by T. C. Edge
I regret the comment immediately.
“Sorry,” I say. “I know you’re just doing your job.”
The man nods but doesn’t speak. Behind his eyes, I can see him searching for the truth, some fragment of his past. It’s no use. There’s nothing there anymore.
“Right then, all’s well that ends well,” says Rycard. “Come on, Brie, you should be going home. You know it’s not safe around these parts.”
He leads me away from the Con-Cop and over to the other side of the market. When we get there, he stops around a corner, his face crinkled into a look of admonishment.
“Brie, what are you playing at?” he asks forcefully. “Don’t give me that look, I saw what you mouthed to that man. How did you think he was going to react?”
“I know…it was stupid. I just hate those guys. They’re brain-dead.”
“They’re here to protect you, Brie. Cut them some slack.”
I try to not roll my eyes. It’s too hard. I fail miserably.
Rycard shakes his head at me.
“You do realise that you’d have been zapped in the back if I didn’t intervene? And you know what that means?”
“They’d take me to holding…”
“Exactly. They’d take you to the edge of town, throw in you in a cell, and work out whether or not to let you go. I’ve seen people turned into Con-Cops, or worse, for a lot less.”
I huff, not believing him. I mean, I know the Consortium are strict, but seriously…
“How did you see me anyway?”
“Brie, I see everything,” he answers matter-of-factly. “You need to screw your head on properly. It’s dangerous around the streets now, and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself by acting stupid.”
“FINE! Jeez, Rycard, I get it. I’m just in a funny mood, that’s all.”
“Well, as long as that’s all it is. Look, I need to get back on duty. Can I trust you to get back home on your own?”
I sigh and shut my eyes, take a deep breath, and tell myself not to rise to his taunt. When I open my eyes again, there’s a little smile on his face.
“Good,” is all he says. “I’ll tell Sophie you said ‘hi’.”
Before I can remember how to be polite, and thank him for his intervention, he’s gone.
Why is it that every time I leave the academy, something crazy happens?
Thinking it better that I just return to my room and never leave, I begin making my way back again. Hardly the most successful of walks, but at least it got me out of that damn room and away from Tess’s snug smugness for a little while.
It doesn’t take me too long to navigate my way home. As I go, the light starts to fade as a heavy blanket of cloud swamps the fading daylight, bringing about a premature darkness.
I make certain to check all the toxicity posts I pass to ensure that they remain a vibrant green, which they do. Still, some people consider the clouds a harbinger of an impending deluge of acid rain, so quickly retreat home.
I see a couple looking anxiously to the skies, their faces scarred and burnt from previous exposure. They must have been caught out real bad before.
Soon enough, I’m walking back down Brick Lane, the academy about half way down. The little residents and shops are closing up for the night, the darkness now bringing a deathly silence to the streets. I see a couple of the older kids from the academy step over the threshold, and make sure to hide beneath the cover of my hood again.
If I can avoid it, I’d rather Mrs Carmichael didn’t know about my little prison break.
Once the coast is clear, I creep back into the academy, shed and hang my coat, and make a hasty return to the second floor by way of the winding staircase.
When I reach the long corridor, I see a little figure hovering outside my room. I take a few paces forward and the cute button nose and baby blue eyes of Abby come into view.
“Abby, what are you doing up here?” I ask her. “You know you’re not meant to go above the ground floor.”
“I…um nothing,” she says, dipping her eyes and hurrying straight past me.
I watch her go, shuffling on short spindly legs towards the stairs and circling her way down.
Odd.
I open the door to my room, expecting to find Tess inside. She isn’t, the room empty and her bed a mess. She must be in the shower, making use of all the hot water, no doubt, before anyone else can take advantage.
I shut the door and move towards my bed. Unlike Tess, I like to make my bed impeccably, rarely happy until there are no wrinkles in sight.
But there are. Towards the top, by the pillow, it’s obvious the bed has been tampered with.
I step forward and pull back the blanket. And beneath it, lying on the sheet, see a letter.
In the silence of the room, I reach down and pick it up. It’s an old fashioned type, not the electronic notes that are usually delivered by the drones. This one’s made from paper, and can only have been hand-delivered.
My fingers curiously open it up, ripping at the edges and revealing a folded paper note within. I draw it from its sheath, and read the interior.
The first words send a strange chill down my spine.
I’ve been watching you, Brie.
I read on, my eyes scanning the sparse words written in old ink.
I’d like to meet you, alone.
Come to the shelter in your district at midnight.
Don’t tell anyone, not even your friend Tess.
And don’t be afraid, Brie. It isn’t me you need to fear.
Holding the note in my hands, I hear a footfall outside the door. Then, suddenly, it opens wide and Tess appears in her bathrobe.
“You’re back,” she says, drying her hair with a towel. “How was your walk?”
I don’t answer.
She rounds on me.
“Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Her eyes find the letter in my hands. “What’s that?”
The words within echo in my ears.
Don’t tell anyone, not even your friend Tess…
“Erm, nothing,” I say, folding the letter back up and slipping it into my pocket.
She looks at me quizzically.
“Is something wrong? You’re acting weird.”
“No…no, of course not. I just had a run in with another Con-Cop.”
“Oh God, not them. What the hell happened?”
I let out a little breath as she turns and takes a seat on her bed. It gives me an opportunity to shift my pose and quickly shove the empty envelope beneath my blanket.
“He almost zapped me,” I say. “But Rycard was there to help…”
“Rycard! You saw him again?! I knew I should have come. Right, come on, details please. Tell me all about it.”
I settle more comfortably on my bed, as Tess does the same on hers.
And while my mouth begins recounting my latest run-in with the authorities, my mind begins working on something else.
Because in only a few hours, I need to sneak out once more.
Dangerous or not, I need to know who sent this letter…
19
Come on Tess, fall asleep…fall asleep.
Most nights she’d have been out long ago. Early mornings and long days of hard graft will do that to a person.
Recently, however, she’s turned sloth-like, keeping to her bed for the most part and only leaving it when it comes time to eat or go to the bathroom. Too many days off have turned her idle, her lie-ins growing longer and longer.
And now, it’s half past eleven at night, she still she’s crowing on about how much she wants to go to Inner Haven again. Really, it was my fault for mentioning Rycard. Now, she’s got it in mind to go about marrying an Enhanced.
“Those eyes, Brie, those eyes. So deep and gorgeous. I wonder if we can get in touch with Sophie, maybe she can put in a good word for us, see about getting us into one of those bachelor balls for the Enhanced.”
I can’t help but bite.
/> “Um, no thanks! We have very different ideas about that place, Tess. I still can’t believe you want to go back.”
“Nor can I really. There’s just an allure to the place that drew me in.”
“Or…you’re just not remembering properly because of all the apple wine you drank. Oh, and the fact that you’ve got a major crush on a Hawk. Who’s married, in case you forgot.”
“Duh. I know he’s married. But I’m sure there are lots of other Hawks who aren’t. Do you think I’d be suitable to marry up?”
Sheesh. Where’s all this sudden interest in marriage come from?
“Tess, any man in this city would be lucky to have you,” I tell her.
The room is dark, but I can imagine she’s probably grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Aw, thanks Brie. You really think?”
“Yes,” I say, a little more bluntly this time. “Now stop fishing for compliments, and go to sleep!”
She sighs wistfully across the room, and I can hear her changing position, her bed creaking.
Please get to sleep…
I check my watch, clicking a button on its side to make the face glow.
Damn it. 11.36.
For a few moments the rooms goes silent. I pray for the sound of snoring.
My prayers aren’t answered. Instead, Tess’s voice rises into the room again, still buoyant and wide-awake. It’s obvious she’s not going to get to sleep for a while yet.
Forget this.
I slip out of bed and begin pulling on my winter clothes. Across the room, a side-light turns on next to Tess’s bed. Her eyes glare at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Going go the common room,” I tell her. “I’m gonna do some reading.”
“At this time of night?”
“I’m not tired,” I say, pulling on a jumper. “Don’t mind me, Tess. You go back to your daydreams.”
“Then why the boots?”
I shrug, thinking on the spot.
“My feet are cold…”
She watches me curiously as I leave the room, but doesn’t have a chance to say anything as I pull the door shut as quietly as I can.
Outside, the corridor is dark, no sliver of light visible beneath Mrs Carmichael’s door. I hurry my step downstairs to the hall, grab my jacket, and without delay creep straight back out onto the narrow confines of Brick Lane.
I check my watch. It’s quarter to midnight.
Just enough time to get there.
With my hood over my head, I begin moving south, working my way through the tighter lanes that wind through this part of town. There’s no one around, the streets clear and dark, all of the neon advertising displays and holograms put to bed for the night.
It’s a strange contrast to the bright, multi-coloured days. So rarely have I been out at night that the city seems quite alien to me. There’s a sinister, foreboding feel in the air. Every lane, every road I know so well now seems dark and dangerous.
I know I need to be extra careful. Mrs Carmichael finding out is the least of my worries. After the recent spate of attacks, and with another thought to be imminent, there’s a curfew on the streets. If I should be caught, I’ll find myself in holding. It’s the last place I want to be.
I’m vigilant as I go. Occasionally, I spy Con-Cops on patrol, or have to duck under cover as a sentry drone buzzes overhead. Thankfully, the latter are easy to see coming, their lights bright in the dark and visible from a distance.
The Con-Cops, however, are more difficult to predict. Dressed in their dark costumes, they blend in well with the night, creeping about in search of stragglers.
But the shelter isn’t far. And with only minutes to go before midnight, I see it awaiting me, its solid metal doors giving passage into an underground bunker. It’s one of the many across the city that provides refuge from the toxic rain. When the skies are clear, however, they’re almost always empty.
Nearing it now, I take a deep breath and try to compose myself. There’s a pinch of fear inside me, adrenaline pumping through my veins. And yet, beyond the nerves is something more powerful: intrigue, curiosity. I need to know who this person is.
Reaching the doors – they’re always left open, in case of emergency – I twist the handle and open them wide. They’re thick and heavy and low to the ground, forcing me to lower my head a little as I duck my way in.
I stop on the threshold, and look down the short flight of stairs into the darkness. I’ve been here several times before, caught on my way home from a job and without suitable protection from a sudden storm. I know the interior well. It’s dank and smells of stale air, nothing but a cave with brick walls, a few old seats, a wooden table, and a separate bathroom for those who need to stay down here for a while.
It’s also not a bad place to find a new book or two, a little stack of them on the table to help pass the time.
As I stand there, staring in, I let my voice whisper into the darkness.
“Hello? Is anyone in here?”
I hear no answer.
I ask again, and the same silence follows.
Shutting the door behind me, I creak down the old metal stairs and flick a switch at the bottom. The shelter glows a sickly shade of yellow, a single light fixed to the ceiling and casting shadows from the table and chairs.
I quickly look around and find that the place is empty.
Then, seconds later, I hear a grinding sound above, the metal door being pulled open. I freeze on the spot and watch.
Slowly, emerging from the top of the stairs, I see the shape of a man come into view. He wears dark clothing, his jacket rugged and equipped, like mine, with a hood that hovers over his head.
I feel myself stepping back a little at the sight, and wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake.
“It was you,” I whisper. “You’re the one who’s been following me?”
He doesn’t advance on me. His body language isn’t threatening. I watch as his hands lift up to his hood, and pull back, his face revealed to the light.
Eyes of hazel, brooding and intense, stare out from beneath low-slung eyebrows. His hair is dark brown and long enough to be wavy, a few coils hanging over his forehead, the rest swept to the back of his head and down his neck.
His features are symmetrical, handsome, his jaw stiff and tightly clenched. Above his left eye, I see a little scar, the only real blemish upon his youthful face.
And it’s his age that’s most striking. He’s a young man, little more than a boy, perhaps about the same age as me.
Most of all, it’s what helps put me at ease. Despite the penetrating nature of his gaze, there appears to be no malice in him.
As he takes a small step forward, he speaks for the first time. His voice, like his face, tells of his youth. Neither shallow nor deep, it has a quality I like.
“I’m sorry for the subterfuge, Brie,” he says. “And for what happened in the alley. I only wanted to talk, as I do now. I hope you didn’t hurt your head too badly?”
His eyes dart to the little bit of medical tape still attached to my forehead.
“Not at all,” I say. “It’s just a scratch.”
His fingers feel for the scar above his left eye.
“Let’s hope you’re not left with one of these.”
He smiles at me, his eyes brightening, and comes a little closer. Moving directly under the light above, I see his irises even more clearly now. There’s a depth to them that appears in contrast to his youth.
I wonder if he’s just some admirer, some opportunist. A young man who saw me on the big screen and wanted to meet me.
“You said in your letter that you’ve been watching me. What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry if the letter was confusing, or made you nervous. That’s not my intention. When I saw you on the big screen, I knew…”
He stops short, cutting off his own voice. Then I speak again.
“Tell me who you are,” I demand.
He steps a little clos
er. His eyes grow deeper, scanning me in an unnatural manner. I’ve been looked at that way before.
By Rycard.
“You’re a Hawk?” I gasp.
He shakes his head.
“I’m more than just a Hawk.”
And then it dawns on me. Then it becomes clear.
“A hybrid?” I whisper. “You’re one of the Nameless?”
“I am,” he says quietly. “I have been for many years now.”
“So…you have no name?”
He smiles and shakes his head.
“That isn’t what the word Nameless means. I have a name, but it wasn’t the one I was born with. We take our own names on to shield our identities.”
“And yours is?”
“Zander. My name’s Zander.”
I raise my eyes.
“You had all the names in the world to choose from and you chose Zander?” I quip.
“What’s wrong with Zander?”
“I’m teasing,” I tell him, feeling oddly at ease in his presence.
Still, he sees fit to present an excuse.
“Look, I was only a kid when I joined up, OK. It was the coolest name I could think of.”
He steps in closer, and extends a hand. I take it, our hands wrapping up tight for a moment before being cast apart.
“A pleasure to finally meet you, Brie Melrose. You know, you’re just what I expected…”
He moves back again, sinking into a dimmer quarter of the room, and pulls up a chair. I do the same, still wondering what the hell is going on.
“So, you’ve been with the Nameless for years?”
He nods.
“And what have I got to do with all this? Is this because I went to Inner Haven? Honestly, I don’t know anything…”
“It’s not about that,” he cuts in. “I’m here to tell you that you’re in danger, Brie. You may not be safe back at the academy.”
“But I told you, I don’t know anything.”
“It’s not about what you know, or don’t know. It’s about who you are.”
“Who I am? But I’m…no one.”
He shakes his head.
“No, Brie…you’re not. You’re so much more than you realise.”
