by T. C. Edge
It’s also not a bad place to find a new book or two, a little stack of them on the table to help pass the time.
As I stand there, staring in, I let my voice whisper into the darkness.
“Hello? Is anyone in here?”
I hear no answer.
I ask again, and the same silence follows.
Shutting the door behind me, I creak down the old metal stairs and flick a switch at the bottom. The shelter glows a sickly shade of yellow, a single light fixed to the ceiling and casting shadows from the table and chairs.
I quickly look around and find that the place is empty.
Then, seconds later, I hear a grinding sound above, the metal door being pulled open. I freeze on the spot and watch.
Slowly, emerging from the top of the stairs, I see the shape of a man come into view. He wears dark clothing, his jacket rugged and equipped, like mine, with a hood that hovers over his head.
I feel myself stepping back a little at the sight, and wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake.
“It was you,” I whisper. “You’re the one who’s been following me?”
He doesn’t advance on me. His body language isn’t threatening. I watch as his hands lift up to his hood, and pull back, his face revealed to the light.
Eyes of hazel, brooding and intense, stare out from beneath low-slung eyebrows. His hair is dark brown and long enough to be wavy, a few coils hanging over his forehead, the rest swept to the back of his head and down his neck.
His features are symmetrical, handsome, his jaw stiff and tightly clenched. Above his left eye, I see a little scar, the only real blemish upon his youthful face.
And it’s his age that’s most striking. He’s a young man, little more than a boy, perhaps about the same age as me.
Most of all, it’s what helps put me at ease. Despite the penetrating nature of his gaze, there appears to be no malice in him.
As he takes a small step forward, he speaks for the first time. His voice, like his face, tells of his youth. Neither shallow nor deep, it has a quality I like.
“I’m sorry for the subterfuge, Brie,” he says. “And for what happened in the alley. I only wanted to talk, as I do now. I hope you didn’t hurt your head too badly?”
His eyes dart to the little bit of medical tape still attached to my forehead.
“Not at all,” I say. “It’s just a scratch.”
His fingers feel for the scar above his left eye.
“Let’s hope you’re not left with one of these.”
He smiles at me, his eyes brightening, and comes a little closer. Moving directly under the light above, I see his irises even more clearly now. There’s a depth to them that appears in contrast to his youth.
I wonder if he’s just some admirer, some opportunist. A young man who saw me on the big screen and wanted to meet me.
“You said in your letter that you’ve been watching me. What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry if the letter was confusing, or made you nervous. That’s not my intention. When I saw you on the big screen, I knew…”
He stops short, cutting off his own voice. Then I speak again.
“Tell me who you are,” I demand.
He steps a little closer. His eyes grow deeper, scanning me in an unnatural manner. I’ve been looked at that way before.
By Rycard.
“You’re a Hawk?” I gasp.
He shakes his head.
“I’m more than just a Hawk.”
And then it dawns on me. Then it becomes clear.
“A hybrid?” I whisper. “You’re one of the Nameless?”
“I am,” he says quietly. “I have been for many years now.”
“So…you have no name?”
He smiles and shakes his head.
“That isn’t what the word Nameless means. I have a name, but it wasn’t the one I was born with. We take our own names on to shield our identities.”
“And yours is?”
“Zander. My name’s Zander.”
I raise my eyes.
“You had all the names in the world to choose from and you chose Zander?” I quip.
“What’s wrong with Zander?”
“I’m teasing,” I tell him, feeling oddly at ease in his presence.
Still, he sees fit to present an excuse.
“Look, I was only a kid when I joined up, OK. It was the coolest name I could think of.”
He steps in closer, and extends a hand. I take it, our hands wrapping up tight for a moment before being cast apart.
“A pleasure to finally meet you, Brie Melrose. You know, you’re just what I expected…”
He moves back again, sinking into a dimmer quarter of the room, and pulls up a chair. I do the same, still wondering what the hell is going on.
“So, you’ve been with the Nameless for years?”
He nods.
“And what have I got to do with all this? Is this because I went to Inner Haven? Honestly, I don’t know anything…”
“It’s not about that,” he cuts in. “I’m here to tell you that you’re in danger, Brie. You may not be safe back at the academy.”
“But I told you, I don’t know anything.”
“It’s not about what you know, or don’t know. It’s about who you are.”
“Who I am? But I’m…no one.”
He shakes his head.
“No, Brie…you’re not. You’re so much more than you realise.”
My eyes scrunch up into a ball. Is this guy for real?
“I, er, I think you might have the wrong girl, Zander. I mean, I live in an orphanage and work as a labourer and cleaner. I’m hardly special.”
He smiles and searches my face again.
“I respect your guardian, I really do. She’s done a great job hiding you.”
“Mrs Carmichael? What’s she got to do with this?”
“Surely you must know? Surely you’ve felt something?”
I’m getting a little exasperated now.
“Look, you’ve clearly got something to tell me, so go ahead and spit it out!”
“Ah, there’s that fire!” he says. “It’ll serve you well. Think about it, Brie…why do you think I’m here?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. Stop playing these games and tell me!”
A little gurgle of laughter sweeps up through his throat. He’s making me feel like I’m being completely obtuse. It’s frankly insulting. I don’t know this damn kid from Adam.
“OK,” he says, his voice turning serious again. “Clearly, you’re in the dark here, and that makes sense. So, what I’m going to tell you might come as a surprise…”
For God’s sake…
“Just tell me!”
He fixes me with a tight stare. I return the look, watching his lips for movement. And then, out come his words. And they make no sense to me at all.
“You, Brie, are just like me,” he says, leaning in. “You’re a hybrid.”
20
My laughter fills the shelter, running from one wall to the next and back again, its echo driving up the stairs and out onto the street.
Zander just sits there, waiting for me to stop. Frankly, it’s probably the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.
Eventually, when I begin to die down, his eyes linger on me for a while, and then he says: “You done?”
“Um, for now, yeah,” I say, still chuckling awkwardly. “But, just to confirm, you are a madman, yes?”
His face remains stony.
“No,” he replies firmly, “I’m not a madman, Brie. What I’m telling you is the truth. I know it’s hard to believe, but you are a hybrid.”
I want to laugh again, but don’t. Instead, I feel a sensation of anger climbing up from my gut. I don’t like my time being wasted like this. I don’t like being played the fool.
I stand up, and shake my head.
“Um, thanks for that, Zander. It was, well, illuminating. If you are truly a part of the Nameless – which I very much doub
t – then I fear for your chances against the Consortium. I’m going to be going now…”
I begin moving towards the stairs. A sweep of air flows behind me and I feel a strong hand fix to my shoulder. And then a voice in my ear: “Quiet. Don’t move.”
Silent as a mouse, he moves past me, his eyes staring up the stairs. A frown deepens on my forehead as I watch him, standing now in complete silence, completely rigid.
Then, his eyes change, widening slightly.
“Your laughter,” he whispers. “They must have heard it. They’re coming…we have to go. Now!”
“Oh come on,” I say, thinking it another prank. “Who’s coming exactly?”
He turns to me.
“Stalkers,” he whispers.
“You mean, hybrid hunters?” I say, all too casually.
“Yes,” he says, darting towards the back wall like a blur. His fingers begin moving along the brick, searching frantically, working in tandem with his keen eyes. All his movements are ferocious and hard for my eyes to see.
It’s clear what else he is…he’s a Dasher too.
“What are you doing?” I ask, watching him work.
“They’re too close, right up on the street. We can’t go out that way.”
“Look, enough’s enough. Joke’s over, Zander.”
He stops his search of the wall and turns to me, eyes screaming now.
“This is NO joke,” he growls. “If they find us here, we’re both dead.”
“Dead…but what did I do?!”
He doesn’t answer, his fingers moving quicker, eyes scanning faster. Then, suddenly, he stops, and a single brick pushes into the wall.
With a croak and a blast of dust, a small doorway appears, the brick retreating a few inches before sliding to the side and revealing a passage beyond. Of all the times I’ve been down here, I never knew that was there…
“Come on, Brie…we have to go!”
He reaches out to take my hand, and just as he does so, the metal doors at the top of the stairs blast open.
“Come on!”
He grabs my hand and pulls me into the darkness, pushing the door closed behind us.
“They’ll have seen it. It won’t take them long to figure it out,” he says, pulling a torch from his jacket and shining it into the blackness.
A tunnel lights up, narrow and dripping and covered in filth.
“What is this place? Where the hell are we?!” I ask breathlessly.
“Old sewers. There’s a massive network of tunnels beneath the city, from hundreds of years ago when our ancestors had their own cities here. There,” he says, pointing forward as we emerge from the tunnel and into a much grander cavern. “They used to travel around their cities on underground trains. Now we use these passages to get around Outer Haven unseen.”
I look to where his finger points, and see what appears to be a long, narrow building sitting on tracks. It’s only a few metres tall, but dozens of metres long, covered with moss and old underground shrubbery, its sides dark with generations of accumulated dirt.
The tracks it lies on lead onwards into the darkness in both directions, the air freezing cold and filled with the clicking of strange insects and the chirping of bats.
We move hastily down into the cavern and hit the concrete earth, the tunnel back into the shelter dug into the wall and stretching away behind us. From the other end, I can hear banging.
They’re smashing the door down…
Zander clearly knows it too. We reach the strange transport, built onto its tracks, and climb on. On either side are benches and seats, mouldy and eaten away by years of decay.
Through we go, up towards the far end, before climbing through a broken door and back out into the tunnel. This one’s wider than before, seemingly never-ending.
Zander begins pacing along, wrapping his arm around my waist as he goes. I can’t keep up, my legs spinning as quickly as I can make them, my lungs burning as I lurch and stumble and fall into the sodden, cold earth.
He lifts me up again, his eyes now sharper than ever. Behind, more noise clatters, telling us that our pursuers have broken through now, and will be catching us up quick with their super-speed.
“We have to get topside again,” says Zander fiercely. “They’ll chase us down in no time like this.”
I know I’m slowing him down, my capabilities only human and nothing more. If only I was a hybrid, like he says…at least then I might be able to run faster.
Wrapping his arm tighter around me, he sets his sights into the distance again.
“There’s a route to the streets ahead,” he says. “Hold on tight, and try not to drag your legs on the floor…”
Before I can ask him what he means, his body begins to grow suddenly warm and his legs begin to whirl. At first, I try to run too. Very quickly, however, I realise that I’m merely skipping on air, Zander hoisting me along as he powers into the darkness.
Around me, the wind rushes and the world turns to a blur. His torch, which was illuminating the world ahead and giving structure to the tunnel, merely becomes a white glow, with nothing but blackness around it.
I find myself struggling to breathe until, suddenly, he stops and the world comes back into view. I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“This way,” he says, not giving me a second to rest or regain my faculties.
He pulls me up onto a little ledge to the side of the tunnel, and through a door. A series of rooms follow, all as overgrown and infested as the rest of this place, before another tunnel appears. This one’s like the one that led from the shelter, more recently dug into the earth.
By the looks of things, the Nameless have been creating a whole load of them all over the city. I wonder how many of them are secret. I wonder whether I’ve given the game away, luring the Stalkers to the shelter with my stupid, loud, laughter.
The one thing I’m not wondering about now, however, is that Zander is definitely with the Nameless. And that our pursuers are definitely Stalkers. The sound of their feet, dashing along the dirt, only a little way behind us makes that clear. No one else could have kept up…
Into the new tunnel we go, this one even narrower than the first. We have to duck and stay low to clamber through, before hitting what looks like a dead end.
But it’s not.
This time, Zander doesn’t need to feel about for a lock, not on this side of the secret door. Pushing forward, the door opens and we pile into what seems, at first sight, to be another shelter.
When we move up another set of stairs, however, and emerge into a corridor, I realise it’s just a building up on street level. We dart through another door to the left, and find ourselves in a tight alleyway.
“This way,” says Zander again, guiding me down the alley and onto another street.
I look around, trying to get my bearings, but have little idea as to where we are, the darkness largely obscuring any landmarks I might recognise.
After winding down a couple of roads, Zander stops and guides his laser-focused eyes to mine.
“You need to go,” he says. “I’ll draw them off…they’re after me, not you, and we need to keep it that way. They can’t know who you are…”
“Why not?” I hear myself asking, my voice high pitched and riddled with panic.
“There’s no time to explain,” he says quickly. “Go back to the academy. Stay secret, stay silent. Say nothing about this to anyone.”
Though the network of tight streets, voices are heard now. They’re on our scent again.
“That way,” points Zander. “The academy is that way. Now run, and don’t look back. GO!”
He pushes me off, forcing me to turn and run. I go, my heels kicking up grime as I launch myself at full speed away from him. And when I spare a glance back, he’s gone, speeding away in the opposite direction and drawing the Stalkers along with him.
I turn again and don’t stop for some time, now barely caring if a Con-Cop should catch me, or a drone spy me from up
in the air. My lungs call for oxygen as I thump the ground with my heavy work boots, barely knowing where I’m going until the streets become more familiar, and I naturally gravitate back to Brick Lane.
Skipping from shadow to shadow, I finally arrive back at the academy with the night at its deepest and darkest ebb. I stop outside, and catch my breath up against a wall. My heart feels set to burst from my body. My lungs are on fire. My legs ache, trembling beneath me as they try to keep me standing.
And yet, my mind is wild and charging with a thousand questions. Questions to which I need to know the answers.
I hold myself outside under the cold night sky for a few long minutes, waiting for my heart-rate to return to normal, for my breathing to grow regular once more. Then, slowly, I creep back into the academy, stalking the place as I have so many times in recent days.
Only now, it looks different. Just like when I returned to Outer Haven from Inner Haven only days ago, and the entire place took on a different air, a different feel. I felt like something had changed. I looked upon the streets in a new light, knowing that it wasn’t quite what it seemed.
And now…now I’m doing the same here. As I move up the winding stairs, I wonder what secrets this place holds too. I wonder what lies have been whispered to me throughout the years. Is the academy really what it seems?
But mostly, my mind lingers with another query. There’s something else that I look upon with new eyes, with a new mind.
Myself.
Reaching the second floor, I sneak into the bathroom and flick on the light. I step in front of the mirror, holding my eyes down. And then, I raise them up and meet my gaze, and see a different face staring back.
Because if what Zander says is true, then I’m not the girl I thought I was. I’m different. Like the city, like the academy, I look at myself in a new light.
And I see a stranger staring back.
21
I know the picture of my parents so well I could quite easily draw it from memory. The smallest of details are emblazoned across my mind, as familiar to me as the features of my own face.
I’ve always felt some solace in the fact that, should the picture be lost, it shall forever remain fixed in my mind. If the academy should burn down, or some cruel child see fit to take the picture from my room, I’ve always known that it would not deprive me of looking upon it.
