The Post-Humans (Book 1): The League

by Bassett, Thurston

  Athan walked in, and handed him his hot drink. “You can use my name, Brad. The League is all over now.”

  “I know, but the nick names are our own.” Brad took the drink and sat on the arm of the lounge. “We chose them before The League was born.”

  Athan chuckled and seated himself on the lounge that he had slept on a day before.

  “You aren’t going to need a sofa bed or something from now on are you?” Brad asked, joking.

  “No.” Athan shook his head. “I never stay anywhere, you know that…”

  “I know.” Brad closed his book. “Well, what brought you here this time, old friend, besides the need for more pain killers?”

  He asked, obviously trying to remain positive, because he knew that if Athan had paid a visit, it wouldn’t be without a reason.

  “I’ve been working for a Doctor from Melbourne, an expert on coma patient research. He came to me when I was in Melbourne. I don’t know how he found me. Apparently he was under the instruction of a department head in the hospital. He told me that there were some coma patients I had to look at.”

  Brad closed his book and nodded.

  Athan continued. “He gave me a list of four names and brought me to the first person on the list. He was told that I could help these people. What I found was that these patients were trapped in their own minds and couldn’t escape, and that if I discovered the right trigger material for an individual, we may be able to wake them up.”

  Brad nodded. “And what did you find?”

  Athan took a deep breath. “Well these people had different minds to regular people. I’d never accessed an unconscious person before, but I have learned that they are extraordinary. They create an endless plane that reflects a period of unrest from their early life, depending on what traumas they keep bottled up.”

  “How fascinating!” Brad interjected. “Over the last hundred years there have been many different doctors and scholars who have speculated about this.”

  “I’ve been visiting these minds and discovering very young versions of the people in question. It’s like we are all children on the inside, children that never got past a point that upset us or confused us. For example I found a fifty year old man at the age of seven hiding in the garden shed from his abusive father, and another boy hiding from the neighbour’s dog because he felt responsible for it being put down.”

  “This is remarkable. Very detailed.” Brad stared off into space as he contemplated. “These scenarios sound very generic as well. They seem to be believable and likely.”

  Athan nodded, satisfied that Brad was following. “I get an idea of how they work from the different objects or environments that are present. I have to remember my childhood or think of stories I’ve heard about childhood experiences. This usually leads me to some kind of linchpin in the scenario. But the last one I helped is one of the reasons I came to pay you a visit, you may be able to make something of it.”

  Brad leaned forward. “Of course.”

  “Well two of these patients have had the same mindscape, the same situation of entrapment if you like.” Athan said, looking at the confusion on Brad’s face.

  “What?” Brad stared into space as he blew his drink to cool it down. “Surely two people can never actually share the same memories? Unless they can psychically connect…” Brad shook his head.

  “Look, I’m pretty sure they weren’t psychic.” Athan shrugged. “This was a…replicated scenario, down to almost every detail.”

  “Yes, go on.”

  “My issue,” Athan continued, as he shifted himself on the couch, “is that I stumbled into this exact scenario again five patients later.”

  Brad looked off into space, lost in thought the way he used to.

  “A repressed experience repeated in the subconscious minds of two different coma patients…” Brad wondered out loud.

  “That’s why I came. I thought maybe you had heard of this sort of case before.” Athan was hopeful.

  Brad sat back into the lounge. “It’s impossible. No two human minds are the same. Maybe if they both had latent Post-Human abilities like psychic memory exchange. But that is merely a theory. And why would two psychics imbed that traumatic memory in each other in the first place? My best and most logical thought is a synthetic memory implant, but that isn’t something anyone can just do to two random people. This is something that I will dig deeper to discover.”

  Athan nodded and stared at the brown carpet between the lounges.

  Brad sat back to sip more of his coffee and noticed Athan’s distant look. “What else is there my friend? You are holding something back, I can tell.”

  This is embarrassing…

  Athan took another sip of his coffee before continuing. “I’ve been seeing things.” Bradly scoffed and shook his head.

  “I have seen a figure in the landscape, and felt its presence. Something I have not felt before. I have seen things that move and make sound, even animal like things in that plane, but the figure was new. It didn’t belong.”

  “Could it have been someone like you?” Brad asked.

  Athan shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know. It didn’t look like a person, its face was blank and white, and the figure was dark, like a monk in a shroud.”

  “Hmm…”

  “So my first thoughts were, that this being must have come from the deeper plane.” Athan took a long swig of his coffee and drained the mug.

  “The one you told me about last time you paid me a visit? The one that feels dangerous?”

  “Yes.” Athan nodded. “It appeared in the mind of the patient. It was like a leech drawing nutrients out of the person’s mind. I let curiosity get the better of me and decided to stick my head in to see what it was. It was terrifying; it felt like I was trapped. It was like being suspended in jelly, or being suspended in a nightmare.”

  “This was the deeper plane you were telling about? You had never seen it before? I thought you had?” Brad shifted himself on the lounge.

  “I’d seen it.” Athan gestured to the space in front of him. “I hadn’t been inside. The doors to the deeper plane are rare and I needed to know what was inside. It drew me in. I was dragged in there by my suspicion and my stupid curiousity.”

  Bradley’s brow was furrowed in thought.

  “So tell me, what did this world look like? You are killing me with suspense!” Brad smiled, trying to lighten Athan’s mood and to press him further.

  “Hell, I guess.” Athan shifted himself on the lounge and stared at the inside of his mug. “I’ve never believed in that sort of thing, but that’s the best way I can describe what I saw.”

  “There are lots of kinds of Hell my friend, you will have to be more specific,” Brad said with eyebrows raised.

  “It was like a featureless landscape crawling with creatures that I can’t even describe. Except the human ones.”

  “Human?” Brad asked, obviously enthralled. Athan wondered if Brad may have seen images of this in any of the material he had read over the years. So he decided to be thorough in his description.

  Athan squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed at his temple. If the headache disappeared, he’d have an easier time remembering things.

  “They were human shaped, and looked aware. Only their faces were blank, featureless and smooth, like ghosts.” Athan blinked. “A world filled with ghosts. I didn’t feel welcome. Getting out of there was such a relief.”

  “Well…” Brad got up and paced a little.

  “Yeah. Sorry to lay this on you. I know you will probably go out of your mind trying to figure this stuff out now.” Athan cringed, but he felt glad to have told someone.

  Brad was processing all the new information. This was what he always used to do it. His mind would recollect all the relevant information he had catalogued in his brain and then he would sift through it, finding what he needed.

  A few minutes passed.

  “…Faceless figures in the deep…” Brad muttered as he rubbed his s
hort beard.

  “What?” Athan leant forward, “You know something?”

  “Dan Dangerous…” Brad said finally.

  “What now?” Athan screwed up his nose.

  “Daniel Carl,” Brad said as he turned to face Athan again. “Used to be called Dan Dangerous back in the seventies. He is an old man now. He was a certified homicide psychic with the Melbourne and Adelaide police departments; I think he did a few Queensland cases too, anything that was a bit hard for the boys in blue. Anyway, once the Post-Human ‘epidemic’ was declared official in government circles, he was ousted from the police and went private, but that didn’t prove quite so profitable. He began doing psychic readings at ‘alternative lifestyle’ festivals. Then the PHC set up a facility somewhere in the desert and began to do their sweeps of rural Victoria, so he went off grid, but I found him a few months ago.” Brad shrugged. “I try to keep track of people like us if I can.”

  “What is Dan Dangerous going to do to help me?” Athan shrugged. “How does he tie in?”

  “Daniel Carl,” Brad began holding up his forefinger, “had the wonderful ability to probe deeply into the human mind. Nothing like your particular talent, but it was a very powerful skill. I don’t know why he even stayed in Australia; he could have made a mint in America or Europe. I guess he was a bit of a ‘true blue’ boy, Aussie through and through, and was clever enough not to draw too much attention to himself.”

  Athan nodded.

  “He stumbled across imagery in the minds of killers and deranged criminals. Imagery that he found disturbing. He eventually said this in an interview, that he would ‘find any other means possible to help the police prove the guilt of these people to avoid delving into their minds to glean the truth’. He had seen dark things there, and ‘faceless figures in the deep’ was one of his direct quotes.”

  “So I need to find Dan Dangerous for answers?” Athan suggested. He was glad that there was someone out there who knew something.

  “Maybe not answers, but it sounds like you have both shared an experience. He will have more to offer than me. As for the repeating event in the minds of unconscious patients, I also can’t help you.” Brad thought for a minute. “Would it be all right if I looked at the names of those patients? I don’t know how much I can learn, but it may be something more than you already know.”

  “Umm…doctor patient confidentiality, you know how it is.” Athan smiled as he handed Brad the list of four names. “So, where will I find Mr Dangerous, then? Somewhere obscure I assume?”

  “Oh, without doubt. Ever heard of the town of Hawkesdale in the South West?” Brad raised his brow questioningly.

  “Weirdly, yes,” Athan said rubbing at his temples again.

  There was a person he knew from a lifetime ago that was located in that area, they would be his conduit.

  He also wondered if they had a shop there that sold painkillers.

  ***

  Athan once knew someone who lived out in the country, someone from high school, which seemed like forever ago.

  He used the man’s mind as his conduit and found himself in the farming area of Hawkesdale.

  It was quaint and very spread out, so it was hard to find a single person among many.

  That left social areas, the pub and the football field, but how likely would it be that a powerful psychic would attend either of those?

  Friday night he found himself at the only pub in town, making idle conversation with farmers that still smelt of sweat and livestock. These people worked so hard to keep themselves and their farms alive, that a Friday night beer was the only time they met anyone who they didn’t already live with. This was the social event of the week, where they would complain to each other about the state of the world, the weather and the farm next door.

  After about eight pots of beer the locals were more than happy to talk to Athan. He had learned a great deal about calving, milking, the week’s worth of rain and a little about how to effectively spread super-phosphate on a cropping field, but nothing about Dan Dangerous.

  The next day at the local football game, he met a young red haired man who was cheering on the football team.

  “Yeah, I know old Carly!” The man said as he sat on the tray of his ute with his thick arms folded across his broad chest. “Old mate is living in my old man’s parent’s joint ‘cross from the creek. ‘Bout two K’s.” He paused to yell ‘Come on’ when a player on the field missed a goal. “Yeah me name’s Reg.” He shook Athan’s hand. “Old Carly sometimes gets to the footy, but ya can’t count on him to always turn up. Likes a beer, but not so sweet on all the people. Depends on how he feels I guess.” He uncrossed his arms to pick up his beer for another sip and yelled some encouragement to a player who he knew.

  “Athan, good to meet you. That should be easy enough to find. Thank you.”

  “You family or a mate? He wouldn’t be happy with me sendin’ some stranger around there, if ya know what I mean? My sister lives basically next door. Me niece goes down to old Carly’s a bit. He’s been a bit like a Granddad to her since my old man passed. Ya know?”

  Athan realized that if he saw the sister he could use her as a conduit to get to the house in question.

  A short cut.

  “That must be a comfort to her,” Athan said nodding. “What does she look like? Your sister, in case I bump into her on my way there?”

  “Argh… Yeah, mate. There’s a photo on my phone from Stacy’s birthday a couple of weeks ago. Stacy’s me niece.” He reached into his pocket and drew out his mobile phone and scrolled through the photos while glancing at the game on the field.

  “There ya go,” he announced, holding the phone out for Athan to see. “That’s me and Casey.” Athan took a moment to really look at the woman in the photo. “You from the big smoke? My older brother Evan worked in a warehouse in the west, but it closed down. Jobs are hard to come by mate… Mate?”

  Athan was nowhere to be seen.

  “Rude, prick.”

  Athan materialized from the body of a woman who was filling a water trough for her calves.

  “Excuse me?” he asked quietly. People were always jumpy when they didn’t see you coming.

  The red haired woman turned and blinked.

  “I’m looking for Old Carly’s place? Apparently it’s just along here somewhere, near a creek?” Athan gave a friendly smile.

  “Where did you come from?” The woman named Casey narrowed her eyes. “You aren’t trying to push us onto another power company are you? We’re happy with ours. We aren’t changing. You city folk in ya smart suits and ties think you can make a few extra bucks out of the farmers. We struggle out here, we don’t have money to throw away or your bloody useless power scams and ya pay TV…”

  “I’m family,” Athan said to end the zealous speech. They were clearly suspicious of anyone in a suit.

  “Why are ya dressed like you’re goin to a funeral then? Aren’t you cold?” she asked. These people always had too much to say and wanted a life story before they pointed you in the right direction.

  “I’ve been to a funeral, I’m sorry, I just really wanted to see my uncle while I’m here,” Athan lied.

  “Isn’t he at the footy?” she said as she turned off the hose.

  There were two options on a Saturday: football or back to work in the paddock.

  At least, that was what Athan suspected.

  Athan shrugged. “He didn’t feel up to it.”

  “Well, Carly’s stayin’ in Nartook. That’s the name of Dad’s old place. It’s a ‘K’ down the dirt, or you can cross my place, down here.” She pointed to a shabby white house amongst some trees near a creek choked up with reeds. “Just down the hill and cross into Farley’s at the bottom. Only one fence to jump, you’ll be right.” She returned to her task, coiling the hose. “Tell him Casey said G’day, and I’ll send Stacy down with some cookies to make him feel better.”

  “Thank you so much. This means a lot.” He gave her a curt n
od and began the trek down the hill through the wet grass.

  She was either confrontational or too friendly.

  Too much talking…

  He didn’t dare ask for waterproof boots, she would have invited him inside for lunch.

  The sun was shining that afternoon, which made the walk pleasant. It was the wet feet that didn’t help.

  Deep grass is always horrid in winter.

  Athan cursed himself for not being better prepared.

  He finally arrived at the little rusty gate to the garden, which was a little overgrown. Dan obviously didn’t have a green thumb.

  What did he do here while he’s hiding from the PHC?

  He pushed through a few shrubs to get to the front door and gave a firm knock.

  “Who’s there?” a voice from inside echoed. “Is that you Stacy?”

  “You know it’s a man’s knock, Daniel Carl. I’m a friend,” Athan answered.

  The door creaked open and an old man with a long grey beard and a flannelette shirt stood staring up at him. “A friend eh? You’re like me. Interesting.”

  Athan smiled. “Dan Dangerous, I presume?”

  Chapter 6

  DAN DANGEROUS DID not look as old as he should.

  He would have passed for sixty perhaps, but then again Post-Humans didn’t age quite the same way as regular humans. He was still tall for an old man, just less than six feet. Clothed in a flannelette shirt and work pants, as well as sporting an impressive grey beard, he looked the part of a retired farmer.

  The man looked Athan up and down.

  “You would have come a long way, son.” The old man gestured for Athan to come in and offered him a seat on an old armchair.

  “Thank you, yes I have,” Athan replied and sank into the musty smelling chair, rubbing at his temples, his head throbbing.

  The room was filled with all the usual paraphernalia of a country home: knitted blankets, family photos on the wall (probably not Dan’s family), fly swats, folded tea towels and even a framed print of the famous Tom Roberts’ painting ‘Shearing the Rams’ above an open fire place.