by T. C. Edge
I don’t blame them. But I can’t help them either.
So I do little more than glance at them to see that they’re not my man, before rushing straight on to the next cell, swivelling from one side of the corridor to the next on this seemingly unending search.
Upstairs, they might be getting suspicious now. And over in the security area just beyond the cells, the guard behind the barrier, and the two Hawks under our control, might be slipping from our grasp.
All they need to do is break the spell and it will be game over. There’s no other way out of here. No way of escape. If they figure out who Zander really is, then we won’t have a chance of freeing ourselves from this dungeon.
And while Adryan will be given the mercy of execution, Zander will, like me, be turned into a weapon. A terrible, powerful weapon. Two twins with unique gifts, fighting side by side to take down the very cause they work for, they believe in.
More tapping sounds on the metal doors and my voice continues to call.
“Adryan, where are you! Where are you, Adryan?!” I shout out, more desperately now.
Perhaps we’re too late.
Perhaps the Hawk was wrong.
Perhaps, in truth, he’s already been taken to see his sentence carried out. Perhaps coming here has only served to trap my brother and me down here in the darkness, two more lost souls to add to the party.
The place is ringing now.
Ringing with the tapping of knuckles and bony fingers against metal. Almost every door adds to the cacophony, and I don’t know where to look. Turning back and forward, my head begins to spin as I see the desperate faces and staring eyes, wide with tears and fears.
And then, when all seems lost and impossible, I hear my brother calling. But no longer is he calling Adryan’s name.
He’s calling mine…
“Brie! Brie, get down here now!”
His words echo from the long corridor way off behind me. I turn and without a second thought begin to rush, charging down the narrow passage, the tapping of doors following my step as I go, as their occupants pray and wish for me to stop and help them.
None are on my mind now. I reach my brother, sliding to a stop beside him, and find his eyes staring through a small window and into a dank cell right in the depths of the prison. I almost push him aside as I search the interior, and see a forlorn figure sitting on the bench.
My heart almost gives out.
Adryan.
I smash my fist onto the door, and see his eyes turning up to find me. They’re lost, blank, their grey light doused.
“Adryan!” I shout, my eyes watering. “We’re here for you…”
My brother takes my arm and pulls me away from the door. It’s as if he needed me to come and confirm it was him. I suppose that makes sense, seeing as they’ve never actually met. Zander’s knowledge of his appearance will be based only off of second hand information mined from my head.
I’m dragged back as his weapon rises.
He turns the dial and pumps up the power on the pulse rifle, the weapon gathering a force of energy to cut straight through the lock. Pulling the trigger, the red fire sprouts forward, fire that so recently saw off several of Zander’s men, this time seeing to the freedom of my husband.
The lock burns and melts and the door clicks open. I rush forward and kick it so that it swings away from me. My arms rush too, wildly flailing around Adryan’s back, pulling him to his feet, reaching to his cheeks to hold his eyes firm on my own.
I find myself kissing him too, my lips lunging to his, to try to break him free of his stupor, of the strange spell that seems to have engulfed him.
“He’s drugged,” says Zander behind me. “Stand aside.”
Once more, I’m pushed away as Zander withdraws the little device I’ve seen him use in the past to de-paralyse people zapped with immobilisers. Shaped like a pen, he sets the end of the device to Adryan’s neck, and clicks the end. A little buzz ripples through him and his eyes begin to return to life.
“Brie…” he whispers, frowning. “What’s…”
“We’re getting you out of here,” I say, my breath charging from my lungs. “I’m here with Zander.”
His eyes switch to my brother.
“Good to officially meet you, Adryan,” says Zander calmly. “But let’s leave it there for now. We have to get you out immediately.”
I can sense more questions beginning to lift in his eyes, but he holds them back. It’s as if he’s awoken from a dream, or a nightmare, unsure of exactly where he is or what’s going on.
Dressed in a blank, slate grey jumpsuit, I can see the suggestion of blood stains seeping through his clothes, the remnants of the torture he’s no doubt endured before being tossed into this cell to spend his final hours alone.
I dread to think of the scars that have been left, both physical and mental.
“OK, follow me,” says Zander.
With a swift turn of speed, we begin darting back down the passage towards the main corridor, me following behind with Adryan at my side. We reach the crossroad and turn left, the security door off in the distance.
“What’s the plan?” I ask as we go. “How the hell are we getting out of here?”
“Straight up and out,” comes Zander’s answer. “We have no other choice.”
We reach the main security door, the entire prison still ringing with the sounds of banging fists from inside cells. None of whom can be saved.
I spare a final thought before we leave them to their fates, my mind this time calling out the name of W. Malcolm. I wonder if he or she is somewhere back there now, whether they’ve been executed or reconditioned. Perhaps, if not, they’ll be freed now that they know I swapped the blood sample.
I have no confidence in that thought. Even if they’re still alive, and still themselves, then I doubt anyone will see to their release. No one here cares.
Through the large security door we go, plus one captive. The door shuts with a boom, blocking out the tapping on doors and the muted calls. Ahead, the Hawks stand looking upon us, and within the locked booth the other guard does the same.
Zander does a quick check of all of their thoughts to ensure that they remain under his command. Adryan, meanwhile, stares vacantly at one of them in particular, the very Hawk who aided in the capture of his first wife, Amelia.
He remembers him.
He remembers the part he played in the day that changed his life. The day that set Adryan on this path, here to this place. A place he was all set to be left in.
No longer.
“Right,” says Zander, drawing my attention. “No alerts have been sent out. We’re in the clear, so far. But there’s no way out of here that’s quiet, Brie, I hope you understand that. We’ll use the Hawks to create a diversion. And then we’ll take our chance.”
“The Hawks will die,” I say, turning to look at them.
I can see the fear springing up behind their eyes. It’s as though they know they’re under control, and there’s nothing they can do about it. That Zander will send them out to shoot and be shot, to kill and be killed, just so we can escape in the opposite direction.
And they’ll follow his orders regardless.
“They might well,” he says bluntly.
Adryan’s eyes liven a little at the thought. I don’t offer complaint this time. I’ll let them die a hundred times over if it means getting him free of this place.
“And which way do we go? The front is too secure.” I say.
“It is. We’ll send the Hawks forward, and we’ll move to the rear. There will be fewer guards there. We have no choice but to traverse the wall.”
“Drop down the other side?”
He nods.
It’s high. High enough to break a leg or neck if you land awkwardly. But then again, I suppose we have no other choice.
“Let’s go then,” I say.
My brother smiles for the first time, seeing the soldier develop in me.
“Stay behind
with Adryan. And take this.”
He hands me his sidearm, a regular pistol, and keeps hold of his pulse rifle.
“Right then,” he says, turning to the door. “Let’s get out of this hellhole.”
18
Up the swirling stairs we go, leaving the guard in the booth behind. With the Hawks at the front, and Zander at their backs, and then myself and Adryan at the rear, we reach the passage on the ground floor of the building, searching for any other guards.
There are none.
We press on quickly, darting towards the door. Reaching it, Zander looks to the two Hawks, and sets the order firmly in their minds.
The order to distract.
The order to attack.
Just outside, two guards will be stationed. Beyond them, there will be dozens of others, dotted here and there, ready to spring into action when we make our move.
And now’s the time.
Before he opens the door, the Hawks’ gas masks are taken. One is passed to me, the other to Adryan. We both stow them away in our clothes, ready for later use.
Then, opening the door, the Hawks step into the harsh daylight, and immediately pass by the two guards and begin moving straight for the far end of the courtyard where the front gate sits, locked tight.
The guards watch them go as my brother steps between them. Still dressed as a Stalker, he flashes his eyes upon them both, one after the other, and takes command of two more men. These aren’t Hawks, their vibrating, energetic movements suggesting that it’s Dasher blood that fills their veins.
Weak minds, both of them, and easily taken by Zander.
Two more men for the fight. Two more men to add to the diversion.
Within only seconds of appearing outside, they both leave their posts and begin hurrying after the Hawks, their paths diverting a little to the right.
From the shadows of the doorway, Adryan and I stay hidden, looking out as the guards peppering the yard begin to take note of the strange activity of their colleagues.
As their attention turns to the Hawks and Dashers, Zander gives Adryan and me a nod to tell us it’s time to go. Following him, we begin rushing out of the door and to the left, slipping along the side of the building. Our appearance is quickly noticed, a guard up on the wall looking down upon us and calling out: “Where are you taking those prisoners?!”
Zander doesn’t answer.
Instead, he rushes faster, and so do we, and soon we’re rounding the side of the fortress-like warehouse built for death, and the guard up above is raising his weapon to us and calling louder.
And behind, over in the square, other guards are doing the same, now realising that something is very, very wrong.
They’re right, and just at that moment, as the guard on the wall gets set to fire, the terrible sounds of battle begin to blare in the courtyard, the four men under Zander’s command now firing freely upon their brethren.
Gunfire rattles, and pulse rounds buzz, and on top of it all, a loud alarm begins to call out across the entire facility, drawing in more guards from its various corners.
It all happens so fast that I barely notice when Zander sends a round of energy up to the guard on the wall, taking his life. He calls for us to run, and as a three we do so, sprinting now with all we have towards the rear of the complex, the high wall of the cell-block to our left, and the perimeter wall of the REEF itself to our right.
Along the wall, more guards appear, readying themselves to fire. My brother is too fast for them, dashing forward into more promising positions and taking aim before they can counter him. More lives tumble as he cuts his way through, clearing a path for Adryan and me to follow.
My own firearm remains primed and focused on the path ahead. My head swivels regularly behind, turning to see if we’re being followed as we rush between the two tall walls. In the background, the clattering of gunfire thrashes in the air, the four guards under Zander’s command doing everything they can to offer the distraction we need.
Yet, very quickly, they’ll be disabled and killed.
We have little time to waste.
My brother knows the way. He knows it from the time spent in the mind of the Hawk, guiding us towards a supposed weak point at the rear of the base. But more guards continue to block our way, hindering our progress, and for the first time, I’m forced to use my weapon.
They come from the front, a small troop of four rushing in ahead of us. Two are Dashers, speeding in, zipping off from the flanks of their colleagues who fire from a distance.
Zander stops and reaches back, shoving me behind some cover against the building, into a small alcove in its façade providing momentary peace from the fresh surge of gunfire driving its way towards us.
I drag Adryan with me, and shout at him to stay hidden. Then, with no choice but to join my brother in the fight, I activate my Dasher powers, feel my muscles spill over with energy, and rush to join the fray.
I’m greeted by the sight of my brother in battle.
So skilled is he, so practiced and primed, that he dominates those before him, sliding between gunfire without breaking sweat and quickly taking down those around him. Only the Dashers, their speed almost matching his own, are able to offer any sort of combat.
Yet while their speed is comparable to his, his eyesight presents an advantage. He sees them coming, reacts before they can administer a blow or send a slug into his body. Turning left and right, forwards and backwards, it’s as if there are several of him, his body defended from every direction.
However, even the most powerful can be overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers. And so it seems to happen, his attention spread too thin, split by too many foes. I’m forced to act, to join him, my legs churning against the concrete ground as I propel myself into the centre of it all.
Joining the maelstrom, I drop my first foe with a blow to the head using the butt of my weapon. The second presents more of a challenge, coming from behind, only caught by my Hawk-eyes as he appears so quickly from the rear.
Swivelling to face him, I instinctively lift my weapon and fire, spraying the air with bullets that, with my Dasher powers enabled, move more casually from the barrel of my gun. My foe, a Dasher himself, is able to see the first few coming, but not the last.
It connects with his torso, finding a gap in his armour, the burning bullet burying itself into his flesh. Immediately, the man’s face lights with pain, and he tumbles back to the ground, his hands reaching for the wound to stem the flow of blood.
He’s the first man I’ve ever shot. I don’t think he’ll be the last.
I have no time to contemplate such things. Nor am I able to figure out whether or not I’d have finished him off. In the end, I don’t need to.
With his own foes vanquished, my brother appears from nowhere, panting faintly as he lifts his pulse gun to the man’s chest and blows a far larger hole straight through him. The guard drops, and Zander turns to me.
“Where’s Adryan?”
I lift my finger to the alcove he left me in.
Seconds later, he’s zipped to fetch him and brought him back to me, our path now filled with a mixture of fresh corpses and the more fortunate unconscious guards who dared try to stop us.
“Up there. Go!”
His finger aims for the nearest watchtower right in the far corner of the base. Utilising our powers once more, we move there with as much speed as we can muster, the battle at the front of the facility now beginning to cease as our mentally oppressed allies are overcome.
With Adryan being rushed along by Zander, we come up on the watchtower in no time, its previous occupant already dismembered by my brother during the previous skirmish. Grabbing my wrist, he pulls me towards the ladder and begins shoving me up. I climb to the top as Adryan goes next, Zander bringing up the rear.
Reaching the summit, I get a look out over the wall and into the woods. They’re so close, the toxic mist lingering nearby as the base of the nearest trees, their vines almost close enough to tickle t
he outer façade of the facility.
Looking over the edge of the wall, I feel a jab of concern at the drop. Twenty feet of freefall to the floor, with a metre or so or concrete path right at the base of the wall.
As I look over, I’m soon joined by Adryan and Zander, the former still appearing slightly dazed by what’s happening, the latter as alert as it’s possible to be. My brother scans the outer edge of the wall and the concrete below, and quickly surmises what I myself had come to conclude.
“We’ll have to jump beyond the concrete. The earth looks softer on the other side. I’ll go first, and steady your landings.”
He doesn’t wait to debate our other options. There aren’t any.
Instead, he merely flings his frame straight over, whooshing through the air and landing several metres below in the swirling mist. I hear a splash as he hits the earth, and little else.
The gunfire behind has stopped. Now, only voices are rising, figures looming once more as a fresh force of guards begins to gather and search. Their eyes catch us up on the wall, and the chattering renews, bullets being spat in our direction, pulses of energy eating away at the little walls of the watchtower.
We have no time. I push Adryan to the edge, and shout “jump” into his ear.
He doesn’t delay, but isn’t able to jump far, his legs and body too weak after days of malnourishment and torture to launch himself as far as Zander did.
I hold my breath as he glides ungraciously from the summit, only just landing on the other side of the concrete as Zander awaits with outstretched arms, slowing his landing as best he can.
Then it’s my turn.
I duck low as a few bullets wiz and crack, and with a final leap, soar into the air and quickly hit the deck, my energy sufficient to fling me towards the softer earth beyond the wall, and into my brother’s waiting arms.
I hit the ground with a shudder that runs up through my body and bones, my ankle close to snapping as it squashes into the soft mud, slipping inwards. My brother is strong enough to halt my speed and soften the blow, catching and steadying me as we lock eyes.
