by T. C. Edge
I watch closely. Trish steps forward and sends her fist tentatively forward. The other girl dodges easily. Nothing special. I look at Theo with a frown. His return expression tells me to 'wait and see'.
“Seriously, try to hit me,” says the girl again. “As hard as you like, just go for it.”
This time Trish's punches are a little more forceful. They come quicker, harder, but hit nothing but air. The girl dodges with consummate ease, sliding this way and that.
My interest piques. I'm beginning to understand.
“OK, let's make this interesting,” says Theo.
He steps forwards, next to Trish.
“You think you can handle the both of us?” he asks the girl.
She merely shrugs coolly and hangs her arms down by her sides.
Now the two step in, and both throw punches. I can see Theo holding back, but he still acts with enough intensity to make what the girl is doing remarkable. Once again, she ducks and dodges out of the way, eyes focused on her two opponents. It's a little harder for her, but she manages to avoid every hit.
Theo stops suddenly, and turns to me.
“Impressive, right?”
I nod.
“What's your name?”
She looks at me for the first time. She has keen brown eyes and a hard exterior, short, dark cropped hair and sharp features. She looks tough, like she's seen plenty of hurt in her life.
“It's Athena,” she says.
“It's a good name. It suits you.”
Her visage hardly changes.
“Have you been trained in martial arts?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Never. Unless you count fighting with my brothers a martial art.”
“Depends how tough they are,” I laugh. “Tell me, Athena, how did you do that?”
“It's hard to explain. I can kinda see things, you know, before they come. I can see the fists. They're easy to avoid.”
I look at Theo, whose eyebrows are raised.
“She can see into the Void,” he says.
Athena looks at us, confused. Trish just looks amazed, and a little in awe.
“Hey, Trish, why don't you pair up with someone else, OK,” I say. “We need to have a chat with Athena.”
With my group still on their own on the other side of the room, and now completely absent from my thoughts, Theo and I take Athena to one side. We both have a thousand questions to ask.
“You were brought up on the Deadlands weren't you?” I ask.
She nods.
“She'd have been caught by the genetics test if she was on the mainland,” says Theo. “It's impressive to be able to see into the Void without any training.”
Athena once more looks between us.
“The Void. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Do you know what a Watcher is?” I ask.
“I guess I've heard of them. Don't know much though.”
“Watchers can see visions of the future. The more powerful can even see a few seconds or longer into the immediate future, allowing them to avoid danger. That's what you can do.”
She shrugs again.
“I always thought I was pretty weird.”
“So, you've had this power for a while?”
“A few years, I guess.”
“And have you ever had visions?” asks Theo.
“Visions?”
“Like bad dreams, only they seem more real.”
“Um, maybe. I dream a lot, yeah. Just thought they were nightmares.”
“And did any come true?”
Her face darkens.
“Yeah, one did.”
“Tell us,” I say, feeling suddenly like the Master or Knight or Ajax. Mining this girl for information on what she's seen.
“I saw my family die,” she says, her jaw stiff. “Thought it was a dream. Then it came true.”
“I'm so sorry,” says Theo gently. “When did this happen.”
“A few weeks ago. When the war started, my village was raided. Most people died. I made it here with a few others.”
“That's terrible,” says Theo.
Her face remains firm, emotionless. If anything, there's more anger than grief in her eyes.
“I heard that they were training people for war. I'd do anything to get revenge.”
I look over at Ellie, who's teaching another class nearby and doesn't seem to have noticed the commotion.
“Yeah, there's a lot of that going around,” I say. “You'll get your chance, I'm sure of it.”
She grits her teeth.
“I'd better.”
That night, Theo, Ellie and I once more find ourselves in a huddle in the main chamber, eating our dinner around a fire. It's growing more busy in here by the day, almost by the hour. People have already begun being housed in other parts of the mountain.
The hot topic, is, of course, the discovery of Athena, and the idea that there might be other potential Watchers among us. That all these refugees might have some gifted among them.
It's an exciting prospect, although we maintain a bit of realism as we chat. Chances are Athena is the only one, but there's no harm in trying to find out if there are more.
We endeavour to find my father that night, who's been almost constantly busy helping to run the city, cater to the refugees, and attend war council meetings with the Master and the other rebel leaders. He has, as such, been difficult to get hold of, and I've hardly spent any time with him since we arrived in Petram.
After a short hunt for him, we run into the next best thing; Lieutenant Murphy, who acts very much as his aid. We tell him about Athena, and of our plan to see if there are any others. He says it's a great idea and that he'll pass it on to Drake when he next sees him.
The next morning, Drake appears in our training room to assess the situation himself.
“Another Watcher, huh,” he says. “It's not unheard of in the Deadlands, but it is uncommon. I've known a few in my time, although none have come here. It's possible they're travelling here now or, God forbid, have died. They may also choose not to engage in the war, and that is their prerogative. So, what do you have in mind?”
“To find out if anyone else has the power. Athena had it and didn't seem to know what it was. It's possible that others are the same.”
“I agree. How do you plan to canvass everyone?”
We all look at each other. We discussed this and could come up with only one feasible option.
“We're just going to have to ask,” I say.
For the next few days, we split our duties between training more soldiers and searching high and low for potential Watchers. Athena quickly becomes an ally in the hunt, tasked with asking a series of specific questions to the masses.
We know that the chances of finding someone like Athena, someone so naturally gifted, will be unlikely. However, there may be rough diamonds out there, those who have had visions but simply thought they were nightmares. So we ask. We canvass. And as the days go by, we begin to gather together a small group of potentials.
At the end of a long few days, we stand in our training room with an odd group of people. About a dozen of them stand before us, an equal distribution of men and women. As with our soldier recruits, there's a range of ages before us.
Feeling like Ajax, standing in the Grid ahead of us when we were recruits on Eden, I begin a short speech. Ellie and Theo stand either side of me, with Athena off to one side.
“You are all here this evening because we believe you have the potential to be Watchers. You all know what Watchers are?”
They all nod. If they didn't before, it will have been explained to them by now.
“Now, all of you say that you have had dreams that have come true. I want you all to explain to us what you saw, how you felt, and what happened after, in the real world. If the first three of you would step forward.”
I point to the three on the left, and they come forward.
“Come with me,” I say to the m
iddle aged, balding man on the left of the three.
“And you, come with me,” says Theo, looking at the timid looking lady in the centre.
“And you, come over here with me,” says Ellie, ushering a tall, dark haired boy to join her.
We separate, and conduct our interviews. Once over, we pick out the next three. Then the next. Then the next.
By the time we've spoken to them all, we have a good idea as to who has had real visions, who has had nightmares, and who are simply a little unhinged. We dismiss them all and tell them to return the following day. Then we spend the evening conferring.
By lunchtime the next day, the dozen recruits has been whittled down to only five. They all stand ahead of us, a little confused and frightened, and I see the same eyes that I had, only months ago, when I first arrived on Eden.
“You five have had real visions,” I say. “On Eden, we had training techniques that would help us see clearer visions. We went through hell each day to control our fears.”
The faces of the recruits grow paler. Ellie and Theo, two 16 year olds, stare firmly.
“We have no such techniques available to us here. However, we will do our best to teach you to encounter, and control, those fears. When that happens, your visions will grow in clarity. And you may even be able to see into the Void.”
I look over at Athena. Her jaw seems to be perpetually set, her eyes narrow and intense. She has clearly grown fearless over the years, hardened by her experiences.
“For now, though, all I want is for you to focus hard on your visions. If you feel one in your sleep, don't consider it a nightmare. Search for clues, for signs. Whenever you see anything of note, write it down immediately, before it fades.”
The three men and two women nod nervously.
“Good. That's all for now. Tomorrow, we will begin your training.”
They turn and file out of the large cave, and I watch them as they go.
“You sounded just like Ajax,” says Ellie. “He'd be proud.”
“Yeah, Cyra, good job. I don't see how we're going to train them, though. This cave is hardly the Grid,” says Theo.
“We'll make do with what we've got,” I say. “I'm not expecting soldiers who can see into the Void here. But the more people having visions, the safer these people will be.”
Theo and Ellie nod together.
“What about me?” comes a voice from across the cave. “I can be a soldier.”
Athena stands tall and strong, her eyes like granite.
“You're very gifted, Athena,” I say. “With some more training, perhaps you'll be able to dodge bullets as Theo and I can.”
“You can dodge bullets?” she asks, eyes widening.
“They sure can,” says Ellie, “and more. Theo once drove a car between two train carriages travelling at full speed.”
“What's a train?” asks Athena.
Her strange brand of hard innocence makes me have to stifle a laugh.
“Never mind,” says Ellie.
“And can you dodge bullets?” she asks.
Ellie shakes her head.
“I can't see into the Void at all really. I'm not much use to be honest.”
“Hey, don't say that,” I say. “You've helped hugely this entire time.”
She shrugs.
“Yeah, but I can't do much in a fight. I'm more a liability than anything.”
Theo's hand comes down on her shoulder for comfort. Athena, meanwhile, steps forward with purpose.
“Will you train me to dodge bullets?” she asks me.
“I'll do my best. It's hard here. When we trained we could simulate real life situations without being in real danger. Here, there's no way of doing that.”
“Then put me in real danger, I don't care,” she says.
“Athena, no.”
“Go on, test me out. Shoot at me. I'll dodge it, I know I will.”
“You won't,” says Theo. “A bullet is nothing like a punch. It's a thousand times quicker. You'd get hit.”
“We won't know until we try,” she says. “Just shoot to the side of me.”
Theo shakes his head.
“If you know we're shooting to miss, you'll know the danger won't be real. Only under real threat do we see into the Void.”
“Then shoot me, I don't care! Shoot at me! Shoot at me!”
As she shouts, walking closer to Theo, I swing an open fist at her, hard. It connects with her face, and sends her stumbling back. She looks up at me, stunned, her cheek red and eyes beginning to water with rage.
“You think you can avoid a bullet, and yet you can't even avoid a slap,” I say.
She advances on me, beginning to charge, raising her fists to attack. A flurry of punches hit only air. I slide around without a second thought. Eventually she stops, huffing and puffing, and places her hand back on her stinging cheek.
“That's not the same,” she says, panting hard. “You blind-sided me.”
“That means nothing. When you're properly trained, you can see danger from all angles, even behind you.”
She goes quiet, her pride stinging as much as her cheek.
“Come back tomorrow, Athena. And be patient. It took months of rigorous training to get to where we are. You're gifted, but don't expect miracles.”
“I just want revenge for my family,” she says coldly. “I just want revenge.”
I move in.
“And you'll get it. We'll all get revenge together.”
She nods, holding back any tears. She just seems the sort; the girl who never cries. The hard girl who bottles everything up. But as she walks off, marching down the passageway, the unmistakable sound of sniffing echoes back into the cave.
13 - The Refugees March
Most days I wake peacefully now. My eyes open gradually, naturally. They don't snap me out of a nightmare or terrible vision, because, for the last week or two at least, I've felt more calm.
I suppose that's what keeping busy does to you. It focuses your mind on a single task, a single goal. After long days training recruits, I'm usually so exhausted that I pass out and wake almost immediately to a fresh new day.
This morning, however, I'm awoken by something different. It's the sound of steady crying that pulls me from my sleep. I roll over in bed and see the source – Ellie sits on the edge of her bed, face in her palms, weeping softly.
“Ellie, what's wrong?” I ask, slipping straight from my bed and over to her.
She lifts her eyes and quickly rubs them clean of tears. One big sniff later and she's regained her composure.
“Sorry, I didn't want to wake you.”
“Honey, tell me, what's up?”
“It's just Link,” she mumbles. “Recently, I've been seeing him in my sleep. It's all so real, you know. It's like he's still alive in my head, and when I sleep, he's there. It's hard, Cyra.”
“I know, I know,” I say, wrapping an arm over her shoulder. “It'll get easier. You've been getting much better recently.”
She nods.
“I've been feeling OK, I guess, when I'm keeping busy. But sometimes it hits me in the mornings. Usually I've sorted myself out before you wake up.”
“This has been happening regularly?” I ask.
“Pretty much. But don't worry about me. We have so much to do. Let's get going.”
We dress, and walk down the lonely passages towards the central chamber. Inside, the place is already teeming with life. There's a buzz in the air. Everyone is awake, which is unusual. On most days, many people remain asleep as we begin our morning routine.
Today, though, it's different. People begin migrating outside towards the exits to the plateau. We follow in behind, interested to see what's going on. I ask someone in the crowd, and he just shrugs at me and continues on his way. I ask someone else and they do the same.
Typical sheep mentality, all these people following the herd. And now Ellie and I are joining it.
Finally, I get an answer from a guard stationed at the fr
ont.
“Fresh refugees,” he says.
“That's nothing new,” I reply. “Why is everyone so interested?”
“Because there are loads of them, thousands. A lot of people will have friends and family in a group that big.”
I turn to Ellie.
“Did you hear that! Thousands! That's gotta be Jackson!”
I rush out into the cold morning, joining many others as they gravitate towards the main gate for a better look. Guards begins corralling them, ushering them back inside or to one side.
“Make way, keep the tunnels clear,” calls a guard.
The gate ahead begins to creak and open. People continue to flood towards it, eyes eager. Mine are the same as I get pulled along by the throng.
Then, suddenly, a sight I've yearned to see for weeks appears. The gate opens wider, and there, at the head of a long column of people, walks Jackson. He looks weary, but strong, standing tall and wrapped in several layers of clothing. To his side is Markus, pumping his fist as the guards welcome him back.
I rush towards the gate along with many others. And as I near, Jackson catches eyes with me. The brightest smile warms his face as he drops the heavy bag from his back and comes storming forward.
I'm wrapped up into his arms, those strong, protective arms. He twirls me around and drops me to the ground, both our faces beaming. And in a moment of pure, natural desire, he plants his lips to mine.
The world blurs around me for a brief moment, before he pulls back with a beaming smile.
“I've missed you!” he says, pulling away from the kiss and hugging me again.
I hug him back tighter.
“I've missed you more,” I say, betraying myself and saying the most cheesy thing I can think of.
Around us, the refugees continue to enter through the gate, and the current residents of the city continue to pour the other way. Many search for relatives and friends. Others hug strangers and help weary bodies inside. And all the while the guards attempt to keep some kind of order.
“So this is Petram is it?” asks Jackson. “It's impressive.”
“Just wait until you see the inside,” I say.
Holding hands, we make our way inside, battling the crowd. We meet Ellie in the doorway. She gives Jackson a hug.
