by T. C. Edge
Again, it’s the Hawk to my left who I order.
Using his forearm interface, the man draws up a map showing our location.
“District 8,” he tells me. “We’re about 10 blocks from the perimeter wall.”
“And how long until we reach it?” I question.
“At this speed, 3 minutes.”
OK, 3 minutes…it’s really now or never.
“Both of you,” I whisper. “Move right next to the rear door. Prepare to open it upon my command. When you do so, I want you to step out, either side of the van, and distract the Stalkers.”
“How?” asks the Hawk on the right.
“Get as close as you can to them, and then shoot them,” I say bluntly.
His eyes wrinkle and do a little dance of doubt. It’s a far more aggressive order to give, and while they remain under my command, it’s completely against their nature to go and shoot one of their own men.
I look to the other Hawk and realise that he’s having the same trouble agreeing to the order. More mental surgery will need to be done, manually inside their minds.
So without delay, I look to the Hawk on my right and whisper: “Look directly at me.”
Then, with our eyes locked, I slip straight into his head with the simple intention of ingraining the order to attack the Stalkers deeper into his consciousness.
However, as I walk through the murky emptiness of this man’s mind, I feel his thoughts centred around a person whose life he helped to destroy. A man I now care about deeply, and wish to see safe and free.
I see his memories of the day Adryan’s wife was taken. I see them fresh before him, the day that put Adryan on another path, awoke his emotions to the point where he betrayed the very people who ruled him, who still rule us all.
A path that, now, has him facing terrible torture and death. A path that has seen him do so much good, put his life on the line, and get so little in return.
Forgotten by Lady Orlando and the Nameless.
Left to die when they could have negotiated his return in exchange for Agent Woolf.
The thought sets a new grimace to my lips, and as I see the memory, I quickly decipher something far different in the man’s mind: a thought of pleasure. Pleasure at Adryan’s current predicament, at imagining my husband being shackled and cut and put through such pain, before having his life taken from him in brutal fashion.
This man enjoys the thought. Enjoys the idea. And as he thinks of it, I see it all too, see what will befall the man I’m falling for, the man I appear to have forgotten about during this escape.
But no longer. Now, I can think of nothing else. Because right there, within the man’s thoughts, I discover the precise time of Adryan’s execution.
This afternoon at 3PM, in only a few hours’ time, my man will be put to death, a mercy after what he must be going through. Alone and desperate, with no hope of escape, he will have accepted that fate.
But not me. I will never accept it.
And right there, as I withdraw from the Hawk’s mind, I know that my plan cannot go ahead. I cannot escape, only to leave Adryan to such a terrible destiny. He has no time to spare, and I have none to waste.
I’m not leaving this van.
I have to try to save him…or die in the attempt.
13
I sit back in the darkest corner of the van as it rumbles on through district 8. The perimeter wall, right at the edge of the city between districts 8 and 9, must only be a few blocks away now, rushing up fast as the van makes a final turn onto the main road leading towards it.
As the van slows to turn the corner, I know it’s my final chance to enact my original plan. The thought comes and goes in a flash, quickly doused by my determination to set my husband free.
As far as I see it, with his execution so near, I don’t have a choice now.
If I left him there, I could never live with myself. His fate is now fully entwined with my own.
With my City Guard slaves now back in their original positions, I have to think of something new. Within moments, I’ll be beyond the boundary of the city, and heading into unknown territory. All I know is that the REEF is about ten miles outside the city, built somewhere in a large clearing among the toxic woodlands and creepy marshes.
It was built there to ensure that anyone who attempted to escape would be locked within a dark and dangerous world. One populated with the mutated and deformed beasts that roam the wild, and the mutant species of human much rumoured among the streets of Outer Haven: the Shadows.
Still, so little is truly known of such things among the general population. Yet when I was down in the underlands with my brother, it surprised me to discover that the Nameless have teams of hybrids who go out beyond the wall to hunt for meat.
For men and women like that, perhaps the outerlands aren’t quite so perilous. For regular folk, however, who make up the vast majority of those taken to the REEF, the surrounding forests and swamps would mean almost certain death should they be lucky enough to escape the facility.
Although, it probably wouldn’t be so lucky. And the location of the facility, outside of the city rather than within it, was most likely chosen for that very purpose – if someone escapes by some miracle, they won’t be able to contend with the wilds beyond.
Out there, there are a hundred ways to die, each as terrible as what one might go through in the REEF itself.
Truly, once you’re beyond the city walls, you’re as good as dead whatever way you look at it.
I, of course, have some minor experience of such things from my experience outside the southern quarter after my tumble down the underground river. Without my gas mask, I would have died. Without Titus being the one to find me, I would have been executed, or reconditioned. Were I a little further from the wall, I’d have been unlikely to make it back without encountering some terrible beast who’d see me as either a threat to their territory or, more likely, a nice tasty lunch.
I was only a mile or so from the wall then. Now, I’m voluntarily going ten miles beyond it, far deeper into the treacherous world beyond our so-called haven of a city. And even if I can find Adryan and escape with him, we’ll still have the wildlands to navigate and evade.
With my powers, perhaps I’d have a chance. But Adryan? Aside from his powerful intellect, he’s just a normal man. Maybe he’s dead either way you look at it.
No, Brie, shut up! You’re going there, you’re going to extract him, and you’re going to get him back to safety!
My attempt to motivate myself has only a minor effect on the growing feeling of doubt at whether this plan will work. Because even if everything goes well, and I’m able to get Adryan out of there alive, and manage to trek through ten miles of jungle to reach the wall, I’ll still have to find a way back across it.
Last time, Titus was nice enough to stow me away in the trunk of his car and deposit me happily into the southern quarter. This time, I doubt I’ll stumble across him again…
Really, I have no plan at all. In fact, all I’ve probably just done is sentence myself to death, and betray the help that Commander Burns gave me.
Bravo, Brie. Good damn choice…
As my thoughts start their inexorable turn to negativity and scepticism, I feel the van beginning to slow. Then, it stops completely, and I hear a couple of voices from the front, only just audible through the thick hull of the vehicle.
Seconds later, the van kicks into gear once more, and the feel of the ground beneath the wheels changes. From the mostly flat and well kept roads of Outer Haven, the track suddenly grows more bumpy, the vehicle rocking and rolling a little more as we rumble off down the path.
Once again, I’m outside the city…
In my head, the countdown begins. I have ten miles to think up a plan, perhaps 15 minutes worth of plotting time before we reach the facility and I’m immediately sent for reconditioning.
That, I assume, is what will happen. They won’t waste time with me. I’ll be straight out of
the truck and taken to have my head emptied out and refilled with the single directive to obey whatever orders I’m given.
My memories will be wiped and I’ll no longer recognise anyone from my past. I’ll be garbed in a black cloak and sent to join the Stalkers, or perhaps forced into some secret mission to destroy the Nameless from the inside.
That final thought, at least, won’t come true. With Burns in a place of such influence and power, my fate will be quickly passed onto the Nameless, and they’ll surely see me coming.
But regardless, I won’t know anything beyond what I’m told and ordered to do. I will become the very thing I hate most in this world, the very thing I’ve been fighting to protect the people against: an empty vessel, used for nothing but to bolster Cromwell’s designs for this world.
And as that thought permeates my mind, and I realise that I have absolutely no idea about the layout of the REEF, or where Adryan might be, or how exactly I’ll manage to get to him with these two Stalkers escorting me, I know that I’ve made a very grave mistake.
My emotion at imagining Adryan being tortured and killed has just doomed me to the one fate I feared most.
And I can’t help but think that, in so many ways, emotion is a weakness. It makes you do stupid, irrational things. It makes you act out of passion, or fear, or desire, without taking the necessary steps to ensure that you’re doing the right thing.
The sensible thing.
The logical thing.
All I had to do was think of Adryan being tortured, think of him being killed, and I’ve sent myself to the very place I never wanted to go.
I made the snap decision to try to extricate my husband from his cell, without knowing just what I would be facing. And now that I’m thinking more clearly, I know full well that the mission I’ve set myself on has zero chance of success.
And with all that fear and doubt now dominating my mind, I begin to seek another way out. Looking up at the Hawks who remain under my command, I know that they, at least, will offer me a last resort.
If I arrive at the REEF, and find myself in a position I can’t possibly free myself from, and if the Stalkers drag me straight to be reconditioned, and I have no chance of escaping their clutches, then I will have one final option available to me.
Suicide.
And looking at the Hawks, I dive into each of their heads, one after the other, and make sure to set the order deep so that it activates immediately, and without hesitation, when called upon.
If I give the verbal order, I tell them, shoot me dead immediately.
In the end, I’d far rather die than become a slave. And as I sit there, I imagine that, from the feeling of elation I had so recently as my powers suddenly returned, I’m now resigned to see my life ended in only a matter of minutes.
Either by death or reconditioning, I will cease to exist on this earth. And all the hopes and dreams that so briefly fluttered through my mind at the thought of escaping Cromwell’s clutches have now vanished. Now, there’s only darkness in my heart.
Once more, I’ve failed.
I sit there, feeling defeated, my emotions once more serving to deflect my mind from the task.
They got me here in the first place, made me give up my plan to escape the vehicle before we crossed the wall. And now they’re at me again, destroying any positivity that might linger somewhere deep in my mind, the growing feeling of fear and desperation serving to numb me as I wallow in my new failure.
In so many ways, I wish I had no emotion right now. I wish I could just flick a switch and turn off my fear, let my mind fashion some way out of this mess without being assaulted by the relentless thoughts of dread and panic that rise up inside me.
But I can’t. Try as I might, I know I’ve made a fatal error, that my affection and caring for Adryan has cursed me.
To put myself in such harm’s way, without any real plan of what I’m going to do, speaks volumes I suppose. And as the truck crunches over the dirt, moving deeper through the toxic jungle, I realise that I’ve never felt this way before.
I realise, right then, that I must love him.
And that, above all else, sends a fresh shard of pain through me. Pain that I won’t get to explore that love, find out what it really means and where it might lead.
That I’ve found it so late, that the man who I married as part of a sham has truly embedded himself in my heart, only to be lost before I can tell him how I feel.
And sitting there, my eyes grow moist, and I lose myself to a feeling of grief. Because love, while giving such joy, can also administer the most grievous of pain as well.
They say it’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.
I disagree. With my life about to end, and the man I think I love too, I wish I’d never even met him so I could be spared such pain.
My mind no longer seeks out a plan of escape.
I merely sit there, resigned to my fate, considering whether to just give the order now for the Hawks to shoot me dead. I was so foolish to think that I could make my way into the REEF like this. Shake off these Stalkers, find Adryan, escape through the woods.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so reckless?
I shut my eyes and feel an anger join the grief and dread. And behind the lids of my eyes, I think beyond Adryan and to the others I’ll leave behind.
Others that I might have seen again had I not been so stupid, so rash.
Among them, my brother appears in my mind, so clear to my thoughts. And as he does, I remember that I can speak to him, that my powers have returned and with them, our telepathic link.
I picture his face, and see it as if he’s right there in front of me. And with tears gathering, I think of the words to tell him. To tell him I’m about to be turned into a slave. To tell him that I’m sorry for giving him a sister, only for him to lose her so quickly.
And as I think of the words to use, I feel his presence more strongly than ever, and my heart-rate beings to climb at the strange sensation that fills me.
Opening my eyes, I turn to the left, and imagine that he’s right there, in the woods, just outside the van.
He’s moving, rushing, and suddenly stopping. And then, only a second later, so is the van, grinding to a sudden stop on the track.
My heart flutters.
Hope builds again, embers of a dying fire flaring back to life.
And beyond the van, the sound of gunfire begins to call out from the wilderness.
He’s here...
He’s come…
14
The van crunches to a halt on the dirt track, and I feel a weird energy spread through it, as if it’s been disabled by a pulse round.
Along with the crunching tyres, rounds of lead begin to pepper the side of the vehicle, focusing on the front where the two Stalkers sit.
I hear the bullets crack from several weapons on either side of us, hear glass smashing and the two doors ahead opening. I turn my eyes up to the City Guards and see that they’re snatching up their weapons and moving to the rear door, preparing to engage.
“Stop. Don’t move!” I shout.
Both men go rigid against their own will. I can see the battle raging in their heads as they fight against my orders, desperate to do their duty.
I won’t let them. I won’t let them join the fight.
Instead, I call for the Hawk on the left to come forward to me, to lift his weapon and shoot out the mechanism that keeps my wrists bound. He does so, pulling the trigger and causing sparks to fly in the darkness as my cuffs suddenly come loose.
I shake them off and toss them to the metal floor, and quickly rush towards the rear end of the van. Turning my eyes again to the Hawks, I growl for them to ‘stay here and don’t move’, before opening up the back and letting the bright light of the morning sun spill inside.
Immediately, the sound of gunfire grows much louder, filling my ears and coming from the other end of the van.
I look ou
t upon the track, stretching off through the heavy woodland towards the city many miles away in the distance. And just over the treetops, I can still see the tip of the High Tower, its circular metal façade glinting in the bright light.
Hanging above the ground, the toxic mist here is thick. Within mere moments, it begins to seep forward, its tendrils creeping towards the back of the van and inside.
I quickly draw the doors shut, leaving only a crack to see and listen through as the battle rages on.
I can hear perhaps five or six different weapons, pouring forth their deadly discharge, some of them snapping and spewing out lead bullets, others fizzing and buzzing with pulse rounds.
Two of the latter, I know, will belong to the Stalkers, battling against my brother, somewhere hidden among the trees.
He’s come for me, come to save me.
He must have known my path, been passed the information by Commander Burns, guided to this specific spot at this specific time.
And he will have sensed me too, like I did him, known of my presence within the back of the van as we cut our path through the foul woods and towards an even fouler destination.
He has men with him, at least two or three of them. Hybrids, most likely, like him and me, soldiers capable of fighting these Stalkers on an equal footing.
At least, that’s what I hope.
Hidden inside the van, there’s nothing I can do to help. I turn quickly to the Hawks and call: “Gas masks. Do you have gas masks?”
They nod, and with a new order to give one to me, one of them reluctantly draws out a mask from his armour and passes it into my eager grasp.
I snap it up and drag it over my mouth, before opening the rear door a little wider. I drop to the floor, and feel the swamp of mist begin to rise up and attack any exposed flesh on my body, my outfit of pants and a shirt unsuitable to keep the fumes at bay.
Turning again to the Hawks, I order one to remove his black jacket and give it to me, wrapping the anti toxic garment over my body. I take his weapon too, heavy in my arms as I give a final order for them to stay, directing them like loyal dogs.
