by T. C. Edge
I crawl further back, moving into some low shrubbery. Through the shroud, the shape of two shadows appears, metres away now. One towers above the other, his heavy feet digging deep as he moves through the trees.
A Brute. And another Enhanced. They must be City Guards…
The smaller man speaks again.
“And you know, if she was out here, I’m sure I’d be able to smell her…”
He’s a Sniffer.
The Brute laughs.
“Yeah, sure, with all this fog about. No chance.”
The Sniffer shrugs, offering no retort.
“Maybe you’re right. I can’t exactly do much with this gas mask on. I don’t even know why they bothered sending me. Or you…you can hardly fit through the trees!”
The Brute lifts a heavy arm in a threatening fashion. The Sniffer merely chuckles.
“Hmmmm, maybe you’re right,” admits the Brute. “Let’s do one last check, then go back. You head off east. I’ll check around here. Meet by the car in 15 minutes.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The Sniffer moves off, and I sink lower beneath the murk. His silhouette fades into the background, leaving only the looming shadow of the Brute above me. He twists on the spot, sending his eyes in all directions, before turning right at me.
No…
He takes a step, covering twice the ground of a normal man, his frame clearing through the mist as he comes. I refuse to breathe, and skulk a little deeper, keeping as low to the ground as possible.
A crack sounds behind me, my shin pressing on a dried up old root. I freeze in the sludge and inch my eyes up.
The Brute has stopped moving too.
He stands, mist flowing around his thighs, his body blanketed in black armour and his face hidden behind a mask.
For a second, he doesn’t move. He just stands there, listening. I pray for him to move off, to stride away on those long, powerful legs of his.
He doesn’t. He strides right at me instead.
I have no choice.
I jump from the shroud and try to run. I go about half a foot before being caught. Around my ankle, a huge hand wraps up tight, pulling me back and lifting me up high.
I’m tossed upside down, my body swung into the air with consummate ease. I prepare to scream, but no sound escapes me. Instead, I merely hang there as the giant peers at me through his visor.
I know there’s no point in struggling. Not against such a beast.
And all I can think is: game over.
55
I hang in the air, my hood slipping off my head and my matted hair dangling down like old vines.
The Brute continues to look at me, lifting me a little higher so that we’re face to face. Through his visor, I see his eyes staring, a little frown crinkling on top of them.
“Well, look what we have here,” he says.
I gather what strength I have for a vain attempt at an escape. One that I’m fully aware will be entirely unsuccessful.
I try anyway, reaching up suddenly and gripping at his fingers. I pull as hard as I can in an attempt to dislodge them, to free up my leg for a daring getaway.
They barely budge. Perhaps a few millimetres, nothing more.
I writhe a few times like a snake, sending my aching brain rocking about inside my skull. The Brute merely holds me, apparently mildly amused by my efforts, before lowering me back into the smog.
Keeping his hands on me, he twists me around so that I’m standing straight, then pulls my wrists together and binds them tight with cuffs.
“There we go, much better,” he says.
I give up the escape attempts, and stand up straight before him. The top of his head reaches skyward, way beyond the green swamp below. Up there, where the air is clearer, his face comes into view, mostly hidden behind his mask but partially visible through his visor.
I stare at the space between his forehead and the top of his nose, focusing on his eyes. Something familiar sticks out, causing me to peer more closely.
“You’re one of them are you?” comes his voice, muted and altered slightly by his mask.
Yet there’s some familiar about that too. A tone, a pitch that rings a bell in the back of my head.
I don’t answer his question, but continue to stare.
“Yeah, you must be one of them,” he continues. “Only Hawks stare like that. What else are you? You got Bat blood? Nah, you’d have heard us coming. I’d say you’re a Dasher but you’d have run away. Gotta be a Sniffer. But a hybrid for sure…”
I let him speak, let his words fill my ears, listening closely as I rack my aching head. And then, it comes to me. His eyes and his voice join, and a memory forms.
“I know you,” I whisper.
He recoils, cocking his head a little to one side.
“Is that right?”
“You were at the bachelor ball,” I say. “Only last week. I met you there…”
He goes silent for a moment, and then slowly leans down, arching his mighty back until his face is close to my level. Now it’s he who looks at me, who examines me, staring into my eyes as I did his.
Then, a whisper creeps from his cavernous mouth.
“Brie? Brie Melrose?”
He reaches out with his fingers, and grips my mask with a lightness you would never expect from a man of such proportions. Slowly, he pulls it down to my neck, revealing my face, muddied in places but clearly recognisable.
I take a breath so as not to suck in any poison, and let him inspect me for a second. Then, quickly, he slides the mask back up.
“Brie…it is you. What on earth are you doing out here?!”
His voice in a harsh whisper. I watch as his eyes widen suddenly and he turns to look east, off in the direction of his partner. He’s not visible now, far off searching through another part of the forest.
“It was you they found in the underlands last night?” he questions. “You jumped into the river?”
I nod.
“You need to help me. Please…”
I take a shot. When I met this man at the bachelor ball, he told me he’d come specifically to meet me. That he was impressed with how I acted after the first attack by the Fanatics, and how courageous he thought I was.
Maybe he’s more like Rycard. Maybe he’s even one of the sympathisers of the Nameless like Adryan told me about. Or maybe he’s just a good man, willing to do the right thing.
“Help you?” he asks. “You need to explain yourself. What were you doing down beneath the city last night?”
“I…I can’t explain. Please, if you take me in, they’ll take me straight to the REEF. I can’t go there. Please…”
“Brie, I have orders. You must understand that. Maybe if you tell me what you were doing, I could talk to someone, but…”
“No. You can’t talk to anyone. No one can know I was here.”
My voice pleads, galloping from my throat. The pity in his eyes is evident. I continue to work on it, lies quickly forming in my head.
“I was just…just down there by the waterfall,” I say. “I like it down there, it’s calming. A load of Con-Cops came from nowhere, and they didn’t give me a chance to speak. I didn’t know what was going on. I thought they were going to shoot me. So…so I jumped in the river. It was just instinct, I didn’t know what I was doing.”
As I rattle on, spewing the fake story, he rests a mighty paw on my shoulder.
“OK, calm down…don’t get too worked up.”
I suck in some long breaths.
“So, you were just down in the underlands?” he asks. “You do know the Nameless operate down there, right?”
I shake my head like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t.
“I didn’t. I found a secret door in one of the shelters one night, during a storm. I was curious – I’ve always been curious – so I went down the tunnel. That’s when I found the waterfall. It was so beautiful, so wild. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong…”
&n
bsp; “I see. And last night, you just jumped in the river? You didn’t try to explain what was going on?”
I shake my head hurriedly.
“They didn’t give me a chance. I was scared…they just came out of nowhere with their guns. I panicked and jumped in.”
“And the river took you all the way out here?”
I nod.
“I woke up this morning, and was trying to make my way back…”
“Convenient you’re wearing a gas mask then.”
“Oh…not convenient,” I say, thinking fast. “Just smart. I always carry one around with me in case I get caught in the mist. I’ve worked a lot around the outer districts. It’s a habit I’ve picked up.”
He nods, seemingly buying into my tale.
“Yes, that is something the workers from the perimeter districts do.”
Really? I had no idea…
I keep my eyes under a deep frown. Let tears begin to gather in their corners. Through the most pathetic expression I can manage, I stare up into his colossal face, and offer a final plea.
“If you take me in, no one will let me explain, or even understand. You work for the City Guard…you know that they take people to the REEF for just about anything. Please…please don’t let me die for this.”
I can see him softening. He falls silent once more, his lips pressed together, and looks again to the east.
“I have my duty to attend to, Brie…”
“Please. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to become a Con-Cop.”
The tears drift from my bloodshot eyes. I can’t tell if I’m overplaying it or not. Right now, I can hardly look like the courageous girl he thought I was.
I stiffen myself, and grit my teeth, steadying my gaze on his. His large, soft eyes examine me closely, perhaps trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth. So far, I think I’ve been fairly convincing.
Then, he begins to nod.
“It’s a shame,” he says. “A shame that you’re right. If I take you in, you won’t get a chance to defend yourself, even with my testimony. I’ve worked for the City Guard long enough to know that.”
He smiles, his ample cheeks building behind his visor.
“And you know, I think the city has enough Con-Cops as it is. They’re swarming all over the place these days.”
He reaches around my back as he speaks, and I feel my cuffs clicking off. My hands swing back around in front of me, burnt and blistered.
“Those look painful,” he winces. “You’ll need medical attention when you get back.”
He straightens himself up to his fullest height again, looking back east.
“My partner will be heading back to the car in a few minutes. We don’t have much time.”
“You’re helping me?” I whisper, barely believing it.
He nods.
“I’m sworn to protect the citizens of this city. And that includes people being sent to the REEF for no good reason. Frankly, as you say, that happens far too often. Now keep low and follow me. I’ll get you back across the wall…”
I launch myself at him. I can’t help it. My sizzling hands wrap around him as far as they can go, gripping to nothing but black armour.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I won’t ever forget this.”
“You helped save lives in Culture Corner. It’s only fair that someone saves yours. Now come, my partner will be returning soon…”
He turns and begins moving through the forest in the direction of the city walls. As he goes, his gigantic frame leaves a trail in the fog, the green smoke swishing and swirling about in his wake.
I slip in beside him, staying low and keeping a lookout for any movement. Hidden beneath the fog and his shadow, we soon reach the outskirts of the forest, the city wall waiting ahead across a clearing.
And there, parked in the dirt on the edge of the trees, I see a car of the City Guard, sturdily built and large enough to accommodate a man of his size.
“Stay here a second,” he says.
He marches across the short gap to the vehicle, and opens up the trunk. For a few moments, he fiddles about, before turning once again to look in every direction.
Then his eyes come to me, and he nods for me to move.
I rush across into the clearing, leaving the dense fog, and join him at the back of the car.
“Get in,” he says.
I look inside and note that he’s fashioned a little space for me. Boxes and tools and various items of clothing have been pushed to one side. I jump in, and shuffle right to the back.
Lifting a large coat, he covers the little space I cower in, hiding my body and leaving only my face visible.
For a moment, he looks at me with a measure of curiosity once again, before slipping the jacket over my face, locking me in the shadows.
I hear him whisper on the other side, just before he shuts the trunk.
“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. I’ll take you somewhere safe in the city and let you out. My partner’s coming…”
With those words, the trunk suddenly slams down loudly, blocking out the light and sound. All I hear are muffled and indistinct words as the Sniffer joins him.
It sounds like they’re quickly discussing whether they found anything. Then, I hear two doors opening and shutting, and the car’s engine begins to rumble to life.
I stay tense as the car begins to move. It feels like it’s turning around, crunching through the dirt and returning to the southern perimeter gate a little way away.
Soon, we start to slow, and then I feel the car stopping completely. Its engine continues to hum, the temperature in the trunk starting to rise. Beads of sweat start to gather on my forehead, sliding down and breaking up the patches of mud that still cover me.
For a few moments, the car stays still. Outside I hear the shuffling of feet, and the tapping of fingers on the metal coffin that hides me. Suddenly, the trunk opens, and a sweep of cool air pours in.
I go rigid like a statue. Voices come now, clear as day.
“Is this really necessary?”
It’s the Brute. My saviour.
“Protocol,” grunts another voice.
I feel him prodding and poking around inside. The jacket around me gets nudged, almost slipping away. I tighten my bundle of limbs and sink deeper.
If he finds me, I’m dead. And the Brute will be too.
His life is now on the line. He’s put it there on my behalf.
I hear his voice come again.
“Are you satisfied yet?!” There’s a menace to him now, a burgeoning frustration. “Hurry up. I have more important things to do than to waste time with you wall-watchers.”
It sounds like an insult. Perhaps among the City Guard, those guarding the wall are considered of low position or rank.
“I’m just…doing my job.”
The other man sounds a little more cowed now. By the tone of his voice he doesn’t sound like a Brute. More likely a Hawk, I’d imagine, watching from the ramparts.
“And what’s the smell,” says the guard. I hear him sniffing, his nose growing closer.
Even from behind the jacket, the shadow of the Brute appears to grow, looming large over the other man.
The sniffing stops abruptly, and the man leans back.
“I’ve just been out in the toxic marshes,” booms the Brute. “What the hell do you think that smell is? Now step aside. I’m a busy man. You may not have heard, but the city has been under threat and needs defending…”
A momentary silence follows. Then, quietly, the guard speaks again.
“Fine. Be on your way,” he says.
I hear him step to the side. A hand comes down on the top of the trunk, closing it with some force.
Back in the darkness, I let out a long drawn out breath, my heart-rate thundering. I stretch out my legs as much as I can, my limbs growing numb, and feel the car begin to grumble off again, passing through the gate.
A smile of relief hovers on my lips for a moment, but is quickl
y doused. It’s not over yet. Until I’m back in the academy, safe and sound, I can’t lose focus.
From the motion of the vehicle, we seem to keep to a fairly straight route, presumably moving up through the southern quarter. The car slows and speeds up, keeping to the traffic rules, before eventually stopping.
I listen to the muffled voices inside the car for a moment, a discussion taking place. Then, a single door opens and shuts, and the car begins to move off again.
It feels like it’s turning around again, working its way westwards. Another ten or so minutes pass before it comes to a stop once more.
The engine shuts off, and a door opens. I hear the stamp of heavy feet, and the creeping of fingers on the trunk. Even before it’s opened, I smell the scent of the city streets I know so well, seeping in through tiny gaps in the rear of the car.
The odour only increases when the trunk lifts and the jacket covering me up is pulled away. I blink in the low light and see the Brute standing ahead of me.
“Get out,” he says.
I climb from the car, my body numb and in need of rest, and finally pull the gas mask from my face and place it in my pocket. I check out my surroundings and see that we’re in a quiet alleyway, the light of the sun blocked by the tall buildings around us.
By the look of them, we’re around the border of the southern and western quarter, somewhere in the outer districts.
“You should be safe now, Brie,” says the Brute. “The Conveyor Line isn’t too far to the left at the end of the alley. I’m sure you’ll get your bearings quick.” He looks at my hands, bloodied and blistered, and the filthy clothes that hang off me. “Best get home as fast as you can and have a clean…”
He turns back to the trunk of the car and roots around for a moment, before pulling out another jacket.
“Here, put this on. It’ll cover you up.”
I take it and wrap it around me. It’s too large, but not ridiculously so.
“Whose is it?”
“My partner’s. Don’t worry, I’ll make up some excuse…”
“I really don’t know what to say. I don’t even know your name.”
He pulls up his visor – his gas mask already discarded – and smiles.
“It’s Titus.”
