by Alex Leopold
“I don’t get what you’re so worried about? I mean, think about it, all these years I haven’t killed you yet and you’ve given me plenty of reason to.”
Riley stopped in her tracks.
“Don't joke about it!” She said sharply, her voice so critical it took Cooper by surprise.
“Why not?”
“Because you didn’t see his face. He believed it.” She said genuinely afraid.
“He's an idiot!” Cooper replied her voice almost hysterical.
That didn't seem to pacify Riley. She was about to say more but wasn't given the chance.
A nearby commotion caught their attention.
They turned to see five blackhats strong-arming someone to the ground, the man screaming with anger as he fought to free himself.
“Stop struggling!” A blackhat grunted as he tied the man’s wrists and ankles.
Their captor appeared to do the opposite, resisting with every ounce of strength he possessed. At one point he managed to free an arm and broke a blackhat’s nose. But then one of them smashed a club against the back of his skull and he went down hard.
That was when they caught his face. It was Ellis.
Reaching for their weapons, the twins were about to go to his aid when they were dragged back into an empty tent by Mayat.
“This is not your concern.” She hissed at them lowering the tent flap.
“We know him!” Cooper argued and tried to push forward.
“That is irrelevant.” Mayat said holding up her arm to block Cooper.
Now it was dark, the Sekhem had removed her goggles and head mask to reveal her face. The feline-human blend had perfectly flawless skin, as white as the full moon and as smooth as alabaster. Her hair was an immaculate flowing stripe of white, grey and blue and she looked strikingly beautiful, with high cheekbones, tall, pointed ears and a small nib of a nose. Yet, what was most hypnotic were her circular eyes that were an intense emerald green with pupils that reflected back the firelight from within their black depths. The effect gave her a youthful, almost naïve appearance, a sharp contrast to her actual personality.
There was further commotion from outside and through the tent flaps, they saw a blackhat jab Ellis repeatedly with orange tipped darts from leather wrist braces.
“What's that?” Riley whispered.
“Looks like they’re doping him with sting.”
“Sting? As in crink-sting?”
Cooper had heard of it. Sting was a type of poison made specifically for anomalies. Pricked with just a small amount, the psychics would temporarily lose their powers. Given a heavier dose and they’d be incapacitated completely.
It looked like it was working on Ellis. He’d been shouting all manner of names at the blackhats, but as the toxin worked its way into his system, he quietened and began to tremble, his face screwed up in agony.
“But that would mean …” Cooper trailed off.
“Your friend is an anomaly.” Mayat confirmed. “And these men are trappers, anomaly hunters.”
Cooper looked back to check on Ellis but a crowd had formed around him. Through it stepped five souk patrolmen.
“What's the meaning of this, Moloch?” One of the patrolmen, an ursinian of smaller stature to Acadia asked, addressing the leader of the trappers.
Moloch was a scaley, with small boney horns rising out of his skull.
“This boy’s a crink!” Moloch replied using the derogatory term to describe Ellis’ abilities.
Removing a rolled up poster from his coat, he threw it at the patrolman's feet.
WANTED:
!ANOMALIES!
DIRECTORY OFFERS LARGE
REWARD FOR CAPTURE!
“We're taking him in for our reward.” Moloch shouted back and moved his hand to his holster. Apparently, he was quick with a gun as the patrolmen became uneasy.
“Directory's got no power here, you of all people should know that.” The ursinian said trying not to look intimidated.
“Souk law says no crinks allowed. We're implementing that law.”
“Souk law and how to execute it is not your concern.” The ursinian replied.
The crowd was larger now. Word that an anomaly had been captured had quickly circulated and they all shouted their approval for the captors.
“String him up! String him up!” Some chanted.
“What's it gonna be, patrolman?” Another trapper, a rat-human blend asked in a high pitched squeal, his confidence buoyed by the crowd's support.
The ursinian seemed to weigh his options then, to a cheering crowd, lowered his rifle and motioned for his men to do the same.
“Next time you take matters into your own hands, I won’t be so understanding.” He barked then the patrolmen left Moloch alone with the crowd.
“Me and my men are hunting crinks!” Moloch called out as his men forced a subdued Ellis to his feet. “Anyone who's got information on where I can find them can share in the reward.”
Ellis’ face was puffy, his eyes red. Moloch slapped him for fun and the crowd responded by clapping their hands.
“Give them what they deserve." A man said and, holding up a rusted blade, made a slashing motion against his throat.
"Yeah, kill the crinks for us, Moloch!" Someone else added.
Moloch quietened them with a wave of his pistol.
“We don’t kill them. Crinks are valuable to the Directory and they pay well for any crink we bring in.”
“How much?” Someone asked.
Moloch pointed at the ratty-blend in his company to explain.
“What do you need?” The ratty asked the crowd with a smile that revealed two long, sharp front teeth. “Guns and ammunition? Cattle and horses? Food?”
“Booze!” A man shouted and held up his large clay mug.
The crowd roared with laughter.
“Whatever it is, the Directory has it, and for even the weakest crink they’ll pay something.”
The blend began handing out small pieces of paper to each person in the crowd.
“Help us bag a really powerful one though, like a portaller or a predictor, and the Directory will reward you with so much food and supplies, you could feed and protect a village for a year.”
“Think about what you could do with such a reward.” Moloch said and Cooper could see that the crowd were, their loud voices lowering to barely a murmur.
“What Rezster just handed you is a list of the different types of crink and how much the Directory are willing to pay for them. Take a look at it, then tonight I want you to think long and hard about the people you know. Are there any you’ve suspected of having abilities? Are there any who only keep to themselves? If there are, they might be crinks, which means they might be worth something to you and your family.
“All you have to do is tell me who you suspect and my men will take care of the rest. If they’re basics, like you and me, they’ll come to no harm. But, if they’ve got abilities then we’ve got the trappers, the sting and the experience to snatch ‘em and take ‘em to the right people in the Directory to get you the biggest reward you deserve.
“Best of all.” Moloch concluded, cuffing Ellis over the back of his head. “We’ll rid you of this scum forever.”
The crowd liked this and there was further cheering that turned to laughter when someone pelted Ellis with horse droppings as Moloch’s trappers marched him away.
“We need to get you back to your father.” Mayat said.
They waited for the crowd to disperse before venturing out of the tent. As they passed the spot where Cooper had watched the blackhats strong arm Ellis to the ground, she saw a crumpled piece of paper stamped into the dirt.
Picking it up she flattened it out. It was a Directory leaflet with printed text on both sides.
It was titled: ‘KNOW YOUR CRINK AND THEIR ABILITIES’.
12
“He's innocent!” A fuming Cooper raged to her father, her eyes brimming with tears. “What those men are doing is wrong!
”
Under the cover of darkness, they'd returned to the wagon which had been moved away from the souk to give them more privacy. There, illuminated by the campfire, they'd recounted the events of Ellis’ capture.
Cooper had expected the moment her father heard what happened, he’d grab his weapons and rush to Ellis’ aid. It was a shock when he remained all but motionless.
“You're right.” He agreed while appearing almost casually indifferent. “But what would you have me do?”
“Rescue him!” She said stunned he even had to ask.
He refused with a simple shake of his head.
“I can't fight them and protect you at the same time.”
“I don’t need your protection.” She shot back fiercely, her hand wrapping itself round the hilt of her sword jutting out of its holster on her back. “And don’t try to use me as an excuse to justify handing over one of your own to the Directory. I know you’re only trying to save your own skin.”
“Cooper!” Riley gasped.
Cooper knew she’d gone too far that time but didn’t apologize. Her father had made her blood boil and she was going to speak her mind freely, no matter.
Reaching into the back pocket of her trousers she removed the leaflet.
“Want to know how much you’re worth to them?” She asked him as she ran her eye down the different types of crinks listed in the leaflet. It was laid out like a damn shopping list.
“You’re a rounder, right? Let’s see what they have to say about you, hmm?”
She read aloud. “’Rounders are the most common crink. They possess all abilities, and because of this have no one specialized power’.”
She flipped to the other side of the leaflet which showed how much each anomaly was worth.
“Reward for rounders ranges from five-thousand to twenty-thousand Directory credits, depending on how powerful they are.”
She pointed to the leaflet. “That’s a good deal, though not as much as I’d get if you were a portaller or predictor. For them, the reward is forty-thousand credits or higher.”
Cooper gave a thoughtful shrug. “Perhaps we could negotiate your price up if we tell them, you’re the Great Inventor. What do you think?”
“That’s enough, Coop!” Acadia grunted.
“What’s your plan?” Her father asked from his chair, his voice as cool as the night air.
“My plan?”
“To rescue the boy, what’s your plan?” He asked and as he spoke she saw his features harden.
“Not… I don’t have one just yet.” Her voice stammered and she felt herself shrinking under his gaze.
“Of course not.” He scoffed.
“Moloch has twenty men at his disposal, and plenty more he can call upon.” He informed her. “Far too many for the five of us to be able to release your new friend without being spotted. And when that happens things will get loud and bloody, and we’ll be lucky if we can get out alive.”
“Maybe that’s a risk we’ll have to take.” She shot back with tears of anger. “And if you don’t help me, I’ll go by myself.”
He gave a thoughtful shrug to that. “In that case, you should know that Moloch’s men are a savage bunch and the only way you can beat such men is to kill them before they kill you.
“Are you ready for that, Cooper?” He pressed when she said nothing. “Are you ready to kill tonight?”
She didn’t answer.
“What about your sister? If she goes with you, there’s a good chance she might die. So tell me, are you willing to sacrifice her for someone you don’t even know?”
Cooper looked over at Riley. She was sitting next to the massive ursinian at that moment and it had the unfortunate effect of making her look very small.
“We can’t just do nothing.” She pleaded.
“We’re not doing nothing.” He told her sternly. “We’re staying alive. And that means making hard choices. So I’ll ask again, are you willing to sacrifice your sister for someone you don’t even know?”
She gave him a bitter look, and more than anything in her life she didn’t want to answer him. Yet, it was clear he wasn’t going to let her go until she did.
“No.” She mumbled and the words felt like acid in her mouth.
“Then why would you expect me to do the same?”
His scorn. His lack of emotion. It felt like he was poisoning her with every word he uttered. She didn’t want to be in his presence a second longer and spun around to run off into the night.
Acadia stepped into her path.“I can’t let you go out there by yourself, Coop. It’s too dangerous.”
She made a face imploring him to let her leave, but he shook his head. She was going to have to make do with where she was. So she slumped down against one of the wagon wheels out of her father’s line of sight, and tearfully looked off into the distance.
“I don’t understand, why teach us how to fight and then expect us to do nothing when someone’s in harm’s way?” Riley asked, speaking more calmly.
“I’m teaching you how to defend yourselves, there’s a difference.”
Not to me, Cooper wanted to say, but the fight had gone from her.
“You always told us how much basics hate anomalies.” Riley said with a tinge of regret. “I never believed you, until today.”
“You can't blame them, Lee.” Acadia responded. “These people don’t want to live out here, but because the Directory has used their army of snoopers, skin-readers and predictors to help them take possession of nearly every other part of the nation, they have to.”
“I thought you said all those anomalies in the Directory are basically prisoners, practically slaves?”
“They are.”
“So why blame them?” She demanded. “Why not the Archon?”
“They blame both.”
“And yet they’ll still hand over any crink they get their hands on to the Directory. Just for money.” She said with disgust. “Even though they’re handing over the very people who might be able to stop the Directory. Why do that?”
“They’re desperate, and in their desperation they’ve allowed themselves to believe if they kill or hand over all the anomalies, they’ll be left alone.”
“That’s never going to happen, is it?”
“No.” Her father answered. “Based on the information I received this morning, it looks like the Directory will be moving into the Borderlands after winter.”
That surprised everyone.
“How do you know?” Riley asked. “How can you be sure?”
He kept his eyes on the ground when he spoke. “The Directory has a gateway in Harvardtown now.”
Cooper saw how his face sagged with this revelation and she could imagine why. With the ability to create portals across thousands of miles in the blink of an eye, the Directory had used the gateways over the last seventeen years to take control of the nation. Without them they’d never have become so powerful.
And they were her father’s invention.
13
Twenty-Eight – formally Harvardtown – was based on the outskirts of the ruins the lost civilization once called, Boston. Today, the city was no more than rubble and dirt – a wasteland festered with sinkholes and crevices that had swollen many a man never to be seen again. Like most of the dead cities that littered this nation, there were rumors of secret tunnels below the earth that led to rooms filled with lost civilization treasures and weapons. Since arriving, the Directory had dedicated much of their forces to exhaustively searching for these rooms but had so far uncovered nothing.
The town across the river from Boston, the one now known as Harvardtown, had lived a varied life. Originally a university, it became a quarantine zone during the plague years, a military base when the wars started, then nothing more than a ghost town.
Centuries would pass before a group of settlers made it their own and turned it into a trading outpost, which was how it had lasted until four years ago when the Directory attacked. They’d overr
un the town in a week.
In a chamber within the old Memorial Church, Irenic Axanthic, a scaley with light green, shell-like skin sat lazily in the town's broadcasting room. Fat and idle, he sat in clothes lined with brown sweat stains and spotted with the blood of the citizens he'd tortured. Like many Squeaks, he'd spent the day picking dirt from his nails, having his boots shined and condemning citizens to life sentences of servitude. For a thug like Axanthic, it was a good life.
As his fat lips nibbled on an apple – a rare luxury – he scanned the day's messages.
Most of the chatter concerned a missing runaway Squeak called, Nakano. The order to capture her had come from the Archon himself and whenever Axanthic’s mind dwelt on his leader, he always turned to the large portrait hanging on the wall at his back.
Powerfully built, the Archon sat straight as a board in a dark leather chair looking intently outward through eyes that were the color of fire.
At the bottom of the painting was the Directory's slogan. CONFORMITY & OBEDIENCE WILL HELP YOUR LEADER WIN THIS WAR!
On the other walls hung similar pieces of propaganda.
PROTECT YOUR CHILDREN FROM FLESH EATING GRIZZLIES. A poster stated below an image of a savage looking ursinian, more bear than man, trying to tear a mother's young baby from her hands.
Another, SURVIVE TOGETHER, DIE ALONE, was written above a sketch of a man dying from starvation, set in stark opposition to a line of Directory citizens, beaming with health.
Last, NORMALIZED CRINKS ARE WORKING FOR YOU! This one was a photograph of a grinning anomaly surrounded by a crowd of relaxed Directory workers. They watched on as the crink used his telekinetic ability to lift a heavy metal beam into place in a factory. The only color in the black-and-white poster was the painted red-hand stamped on the crink’s shoulder, symbolizing that he'd been normalized.
The rest of the chamber was bare, furnished minimally with nothing more than five unevenly sized wooden tables, their numbers burnt into the top. At each table, an Irenic with a stack of papers faced a broadcaster; telepaths who could connect with other anomalies over thousands of miles away.
