by David Moody
We move along the road like we’re on a chain gang. All we’re missing is the shackles around our feet. Over the constant dragging sound of hundreds of exhausted footsteps I think I can hear something. There’s a noise in the distance. It’s quiet and indistinct but it’s definitely there. A deep, far-off rumbling. Is that thunder I can hear or something else? The rain continues to lash down all around me and the low light makes it all but impossible to see what’s happening away from the building.
Progress is slow but I wish it were slower still. I’m already halfway down the track which runs from the front of the building to the road and now, for the first time, I’m close enough to see some of what’s happening around the entrance. The track is packed solid with people who are lined up behind some kind of heavily guarded canvas-covered checkpoint. It’s hard to see any detail, but from here it looks like an immigration control desk or customs point at an airport. A steady stream of people are moving past the checkpoint and are being herded into the main part of the building. They look over their shoulders in desperation as more rifle-wielding soldiers push and shove them forward. I don’t even want to think about what’s in there. One thing is painfully obvious—there’s no apparent way out. People are going in, but as far as I can see no one’s coming out.
There’s now just a few short meters between where I’m standing and the checkpoint. Up ahead there’s more panic and confusion as someone breaks from the line and attempts to run. This time they’re on their own. No one else is running with them. The lone figure who sprints away in the direction of the towering silos to my left is brought down by a hail of bullets, far more than are necessary. And bizarrely, as soon as the body is on the ground more troopers scurry across the front of the building to collect it. Instead of leaving it where it fell they pick it up and, between them, carry it inside. What the hell are they doing?
There’s another noise in the distance. It has to be thunder.
We move forward again and now I’m close enough to hear some of the conversation at the checkpoint. My heart is beating at a hundred times its normal rate and my legs feel like they’re about to buckle and give way beneath me. This time it has nothing to do with my tiredness, this is sheer terror. I can feel the minutes of my life ticking away and I’m devastated that it’s going to end this way. Maybe I can attack, I think to myself again. Can I summon up the energy for a final strike? Am I ready to die fighting? This is my very last chance. I can see Patrick just ten people or so ahead of me. If I could somehow get his attention then just maybe together we could do something . . . Who am I kidding? I look at the nearest soldier with his rifle poised and ready to fire and I know that the odds are too one-sided to even dare consider. It would be over before I’d be able to kill even one of them.
“Name?” one of the officers at the checkpoint yells at the next person in line.
“Jason Mansell,” the man replies, his voice quiet and resigned but still carrying the slightest hint of anger and resistance.
“Date of birth?”
He answers. He’s also asked for his most recent address and, while he’s answering, it finally dawns on me why these bastards are treating us like shit but are also strangely concerned about our bodies. We’ve been stripped of all individuality and yet they still want to know who we are and where we’re from. The answer is obvious—it’s a bloody census. They’re carrying out a bloody census of us. If they want to completely control us and wipe us out, then they have to know where every last one of us is. That was why they attempted to identify us when we were first taken at the house this morning. That’s why they collect the bodies of the dead. They have to know who it is they’ve killed to make sure we’re all accounted for. I stupidly think about giving them false information when it’s my turn but I know it won’t do anybody any good. As I get closer I see that they’re also taking swabs from people’s mouths and they’re using devices to scan their eyes and palms. Christ, we must be a hell of a threat to them. They’re running scared.
Another rolling roar of thunder. Storm’s getting closer now. Patrick has disappeared from view and there are now just four people left ahead of me in the line. We’re moving with an uncomfortable speed. People are being processed at a frantic rate which seems crazy. We’ve been standing out here for hours. Why start rushing now?
Three people. Wish they’d slow down.
Two people.
Now I’m next. I stand a short distance back behind two soldiers and watch as Karin is processed. I watch helplessly as one of them slams her hand down flat onto some sort of scanner as another one holds her eye open and scans her retina with another device. A few key presses on a computer keyboard and she’s finished and shoved toward the dark opening to the building. There are solid lines of guards on either side. It’s clear that once you’re past this checkpoint there’s nowhere else to go but inside.
“Name?” the officer at the desk shouts as I’m pushed forward.
“Danny McCoyne,” I answer. I glance to my left and see that there’s a rifle pointing at my head. Just do what you’re told, I think to myself, just do what you’re told.
“Short for Daniel?”
I nod.
“Answer!”
“Yes,” I mumble.
He asks my date of birth and my most recent address and I tell him. My right hand is then grabbed and scanned. Another trooper reaches up and with rough, clumsy fingers prizes open my eyelid and uses the device on me. It has a bright light which I wasn’t expecting. It blinds me temporarily.
“Send him through,” I hear the officer order and I’m pushed forward into the darkness. They’re definitely speeding things up now. There are too many of us being sent through too quickly. I stumble and trip toward the back of a bottleneck which is quickly forming. Behind me I hear the next person being processed.
Less than ten meters now separates me from whatever fate is waiting inside this place. I still can’t see anything from here, just a huge pair of dark doors and the steady stream of bodies which go through them. Like so many of the desperate people I’ve already watched I helplessly glance back over my shoulder. I can’t see much but I know there are hundreds and hundreds of people behind me.
There’s a sudden noise which takes everyone by surprise. It comes from two directions—from the back end of the line and also from the other end of the road we were originally standing along. Even the soldiers appear confused for a second. Many of the troopers surrounding me turn and look back across the field.
It’s an attack.
Jesus Christ, someone’s attacking from both sides.
In just a few seconds the scene degenerates from resigned calm and relative order into uncontrolled madness. I have no idea who is doing this, but I can see the bright headlights of cars and motorbikes and other random vehicles converging on this building from many directions. They’re not just on the road now, I can see them driving across the fields from all around. Fucking hell, this is a coordinated attack.
I stop walking and try and turn back.
“Move, you fucking scum,” a soldier screams at me and I’m hit hard in the middle of the back with something that knocks every scrap of breath out of my body. The force of the impact sends me tripping even deeper into the crowd being pushed through the open doors. I try to resist but I’m struggling to breathe and I can’t do anything when more rough arms grab me from either side and throw me forward again. I’m inside now. There’s a concrete floor beneath my feet and a high roof over my head which finally shields me from the rain. Behind me the sounds of gunshots and explosions ring out and are suddenly muted as the heavy doors I’ve just passed through are shut.
It’s dark in here and I can hardly see anything. I’m continually pushed and shoved forward until I can’t go any farther, the mass of bodies in front of me preventing me from moving on. We’re tightly packed and it’s clear that they’ve shoved as many of us as they can in here to get us away from whatever it is that’s happening outside. The crowd here is s
ilent—unable to move and hardly able to breathe. I can hear a constant soundtrack of muffled shouts, screams, and explosions coming from outside.
A sudden crackle of radio static and the soldiers guarding us move again. Up ahead another set of doors is opened, immediately releasing the pressure and allowing the crowd to flood forward into another huge room like water roaring through a suddenly breached dam. I don’t want to move but, like everyone else, I have no choice. I know that the deeper I go into this building, the less chance I have of getting out again but there’s nothing I can do. I’m carried along by the sheer weight and pressure of everyone else around me and we’re all driven forward by the fear of the guns which are constantly aimed at us.
Space.
Unexpectedly I find myself in space and I’m able to move freely. I stop walking and spin around, desperate to try and get my bearings. The light levels in this room are unnervingly low and the people around me are terrified. They’re screaming and shouting and yelling for help. I watch helplessly as the doors I’ve just come through are slammed shut and locked from the inside by more soldiers. These are wearing a different uniform than the others. They’re wearing some kind of face mask. Is it a gas mask? It can’t be, can it . . . ?
Dead bodies.
My eyes are rapidly becoming accustomed to the low level of yellow light and I can see bodies. Jesus Christ, this room is full of them. They’re everywhere—shoved up against the walls, piled up on top of each other around the edges of the room, laid out in lines on the floor . . . my worst suspicions and fears were right. This building is a slaughterhouse. They’ve brought us here to kill us. They’re cataloguing us and destroying us.
I have to get out. I run back toward the closed doors but I’m kicked back into place by one of the masked guards. I’ve lost all self-control now and I have to fight. I know these soldiers are armed but I don’t have any choice and I know I’m dead anyway. I pick myself up and run at the guard again with a speed, strength, and determination I didn’t know I possessed. I launch myself at him and knock him off his feet before he has time to react. I’m aware of other people starting to fight all around me as I wrestle away his weapon and rip off his mask. He looks up at me with cold, hateful eyes as I punch his face again and again, pounding his flesh with my fists. I continue long after I know he’s lost consciousness. I can’t stop until I’m sure he’s dead . . .
There’s a round of gunfire behind me. I spin around and see that one of the other soldiers has opened fire into the crowd. Many have already fallen, the rest of us try and run for cover but there’s nowhere to hide. In desperation I grab the beaten body of the soldier beneath me and haul it round in front of me like a shield, hoping that it will take the force of any shots which come in my direction.
There are two soldiers firing now. One of them has climbed a metal ladder up onto a galley in the rafters of the building and is picking people out at will. Over the terrified confusion and carnage I can hear another sound now and I look up at the ceiling in terror. It’s the chugging of machinery and the hissing of gas. Hanging in the four corners of the room are huge metal boxes with vented fronts which look like air-conditioning units. The air in front of each one of the machines is distorted like a heat-haze and I know that it has begun. I throw the corpse off me and start to look around the floor for the mask I tore off its face seconds earlier. The floor in here is awash with blood and bodies and . . .
The world around me explodes.
I drop to the ground and cover my head as the entire far end of the room we’re trapped in is ripped apart by a massive blast which sends shrapnel and dead flesh flying in every conceivable direction. Everything becomes black. The noise of the explosion begins to fade and is replaced by yells and screams of pain and fear and by the sounds of a full-scale conflict.
“Run!” a muffled voice yells over the madness and hysteria.
Instinct takes over. I clamber to my feet, tripping and stumbling over rubble and the remains of bodies, and then push my way forward through the clouds of dust and crowds of terrified figures. There is gunfire and confusion all around me. A woman immediately in front of me is shot. For a split second I see blood, flesh, and bone explode from her shoulder and she falls to the ground like a limp rag doll. I can’t do anything but run straight over her corpse. There’s a tide of desperate people moving behind me and I can’t stop, I have no option but to keep moving along with the wave of bodies. I look up and see that we’re running toward more soldiers with their guns raised. But these soldiers aren’t wearing masks. Their faces and eyes are unprotected and I know immediately that they’re on our side. Thank God, these people are on our side.
Still we continue to stumble through the carnage, the ground beneath our feet becoming more uneven and littered with debris. The remains of people like me mix freely with the remains of enemy soldiers. In this grotesque bloodbath they are impossible to separate. No explosion can differentiate between us and them. All around me I can see severed arms and legs, shattered bones, and twisted pieces of razor-sharp metal.
“Keep moving,” another voice yells. I feel rain on my face and I realize that I’m outside again, although there are still low mounds of rubble on either side of me which used to be walls. Others have stopped but I keep moving. Another deafening noise distracts me and I look up to see a helicopter roaring low overhead. It unleashes a missile into a long line of trucks which stand idly alongside what’s left of the now-burning building I’ve just escaped from. Christ, this is a fucking full-scale war. I sprint across an area of uneven wasteland and throw myself to the ground as more munitions explode nearby. There’s a brilliant flash of light to my left and I feel my body being shunted along the ground by the immense force of yet another blast. I’m deafened in one ear and I struggle to regain my balance as I pick myself up and try to move forward again. All around me are the bodies of those who have fallen. A young man’s face has taken the full force of the explosion. His lifeless eyes stare up at me helplessly. The bottom of his face, everything below his top lip, has gone. At my feet is the body of a woman, face down in the rubble. Its back is blackened and charred and much of its clothing has been burned away. It could be Karin, the girl from the line. For a fraction of a second I think about turning her over to see but I know that it’s pointless. It doesn’t matter.
In the sky directly above me a second helicopter swoops down and fires into the building I’ve just escaped from, killing scores of unprotected people who continue to pick their way through the rubble. I manage to take a few more staggering steps away before throwing myself back down again as the first helicopter turns and opens fire on the second. A precisely placed missile hits the middle of its tail boom, taking the rotor clean off and sending the aircraft spiraling down to the ground where it explodes, filling the night with more fire. There is mayhem all around me now, the deafening noise and hysteria of an all-out battle to the death. But who is fighting?
“Get out of here,” a soldier yells, picking people like me up off the ground and pushing them on. I follow the crowd, heading toward an open gate in what’s left of the chain-link fence which surrounded this place. Almost as one we run along a gravel track which snakes away into the darkness. Now that we’re free we move like a pack, hunting together. The enemy here are few and far between. When we discover them we swarm over them and rip them apart. Behind me the burning building is bathed in light. I look back at it long enough to see hundreds of figures running away from it in every direction.
More soldiers usher us along a track which climbs up into the darkness as another helicopter swoops low overhead. Friend or foe? It’s impossible to tell until it launches a volley of missiles into the crowds on the ground. As another ball of flame stretches high up into the sky behind me the sudden increase in light enables me to properly see my surroundings for the first time. The ground below us is littered with an incredible number of bodies. Many of them are victims of the battle now raging but it’s clear from their location that many mo
re corpses are those of people like me who have been executed by the others. Their cadavers have been stacked up, ready for disposal. Here alone hundreds of people have been killed. How many other places like this are there, and how many more would have died here tonight? How many of us have been murdered by these bastards, and who are the Haters now?
The top of this low hill now looms ahead of me. I dig in and keep running, my feet slipping and sliding in the greasy mud. I can hear more fighting up ahead and I run toward it, now desperate to be a part of the battle and wanting to take revenge for all the death and destruction I’ve seen. A few more breathless seconds and I’ve finally reached the top of the climb. Another huge explosion once again bathes the world in light and I can see a wave of enemy soldiers advancing toward us. Unprotected and without any fear of the consequences I sprint at them. I glance from side to side and see that there are hundreds of people like me moving forward as one. We must destroy them before they can destroy any more of us.
The first of the enemy I reach is firing into the crowd. She has her back to me. Without pausing for thought I leap up onto her back and wrap my arms around her neck. I grab her chin and the back of her head and twist as hard as I can, feeling massive satisfaction as her neck snaps and she crumbles to the ground. In seconds I’m up again, already looking for the next kill. One of them has their weapon aimed directly at me. Before they can fire I run straight at them and charge them down. I move with a speed and power I have never felt before and I feel alive. Faced with death I actually feel more alive! I wrestle the soldier’s rifle from his pathetically weak grip and shove its barrel around and hard into his mouth. I fire and watch the top of his head explode into the mud. All around me this animal instinct is taking over and we are killing to keep ourselves alive. This is what I was born to do.
