by G F Cusack
As the other man lowered his gun, Zap started to panic. He felt sure he was going to die. His attacker was going to slit his throat and there was nothing he could do about it.
The arm with the gun was getting lower when, without any warning, it darted upwards, gun hand raised. Two bright flashes in front of Zap were followed by two loud bangs. He felt a whistling past his ear and then a shower of warm fluid over his face and neck.
He experienced so many feelings all at once in the deafening noise and time had seemed to slow down once the bullets started rushing towards him. He felt fear, exhilaration and then suddenly he felt like he was being crushed. The full weight of the man behind him slumped on to him and he felt the last of his breath being forced out under the man’s dead weight.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see part of the man’s face – he could actually see inside the man’s face. It was a horrible bloody mess and his flesh seemed to have exploded at the impact of the bullets. He realised that the warm liquid had been not just blood but flesh, bone and even brain matter. He suddenly felt sick.
The tall man approached him quickly. Zap felt safer, even though he was still frozen with fear. The tall man pulled the body off him and he felt friendly arms wrap around him.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Zap heard himself say, “I was so scared,” and then after a pause, “but I think I’m okay.”
As quickly as all this had happened, it was over. Zap’s eyes shot open. He realised he was still holding the pot and, although he hadn’t noticed the weight during his vision, he now felt its full burden.
He just managed to bang it down on the stove top before it had the chance to fall to the floor.
Once again Zap found himself questioning himself: ”What happened? What have I just seen? What have I just felt?”
He lowered himself into an armchair and tried to figure it out. It seemed like he was himself yet he was someone else – he had been perceiving things through someone else’s senses.
This whole experience was new to him. It felt similar to his previous dreams of the girl, he’d felt her emotions before but never this vividly.
It was a strange feeling to be in somebody else’s body, someone he recognised as the person in his dreams.
In this waking dream, everything had been more intense; clearly this was something new and deeper. He had to figure out why he’d been inside someone else’s head – or had she been in his?
It was one thing to dream this stuff when sleeping but he didn’t like losing control in this way while he was awake. He noticed that he was shaking in the chair; this whole event had drained him. As soon as the shaking subsided, he poured himself a tall glass of water and drank it.
As he calmed down, he felt a surge of euphoria. Whoever’s eyes he had been looking through had been in grave danger and Zap now had a great sense of relief. For now it seemed that the person he shared this bond with was safe and that made Zap feel better.
Abandoning any idea of food for the night, he left the cold pot on the stove and climbed into bed, hardly stopping to undress.
As soon as his head touched the pillow, he fell into a deep sleep. His sleep this night was to be the best he had experienced in a long time. This was a sleep void of any dreams; the kind of sleep that any insomniac would give anything to experience.
13
Smit’s last chance
18 August 2202
Captain Smit, head of the Sanctuary defence forces, was never a fan of being the bearer of bad news.
Delivering bad news to someone like Brand was certainly risky for his career but, worse still, it put his life in danger.
“I’m starting to think that you are becoming a liability,” Brand said. “This is not the first time that you have stood in front of me to confess failure.”
While he didn’t like answering back to Brand, Smit also knew that the supreme leader despised weakness. He had to provide some kind of defence. “I appreciate that we lost some troops, but we did actually capture some traitors.”
“Was I misinformed? I was under the impression that you actually killed the resistance before they could be interrogated.”
It was true that the traitors had been killed. In fact, it was all one big accident that the confrontation happened at all. The resistance had been smuggling contraband and had by chance been stopped at a checkpoint.
In a place the size of the Sanctuary, and with the disparity between rich and poor, a black market resourced by some smuggling was inevitable. Usually the resistance kept their noses clean but lately, with the shortages of food and the reduction in the distribution of gel packs, the rebels were becoming more emboldened.
“It is rare that these confrontations happen,” Smit said. “The resistance tends to stay under the radar.”
The comment only seemed to stoke Brand’s rage. ”So what you are saying is that normally your forces are even more incompetent. You're standing here admitting that you do not usually capture them and they get away with their crimes? On this one occasion when you accidentally stumble upon them, instead of capturing them for valuable intelligence, your incompetent soldiers kill them all.”
Seeing this was a no-win situation, Smit decided to argue it no further.
“How many soldiers did we lose?” Brand demanded.
“Four of our troops were manning a checkpoint. A vehicle that they stopped for a regular check contained six armed rebels. They had the element of surprise and, when confronted, they killed the four guards. As soon as the alarm was raised, a quick reaction force was dispatched. The QRF force pursued and in the battle that ensued we lost one more man. All six of the traitors were killed.”
“Have you managed to identify any of the bodies or are your intelligence forces as incompetent as your soldiers?”
Smit was happy to at least have some good news for Brand. “Although a lot of these scum look the same, we did verify that one of them bore the ‘W’ mark of the warriors from the fighting pits.”
This revelation seemed to pique Brands interest. “So Karla was involved?”
“We have no evidence to identify if he was a current warrior or one of her victors who had been granted his freedom for his fighting prowess,” Smit said reluctantly.
Karla provided a service for the state by running an operation that gave an outlet for the violent tendencies of the Sanctuary’s lower classes. Although through his wide network of spies Brand knew that she had some dealings with the black market, he had previously turned a blind eye to her activities. The benefits of the service that she provided made it worth overlooking a few minor transgressions.
Knowing unofficially that Karla traded in contraband was one thing, but this kind of disrespect could not go unanswered.
“Bring me the head of the warrior,” Brand ordered.
“Just his head?” Smit was bemused. With Brand in a bad mood, it was not a great time to question an order but equally he needed to get it correct.
Brand’s eyes widened. “Yes, that’s what I said – the head. Is there something wrong with your hearing today? Put it in a bag or a box, I don’t care as long as it’s not dripping blood everywhere. Get it brought to me here by morning and ensure that the W brand is still visible.”
“Of course, sir.” Smit took this opportunity to leave the office.
Brand had the kernel of a plan forming in his head. He had decided it was time to reiterate who held the real power in the Sanctuary. The head might seem a little theatrical but it would help drive home his point.
14
In the woods the day after the attack
19 August 2202
Pepper had survived the night and keeping the fire burning had helped to dry out his clothing.
After their confrontation with the attackers, he had no intention of sleeping and hoped that giving Flo all of the bedding would allow her to rest.
He was hoping to move faster today and, as she was holding them back, he wanted her to be at he
r best.
From time to time, as he worked through the daily camp routine, he tried to wake Flo up but was having trouble doing so. Gently rocking her shoulder had brought no reaction, so he was increasing the ferocity of his shaking. “Wake up, wake up, it’s time to wake up.”
He had some soup waiting for her to combat any residual effects of her shock from the night before. Apart from the breakfast supplies, he’d packed up most of the kit before attempting to wake her.
Suddenly Pepper realised that Flo was actually awake, but staring off into space. It was like she was dreaming while conscious, in some kind of trance. Her lips were moving as if in conversation but no sound was coming out of her mouth.
Although he wanted to break her out of this state, he was unsure how healthy it would be to continue to shake her. He was worried what the shock would do to her.
He decided it best to wait a few more minutes, until the food was ready. Going over to the pot of soup, he got it boiling before trying to rouse her again.
This time he touched her gently on the hand. After a momentary delay, her facial expression changed and she looked straight at him. She moved strangely, as though her consciousness had just arrived in someone else’s body.
“Are you okay?” he said. “Are you awake?”
Still somewhat drowsy, she managed to murmur, “Yes.”
“Are you with me?”
“Orm, urrr … yes.”
“You looked like you were talking to somebody. Who was it?” he asked quizzically.
She was unsure about how much of her abilities to reveal. Previously she had told him that she could read people but her skills were now growing exponentially.
She decided that if she didn’t answer, he would just keep asking questions. Plus Pepper had risked his life to save her and she felt he deserved some kind of explanation.
“I have been dreaming of someone for some time now. No, it’s more than just dreaming – it is like I am inside his head looking through his eyes and he is in mine seeing through my eyes. At least, it has been like that but then, since last night, something has changed.”
“What is this person saying? What information is he after?” To Pepper, it sounded like a risk that he couldn’t guard against.
“Since I woke this morning, it is like I am having a conversation. Our communication is now like chatting. As if he was standing in front of me, where you are now. He doesn’t seem like a threat – he feels like a friend, like someone I have always known. He was concerned about what happened last night and felt the fear in me.”
“Has he asked you where you are?”
“No, it's not like that, he was concerned about me. He said he felt all of my pain. He explained that he too was unable to move when we were attacked. He was frozen with my fear. I can’t explain it any other way.”
“Do you know where he is? Have you recognised anything when you looked through his eyes?”
“He is in a strange place that he calls the Sanctuary. When I see through his eyes, it seems different to anywhere I have ever been, but faintly familiar.”
Although he was keen to pursue the topic further, Pepper thought she should eat something first. ”Here, I’ve prepared some soup. You need to get something warm inside you before we leave.” Once they got moving, he would question her more.
15
Brand arrives at the pits
20 August 2202
Smit had supplied the head of the warrior on schedule the next day but Brand liked to plan for contingencies. He had waited until now to deliver his message.
Brand arrived at the pits with twenty of his elite bodyguard, all well-armed. To a man, they held the pistol grips of their automatic rifles and they were ready to pull the triggers at the first signal from Brand.
It was late morning and the warriors were doing some light sparring in the amphitheatre.
Karla was sitting at her desk when one of her lieutenants, King, barged into her office.
“Supreme leader Brand has just arrived. He has a large force of soldiers with him and has made his way to the premier’s box.”
“What? He’s here now? Why wasn’t I informed earlier?” Karla was rarely flustered but Brand usually liked them to make a fuss over him on his visits. If he’d turned up in force without notice, it was not a good omen.
She rushed down the stairs flanked by Miyamoto and found Brand standing in the premier’s box.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that we were expecting you.”
“You weren’t expecting me, which is the point!” Brand replied. “That is the point.”
Before Karla had a chance to reply, Brand continued. “Assemble all of your warriors in a line in the arena.”
It was clear that Brand had an agenda and the sight of his troops in the arena gave her few options. “Miyamoto, go round up the warriors and line them up in the arena,” Karla instructed before turning to Brand. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”
Rather than speaking, he replied by sweeping his hand in a dismissive manner.
Brand looked out at the warriors forming up in the arena. The premier’s box was designed to provide an optimum view of the arena so Brand could watch the warriors while his troops observed him.
When all of the warriors had assembled, Miyamoto waved to Karla from the arena.
“That’s all of them,” Karla said.
As Brand motioned to his troops, they surrounded the warriors and raised their guns. “Who is your best warrior, who is your star?” he asked.
“Obviously,” Karla said, “it is David. He has never lost any of the last twenty fights and they have all involved in a quick kill.”
“Tell him to step forward.”
“David, take two steps forward,” she shouted down to the warriors. Without any hesitation, he did as he was told.
“Okay, who is your worst warrior?”
“Fred has the least experience.”
“Tell him to step forward and instruct another three random warriors to do the same.”
Thinking that this was going to be some kind of fight display, Karla chose two more of her best warriors and threw in an average warrior so that this would be a good performance.
She hoped that they wouldn’t be expected to fight to the death. It was not unheard of for Brand to request warriors to be brought to his residence or to the council buildings to fight. This could happen at his whim or for a special occasion, although it was unusual. This was the first time he had appeared at the pits outside of a scheduled fight.
“Fred, Rook, Bass and Trip. Take two steps forward also,” she shouted to the group below, wondering what kind of fight Brand expected to see.
But no further instructions followed. Instead, Brand raised his arm and the troops instantly fired two rounds into each of the five chosen warriors. Karla watched on transfixed.
Before she could react, Brand addressed Karla and the remaining warriors. “I have been informed that rebels are among your people. It is important that you realise you live by my whim. If you fight well, you have a chance for freedom and forgiveness of your previous crimes. This is not true if you fight against the state! You notice today that I have killed one of your best warriors and one of your worst. This is to show you that no matter how well you fight, if you choose to rebel against the state, your life will be forfeit. I take it that I have made myself clear?”
Karla had no idea what it all meant but, before she could question Brand, he gathered his troops and left the pits.
Miyamoto bounded up the stairs to check on Karla. When he reached her, she was looking slightly confused but quickly regained her composure. “Go check they have gone before we try to work out what just happened.”
Then she shouted to the group below, “King, get those bodies out of arena. Angus, I want an intensive training session for the rest of the day. Make the men sweat.” From her vantage point, she saw Angus and King nod.
When Miyamoto stepped outside, he was confronted by a se
vered head impaled on a spike. The spike had been driven into the ground in a prominent position for passers-by to see.
He recognised the head as Zeus but before he could remove it, one of the stadium guards shouted, “Leave that head where it is. No one is to move that head for twenty-four hours. If you try, we’ll have to shoot you.”
The guards were supposed to be there to protect the warriors but they were Company troops and their prime purpose was to follow orders. Brand’s message was clear: the general public would see the head and the word would get out that he was serious.
Karla was still trying to work out what had happened when Miyamoto returned.
“They’ve stuck a head on a spike outside and the guards have been ordered to stop anyone from removing it. The head is Zeus’s.” His voice was tense with anger as he clearly struggled to stay emotionless in the aftermath of Brand’s visit.
Karla had provided Zeus to Hubert to help out on a gel pack run for the black market. These ventures always held some risk but she had to maintain her alliances with the other black market leaders.
For the immediate future, she could not remove the head but she would need to schedule a meeting with Hubert and the other resistance leaders. It was unclear how much Brand knew and today’s demonstration could be the start of a crackdown.
Even though she showed very little emotion on the outside, inside she too was seething with anger.
As a businesswoman, she realised that her livelihood was no longer guaranteed. Yet, although Brand’s actions may have been designed to quell any rebellion, they had the opposite effect.
As one of the supposedly criminal leaders in the Sanctuary, she had shied away from open acts of rebellion. It had made no business sense to draw attention to her activities but things had just changed.
