ Carl asked.

  The man shrugged. ‘It’s up to the powers that be but I’ll certainly ask the question. If it means that much to you then it might be possible. I’ll help with whatever it takes to make you more comfortable.’

  Carl walked over to Amy and placed a hand on her shoulder. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered.

  The man walked over. ‘I know all seems lost now, Carl, but you must try and survive, whatever happens. You owe it to them to live.’

  Carl sighed. ‘It’s all out of my hands. Another town and another madman hell-bent on wrecking everything.’

  The man smiled and nodded. ‘I know this doesn’t seem like a good time but it is, if you know what I mean?’

  Carl looked up and frowned.

  The man looked over at the front window where three guards stood talking outside. ‘That third guard was watching the back before he went round the front to chat for five.’

  Carl looked at the back door. ‘Isn’t it locked?’

  The man smiled and produced a key from his pocket.

  Carl�
�s heart quickened. ‘Why are you helping me?’

  ‘Like I said, this place isn’t what it used to be. We all live here but we don’t all accept the new way of doing things.’

  ‘But I can’t leave Amy and the baby.’

  The man touched the edge of Amy’s coffin. ‘I’ll look after them, Carl, don’t worry. I’ll give them the dignity they deserve, I promise. But you must go now; you must try and leave this place. Stay alive at all costs, you have to.’

  Carl hesitated then took the key. As much as he didn’t want to leave them, he understood that what lay there was their physical bodies. They were actually somewhere else and one day they’d be reunited, hopefully.

  He glanced left and right into an empty alleyway. He could hear the guard laughing and getting closer as they finished up their conversation. He ran left towards the junction with a main road.

  ‘Hey, stop!’ a guard shouted.

  Carl ignored the order and darted across the road and down a narrow passageway. He opened the door to a bookshop and hid below a bookcase under the window.

  ‘Nice day for a read,’ the shop owner said.

  Carl smiled and nodded as the guard ran past.

  ‘He looking for you?’

  Carl nodded.

  The man pulled out a double-barrelled shot gun from under the counter. ‘We don’t harbour terrorists, my friend, just books.’

  ‘Damn it,’ Carl said as he ran out of the shop and back in the direction he’d come from.

  A siren now shrieked behind him. The shopkeeper must have hit an alarm, which was going to bring more guards to the area. He rounded a corner, back onto the main road then down another narrow passage. He tried the doors of each property he passed but they were locked. A vehicle stopped up ahead blocking any exit so Carl started to run back. Another vehicle pulled up and he was now trapped. Men got out of both cars and started to run towards him. He looked up and grabbed a nearby drainpipe that was anchored to the wall and connected to the guttering of a low roof. With all his strength he hauled himself up but a hand grabbed his ankle. He kicked out, hitting the man in the face, forcing him to let go. He managed to clamber onto the roof and started to run across the rooftops, jumping the gaps between alleyways and houses.