Darkside 1

by Aaron K Carter

  “If you like, I shall make unreasonable excuses for you,” I offer.

  “Ebbel will love those,” Tom says.

  “I know,” I say, with a grin.

  The floor spins out from under me. When I raise my head, I see stars then dots. My stomach churns. If there were anything left in there to vomit, I certainly would.

  “Cannibal? Seriously? I die and you turn me into a cannibal in front of your boss?” Ian is standing in front of me. of course, he is. I sigh as I sit up, the world isn’t spinning now but that’s a worse sign I know. It means I’m deeper in the delusion.

  “I needed a reasonable excuse,” I say, defensively.

  “And that for one instant, sounded reasonable?” he asks, exasperated.

  “Well, no, but it was better than the truth,” I say, shrugging a little.

  “I die and this is how you treat me---”

  “You killed yourself! You didn’t die you killed yourself, in front of me,” I say, a sob escaping my lips.

  “I had problems!”

  “Well clearly so do I or we wouldn’t be having this conversation!”

  I sit up and realize I’m not in the office anymore, I’m in my room at the base, my first ever room when I was a Spaceman basic.

  There is the sound of a child crying, sobbing.

  “Daddy, please come.”

  I stand up and look around. There are child’s things here, a little dress, a book, a toy, blankets. No food, I was supposed to get food, wasn’t I? How was I supposed to feed it?

  “I’m so scared,” the child is still crying. I try to go out the door but I can’t, the child isn’t there it isn’t anywhere it’s somewhere elsewhere? I am afraid now, I can do this I can, they can trust me.

  “Where are you?” I ask. There’s no one there to ask. I’m alone? Why is this happening? I have the vague memory I’m not here, that this, actually, literally, cannot be happening. But I don’t remember clearly enough, not to do anything about it. not to find my way out. NO. I know her name.

  “Liesel, where are you?” I ask I’m crawling along the floor I don’t remember why I can’t stand. “I’m coming baby, I’m coming.”

  There is more crying. then silence.

  Dead silence.

  I scream.

  “Why’d you agree to do it?” I ask, as Tsegi and I walk on the outskirts of the base, towards IDMT.

  “Because---I love Quentin,” she admits, looking away from me as she says it, almost ashamed, “I wanted to rescue him.”

  “Oh, funny that. I did it because I love Titus, and I wanted to irk him,” I say, with a playful grin.

  “What, seriously?” she asks.

  “Oh yes,” I say, “It’s very good for him. Glad to help you with a normal healthy relationship, though.”

  “Why don’t you think he’s healthy? Titus, I mean?” she asks.

  “Because I know he’s demented.” All the cute ones are. Demented or unavailable. Darla was right. “It’s okay, though, I think he’ll be fun anyway, even if he’s a bad idea.”

  “Has he done anything?” she asks, concerned now.

  “To me? No,” I say, shrugging, “Don’t worry, if he tries to be demented with me I’ll cut him. it’s just a generalized, global demented thing, with him. so why do you like Quentin?”

  “He’s tall and awkward looking and has sweet pathetic eyes,” she admits.

  “Must be nice,” I say, nodding.

  “It sort of is,” she says, “I don’t know if he likes me, though.”

  “Well, one way to find out,” I say, pointing at the IDMT, “We’re just over there, let’s get your handsome man out.”

  “It wasn’t easy you know.”

  “IT LOOKED IT. It’s hard to live it’s damn hard,” I am openly sobbing now.

  “You would know about that eh?”

  “Yes! Yes, I would know about that I just nearly ate a person for God’s sake I’d think I’d know about that!”

  “You know you’re almost the same age as I was.”

  “Oh really? I’d forgotten it’s not like Mum asks me ten questions my mental state EVERY DAMN DAY because of you.”

  “You think you’ll ever do it?”

  “No, no---”

  “It’s better than this—”

  “No shut up shut up shut up,” I crawl across the floor, my hands over my ears sobbing.

  “Look at what they’ve reduced you to, a sniveling little clone they soup up with juice every day,” he says, standing in front of me, stopping me from getting away.

  “shut up shut up shut up---”

  “You really want to be this? Don’t you hate what you’ve become? You can’t even walk past a liquor store or bar without stopping and having a little talk with yourself ten minutes---”

  “Not hearing from you---”

  “Talking to yourself, even now, think of how mum will feel visiting you, seeing you like this---or when you go back to the drink because you will go back you know---”

  “Stop stop it stop it stop it I can’t hear you---” I can hear him.

  “Or when they lock you up, then you won’t be able to you’ll be trapped in a white pillowed room for the rest of your life.”

  “No, no not me not me---”

  “that’ll be worse than just ending it---so quickly so very clean and then everyone’s pain is just---over.”

  “stop please dear god if you ever loved me stop,” I am sobbing so hard, “I am begging you to stop if you ever—ever even thought of loving me.”

  “Quentin,” He kneels in front of me, his hand brushing the tears from my cheek, “Baby, I’m not Ian. I’m not your brother.”

  I close my eyes, I can’t hear what he’s going to say next. I cover my ears but his voice is as loud as ever.

  “I’m you.”

  “Pull yourself together,” I say, holding Peter’s arm. He’s nearly dropped the guidon twice already so I’m having to have Logan carry it which is as close as I ever get to self-injurious behavior.

  “I can’t, I keep----seeing him,” he whispers, his face is white.

  “I know, but he’d want you to go on, all right? That isn’t him that’s flesh, that’s a body, he’s dead,” I say, in his ear.

  “Did you put him in there?” he whispers.

  “No, no, we buried him, someplace safe, if it’s anything it’s just the bit of his hand that got in there---Tyrell and I tried to clean it.” damn I’m a good liar.

  “Thank you,” he whispers. His eyes are closed and he’s crying.

  “It’s okay, we’re just going to march,” I say. I look over. Tyrell is marching his flight. He’s staring at me and Peter, though. “Listen, you need to be okay.”

  Long looks bad. He might break. That may be something I’ll have to deal with tonight.

  “Be okay for me, all right? Look into my eyes,” I say, tipping my head and forcing him to look into my cerulean eyes, “You need to be okay right now.”

  “CARD WHAT ARE YOU AND LONG DOING? MAKING OUT???”

  And at the sound of Ebbel’s very harsh voice, Peter crumples completely, sobbing. I wrap my arms around him and let him sob into my SBUs. Brig here I come. March on to death, Ebbel. March on.

  “Card, answer me,” Ebbel says.

  “Sir, he is upset about the cadet who got baked into pies,” I say, which is apparently not the best thing for Peter to hear because he starts retching. Ebbel, who has been vomited on once today, steps back. I, wanting to be sent to change my uniform so I can go and find my love the spectacular Nicole Tom so that I can win her heart and in turn be sent to the brig and in turn murder Ebbel, allow him to vomit bile onto my uniform, all the while patting his back, supportively.

  “Then send him to IDMT or his quarters,” Ebbel says, stalking on, “But get back to drilling!”

  “Sir, shall I take him myself and change?” I ask, gesturing at my spoiled uniform.

  “What do you think, Spaceman Basic Card?” he asks.

  “S
ir, I think I should keep drilling as is---”

  “314 Card!”

  **’

  “Sgt. Harris,” I kneel by his side, patting the poor man’s arm, tentatively. He’s out cold, from the looks of it. The dread Dr. Truth Juice is nowhere to be seen, thank goodness.

  “Sgt Harris, you need to wake up,” I say, rolling him over. he moans, which is good because I was just starting to think I’d have to do CPR. His eyes are open and blood-red, and his cheeks are stained with tears. I feel sorry for him, then.

  “He’s out cold, we’ll have to carry him,” I say, kneeling by him to sling him onto my back, “How’s Leavitt?”

  “Worse,” Tsegi says, from the other room, I can hear a faint moaning. “I think he’s having a seizure.”

  “Titus didn’t say if he had a bad reaction to it yesterday,” I say, coming over to see. Sure enough, Leavitt is on the floor, his hands clasped firmly over his ears, convulsing as tears leak out of his eyes, which are squinted shut.

  “Titus isn’t the most warm-hearted, sensitive person,” Tsegi points out.

  “Yeah, true, he probably wouldn’t have cared,” I agree, shrugging. “Let’s just get them out of here.”

  “Well well, what do you think you’re doing m’boy?” a familiar, creepy voice says from behind me.

  “First of all, we’re not boys,” I say, pulling my combat knife from my belt, “Secondly, we’re going to walk out of here with them, or I’ll cut you, Thirdly, I may cut you anyway.”

  “All right, settle down m’boy,” he says, which gets the tip of my knife pressed against his throat, until the fatty skin buckles and turns white.

  “What did I just say?” I ask, stepping forward.

  “All right, all right,” he shrinks away, stumbling over his own feet.

  “Come on,” I say, keeping my knife drawn and going back to Harris. Tsegi follows and helps me sling him onto my back. then she goes back to get Leavitt.

  “Well, you don’t want to do that now—” the doctor stutters, standing and moving towards his medicine cabinet.

  “Don’t move,” I hiss, stepping closer, which is hard to do threateningly while carrying Harris, but I manage, “Do not test me.”

  “Yes, all right now, no need to get upset,” he says, moving again.

  “I’d say there’s a great need for you to be upset because if you move an inch more I will harm you,” I say, stepping forward and flicking a button off his coat with the knife before retreating.

  “Calm down m’ boy,” Dr. Truth Juice says, lurching forward. He had pulled a syringe from his pocket. I was watching the hand with the syringe, which meant that I was not watching his other hand, which he shoved between my legs and into my groin, fingers groping.

  Big mistake.

  “Here, lie down,” I say, helping Peter into his bunk.

  “I keep seeing him,” he whispers, as I put a blanket over him.

  “Yeah, I know, just close your eyes, think of something else,” I offer, climbing onto the foot of his bed. I took some vials from Dr. Truth Juice last time I was there, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to use them so quickly, but Peter is doing pretty badly. He was in shock and he was ready to crack. And when they reveal that all of Tim had wound up in the pie, well, he wouldn’t be too happy. I need to do something, and now. before Tyrell decides to. Card School of Brainwashing now in session.

  “I can’t,” he said, helplessly, looking at me with bloodshot, pleading eyes.

  “Here,” I pull the syringe from my pocket, “This will help you sleep, feel a bit better.”

  “Okay,” he says, it’s a credit to how much shock he’s in he doesn’t ask where I got it. Now, I’ve never successfully brainwashed somebody before so I’m not totally clear how, but I was quite willing to try. and it even seemed to be in Peter’s best interest. So I’ll give it a go.

  “Relax,” I say, “Just listen to my voice.”

  I’m trying to figure out how Card and Tom both vanished and yet their SBUs are still marching around the drill pad? I know it’s not Card I know his voice, and I know Tom isn’t there she keeps a better pace than that element leader. Thankfully for him, MTIs aren’t so observant. I wonder what he’s really doing?

  Oh, yes, just so you don’t get confused, I should tell you I alibied Tom and Tsegi as promised. And myself while I was at it. luckily for me, our name tapes are on Velcro, so I had the remaining Tim switching out name tapes so all three of us are alibied. He thinks I’m looking for the other Tim, whom I’ve convinced him I think is still alive. but now that you’re up to speed, back to brain washing.

  Chapter 17

  P T day, yay. We get to run around in the forest absolutely all day and trip over each other and sneak off and kiss behind trees, well, I want that last thing to happen it may not. we shall see. Tyrell mouthed to me at breakfast that he wanted to meet later so I’m hoping he’s got something fun planned otherwise I really don’t want to have a conciliable. I do hate organized physical fitness. I do hate organization. Other than my own.

  Titus looks rather thoughtful this morning. Thoughtful in a self-satisfied way. Funny I know he hates organized physical fitness. He hates any organization other than his own. I wonder if he’s going to try to sneak off into the trees to snog. Probably. I might go along with it if I’d thought of it first but since he looks like he did I may not. Or I may. Snogging in the forest might be fun.

  I wonder if I’ll be able to pull Tyrell off to kiss someplace private. Probably not, he keeps looking at Titus like he wants to sneak off with him. Well fine. Let him have fun with his little boyfriend. I’ll try to corner that juicy looking Leavitt. Back from IDMT, again. He’s becoming a regular there. of course, the MTIs haven’t told us anything about whether he’s crazy or not or if there really was somebody baked into the pies. And there’s no sign of the missing cadet either.

  They tell us to march, so I march. They tell us to stop so I stop. it’s all very faint. I just listen for Titus’s voice he tells me what to do and I do and everything’s okay.

  Peter seems to be doing much better this morning. Card School of Brainwashing was an unparalleled success. My only regret is I don’t have enough of the stuff left to do it, Tyrell. Something about him disturbs me. I know that I am one of the darkest evils in this Universe, but there’s something deeper in him. It’s unorganized. An unorganized madness that knows no bounds. There are many little things that made me come to this conclusion but the main bit of evidence is this. He ate the pie. When the others vomited, he did not. I spit it out, it was the only intelligent thing to do, under the circumstances. After all, who would want to be labeled a witting cannibal? A madman. I don’t label him as mad, mind you, because of the cannibalism, I don’t begrudge a man experimenting. But to do it in a way that could so easily lead to his capture? Oh no that’s against my rules. and I think we know what happens to people who break my rules.

  I’m so terrible at running and everything I hate PT day. Titus doesn’t look happy either. But then again he can never knock me down in combat so he always gets a bad score which makes him sad. He likes being good at everything. That’s something we have in common, I guess.

  “Titus, can you give me any tips to help me run faster?” I ask, cautiously. He’s rubbing his forehead as he does with the heels of his hands.

  “Ah---breathe Logan, just breathe in your nose, and when you feel that really sick horrible feeling like you can’t run anymore? Keep going,” he says, helpfully.

  “CARD YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE STRETCHING!!” Wilde calls.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Titus says, continuing what he’s doing.

  “YOU AREN’T!!”

  “Ma’am I’m stretching my brain,” he says, very politely. Tom and I smother laughter because that is exactly what he’s doing.

  “Card, why are you perpetually trying to get written up?” she asks, walking over.

  “Ma’am, the perversity of nature,” he says.

  “I’m not pulling a 314, beca
use you want it so bad, get to work,” she says, walking away.

  I honestly like PT day. we get to be outside, not even Titus and his constant smart remarks antagonizing the MTIs can spoil my mood. The sun is shining, we may actually be able to lose the MTIs and go and look around, maybe sneak a kiss behind a tree, anything can happen really.

  My mother wrote to me again last night, asked me how my days were, and my sisters took turns writing too. They like telling me all about school and funny things that happened. My mother was more tentative about talking to me, like she isn’t sure what to say, while my little sisters were quite excited and too young to have any inhibitions. It cheered me up, thinking that I did have somebody out there who thought about me all day, cared about me. and that I am not just some nameless faceless Project 10.

  My father didn’t write to me, which had bothered me a little. But he’d said his hours were odd, if he was on an asteroid or a remote moon base, he could have 24-hour shifts. The last thing he’d written was that he loved me. that had cheered me up, reading it, because he’d sent it after I logged off, knowing I’d see it next time I turned on the tablet. And we’d had a good talk, he seemed genuine, very genuine. I liked him too. Maybe he was a rogue pilot, and that was why he couldn’t talk sometimes. That made me smile a little, then maybe once I finished my term with the Space Forces, I could fly with him. if he wanted. The thought of leaving here cheered me, I’d already spent my whole life here, it was nice to think I might do something else.

  It was easy to imagine what my mother was doing, she worked in a factory, she’d told me when her lunch was, and how she walked home, and what floor their flat was, and my sister had sent me pictures of their school and the flat. So I was soothing to imagine the simple routines, that I’d never had. My father still hadn’t told me what he did, which was odd, so I could never imagine what he was doing.

  “What do you remember about yesterday?” the examiner is an inch from my face, and I can’t move I’m handcuffed to the chair. Whatever happened, which I’ve no idea about, as usual, I’m a clueless moron it should say that on my file someplace ‘is a clueless moron most of the time’, whatever happened was pretty serious, or they wouldn’t be questioning me like this.