by Casey Herzog
Looking up, he caught sight of the Sphinx gazing at him. The teacher’s facial expression had changed, as if he felt slight pity.
“That’s good news, boy. Great news, indeed.”
The rest of the class passed Dante by, his mind no longer so enthusiastic about the lessons taking place. He simply copied all of what was said and pretended to care, but his mind was still fighting off the pain of losing his beloved Johanna.
After Margaret’s death, he hadn’t expected to find anyone who would fit the mother-sized shoes she’d worn in his life, but along had come Johanna.
“Dante, the class is over,” Beth said to him, and he nodded quickly, standing and grabbing the screen on the desk. It folded into the surface and disappeared, and he heard Aaron tut at him.
“You don’t get to keep those. We download the data at the end of the day in our rooms. Keep up with the times, man.” With a chuckle and a wink, the Chameleon walked away and exited the room.
“Dante,” a strong voice said as he made to leave. The healer turned to the front of the room and saw his teacher staring up at him. “Could you come down for a minute? I want to have a word with you.”
I’ve just gone and blown it in my first class, the healer thought. He shouldn’t have blurted out that comment about Russell like he had, but it had been a moment of madness and pain.
Dante descended the stairs past rows of exiting students and felt blatant stares focused on him, several students whispering quietly as he passed. He knew he was either the object of their admiration or envy, but it really didn’t matter to him which it was. He just wanted to be left alone.
“Sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt the class or seem rude. The events are just too fresh for me to ignore them. Forgive me. I…” He trailed off. The Sphinx was smiling warmly. He had hazel eyes and a pearly-white smile that betrayed goodness the man clearly didn’t like showing to many of his students. “Why are you smiling, sir?”
“I’m smiling because you have nothing to be sorry about. Please, don’t worry. I understand the events surrounding Lord Russell of Ayia may have triggered some feelings — it has happened with a student on at least one previous occasion. Here at the University, we’ve all suffered some sort of distress in the outside world. It’s one of the reasons this place exists at all: to provide us with a chance to recreate a new Earth with a truly positive society that can help each other move forward instead of hurting each other whenever possible.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take that into account. Was that all you needed to tell me?”
The Sphinx became stern. His face changed completely, and his expression darkened.
“Ah, yes.” He seemed to take a moment to think of how to say what was on his mind, and Dante’s heart sunk. He lifted his eyebrows as if to tell the man to hurry up, but his teacher was having trouble getting the words out. “Dante, I haven’t always been a teacher.” He cleared his throat. “I used to be an intelligence officer for the Coalition, a specialist in finding and capturing Outsider informants and traitors. Where soldiers fought the enemy without, I fought the enemy within.”
“I see.”
“What I’m trying to get to is the following: I still keep up with the intel that arrives from many different sources. Due to our isolated location, we often wait a long time for some, other times it arrives immediately; it varies.” He paused before continuing. “I recently received news of the attack on Ayia, a moment many of us had been waiting for. The death of Lord Russell of Lawlessness felt like justice for all of his victims, for I personally know some of the people who were killed by his men. However, it didn’t take but a few more days for me to receive another disturbing piece of news.”
Dante awaited the answer, praying to a god he didn’t believe in that it wasn’t what he was dreading to hear.
“What did you hear?”
The Sphinx sighed.
“Two days ago, a patrol checkpoint was attacked and its guards slaughtered by a single man.” Dante shook his head and wished what he was hearing wasn’t true. “A larger force of guards was sent to neutralize the threat, but they were also defeated by the man and an unknown force of motorcyclists. Dante, this will be difficult for you to hear because of the pain you’ve gone through, but Lord Russell is alive.”
The healer took a few steps back and stumbled, feeling light-headed. He heard his teacher speaking to him, but he couldn’t make out the words. No, why? After all he did, how could he still be alive? How could life be so cruel and unfair?
Before Dante could realize it, it was all too much and he collapsed.
The world turned to black, and all that was left was an empty coldness and a burning question in his mind.
Why?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
~Trapped~
He was thrown around like a ragdoll. The fact that he couldn’t even see or hear what was happening around him was driving him insane.
Callum knew that to the Coalition, he was no more than a sack of meat neither alive nor dead — just of undetermined usefulness.
For the longest time, he was on a moving vehicle that rocked and heaved with every bump and obstacle they passed over. It was torture. The fact that he had no idea where they were going, or if they were going anywhere at all — and not just being transported to a place where they could be shot and thrown into a mass grave — was driving the soldier mad. He attempted to feel around him, but his hands were smacked back down before he could sense anything.
“Please, take off the hood!” he cried, but clearly the sound was drowned out. I wonder if Russell and the Whisperer are still here with me, he wondered. As long as they were close, he could still avenge his friends’ lives, even if his initial mission was becoming a distant thought now, thanks to the Coalition’s involvement.
The vehicle finally stopped, and he was pulled off his feet by the bindings that kept his hands tied uselessly together. Callum stumbled off the back of a tall military truck and was wrenched forward by his captors. He could feel a hot wind picking at his skin, though he was unsure if it was coming from the vehicles’ engines or something else. Vibrations ran up his feet and into his body, as if a huge object was shifting. A jet? A tank?
Suddenly, he realized what it was. A gate.
The vibrations stopped and he was shoved forward, his captor now standing behind him. As he came to a stop, a few seconds passed before the vibrations ran up and down his body once more. The gate had closed.
His head was bent forward, and Callum guessed where he was before the hood was even off.
Woah…
The prison complex was huge, its expanse taking up all the land he could see from where he stood at the gatehouse. There were long, covered passages that ran above them from which armed guards kept watch. The yards beyond were packed with prisoners of all kinds, and Callum stiffened in anticipation.
“Soldier,” a familiar voice barked from a few feet away, and Callum turned slowly to look at him. Russell’s face was dirty and cut, the fabric of his shirt torn and his armor sporting several new holes as he stood there, dwarfing his captor. His throat wound — the wound Callum himself had caused with a sharp knife — was barely starting to heal properly. It would be long before Russell could speak normally or even swallow without difficulty. Even so, he was smiling. Callum bared his teeth, but he was pulled away from the other man before he could say anything.
The Whisperer was being pushed forward through another gate, and the blue-eyed man turned in time to glare at Callum before the thick gate closed behind him. That’s another one I have unfinished business with, Callum thought.
A guard came towards him and checked him for belongings. He didn’t have much besides a dagger, a lockpick and a small torch — his pistol had been stolen from him at the site of the wreckage — but they confiscated everything all the same, throwing them into a locker with the number 3379 written on it.
His captor approached to take him further into the prison, and finally they reache
d the gate the Whisperer had entered into.
“This is as far as I go with you, traitor,” his captor said through his helmet. “Enjoy your stay, soldier.”
“More of a soldier than you’ll ever be, you murdering scum.” Callum spat on the ground, and the man backhanded him before a guard arrived to separate them both. “Coward,” he hissed, and the prison guard dragged him away before the Coalition trooper could finish the job. He too was pushed through the thick gate that opened up to reveal the inner yard. Callum saw several prisoners turn to look at him, his eyes catching their bitter stares as they saw the new arrivals and planned what they would do with them. He knew that some would seek to befriend him, but most would look for ways to cause him pain. Maybe I should seek out ex-Coalition soldiers; I may stay alive around them at least.
Suddenly, he saw a familiar sight in one of the yards beyond. It was Captain Fillmore. The man seemed to be surrounded by a group of criminals, his distinguishably-accented voice ordering other prisoners back as they pushed him around and attempted to torment him. I should help him out once I’m in, Callum knew.
Before he could think of what to do next, he was pulled to one side and into a corridor. Guards surrounded him as he was stripped naked and pushed towards a walkway.
“Stand still,” a voice said. Callum obeyed reluctantly and felt the floor beneath him shift. It was a sort of conveyor belt that ran over a drainage funnel. He only had an instant to wonder why it was designed in such a manner, when a cold liquid was sprayed at him from all directions. Callum spluttered and closed his eyes, the viscous substance pulling at his skin slightly as it ran down into the drainage system below. Powerful flashes of light were next, surely a scanning system to study the inside of his body.
Despite having his eyes closed, Callum was left with afterimages burned into his retinas. He reached the end of the passage where he was immediately blasted with hot air and pulled forward into a high chair. He opened his eyes in time to see a man with a stained apron approaching him. Callum’s arms were immediately grabbed and manacled by a system built into the chair and he tugged uselessly in an attempt to get free. A barber, was his initial thought, but then he saw the needle and the saw.
“Shit, no! Fuck off!” he cried, throwing his weight from side to side. It was useless — the chair did not even budge.
“Calm down, son. This will be over soon.”
The saw began its screaming whir, the needle was pushed into the back of his neck and the piercing of his skull began.
Callum’s nightmare was only beginning…
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
~Dreamweaver~
Dante woke up feeling like his entire world had come crashing down around him.
He felt weak for a few moments, but his body was already beginning to take care of his physical health. The same could not be said for his mood and spirit.
“Dante, are you feeling well?”
The Sphinx sat closely by, his face carrying a worried look and his hands gripping his chair as he started to stand.
“Don’t worry, sir. I’m fine. I’m already healing.”
The teacher nodded.
“Very well, I’ll be off now. Your friends are outside; I’ll let them in. Get better soon, we have class in two days.”
“Thanks sir.” Dante watched him leave and saw Andrew enter with Aaron and Beth.
“Dante, what happened? Did he knock you out for interrupting his class or something?” Andrew didn’t seem to be joking, but Dante rolled his eyes all the same.
“I passed out. I found out something terrible that made me lose it, I guess.”
“Shit man, I’m sorry. Can’t even laugh at people’s issues anymore, because most of the time ‘issues’ are serious now,” the King said thoughtfully.
He was right. Callum had spoken back at the community of concepts such as ‘bullying’ and ‘social exclusion,’ terms that were pretty much non-existent in times like these. People were too worried about not getting killed or dying of natural causes to ostracize or oppress possible community allies in the dangerous new world.
“Don’t you worry; I think there’s nothing I can really do about it. It’s somebody else’s problem now, even if it pains me to accept it.” The acceptance in his words shocked and hurt him. That man killed Johanna, Frank, and so many others, you coward, a voice said inside him quietly. Yes, but I can’t exactly bring them back, and I’m not ready to fight Russell either, another voice answered.
He decided to just let go of his fury until he could leave the University, hunt the bastard, and put him down for good. It was for the best. Callum was still out there somewhere, anyway, and he was more than capable of doing the job.
Dante smiled as he thought of Callum, and King smiled back.
“See? You’re feeling better already. Chameleon, Liquidus, help him back to our rooms.” Andrew was not known as the King for nothing — immediately the boy and the girl lifted Dante off his bed and onto his feet, guiding him out of the nurse’s room and out into the passages outside.
“Where are you going?” a woman in a medical robe asked, as she ran out to stop them, but Aaron waved a hand and they disappeared into a wall. “Come back here! Wherever you are, I’m going to find you and get that boy back!”
Finally, she gave up yelling and searching for them and returned to her room with a curse. Aaron laughed quietly as he watched from the safety of the fake wall he had created to cover their small, improvised chamber.
“Neat trick,” Dante conceded. He had never seen anything like it, but it was an impressive ability to have for sure. The wall fell apart and immediately the magic faded. They stepped out of the hollow, and Aaron filled it with bricks again, only a very slight sign of tampering remaining on the wall left behind. It’s not completely perfect, then, Dante thought.
By the time they had walked up the corridor and were making their way to the entrance hall once more, the healer’s dizziness had faded and he already felt normal once more.
“Thanks guys, but I think I can handle it from here.” He pulled away from Aaron and Beth, the girl’s cheek brushing softly against his as he detached from her. Blood rushed up to his face, and he blushed like a tomato, but only she seemed to notice. Her joyous smile made him redden even more.
It didn’t take long for them to reach the twin stairs. Andrew stopped at the top and placed a finger on his chin as if in thought.
“Dante, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Dante stopped at the bottom of the staircase and looked up. Aaron and Beth were staring at him from halfway up, their gazes weighing heavily down on him.
“What’s up? Is there something wrong?” The atmosphere around the group had changed, and he suddenly felt their coldness toward him.
“Do you have any idea what my abilities are?” Andrew asked, “Why they call me King?”
“No, I have no idea.” Dante’s heart was pumping fast now. Something was going on.
“It’s because I can control all of the other pieces on the chessboard.” Andrew smiled and pointed at a child who was crossing the entrance hall. The boy collapsed, his eyes snapping shut as he fell to the ground. Something dark glowed in King’s black eyes, something Dante had witnessed before. Dante cried out and ran down to the steps back to the boy as others kept their distance. He slid onto the floor beside the child and placed his hands on his chest. Wait, he thought. Touching the boy’s neck, he realized that there was a pulse. Andrew chuckled. “He’s not dead or even hurt. He’s fast asleep and dreaming.”
Dante stood and glared at Andrew once more. The teenager turned and began to ascend the stairs.
“Andrew is a Dreamweaver,” Beth said, before following her leader.
“He can make anyone have visions. He can make them real, or he can make them false.” Aaron, too, began his climb up.
Dante rushed up the staircase and followed them back towards the plaza.
“I had a dream last night, was that…?”
Andrew stopped and the other two copied his action.
“That was me. I tried my ability on you the moment we met. It was a brief second — an instant that you barely registered — but it failed. For some reason, your healing ability kept you safe. But I didn’t give up and tried again. It worked while you slept. Chameleon told me you woke up screaming. I have nothing against you, Dante. I’m just fascinated with your abilities. I needed to know if mine could affect you and what you could see.”
The tension lessened in the air and Dante took a deep breath before continuing. This could have ended differently, and much worse. But something nagged at him. Suddenly, he felt a chill run down his spine.
“The dream I had…It was something ugly, something terrible.”
Andrew’s face betrayed his curiosity and he leaned closer to the healer and lowered his voice.
