City of Stone (The Watchers Trilogy, Book Two)

by T. C. Edge

  When they get near enough, I watch in horror as bullets tear from their gun barrels. Men fall to the earth, dropped with single shots. Within moments all twelve men are on the ground, blood pooling beneath them.

  And then, as quickly as it began, the shooting stops, and the world falls to silence.

  From the buildings behind us, the others come charging forwards. I walk slowly into the carnage, staring at downed bodies on the floor. At the dead eyes of men forced into this existence, never to see their families again.

  “We need to clear the scene,” says Drake, as if nothing has happened. He remains calm, head clear as the sky above us. “Everyone, pick up a body and carry them to that old barn. Search them, strip off their uniforms. They might come in handy.”

  I stand still, and don't move.

  “Cyra, help us,” says Drake, staring me down.

  I don't move.

  “Snap out of it, Cyra, God damn it. We need you lucid for this mission. These men are collateral damage. And for God's sake, don't look in their eyes. Don't over think this.”

  At that moment, a sudden grunt of pain sounds from the side of the one of the cars. I rush over and see one of the men, eyes open in anguish, face tight with pain.

  “He's wounded!” I shout. “Where's the medikit?!”

  I scan his body for injuries. He appears to have taken a bullet to the shoulder, but otherwise looks OK.

  Ellie rushes towards the helicopter. Drake calls her to stop.

  “Ellie, don't. We can't afford to leave anyone alive.”

  The man looks up in horror.

  “Who...who are you?!” he says, blood spilling from his mouth.

  “He has internal injuries,” continues Drake, not answering the question. “He's going to bleed out anyway.”

  “Dad, please, you can't kill him!” I say.

  “We have no choice.”

  He draws a pistol from his belt and aims it at the young man's head. He looks a similar age to Lieutenant Murphy, fresh faced and clean shaven, his eyes innocent. I quickly move to stand in the way.

  “Cyra, step aside. Think about this logically. We don't have a choice here.”

  “There's always a choice.”

  I look around at the others. They carry neutral expressions.

  “Does no one else care? We can't just murder this man!”

  “Cyra, I'm not arguing with you. Step aside.”

  “No,” I say defiantly.

  Drake stares at me with hooded eyes. Gone is the compassion I so often see in them. They're cold and emotionless. They remind me of Ajax.

  “I will not ask again,” he says, his voice growing louder. “Step to the side, right now!”

  I hold my ground, facing down the barrel of my father's pistol. Behind me, the man continues to plead, his sobs filling the air.

  “We can use him. He can help us,” I say. “He doesn't have to die.”

  Behind Drake, Jackson speaks.

  “She's right, sir. He could help us cross the country. There's no harm in trying.”

  “I'll do anything you want,” says the man on the floor. “Anything...just please, don't kill me.”

  I watch Drake closely, see the mechanism ticking behind those deep blue eyes. Slowly, he lowers his weapon.

  “Ellie,” he shouts. “Get the medikit. Lieutenant Murphy, check him out.”

  “Yes, sir,” says the Lieutenant, stepping quickly forward.

  I watch as Lieutenant Murphy goes to work, inspecting his body for internal injuries and checking the gunshot wound to his shoulder. After a few moments he concludes that he has a couple of broken ribs from the fall, but nothing too fatal.

  “The gunshot wound is clean,” he says. “Gone straight through.”

  “Good,” says Drake. “Dress him. The rest of you, move those bodies. That includes you, Cyra,” he says, glaring at me.

  I relent, my desire to argue depleted.

  For the next half hour, we carry and drag fresh corpses to the barn, strip them off, search them, and set about washing off any blood stains we can. The cars are driven off the road and hidden. Markus, meanwhile, is ordered to get the helicopter out of sight. It's not an easy task, with little direct cover in the area. Thankfully, there's a small patch of open woodland a mile or so away off from the road that will offer some camouflage. With Theo following in a car, he sets off on his mission. They return about half an hour later, feeling positive that the chopper will remain unseen.

  The day wears on, and soon the light starts to fade. With the road cleared of cars and bodies, we retire to the nearby buildings for the night. The atmosphere is tense, cracks already appearing among the group. We speak little as we prepare dinner and eat, the reality of our situation dawning fast.

  Once we've eaten, Drake addresses us. I can hardly look at him as he speaks.

  “Tomorrow, we're going to continue in the cars. Our new friend will help us navigate to the coast. We will wear the Custodian's uniforms as cover. Cyra, thank you for stopping me from killing him. It was the right decision.”

  I don't say a word as he gives me a short nod of appreciation.

  “How come we're not using the helicopter any more?” asks Ellie.

  “It's too conspicuous. This side of the wall is far busier. It will be impossible to remain hidden. The cars won't be noticed, and we will be able to travel far more easily across country. We might just have happened upon some luck.”

  “Luck?” I say. “Luck that we had to kill a bunch of men. And what about our captive, what happens when he's of no more use. Bullet to the head, is it?”

  “You disappoint me, Cyra. You were always an opinionated girl, but you don't seem to see the bigger picture. Is one man's life worth more than everyone in Petram? Because if we're caught or killed, if we fail, everyone there will die.”

  Everyone turns to look at me. I feel their eyes boring in.

  “Sooner or later,” Drake continues, “you're going to have to kill to save yourself, or save someone you care about. What will you do then?”

  “I...I...”

  “You're a good person, Cyra,” he cuts in, “but that will be your undoing. If you were in danger, I'd kill a hundred men to save you. What matters are the people in this room, the people in Petram, the thousands of refugees who are going to starve. If a few dozen have to die to save them, they will die, innocent or not. There is no other way.”

  I feel a strange emotion build in me, my eyes starting to wet. Everyone continues to stare, but I don't meet any of their gazes. I can't. Suddenly, I feel ashamed.

  I begin nodding, my voice quiet when I speak.

  “OK,” I say. “I'm sorry...you're right.”

  Drake's demeanour softens, and I find Ellie's arm quickly wrapping over my shoulder.

  “Don't be sorry,” he says. “Just remember why we're doing this, and you'll act without thinking. It's the only way.”

  “Think of the Grid, Cyra,” whispers Ellie. “You'd fight lots of soldiers there. I know they weren't real, but they seemed real. It's the same here. It's just one big Grid, OK.”

  I nod and she holds me a little tighter.

  I feel stupid. I know I have to snap out of this, change my mentality. It's as if all that fear training has done nothing, not hardened me at all. Or maybe that's the very problem, experiencing death each day in there, seeing Jackson die over and over. Maybe it's made me more attuned to death. Maybe it's made me hate it.

  We all disperse and search for comfortable corners to sleep in. In this old, crumbling house, I know I'll find little of that. Jackson comes to me.

  “There's a bed upstairs,” he says. “You and Ellie should take it.”

  I smile at him and he leads us to the first floor. The bed is rotten and dingy, but better than the hard floor.

  “Sleep well,” he says softly, before silently leaving the room and shutting the door tight.

  Ellie creeps into bed first, and I follow. We lie next to each other in the darkness, unspeaking. I
know she'll be thinking of Link once more, perhaps imagining that it's him next to her, rather than me.

  Before long, she's breathing gently, drifting off to sleep. I lie awake, eyes wide, unable to close them, fearing what I might see. Heightened emotions bring out stronger visions. I dread to see the dead faces of my friends again.

  But I can't help it. As I drift into a troubled sleep, it lingers in my head. I can feel it coming. I get tangled up in the web, fall into the abyss, and there, right there, I see them all once more.

  It's clearer again. The faces of Ellie and Jackson and Theo carry more detail. Their bodies lie slumped on a stage. The wood panelling beneath them begins to turn crimson. I hear a murmur of voices, of hundreds of people gathered. Around the stage, all around, people watch from stands, from balconies, from windows.

  Then one distinct chuckle reaches my ears, cutting through the din. I look to the right of the stage and see the face of the devil. Augustus Knight stands on a platform above, his mouth twisted into a cruel, snarling smile. He stares at me with those grey eyes of his, a thin tongue curling along his bottom lip.

  His eyes dip down, gesturing for mine to follow. And when I do, I see the source of my friends' death.

  Because in my hands I hold a gun.

  And the barrel is smoking.

  17 - The Torment of Sleep

  “Cyra, Cyra, wake up!”

  I'm shaken awake by Ellie. It's still dark in the room, dawn yet to arrive. I can't see her eyes, but can hear the tone of her voice. She's worried.

  “I'm awake,” I say as she continues to shake me. “What's going on?”

  “You were moaning and turning a lot. You woke me up. Were you having a vision?”

  The sight of Knight's twisted smile clatters once more into my mind, and my breathing quickly grows fast.

  “Cyra, tell me. Was it the same as before? Did you see us dead?”

  I feel like I'm going to hyperventilate. It's how I felt back on Eden when I saw the footage of Jackson dying, when I fell out of consciousness and got lost in the darkness. I can't let it happen again.

  “Breath, breath deep!” says Ellie.

  She jumps from the bed, and goes towards the door.

  “Stop,” I say between breaths.

  “You need help. I'll get Murphy.”

  “No...no...I...have...control,”

  She lingers by the door as I fight a mental battle. Slowly, but surely, I regain control.

  “What happened? Was it clearer? Do you have more details?”

  “I saw Knight,” I say sharply, breathing heavily. “You were all on a stage on Eden. People were watching. It was like a public execution.”

  “An execution...”

  “And...” I pause, taking a deep breath, “and I was the executioner...”

  “What? That...makes no sense.”

  “You can't go to Eden. None of you,” I say.

  “Cyra, that vision doesn't have to come true, you know that. We need to tell your dad.”

  “No!” I say. “No one else can know.”

  “Why not! It involves all of us. It's important.”

  “Because he's right, about everything. We need to do this mission, whatever happens. Knowing what I've seen won't change anything for him. We have to keep going, and make sure it doesn't happen.”

  “It's up to you, Cy. I won't tell if you don't want me to. But I think people deserve to know, especially Theo and Jackson. It might help if they know what's coming.”

  “It won't help,” I say darkly. “It'll just put them on edge, take their minds off the mission. Ellie, I don't think you should be here. Maybe, I don't know, you should try to go home to Lignum or something.”

  She stares at me, bewildered.

  “Are you mad? As soon as they find me they'd know who I am. We've gotta be the most hunted people in the country, Cy. I'm not going to be able to just wander back home as if nothing's happened!”

  “I know. I just care about you, and I want you to be safe.”

  “The safest place I'll be right now is by your side. In any case, I want to be here, for Link...”

  She trails off, as she so often does when his name comes up.

  “Still seeing him in your dreams?” I ask.

  She nods sombrely.

  “He comes and goes. I kinda hope it fades because it's so painful, but at the same time I like it. It's nice while it lasts, and then I wake up, and realise he's gone forever.”

  “I understand. We both lost our mums. And I had something similar with Jackson when I thought he'd been killed. It gets easier, Ellie.”

  “I know. I feel better than I did, less raw. Mostly, I just want to set things straight, help out wherever I can. Maybe, one day, go and see his sister in Fossor. He always wanted her to have a better life. If we complete this mission, everyone will.”

  We hug in the dim light of our room, the first signs of dawn appearing out the broken windows. Downstairs, I hear movement, then the sound of voices. Most prominent of all is Drake's, ordering everyone up.

  “Remember, Ellie, don't tell anyone.”

  She nods, and we join the others downstairs.

  We waste little time in moving off that morning. Overnight, our captive appears to have improved, his body working hard to replace the blood he lost. He looks less pale but just as frightened as he did before.

  “What is it that you want?” he asks fretfully as we enter the solitary confinement we kept him in.

  “Just a navigator,” says Drake. “You'll lead us to the coast, that's all.”

  “And when we get there?” His voice shakes as he speaks, a perpetual look of fear in his eyes.

  “We'll let you go. You have nothing to fear from us, as long as you comply.”

  The man seems somewhat placated, his nerves dissolving slightly.

  “OK, I'll do anything you want.”

  “Good. That's just what I want to hear.”

  We all dress in the Custodians' clothing before we leave. For Ellie, finding something that fits is a real challenge, and she ends up looking quite comical in a baggy pair of trousers, shirt, and jacket. I'm in a similar state, though, our dual appearance seeming to lighten up the group a little bit.

  We take two cars, leaving the other two behind, hidden off in the woods with the helicopter. After spending an hour gathering foliage to offer extra cover for the various vehicles, we head off on our way.

  In the lead car, our new navigator friend sits up front alongside Drake, who takes the wheel. In the back seat, Jackson sits beside Lieutenant Murphy. The rear car is driven by Markus, with Theo next to him and myself and Ellie looking ridiculous in the back.

  We drive for much of the day, cutting a tentative path through the quietest roads we can find. I wonder if there will be any way to track these cars when someone realises they're missing. Naturally, the fact that twelve Custodians appear to have dropped off the map might also raise suspicions.

  When we stop in the late morning for lunch, I bring my concerns to Drake.

  “Taken care of, Cyra,” he responds. “At least as well as we can hope.”

  “How?”

  “I had our friend communicate that he's OK to his superiors. Thankfully, these Custodians have been assigned a large area to roam and are mainly autonomous, so they're unlikely to be checked up on. It will give us some time, at least, to get across the country.”

  “And does our friend have a name?” I ask.

  “I haven't asked,” he says bluntly.

  I shake my head and walk over to the lead car. He sits inside, looking downcast.

  “Hi,” I say brightly. “How's the shoulder.”

  He looks at me curiously.

  “It's, um...it hurts,” he says.

  “It'll get better,” I say, smiling. “What's your name?”

  “Um, it's Tommy.”

  “Tommy, nice to meet you. I'm Cyra. You've probably heard of me by now.”

  “I...yeah, I guess I have.”

  �
��Well, you've nothing to fear from us, remember that. Unless...you try something.” I throw some malice into my voice.

  His expression shows he gets it, and I follow up with a wink.

  I turn to go back to Drake. Tommy's voice stops me

  “Thank you for yesterday, Cyra,” he says. “You saved my life.”

  “I'd have done it for anyone,” I say. “I'm...I'm sorry for the others.”

  I continue walking.

  “Tommy. His name's Tommy,” I say to Drake when I reach him. “He's a person, just like you and me. Use his name next time.”

  I don't give him a chance to respond. I just march back towards the rear car, climb inside, and shut the door. If only I wasn't wearing this oversized Custodian uniform, I might have come across as serious.

  The day stretches on, but our progress is slow. We stop regularly at the sight of any sort of activity. So far, the sight of vehicles and people have been few and far between. We're still fairly close to the wall, and haven't yet reached a fully functioning region. We're in an area that is primarily no man's land, filled with the old skeletons of cities and settlements that have long fallen into disuse.

  Occasionally we spot military patrols or other Custodians, but they're rare. When we do, as long as we have the chance, we turn off and casually seek another route. As we go deeper, however, it's bound to become busier, the functioning regions nearer to the coast harder to slip through so easily.

  That first night, we find a quiet place to settle in another abandoned town. We find a house, this time with beds in each room, and settle in for the night. I find myself restless as Ellie sleeps beside me once more. Something Tommy said, about knowing who I was. A curiosity takes me. I have to know more.

  With the house silent, I creep into the old storeroom he occupies downstairs, tied up to a pipe on the wall. He sits up against it awkwardly, but sleeping. I gently grasp his good shoulder and shake him awake.

  When his eyes slide open they spend a moment taking me in. It looks like I've brought him out of a nightmare.

  “What's happening?!” he asks hurriedly. “Is it morning?”

  “Dead of night,” I say. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

  He blinks furiously, shaking the fog from his head.