by T. C. Edge
“Drum, what do you mean? Of course you did.”
He shakes his head and drops to the rock floor, sitting up against the wall.
“I…I killed a man, Brie. I took a life.”
He hangs his head in shame, a grimace swamping his face now. I guess it’s a hard thing to do, taking someone’s life away from them, ridding a family of a loved one.
“It wasn’t your fault, Drum. You just don’t know your own strength, that’s all.”
“It’s not an excuse,” he drones. “I broke his neck because he teased me. That’s not fair. I think…maybe I deserved to be taken to the REEF after that.”
“Don’t speak like that, it won’t get you anywhere. It was an accident, OK, an accident. Look at me…”
I take his chin and lift his wide face to mine.
“You have a second chance now,” I tell him, creeping inside his mind. “You can try to do some good.”
I sink briefly into his head, only enough to feel his shame and guilt and sadness. Before I drift too far, I pull back, and find him looking at me in a funny way.
“You’re amazing, Brie,” he says, a small smile re-appearing. “Zander told me about it all. All these powers you have. And just…you, as a person. You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve it.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” I say flippantly. “You’re the kindest, sweeting boy I’ve ever met. You made one mistake after a lifetime of being teased. And the fact that you’re beating yourself up so hard says it all. You’re a good person, Drum. You have a lot to give. You just have to find your calling.”
He nods, and that guilt and shame in his eyes fades, taken over by a determination, a resolve that those big browns never portray.
“I think I have,” he says. “You showed me the way, and your brother brought me here. And, I’ve spoken to some people, and think I want to join up. I can do good, like you say. I can help.”
“Join up? What do you mean?”
“The Nameless. I can become a member, a soldier. I have Brute blood, everyone’s saying it. Maybe I can help.”
I fall silent for a second, but try to shade the doubt from my eyes. I don’t want to quash any rising resolution in him, to send him spiralling back down again. But, I don’t want him being a soldier, not now, with everything that’s going on.
“Are you sure they’d let you?” I ask, raising my eyes.
“Um, I think so. I can fight, if I need to.”
“But you’re just a boy. You’ve never used a weapon in your life.”
“Your brother was much younger than me when he joined,” he counters sensitively. “I could do it, I know I could.”
“I’m sure you could…”
“No you’re not,” he cuts in. “I know you don’t think I can do anything.”
“Drum...”
“No, I’m not blaming you,” he says quickly. “Why should anyone think I can do anything. I muck up everything I try.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. I’m stupid, and clumsy, and soft. I know I am. But…I can grow tougher. I am growing tougher here. I need to do something, Brie. I have to repay what I owe.”
“You don’t owe anything.”
“YES I DO,” he says, his voice booming a little louder. A few eyes turn to us from the fire, before fading away again. Drum lowers his voice. “I do owe…I owe you, and Zander, and lots of people here. But mostly, I owe that man I killed. I have to do something with my life to make up for that.”
His voice withers away, and the chatter from the cave grows in my ears. I look into his eyes, filled with a need that I’ve never seen in them before, his face appearing older, leaner, his clothing more dirty and tattered and his hair dishevelled.
He looks like a boy at the bottom of the barrel, trying to claw his way to the top. And if I stop him, he’ll be stuck down in that dark hole forever.
A passing thought flows through me. I could try to stop him now, enter his mind and rewire his desire to sign up, to become a soldier, to enter the fight.
And if I wasn’t able to, I could get Zander to instead. I could keep him safe down here, where I won’t have to worry about him as I work on my mission up above.
But the thought merely passes and doesn’t take hold. Much as I’d like to, I can’t do that to him. Not to my friend.
His voice ends the silence, calmer now, the etched lines of stress on his face withdrawing.
“There’s a war coming, Brie,” he says, looking out. “That’s what everyone is saying here. And if that’s true, I can’t just sit here and do nothing…”
I nod and stare at him.
Oh, there’s a war coming alright…
But not if I can help it.
15
I don’t return to the surface that night. There are more reasons than one for that.
Not only do I want to stay with Drum, and Zander, and even Ricky – I feel I have a duty of care for the young man, given how I pretty much ordered him down here against his will – but I also realise that returning home right now would be far too dangerous.
Obviously, I’ve skipped through the night before on more than one occasion, creeping away after secret meetings with Zander and getting back to the academy without issue. However, that was always in the western quarter, and usually only from the shelter in district 6 to the academy in district 5. Overall, not too far to go.
However, right now the underlands beyond the northern quarter are considered too dangerous to travel. Part of that, of course, is my own doing. After finding me in the waterfall cavern, that area of the underlands is off-limits. Since Drum and Zander were chased off in another direction, various other passages are also deemed unsafe, even for the most powerful among us like Zander.
All in all, the Consortium are tightening the noose, and many of the passages across the western, eastern, and southern quarters are now being searched. The only thing in our favour is that the underlands of the northern quarter are so much harder to find. So hard, in fact, that even those who have been down here for years can often forget the locations of the many secret entrances.
Yet, soon enough, the agents of the Consortium will find a way through. And when they do, they’ll spread through these caves and caverns like a plague, wiping out everyone they find. Should that happen, many of the people here will die. Even the secrets ways out of here that I’ve been told about won’t be sufficient to save them all.
And in my head, that ticking clock continues to echo. Time is pressing against us. We have so little of it to waste.
But tonight, I relax in safety, talking quietly with Drum until Zander materialises from the darkness to fill me in on Ricky’s current state.
“He’s a little confused,” he informs me. “He couldn’t remember much of what happened, which is perfectly normal. He’ll soon realise that he’s far safer here than up there. That was a good thing you did, Brie.”
“Well, as long as he’s safe. Do you reckon he would have come of his own accord?”
“Honestly? Hard to tell. Some people are too wary. They consider it a trap when we try to get them to safety. Who knows if he’s like that. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. Either way, it doesn’t matter now.”
He moves in to sit beside Drum and pats him on the shoulder.
“How’s it going, big guy? Good to see Brie again?”
Drum looks at me with a glowing smile and nods shyly. Clearly, he hasn’t quite grown comfortable around my brother yet.
Over the course of the evening, however, he loosens up in his company. We move in by the fire to get warmer, and fetch some food from over at one of the cooking pits. I’m surprised to find that meat is on the menu, large carcasses being turned on spit roasts.
“What sort of meat is this?” I ask Zander as we return to Drum’s assigned spot.
“Erm, this looks like beef,” he says. He takes a bite and nods. “Yep, beef.”
“Where do you get it?”
“Oh, we have some
contacts in the slaughterhouses over in the eastern quarter. They help keep us fed.”
“Ah, right. Is that why the second attack by the Fanatics targeted a food factory?” I ask.
“Um, actually, no. We had a drug production facility under the factory making our suppressor drugs. You know, the type you were taking. They found out about it and used the Fanatics’ attack as cover to blow it up.”
I shake my head in disgust. Many innocent workers died in that attack. They hit two birds with one stone: spreading fear through their terrorists, and taking out the factory. It sickens me.
I taste the chewy meat with a grimace. It’s good, if a little dry. No cause for complaint from me, though.
“I noticed some other carcasses hanging over there too,” I say, turning my attention back to the food. “They didn’t look like cows.”
“Well, occasionally some of our guys go out hunting beyond the wall to catch game.”
“What…you mean, you go into the outerlands? What sort of game is out there?”
“Deer, boar, things like that. Sometimes they even take down a bear or wolves if they need to.”
“Hang on. But, aren’t those creatures too toxic to eat? They’re mutants, aren’t they?”
“Mutants in so far as they’ve adapted to live out there, yeah. We just need to cure the meat right, then it’s edible. It can make you feel queasy sometimes, but no one’s gonna complain when they’re struggling for food.”
“Jeez, I never knew. I guess I’m starting to understand why you can’t invite everyone down here then.”
“Exactly.”
What fascinates me the most, however, is the fact that they actually head outside the perimeter wall to hunt. I know that the Consortium send their workers out there to clear the lands, and that they’re probably building new settlements to expand into, but other than that, I thought it was completely off-limits.
Although, having been down into the murky swamps of the south myself, I can now attest to the fact that you can survive with the right tools. As long as you’re suitably protected from the fog, and you don’t stay out in the mist too long, you should be OK.
Naturally, I grill Zander on the topic some more, something he finds quite bemusing. Clearly, since he’s always heading outside of the city to the church where the Nameless have their headquarters, the notion of going beyond the wall isn’t particularly special to him.
To me, it’s captivating. And immediately I put forward the suggestion that I join in on one of these hunts at some point.
“Maybe one day,” Zander says, pouring water on my fire. “But right now, you’ve got a job to do.”
“Yeah yeah, I know. But after, I’m going out there to explore,” I tell him, with unequivocal confidence. “So…what about the Shadows? Has anyone seen them on hunting trips?”
“There have been stories,” he says quietly, the flickering fire configuring an eerie backdrop as he speaks.
Drum, staying silent, leans in a little closer.
“What stories?” I ask, doing the same as my oversized friend.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard things before. Mutated humans and all that. If the animals can adapt to survive out in that poison, then why not us?”
“But are they really, you know, human?”
“At the most basic, primal, level maybe,” whispers Zander, looking to Drum now with intense eyes.
Drum’s big browns grow wider. Zander offers me the subtlest of playful winks.
Then he leans back, and raises his voice again.
“Ah, who knows? When our hunting parties move through, the Shadows, whatever they are, kind of stick to the darkness. They don’t want to be messing with our men.”
“I can imagine. Only hybrids go out there I guess?”
“Mostly. Bats and Sniffers and Hawks are pretty useful at tracking prey. And Dashers aren’t bad at taking them down. And when you get someone who has multiple powers, they’re fairly valuable assets.”
“So who’s the most powerful?” We turn to look at Drum, who appears to have broken his brief vow of silence. “Do you…have any hybrids who have all the powers?”
Zander shakes his head and huffs.
“Nah, that would be pretty much impossible I’d say. We’ve got some good mixes. Sniffers and Bats. Hawks and Sniffers. Dashers and Bats. All combinations you can think of really. Sometimes you’ll get someone with three types of Enhanced blood, but that’s rare.”
“Like you two,” says Drum eagerly. “You’re both Dashers and Hawks and Mind-Manipulators, aren’t you?”
I nod. “That’s right, Drum.”
“So it’s you then?” he asks, looking at Zander again. “You’re the most powerful here?”
My brother appears to enjoy the suggestion, but plays it cool.
“That’s not for me to say, big man. It depends on what types of power you value.”
For my money, that’s a pretty firm ‘yes’. There’s no power like being a Mind-Manipulator. And to add being a Hawk and a Dasher – or Hawker – to the mix? Well, that’s a pretty potent combo if I might say so myself.
The evening continues on, Drum now finding his voice and plucking a multitude of questions from the recesses of his mind. He appears to grow more interested in this strange new world as the minutes and hours pass, my presence perhaps liberating him from the shackles of his shyness.
As the night grows late, however, instructions are issued from the different section supervisors to quieten down all conversations. It appears to be quite ordered down here, a proper system of governance in place to ensure that things run smoothly.
Given how even whispers carry a long way through these caverns, too much talking is outlawed by a certain stage of the evening.
I’m disappointed, but soon realise it’s for the best. With weary eyes and heavy limbs, I’m taken by Zander to another cavern, leaving Drum behind with a kiss to the cheek, and given a mattress of rags to sleep on. Zander makes sure to stay nearby, finding his own little corner to catch a few winks in.
Before he does, he leaves me with an instruction.
“Get some sleep, Brie,” he tells me. “Because tomorrow, we’re taking your training to the next level.”
I drift away with my head a mixed bag of excitement and dread. And in my dreams, so many of the memories I encountered today play out, an endless series of terror and joy and heartbreak echoing in my unconscious mind.
When I wake, I do so to the same darkness I fell asleep to. My enhanced eyes quickly take in the form of the cave, and I note that Zander is no longer there. Standing, I move back towards the main cave, the space still filled with fires that give a patchwork of light to the place.
Some glow only with embers now, indicating the passing of the time as I slept. Others continue to roar more furiously, mostly set around the edges of the cavern where lookouts continue to coax them to life as they set about their vigils.
I search the space and see Drum in his corner, his large silhouette curled up in a ball and facing the wall. Nearby, Ricky’s skinny frame appears, the young man being assigned to the same section as my friend.
Around the cavern, many other little bundles and mounds can be seen, hundreds of bodies littering the rock floor as they sleep. I check my watch to find that it’s still early, dawn only just beginning to glow somewhere up above. But down here, none of its natural light penetrates.
Meandering towards the centre of the cave, I spot Zander coming down a north facing passage. He emerges, has a few words with one of the watchmen, and then spies me hovering about nearby.
“You’re up,” he says, moving towards me. “I expected you to be sleeping a little longer.”
“I don’t have time to lie in,” I say. “Where have you been?”
“Outside the city. Lady Orlando requires regular updates.”
I’m sure she does…
“You could have told me,” I grunt. “I’d liked to have gone outside the city again. Doesn’t Lady Orlando wan
t updates from me?”
Zander shakes his head in somewhat hasty and dismissive fashion.
“I’m your liaison, Brie. She doesn’t want you distracted by any extraneous diversions, and you’ve got enough on your plate right now to be dealing with.”
It sounds like a fob off to me. She probably just doesn’t want to deal with my inevitable interrogations.
I have no energy to waste on arguing the point, though. Instead, I turn my eyes to the tunnel we came down yesterday evening.
“So, let’s get to this then, shall we?”
Zander’s eyebrows pop up in surprise. “You’re eager this morning.”
“Yup,” I say, moving off. “Now come on, don’t keep me waiting, Zander.”
With my brother hurrying to catch me up, we work our way back up through the tunnels, emerging into a misty morning in the outer districts of the northern quarter. The fog is dense, but mostly grey, carrying with it only a light tinge of green.
Entering onto the streets, I suck it in and feel little more than a tingle in my throat, and across the bare skin of my hands and face.
“You want a gas mask?” asks Zander, clearly much more used to these conditions than me.
“I’ll cope,” I tell him. “This is nothing compared to the outerlands.”
With our senses dialled up to eleven, we begin our morning’s work. In such conditions, visibility is poor, and consequently the threat of Con-Cops or Stalkers is a little more pronounced.
“They like this type of weather,” I’m told. “Makes it easier for them to creep around and find unsuspecting Disposables before they have a chance to escape. We need to tread carefully, and keep our eyes and ears open.”
The increased sense of danger serves to have a positive effect on me. With my pulse ticking along a little faster, and my wits growing keener, I feel that these conditions are just about perfect to speed my training.
There’s nothing like the threat of getting caught to clarify the mind, and expedite the development of my powers.
So, in that state, the morning goes well. Leading me along, Zander hunts down several more willing test subjects, always returning to the nooks and crannies where he knows them to be hiding.
