by Jacob Rayne
Bennett had brought in a decapitated body from a crime scene.
Nicol had watched as surgeons grafted Laverick’s head to the body so skilfully it wasn’t apparent that the two didn’t belong together.
When they had finished, he begun.
It was nerve-wracking stuff, but after a solid month of work, he had Laverick ready to take his first breath with his new lungs.
He closed his eyes, muttered a fervent prayer, and pressed the button on the computer.
Nothing happened.
Nicol shook his head with dismay when he saw that his months of work seemed to have been in vain.
His head dropped into his hands in utter despair.
He began to weep at the thought of everything he’d endured ending in failure.
A strange gasping sound from across the room made him look up.
The noise repeated as Laverick’s chest rose.
Laverick’s eyelids flew open.
He let out a scream of utter terror, raised his hands up to his face to defend himself from an unseen attacker.
‘It’s ok, Dr Laverick,’ Nicol said, smiling at him kindly.
‘What? Where are those maniac kids?’
Laverick’s hands dropped.
His face bore the most confused expression that Nicol had ever seen.
Then the penny seemed to drop.
Laverick let out a crestfallen groan and put his head into his hands. ‘Oh no, Dr Nicol, please tell me you didn’t do what I think you’ve done.’
‘I managed to track down Marsha Walker.’
Laverick shook his head, despairing, when he realised what had happened.
‘And we managed to take Josephine Bull into our care. I opened up her noggin and finally learned your secrets.’
Laverick sat in a stunned silence, staring at the floor.
‘I’d just like to say that, having seen the finished products, I am in utter awe of your work now. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say that to you, but really it is something truly impressive. I am in your debt.’
‘You stupid bastard,’ Laverick snapped. ‘What’s dead should stay dead, haven’t you learnt anything from my idiotic meddling?’
‘There is nothing stupid about you or your work, Dr Laverick. You are a genius. And now, with my help, you will live forever. And together, we can make thousands of digital children.’
Laverick’s expression darkened.
A murderous look appeared in his eye.
One hand gripped the edge of the table, the fingers moving but stiff, uncoordinated, like a monkey using tools for the first time.
He pulled himself up, standing on legs that threatened to crumple beneath him.
His chest heaved with the exertion.
Nicol watched, awestruck, as Laverick staggered towards him.
It seemed even Laverick himself was unsure of what he was going to do next.
Then, without warning, Laverick’s shoulders tensed.
Before Nicol could react, Laverick’s bony fist was flying towards him.
There was an audible crack and Nicol fell back, clutching his nose.
Through the tears that began to blur his vision, Nicol saw that drops of blood had begun to fall on the pristine green carpet.
‘I won’t be a part of it,’ Laverick said. ‘Now kill me again. One life is enough.’
Nicol shook his head. ‘I will be doing this with or without you, Dr Laverick. But don’t you think your expertise will help to make the process safer? You can share what you have learnt from the previous generation of children.’
‘I want nothing to do with it.’
‘What would Martin think of it?’
Laverick paused at the door, his hand on the handle.
The right corner of his mouth twitched.
He turned his head for a second, giving Nicol a truly venomous look.
‘Martin is dead. You know that. You saw his body in the freezer. Please never say his name again.’
Nicol faltered for a second upon seeing the murderous expression on the revived doctor’s face.
‘Martin would want you to do it,’ he said, ignoring Laverick’s warning.
Laverick grunted like a wild animal and hurled himself across the room onto Nicol, who was attempting to regain his feet.
Laverick’s eyes were wide and wild, his mouth set in a grim parody of a smile.
His hands were pale claws that wrapped around Nicol’s throat and began to squeeze with terrifying force.
‘I told you never to speak his name again,’ Laverick hissed, spittle flying from his mouth.
Nicol saw black spots blooming in front of his eyes, like the tape running out on an old film projection.
His chest heaved, struggling for the breath Laverick’s hands were denying it.
Then Nicol was coughing and spluttering as air once more filled his lungs.
The attack was over as suddenly as it had begun.
Nicol looked up with startled eyes to see Bennett standing over Laverick, holding a black, palm-sized device.
‘Jax managed to get this up and running,’ Bennett beamed.
Laverick was snoring on the ground, curled up in the foetal position.
‘Good job,’ Nicol said, rubbing his neck which still bore two red handprints.
‘The fuck happened?’
‘Let’s just say he wasn’t pleased to be working on the digital children again.’
‘Well, now this device is paired up properly he won’t have a choice. He is our puppet now and he will do exactly as we programme him to.’
Part 4: A Deadly burden
4.1
Davey felt a little overwhelmed by the information King Solomon was spitting at him.
The King’s white eye seemed to stare balefully into him, seeing the real him beneath all this skin and bone.
‘You know why Reverend Cross has to die, don’t you, Davey lad?’ Solomon said, a grim smile on his lips.
‘Yes. He sounds like a very bad man.’
‘To put it lightly,’ Solomon said. ‘He is an absolute fiend. And it was he who did this to me.’ His gnarled finger tapped the X branded into his forehead.
‘So is all this just for your revenge?’
Solomon shook his head. ‘I’m not going to lie, that’s one motivating factor. But more importantly I am concerned that he is going to make a move on us. His men have been spotted lurking around the outskirts of the Freelands more often than I would like. And they are creeping ever closer. But, if we take him out first, his followers will be like sheep without a shepherd.’
‘Why don’t you just go steaming in, guns blazing, and take them all down?’
‘I am going to show you something now which may change your impression of me. But please understand that I have done this for the good of my people.’
‘What is it?’ Davey said.
‘And you mustn’t tell a soul of this. Or else we can no longer be friends.’
‘I won’t.’
Solomon led him to the armoury, took a sneaky look around him.
Max was there but no one else was around.
‘All these guns,’ Solomon said, shaking his head, a sad smile on his lips.
He pulled one of the assault rifles down.
Loaded it.
Fired it.
Nothing happened.
He picked another one at random, did the same.
Again an empty clicking sound.
He invited Davey to try one too.
Again nothing happened.
‘The illusion of safety,’ Solomon said, smiling sadly. ‘All these fucking guns and only a couple of hundred bullets.’
Davey’s mouth fell open. His face dropped as he looked back to Solomon.
‘Anyone coming in here would – barring our strength in numbers and the bladed weapons we possess – have a good chance of taking over.’
‘Shit,’ Davey said.
‘So now I’m sure you can see why it is of the utmost im
portance that Reverend Cross dies before he decides to make an attack on our proud community.’
Davey nodded, marvelling at how well Solomon and his closest guards had bluffed their way into a position of power.
It was terrifying how easily it could come crashing down if anyone called them on it.
‘So why does it have to be me?’ Davey said.
‘You have already killed. From the stories of your journey to meet me I know you have brains, guts and can think on your feet. All of which are necessary if you are to get close to Cross. Will you do it, Davey lad?’
‘Yes. Just tell me what I need to do.’
‘To be completely upfront with you I have sent men in to take Cross out before and they have never returned. Whether they have been killed or have chosen to remain under his protection is unclear at this stage. For all I know they may still be undercover, waiting for their opportunity, but I doubt it somehow.’
‘This is a bit of a headfuck.’
‘I know. And I understand you may need to think about it, but time is of the essence here. Really it would be best if you went over there in the next few days.’
‘I’ll go tonight.’
Solomon nodded, smiled, cupped the back of Davey’s head in his huge palm. He pressed their foreheads together so they were eye to eye. ‘I cannot thank you enough.’
‘I just hope I make it back in one piece.’
‘You will. I have the utmost faith in you.’
Solomon moved over to the armoury and stomped his foot on the floor to the right of the wall of guns.
A hollow thump sounded. Solomon nodded to himself and slid back a section of wooden flooring.
He pulled out a gun.
Solomon handed it to Davey, noting his furrowed brow, and said, ‘He has metal detectors everywhere as he is paranoid of being executed. This is your best chance of getting in.’
‘Won’t the guards search me?’
‘Yes. And then you give them this without argument, gaining a little of their trust.’
Davey was stumped. ‘Then how the hell am I supposed to kill him?’
‘Ah I’m sure you’ll figure that part out on your own, Davey lad. But this should get you started.’
He pulled out a metal box, slid the lid back and pulled out a crucifix on a chain.
‘And what use is this going to be?’ Davey said, slowly growing more angry at the shambles of a mission on which he was about to embark.
‘It is of no practical use, but it will at least make it seem you are of the same faith as Cross.’
Davey shook his head. ‘I don’t fancy my chances.’
‘You escaped the Cullsmen. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of people I have met who can say the same thing. Believe in yourself, Davey lad, and I’m sure you’ll be surprised what you can achieve.’
‘Can’t someone come with me?’
‘No. If they see any of us escorting you the game is up. You need to make the journey on your own.’
‘Can I take food with me?’
‘Yes, but make sure you have consumed it before you get to their camp. If he senses you’ve come from here you are in real trouble. Now you need to think of a credible cover story. Escaping the Cullsmen will work, but maybe say you’ve wandered around a while, trying to keep yourself to yourself. He loves a loner, since he is one himself.’
‘Ok.’
‘If I were you I’d loop round the outskirts of the city and approach that way, rather than heading straight out from here. His guards will spy you a mile off and you’ll be in deep shit before you even get to the perimeter.’
Davey didn’t know what to say.
He felt totally overwhelmed by the thought of what he was about to do.
True, he had outwitted and outrun the Cullsmen but this seemed an altogether different kettle of fish.
He felt safe under King Solomon’s protection and the idea of being alone again terrified him.
‘I will give you as much ammunition as I can spare, to get you to their camp in one piece. But as I said earlier, you will need to surrender your gun when you get there.’
Max greeted a visitor, taking something from him before thanking him loudly.
Max handed Davey a rucksack. ‘There’s two days’ worth of food in there. That should be more than enough to get you there. If I were you I’d eat it before you get within shouting distance of their walls.’
Davey nodded.
It was all about denying that he was from the Freelands.
‘Won’t they smell the steam on me?’ Davey said, noting the sickly sweet smell that clung to his clothes and hair and skin.
‘Possibly, but your best route to their village is through the garbage mountains. The smell from there should easily overpower that of the steam.’
‘I see. That sounds great, by the way.’
Davey’s sarcasm was not lost on King Solomon.
‘When you return here having killed Cross, you will be given a hero’s welcome and you will be treated like royalty,’ Solomon promised. ‘A few days of discomfort for a lifetime of luxury. Personally I think it’s worth it.’
‘Then why don’t you go and kill him then?’ Davey said.
Solomon laughed. ‘The reasons are manifold, young warrior. Firstly, his men would recognise me a mile off and would gun me down from their watch towers before I even got to the village. Second, even if I did manage to do the impossible and get to Cross, it would start a gang war that I don’t think we’d have much chance of winning. All the people here would be in danger. You are still new to our ways, so it isn’t obvious you are one of us yet. You could still pull off the exiled youth routine.’
Davey nodded. ‘If I die mind I’m going to come back and haunt the shit out of you.’
‘I wouldn’t expect anything less, Davey lad,’ Solomon grinned, then pulled him into a bear hug that threatened to crush his ribs into his lungs. He kissed his forehead and patted him hard on the back. ‘Be safe, my friend. And do us proud.’
A shiver slid down Davey’s spine as he passed through the outer boundary of the Freelands.
He wasn’t sure if it was because he was moving away from the many bonfires or because the reality that he was once more out here on his own had sunk in, but he reckoned it was more likely the latter.
The darkness seemed absolute out here away from the fires and the steam and the hooting and celebrations.
He felt like he was headed out of heaven into purgatory, on his way to hell, and he wondered what he had done to deserve such a fate.
The gun felt heavy against his right leg.
It was a reassuring weight, but it was tiring the limb a little.
Still, he was loathe to take it off, in case he needed it.
Thirst overcame him.
He had plenty of water but he didn’t know how much the journey was going to take out of him, so he sipped it carefully.
The asphalt under his feet was scorched and cracked. Greyed out strands of weeds poked through the cracks.
He heard a low moaning in the distance as he moved into the darkness, towards the floodlights which shone far ahead of him.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was headed out towards his death.
4.2
As Davey got further from the sanctuary of the Freelands, the sweet smell of the steam and the seemingly-perpetual bonfires faded, replaced with the sickly stench of rotting garbage and decaying flesh.
He’d heard that the city’s outer limits were even worse than its streets, and visiting them alone after nightfall was something that he was already beginning to regret.
Still, it would provide him with a life of luxury when he returned.
If he returned.
He cursed himself for these negative thoughts.
Of course I’ll make it.
If I can survive the cull I can survive anything.
There were flashes off to his right, towards the city.
Gunshots, it seemed.
He longed for the relative safety and comfort of the Freelands.
Shrill screams echoed in the distance.
‘What the hell was I thinking?’ Davey muttered to himself.
The gun felt light and inconsequential in his hand.
He felt something brush against his foot.
Looked down to see a rat that was almost as long as his leg.
Cursing, he lashed out, kicking it onto one of the split bags of rubbish.
It turned and hissed at him.
For a horrible second he thought he was going to be attacked by the horrendous fucking thing, but then it turned tail and ran.
The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees as the wind hit him hard enough to knock him back a few steps.
He could hear something moving in the garbage piles on either side of him.
There were tales of mutations outside the city, caused by the run off from the chemical factories in the industrial sector to the north.
Anything was possible in this world, Davey thought.
He hoped it wasn’t true, but prepared himself for the worst.
His every footstep seemed to squelch and push more stinking liquid into his shoes.
It felt like he was walking through a latrine yet, somehow, the smell was gradually worsening.
His peripheral vision picked up movement on his right hand side and he ducked, fearing attack.
Something landed with a thud on the garbage bags.
‘Piss on my carpet willya,’ a furious voice shouted.
Davey looked up and saw a grimacing city worker, clad in the regulation grey overalls.
He cursed a little more before booting the bag and shuffling off into the gloom.
With a start, Davey realised that something was alive in the bag.
It was writhing and making horrid pained noises.
Though he didn’t really want to see what it was, he felt sorry for it, imprisoned in the plastic tomb like that.
Both oxygen and comfort would be scarce in there.
He gently placed a hand on the top of the bag, his intention to console whatever was inside.
His other hand pulled his knife.
He cut gingerly to avoid accidentally hurting the bag’s occupant.
