by Gary Martin
“Did you honestly think no one would recognise him?”
I stay silent and keep staring.
“He ended everything. Every settled planet in the solar system has been wiped out. Did you not think his face wouldn’t be everywhere? Had it not occurred to you that he would be recognised? And you were protecting his identity. Why would you do that? Unless you came up with the plan together. When I realised who your friend was, I decided to do some digging on you, John Farrow. I thought you looked oddly familiar. It turns out you and I went to the same boarding school. But we became very different people. I became captain of a Skylark battleship and you didn’t become captain of anything. Your social circles put you in very close proximity to Rupert Rawling. Your girlfriend even worked for him. That puts you near enough to him to be executed for crimes against humanity. But we won’t be doing that for now. Not today, at least. You have a guardian angel, it seems. Now tell me, who was the girl with the red eyes?”
“No one,” I say, tensing up.
“Then you won’t mind if I question her, then execute her,” she says in a calm voice, staring me in the eyes the whole time.
I don’t want to say anything. I feel my left eye twitch. I have to at least defend her. But from what I don’t know. At the moment, they don’t seem to know that we started the robot uprising. They have nothing except scared people trying to escape the horrible violence on red deck.
“Leave her alone, she hasn’t done anything,” I say. Slightly too desperately.
Captain Baseheart smiles and licks her lips.
“Thank you, John. She’ll now experience all the pain you’ve caused me.” She then walks out of the room. I’m at a loss for what she means. But before I have a chance to collect my thoughts, the door opens again and someone painfully familiar walks through it.
Shock hits me, and I can’t stop myself from shaking or my eyes from filling up.
“Hello, John,” he says.
“Hello, Mr Kowolski,” I say.
31
Ez’s father walks across the room, pulls out a chair and sits down opposite me. He stares at me for what seems like an age, but in truth it’s probably only about thirty seconds.
“When Captain Baseheart called me up and told me that your ship had been picked up and you were still alive, I had to come and see for myself. And here you are. You look ill. You look like the end of the world has taken its toll on you. But somehow, you’ve survived.”
This man has always hated me. I don’t know why he’d even give me the time of day, unless it was Ez’s idea. I begin to hope and that hope makes my guilt about Flick start to fade.
“How is Ez? Is she here?” I ask.
Mr Kowolski looks down at the table and sighs.
“No, John. She’s not here. I’m afraid she never woke up from her coma.”
I look down at the table. The world feels like it’s about to end all over again.
“Is she still alive?” I ask
“No.”
My heart drops. I try to stand up but fall to my knees. I look up at him.
“Our child?” I ask.
Mr Kowolski presses a button on his badge.
“Now,” he says.
The door opens again and a woman holding a baby walks into the room. She passes the child to Mr Kowolski and then stands at his side.
“This John, is your son. His name is Warren.”
The first thing that pops into my head before anything else is what a horrible name that is. But suddenly, I don’t care. This is my son. I’ve got a fucking son! Many months ago, before the world ended, I thought that having children was an awful idea. Ez, Jacob and Terrell managed to convince me that it wasn’t. My best friends are now all dead but my son lives on. He will live on for them.
“Would you like to hold him?”
“Yes, please,” I say.
Mr Kowolski passes Warren to the woman and she walks toward me.
“Stop!” he shouts and the woman does as he says. I don’t know what’s happening.
“Jillian, leave the room.”
She looks me in the eye for a second, then turns away from me and walks out of the room with my child.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
The door opens again and two guards come in. They walk swiftly toward me and grab me by the arms.
“Take him to interrogation room one,” Mr Kowolski says. I stare at him and he stares back with a smile as the guards then walk me out.
I don’t put up any sort of fight. I let them lead me down the corridor. Maybe, if I do exactly what they say, maybe they’ll let me see my son again. Maybe.
They open a door and push me through it. There’s a post in the middle of the room with hand cuffs attached to two extendable arms and, next to that, a table covered in medical instruments. Only now do I try and put up a fight. I push the first guard, surprising him, and run for the door. The second guard stands in my way, so I attempt to punch him in the stomach. A flash of light and I’m on the deck. The first guard must have hit me with his rifle. I feel dizzy as the guards drag me back into the room feet first. Before I know what’s happening, they’ve pulled my shirt off and cuffed me to the retractable arms. There’s a beep and the machine starts pulling me up. First into a standing position, where it slows down. This would be a comfortable position for it to stop. It doesn’t. The retractable arms then start moving outward, pulling my arms as far as they can either side. It stops just shy of pulling my arms out of their sockets. I feel like I’m being crucified. Thankfully, my feet are still on the floor. The retractable arms move up again, raising me above the deck by about a foot. I’ve never felt pain like it. I can barely breathe. Every bone in the top half of my body feels like it’s going to pop out of position. The guards leave the room and I’m left literally hanging there.
32
I have no idea how long I’ve been waiting. Five minutes? Ten? An hour? The weight of my body is pulling me apart. I can’t think of anything but the agony. Wondering why I’m being put through this. I know why. He hated me and he blames me for his daughter’s death. I blame me, and there’s a part of me that thinks I deserve this too. But then another wave of pain hits me and I want out. I don’t deserve this. It wasn’t my fault. I tried to save her.
The door opens and Mr Kowolski walks through with a grin on his face.
“Are you comfortable, John? Is there anything I can get for you?” he asks.
“Fuck off,” I say, but only because I know that saying any more than two words will hurt too much.
“Fire. I like that,” he says and picks up a surgical knife from the table and looks at it closely. “What should we do with you, John? I’ve been allowed to question you. I need to get answers about why you helped Rupert Rawling. In truth, I know you didn’t help him. I doubt you even knew what he looked like. But I have to ask.”
He then comes close to my left ear. “Unfortunately, you can’t win here. I’m allowed to torture you. And I’m going to. Not to get answers, no. Basically for revenge.”
He then makes a long cut down my chest.
“Does that hurt, John?”
It does. But I can do nothing but make a low grunt.
“I don’t think it hurts enough,” he says. He picks up a bottle from the table and makes a show of reading the label.
“Hydrogen peroxide. That should clean the wound out nicely.” He then pours it down my chest. Instantly the cut feels like it’s on fire and I scream loudly. Spots appear in the periphery of my vision and I pass out.
I’m ripped out of my unconsciousness by a load of hard slaps to my face.
“No, no, no. We can’t have that. You need to feel every bit of the pain I intend to cause you.” He holds up what looks like a small pipe with a drill attached to the side and attaches it to my left temple. I feel it burrow into my skull. It hurts, but with the pain the rest of my body is experiencing, it almost feels like nothing.
“I’ve got a lot in store for you. I can’t have
you constantly falling unconscious because of the pain. This is a device your good friend Rupert designed. It won’t let your brain shut down. You’re now going to be awake through all of the pain I intend to put you through.”
“Why?” I ask, very quietly.
He comes closer.
“I’ve already told you. Well, most of it. When you left my daughter to die in hospital, I wanted to hurt you. So, I looked deep in to your past. Something I should have done when you started going out, but I gave Ezmerelda the benefit of the doubt. She usually made good decisions. So, I looked into your family, to see if there was anyone in your past I could use to break you. Do you know what I found out?”
I don’t answer.
“I found out that I already had hurt you. I owned the shipyard on Mars where your parents were protesting. I gave the order to have the group neutralised. What a nice symmetry. I killed your parents. Then, twenty-five years later, you killed my daughter.”
Rage hits me. I use every last bit of strength I have left to break free.
“Fuck you! I didn’t kill Ez,” I shout.
He doesn’t move and watches me struggle. Finally, I slump down. All my strength used up in a futile display.
“No, you didn’t kill her. But if you weren’t in her life, she would still be here. Ezmerelda was a fiercely independent woman. I didn’t want her to know the extent to which I was involved in her life. Or how involved in Skylark I was. When Rupert Rawling went missing with the Forever Dark, I had to let them use some low-level monitoring techniques on her. She was never in any danger. Finally, she came home and away from you. I organised a private security company to guard the house. It was just for show. Skylark weren’t after her. Then you, you decided to take matters into you own hands. The reason you got through them is because they weren’t really guarding anyone. If you’d stayed at her side at the hospital, I may have forgiven you. But you ran away. I may have ruined your life as a child, but that’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you now.”
He picks up a shock stick from the table and presses it into my crotch. A new level of pain hits me, everything in my body wants to shut down and hide away from it. My vision blurs and I can see stars, but I’m still awake and in agony.
He starts to make small incisions next to the long one he made earlier, gouging me every couple of centimetres from my belly button upwards. Blood is streaming from my chest, and all I can do is let it happen and scream. He finally stops.
“Rupert’s device has two settings. One is experimental. We haven’t had the chance to test it on anyone yet. I think you would make the perfect guinea pig. One press of this red button…” he holds up some sort of control, “and it will make you relive your worst memories. The most unbearable parts of your life. As if you were there. As it’s happening, you will have no recollection of this place. There is a theoretical side effect, of course. As it hasn’t been tested on anyone, there’s a very likely possibility that when you come out of your nightmare it will have melted part of your brain. I think that’s fair. But, before I do this, I have one final thing for you.”
The door opens. My vision is blurred but I recognise Jillian from earlier. She is once again carrying my son.
“Hello Jillian, would you be so kind as to place Warren on the table over there?”
She does as she’s asked without question and leaves the room. I suddenly have no idea what’s going on. Why has the psychopath brought my son in here? Is he going to hurt him?
“Leave him out of this. Why would you want to hurt an innocent child?” I say, slurring.
“I wouldn’t dream of hurting my grandson. He’s here purely as a reminder to you that you’ll never get to touch him. Never get to see him again. This is as close as you’ll ever get to him.” He then presses the red button and a sharp intolerable pain shoots through my head.
* * *
... Again we’re moving. The third, no fourth time so far this year. The boot of the car and the seat next to me are packed full of our belongings, leaving me wedged uncomfortably against the door...
* * *
I start to feel dizzy. It’s suddenly daylight and pain sears through my entire body. Jacob’s garden vanishes and electricity crackles around me. I begin to think that Joe has called the government on me for being at Mister Jelvus’s class. Then, for a second, complete silence. Taking the place of the crackling electricity is a bright white light. I have to close my eyes from the agony of it. There is a high-pitched wailing coming from somewhere. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. I try to move but I’m fixed to something. My arms are tied at the wrists and pulled out tight. I slowly open my eyes and look down. I’m naked from the waist up, covered in cuts, bruises and gouges. I cautiously look up, my neck makes a horrible cracking noise as I do, and I see blood on the white wall. I then see a body on the deck staring at me. Ez’s father. What the fuck? I turn towards the incessant whining. On a gurney scattered with blood covered medical instruments is a baby, screaming and writhing. My view is suddenly obscured by a giant bear of a man, with a long grey beard and wild eyes.
33
The wild-eyed man is pushed to one side and a familiar face takes his place. It takes a few seconds to register it. It’s Robert.
“Fucking hell, John, what have they done to you? Let’s get you down from there,” he says and, with the help of the wild bearded man, he pulls something out of my temple and undoes my shackles. There is no strength left in my body, and I fall to the floor. I try and stand, but there is nothing left in me.
The grey bearded man walks to the table and picks up the crying baby and rocks it gently in his arms.
“Robert, ask yer shipmate what’s going on here. Why is there a baby on a torture table?” he says.
Robert leans down.
“Yeah, John. What the fuck is going on?”
I weakly point in the direction of the grey bearded man. “My son,” I manage. I look around the room, confused. “Where’s Flick?” I ask.
“Last I saw, she was curled up in a ball in the cell next to me and wouldn’t respond. I thought we’d do better without her. She tried to kill you. She’s a fruit loop,” Robert says.
“No, she isn’t. I’d just betrayed her,” I say.
“We best get out of here sharpish. Everything is a lot more complicated now the head of Skylark is dead,” the grey bearded man says.
“Who’s the head of Skylark? And why’s it going to make getting out of here more complicated?” Robert asks.
The grey bearded man points down to the body on the deck.
“Head of the New White Star by day, ruler of the world by night. It was only rumours before the sun died. When everything ended, he stepped out of the shadows. I’ve just killed my boss with a pipe wrench. That won’t look good on my CV.” He looks at me, and raises an eyebrow. “Why would the head of Skylark want to torture you?” I look back at him, then at Robert.
“Robert, who is this guy?” I ask.
“He’s my father. He got information that Sunspot Two had been picked up as the QE7 docked here. When he found out what had happened to me, that I was in the brig, and they wouldn’t let him see me, he decided to fuck shit up,” Robert says with a grin.
“To be fair, son, killing the ruler of what’s left of the population was maybe fucking shit up one step too far. What is he to you, John?”
“My girlfriend’s father,” I say. He looks confused by my answer. Robert moves to his father’s ear and whispers something. His father bursts out in deep laughter, then stops dead mid flow.
“Robert says you’re a nice guy, that’s why we’ve come to rescue you. But I’m with old caved in skull down there. If I had a daughter, you’d be getting the same treatment.”
“Good job I don’t have a sister. I wouldn’t want a dad that kills people,” Robert says and winks at his father, who gives him an angry stare, then promptly slaps him around the face.
I try once again to stand, my entire body shakes with t
he effort, but to no avail.
“Robert, can you grab the small test tube that’s in my shirt pocket? It’s screwed up in the corner over there,” I ask and point.
Robert walks over and picks up the shirt. He shakes the creases out of it, puts his fingers in the top pocket and pulls something out. He raises an eyebrow as he unwraps the tissue paper.
“What the fuck!” he shouts and throws the severed eye across the room.
“No, not that. Shit. I’ll explain about that later. The thing underneath it,” I say.
Both Robert and his father just stare at me.
“You sure he’s worth rescuing, son?” his father says.
“Not sure anymore, Dad,” Robert says, but ventures into the pocket again.
“If it’s another eye, we’re leaving you behind,” he says as he pulls out the small test tube. He looks at it closely.
“What is it?” his father asks.
“Dunno, Dad.”
They both look at me again.
“Bring it here,” I say. Robert brings it over, lowers himself and passes it to me. I grab it shakily.
“A long time ago, my friends told me this would make me a faster, stronger, better version of myself. I didn’t use it. Things may have turned out differently if I had. I don’t know what will happen if I do use it. But I can’t stand up. Every part of me hurts. If I want to escape with you, it’s the only chance I have.”
“Drugs?” Robert asks.
“Sort of. It’s called a spider. You drop it into your eye, then ...” I start to trail off, I can feel the edge of unconsciousness trying to take me.
“Then what?” Robert asks.
I pop off the lid of the test tube and pour the liquid and tiny mechanical spider onto my face, just above my left eyebrow. There’s a slight tickling sensation on my forehead as the spider moves toward my eye. I feel it crawl over my eyelashes, then my world opens up. Almost instantly, the pain in my body disappears, and I feel a clarity I’ve never felt before. I stand up. Nothing hurts at all. I feel great.
