Darkside 1

by Aaron K Carter

  “I’m sorry I got mad at you. You were right it wasn’t your fault, I was wrong,” I say, running to join Titus, match pace with him. his face is sheet white and his eyes blank.

  “What?” he asks, staring at me.

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault, I shouldn’t have blamed you,” I say, “I was wrong.”

  “It’s all right,” he says, shrugging and looking away from me.

  “No, it’s not, I was wrong. And you wouldn’t have wandered off if I hadn’t been so crossing with you so you wouldn’t have to do this so it’s only fair I do it with you,” I say, breathing deeply. God my legs hurt.

  “You don’t have to,” He says, shaking his head, “I’m fine.”

  “I know,” I say, “I’m doing it anyway.”

  “Thank you,” he says, looking as though he would kiss me if he weren’t running, sweat running in rivulets down his skin, eyes glowing with the exhilaration. If I weren’t running I’d kiss him back.

  I don’t know why Titus has to run the laps again. maybe because he put my bloody guidon on the roof again or something equally stupid. I know it’s him. but I’m not tired, and I want to be so tired I don’t think. And it looks like they’re going to leave us standing here for quite some time.

  “Hi,” I say, running up to join Tom and Card as they run around the path.

  “What are you doing?” Card asked, abruptly.

  “I needed to talk to somebody, and have them hear me,” I say, honestly.

  “After Peter, you mean?” Tom asks, kindly, her breath coming in short gasps.

  “Yeah, that and this morning, they asked me more about the pies,” he says, shuddering, “And I couldn’t talk to them about it. but I felt better after the run. And I want to keep feeling better. and being all right. I really want to be all right.”

  “What’d they ask you?” Titus asks, his breath weak.

  “Nothing much just had me repeat the same thing---are you out of oxygen?” I ask.

  “Yes, I have been, did they find out if you were right?” he asks.

  “What? Titus, you have to tell them it’s against regulation to run without oxygen,” Tom says.

  “No, I’m doing an experiment it’s completely fine. Leavitt, did they tell you anything new?” he asks.

  “Just that I was right, they don’t know how it happened, though,” I say.

  “Titus, did you start this?” Liesel Stowe asks, running up to join us.

  “Technically Ebbel did,” Titus says.

  “Dare I ask what experiment you are doing?” Tom asks.

  “How long I can go without oxygen before passing out—we all don’t need to do this,” Titus says.

  “Well, you and Leavitt were, it only felt right since I’m a flight leader too,” Stowe says, “Look, Tyrell feels left out, he’s coming as well.”

  “Good,” Titus says.

  “Why good?” Tom asks.

  “I don’t trust him,” Titus says, “I think he’s been putting the guidons on the roof.”

  “With your initials on them---don’t look at me like that Titus person other than you can read,” I say.

  “I know I just didn’t know you were one of the ow---,” he says, as I knock his head with an elbow, that’s how short he is compared to me.

  “We all know it’s you,” Tom says.

  “We don’t know why, but we know,” Stowe says.

  “I still don’t trust him,” Titus says, haughtily.

  “What are we doing?” Tyrell asks, jogging up to join us.

  “Running,” I say, “Just running.”

  Tyrell doesn’t say anything.

  “I’m gonna need you guys to do something, and it’s gonna sound stupid, but when I talk I need you to answer, so can you hear me?” I ask.

  “I hear you,” Stowe says.

  “Good, that helps,” I say.

  “How’s it help?” Tyrell asks.

  “Shut up, it helps life,” Titus says, his eyes closed his breath coming in gasps.

  “If you guys can keep running, so can I!”

  “You didn’t run, to begin with!”

  “Sit down, Logan!”

  “I did for a little bit!”

  “No that’s called walking quickly.” That’s Titus if you couldn’t guess.

  (I guessed)

  “It’s really okay,” Tom says, “Logan you don’t have to run with us.”

  “Yeah, I do,” he pants.

  “He’s right, he does,” Titus says.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Ebbel asks.

  “Looks like they’re running with him,” I say, smiling a little.

  “Well, looks like we’ve built morale,” Ebbel says, nodding, a little, “You think Card’s out of oxygen by now?”

  “He’d quit, wouldn’t he?” I ask, looking at him.

  We shake our heads no in unison.

  “That kid is too damn stubborn, I bet you, he’d run without the oxygen,” Ebbel says.

  “How much?” I ask.

  “You think he’d quit?” he asks.

  “I think he’d have to quit,” I say, “Eventually. And we’ve been out here for a while, and you sent him on twenty laps, and he’s been at it for a while.”

  “I bet you a beer,” he says, “He’ll run the whole damn way without oxygen, just to get me in trouble.”

  “You’re on,” I say.

  “What the hell are you doing?” thorn asks, absolutely panicked, staring at the cadets, “They’ve done your run, they set themselves on fire, it’s over.”

  “Card wandered off so I made him do twenty more laps,” Ebbel says, proof that he’s as stupid as Harris sometimes.

  “You did what??”

  “He was insubordinate---”

  “That is a mile and half-track that ‘s like thirty miles he doesn’t have enough oxygen for a goddamn marathon are you trying to get us all killed in a massive nuclear explosion??” thorn asks, barely restraining his panic.

  “Okay, I liked you better intoxicated---” I say, taking Thorn’s arm and leading him away.

  “No, I’m down with this sobriety thing , I’m really grooving on it---Ebbel listen to me, please, if you want to spend any more time in this beautiful universe, please, help me, don’t seal your fate, make them stop, and for the love of all that’s good, leave Titus Card alone,” Thorne begs, falling to his knees as I start to drag him away.

  “He gets what all the others get, and he pushes; he’s already got himself in the brig again tonight,” Ebbel says, at which statement a moan escapes Thorne.

  “The brig?? He’s probably building a nuclear warhead under the brig as much time as you’ve given him in there---”

  “Come on, let’s got get you hammered maybe then you won’t actually shout at people when you predict the end times,” I say, patting Thorn’s head.

  “No, no, please Ebbel, just---just call them in for me, let’s just end it, now, call them back, before it’s too late---for all our sakes, I’m not ready yet,” Thorne says.

  “They’re fine,” Ebbel says.

  I’ve never fainted before in my life. I don’t think I’ll enjoy it since I don’t enjoy sleeping. It shuts my brain off far too much. But, I am always willing to try new things, even if I don’t think I’ll enjoy them. like being nice. I didn’t think I’d like that, and as I predicted, it did not stimulate me. however, I did not truly dislike it either. So, I may do something nice again sometime. Probably not. but sometime maybe. For now, I shall see if I am right, and I do not like passing out due to lack of oxygen. What if it has a negative effect on my brain cells? No, they’ll get me some soon enough? Wouldn’t they? I wouldn’t want to damage---oh well looks like I’m going find out. and with that, my face hits the pavement.

  “Titus!” I cry, stopping and stumbling, nearly falling myself from exhaustion as I double back to roll him over. he fell face first, mid-stride that stubborn devil.

  “He’s out of oxygen,” Liesel says, pulling his tubes
from his face and breathing through them to confirm.

  “Idiot,” I say, taking my own tubes off and putting them around his head. he breathes a bit deeper as the life-giving gas flows up his nose. I unstrap my tank, upping the output so that it blasts into his nostrils.

  “Here, can you carry the tank?” Leavitt asks, picking Titus up easily.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Logan asks, staggering up.

  “Yes,” Tyrell and I say, not particularly concerned.

  “Did you get him oxygen?” Wilde asks, running down the hill to us.

  “Yes, ma’am, my tank,” I say.

  “Ebbel’s getting an ambulance,” she says, reaching us, “Leavitt, can you carry him up to the road? Tom, go and get another tank from the supplies, you can’t be without yours. The rest of you, get back to your flights.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” we all say.

  The first thing I feel when I awake is a disappointment. I’m being carried by Leavitt of all the Cro-Magnons, to an ambulance, I’m not even at the hospital yet. As I suspected, passing out was far from scintillating. However, it was effective. So far, I thought getting put in the brig would be effective for killing Ebbel and I still haven’t done that. I need to stop letting all these side quests get in the way of my priorities. oh well, time to finish this one. They’ll still have to take me to the hospital if I’m unresponsive. And then I’ve still got the brig tonight to murder Ebbel. All this time spent in the brig, I could’ve built a nuclear warhead underneath there by now. probably. I didn’t actually have radioactive materials, but I probably could have gotten them. something to think about while I am pretending to be unconscious.

  “that idiot---he’s an idiot,” I say, watching as they carry Titus away.

  “He’s hurt,” Logan says.

  “He is not, I saw his eyes flutter a few minutes after we gave him my oxygen. He’s faking so he can get into the hospital to visit Peter,” I say, annoyed. Before we could even sneak off to kiss which I had not planned on doing but he thought he was so damn clever he thought he could persuade me to and instead he decided to go and help Peter and after I’d apologized and made it clear I wasn’t mad so he wasn’t doing it for me he was doing it for Peter and how can I hate and love one person so much at the same time? It really hurts.

  “Oh,” Logan says.

  “All men are idiots,” Tsegi says, shrugging.

  “Hey,” Logan says, looking at her.

  “It’s okay, we love you anyway,” she says, hugging him around the shoulders.

  “Yeah, we do,” I say, hugging him as well.

  Chapter 21

  I don’t know why they sent to my mum. It’s not like she has the time and she can never take off work and I’ve assured them I’m fine now and I know they know because they heard me and they answered. I’d suppose they don’t want me losing my mind on their watch, but so far insanity doesn’t seem to be a primary concern of theirs otherwise I don’t feel like I’d be in this situation. As it is, I’ve got detention duties thanks to that idiot Titus, who is sleeping away in the hospital blissfully he’ll do his precious night in the brig tomorrow I honestly think he likes it in there. I’ve no idea why and I don’t honestly care I just wish he’d stop defacing my guidon and putting it on the roof. It’s getting on my nerves.

  “How’s it coming?” Thorn, the alcoholic MTI who they’ve assigned me to, asks. My duty is I’m supposed to be cleaning the laundry room. Titus is supposed to be doing it with me but he’s not ‘cause he’s off being him in the hospital probably terrorizing the staff and getting served ice cream in bed and reading a book all at the same time. I’ve seen the way he stares hungrily at our tablets. He’s not got one his family’s poorer as mine I’m sure. And with all those big words he knows I’m sure he loves to read. If he weren’t such a moron I’d feel sorry for him.

  “Sir, quite well,” I say, sitting up from where I’ve been fishing lint out from behind a dryer.

  “Oh sit down and rest a minute, I’ve got you for another hour and it looks quite good. Drink some water,” he says, looking up from what he’s reading. He’s sitting on top of dryer reading and ostensibly watching me but I get the feeling he’s lonely and wants to have a conversation. I’m not very good at talking to people in case you hadn’t noticed.

  “Yes, sir,” I say, sitting down and taking a drink from my canteen.

  “Good, you work hard, Leavitt. I’m sorry about the bother earlier and the IA guys giving you their usual routine,” he says, setting down his tablet. He does want to talk. Damn.

  “Sir, I’m well now, they don’t need to send for my mum she’s got work---”

  “They’ve excused her from work. Think of it as a treat since you’ve had such a rotten time what with the business with the pies,” he says.

  “Sir, I’d sooner she not get in trouble,” I say.

  “I’ll call her work, see that she doesn’t,” he says, frowning, “Is it just you and her?”

  “Sir, and my little sister,” I say.

  “Did you ever know your father?” he asks.

  “No, sir, our mother doesn’t talk about him; my sister’s dad left before she was born,” I say.

  “Did you get on with him?” he asks.

  “Sir, he didn’t like me and my brother. He said we were noisy and my mum got cross with him for that. I think she only got with him because we needed the money. My mum and he had a big fight, I didn’t hear all of it, I curled up on my bed with my pillow over my ears because I didn’t like them fighting. And then he was gone, and we had to go to a smaller place. My sister was born a while later, near Christmas. I got really scared ‘cause I had to be alone and my mum was in the hospital for days,” I say, tracing the grout with my finger. Nobody knows this. But he doesn’t seem bad. And I want him to help my mum keep her job, he’s being kind to me. I can try to talk to people. “By the time she got home, with the baby, we’d eaten all the food and we had to go out shopping and get some, and I remember, my sister was so tiny mum let me hold her while she got the food. I was happy then, to have a little sister for Christmas. She was so little, though she was a present for me, you know? I got to have her in my room and hold her and everything. Don’t think her dad ever knew she existed. Don’t suppose he deserved to, you know?”

  “No, no probably not,” I say, looking at the quiet, tallboy. Not just tall, he’s sturdy as well, starting to get thick shoulders, but his face is still so young. And lonely. Locked up in a flat with nothing to eat. Brother dead under horrible circumstances, left alone with the body. the mum working long hours, he’d probably been left in charge of his sister more often than not. Hell, his paycheck here is probably paying for halfway decent food and clothes for them no wonder he was so terrified to be sent back. I’ll have to look at his charts, but I’d bet any money that he’s gained weight since he’s been here. “You said your mum never told you about your dad, did your brother ever mention him?”

  “Pretty sure they were different people,” he says, looking up at me with those innocent eyes that that didn’t know the depth of the misery they’d seen. “No, he never said anything. Nor did my mum. Don’t think she wanted us to know whoever they were. No good I suppose.”

  “Mine left my mother when I was small. I don’t really remember him. but she got with somebody worse, by my recollection, anyway, I got in the way and got left at school one too many times, overnight, and so, I wound up going to board at university, then I enlisted,” I say, since I have to say something to all that, “I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

  “Did they ever come to your ceremonies?” he asks.

  “My mum did once,” I say, shrugging, “I don’t really talk to her anymore.”

  “My mum says she’ll have the money to come up when I graduate,” he says, looking back down. every one of his words rings in my ears. The mother was doing the best she could for him she’d gotten him here---barely. And whatever happened to the brother she’d not done enough not for lack of tryin
g, maybe. But not talking to him about whoever their fathers were wasn’t good but whoever they were wasn’t good either surely. Poor creature. All of them poor creatures. And now humanity was crumbling at the edges.

  “Sir, do you have any children?” he asks, looking up at me curiously.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head.

  “That you know of, or just no?” he asks. It was a bit of an odd question but considering his dad probably didn’t know about him from the sound of it, possibly same with both his siblings, it wasn’t that odd in his world.

  “No, I’d know, my exes keep in contact with me because they can’t stand to be around me, but I’m so—pathetic, they’d feel bad if I actually went and died,” I explain.

  “Oh,” he says.

  “What about you, you got a girl at home?” I ask.

  “No,” he says, looking down.

  “Hmm,” I say, looking back at my tablet, “I’m too tired to read.”

  “Sir, what’re you reading?” he asks, cocking his head at my book.

  “The Bible, Revelation, specifically,” I say, holding it up, “Thought it might be useful.”

  “Do you read much?” he asks.

  “Yes, it passes the long hours here, do you?” I ask.

  “A little, on my tablet. My mum got it for me for going away, so I could talk to her. It came with a couple of books. they weren’t bad,” he says, shrugging again. So she was trying to keep hold of him, poor child, at least trying to talk to him.

  “Yeah, that’s good,” I say, nodding.

  “Sir, Cadet Card doesn’t have a tablet, he might like books on a used one, if you saw one lying about,” he says.

  “Cadet Card is a hellion on the best of days,” I say, causing him to smile a little.

  “Sir, he might be a bit less of one if he had something to look at and do now and again,” he points out, “My little sister when she was really little, she’d break stuff if I didn’t have one of her toys in front of her. She was only two but even so. I think Cadet Card’s sort of like a two-year-old without the proper toys if you know what I mean.”