The Enhanced Series Boxset

by T. C. Edge

  Over the course of the evening, however, he loosens up in his company. We move in by the fire to get warmer, and fetch some food from over at one of the cooking pits. I’m surprised to find that meat is on the menu, large carcasses being turned on spit roasts.

  “What sort of meat is this?” I ask Zander as we return to Drum’s assigned spot.

  “Erm, this looks like beef,” he says. He takes a bite and nods. “Yep, beef.”

  “Where do you get it?”

  “Oh, we have some contacts in the slaughterhouses over in the eastern quarter. They help keep us fed.”

  “Ah, right. Is that why the second attack by the Fanatics targeted a food factory?” I ask.

  “Um, actually, no. We had a drug production facility under the factory making our suppressor drugs. You know, the type you were taking. They found out about it and used the Fanatics’ attack as cover to blow it up.”

  I shake my head in disgust. Many innocent workers died in that attack. They hit two birds with one stone: spreading fear through their terrorists, and taking out the factory. It sickens me.

  I taste the chewy meat with a grimace. It’s good, if a little dry. No cause for complaint from me, though.

  “I noticed some other carcasses hanging over there too,” I say, turning my attention back to the food. “They didn’t look like cows.”

  “Well, occasionally some of our guys go out hunting beyond the wall to catch game.”

  “What…you mean, you go into the outerlands? What sort of game is out there?”

  “Deer, boar, things like that. Sometimes they even take down a bear or wolves if they need to.”

  “Hang on. But, aren’t those creatures too toxic to eat? They’re mutants, aren’t they?”

  “Mutants in so far as they’ve adapted to live out there, yeah. We just need to cure the meat right, then it’s edible. It can make you feel queasy sometimes, but no one’s gonna complain when they’re struggling for food.”

  “Jeez, I never knew. I guess I’m starting to understand why you can’t invite everyone down here then.”

  “Exactly.”

  What fascinates me the most, however, is the fact that they actually head outside the perimeter wall to hunt. I know that the Consortium send their workers out there to clear the lands, and that they’re probably building new settlements to expand into, but other than that, I thought it was completely off-limits.

  Although, having been down into the murky swamps of the south myself, I can now attest to the fact that you can survive with the right tools. As long as you’re suitably protected from the fog, and you don’t stay out in the mist too long, you should be OK.

  Naturally, I grill Zander on the topic some more, something he finds quite bemusing. Clearly, since he’s always heading outside of the city to the church where the Nameless have their headquarters, the notion of going beyond the wall isn’t particularly special to him.

  To me, it’s captivating. And immediately I put forward the suggestion that I join in on one of these hunts at some point.

  “Maybe one day,” Zander says, pouring water on my fire. “But right now, you’ve got a job to do.”

  “Yeah yeah, I know. But after, I’m going out there to explore,” I tell him, with unequivocal confidence. “So…what about the Shadows? Has anyone seen them on hunting trips?”

  “There have been stories,” he says quietly, the flickering fire configuring an eerie backdrop as he speaks.

  Drum, staying silent, leans in a little closer.

  “What stories?” I ask, doing the same as my oversized friend.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard things before. Mutated humans and all that. If the animals can adapt to survive out in that poison, then why not us?”

  “But are they really, you know, human?”

  “At the most basic, primal, level maybe,” whispers Zander, looking to Drum now with intense eyes.

  Drum’s big browns grow wider. Zander offers me the subtlest of playful winks.

  Then he leans back, and raises his voice again.

  “Ah, who knows? When our hunting parties move through, the Shadows, whatever they are, kind of stick to the darkness. They don’t want to be messing with our men.”

  “I can imagine. Only hybrids go out there I guess?”

  “Mostly. Bats and Sniffers and Hawks are pretty useful at tracking prey. And Dashers aren’t bad at taking them down. And when you get someone who has multiple powers, they’re fairly valuable assets.”

  “So who’s the most powerful?” We turn to look at Drum, who appears to have broken his brief vow of silence. “Do you…have any hybrids who have all the powers?”

  Zander shakes his head and huffs.

  “Nah, that would be pretty much impossible I’d say. We’ve got some good mixes. Sniffers and Bats. Hawks and Sniffers. Dashers and Bats. All combinations you can think of really. Sometimes you’ll get someone with three types of Enhanced blood, but that’s rare.”

  “Like you two,” says Drum eagerly. “You’re both Dashers and Hawks and Mind-Manipulators, aren’t you?”

  I nod. “That’s right, Drum.”

  “So it’s you then?” he asks, looking at Zander again. “You’re the most powerful here?”

  My brother appears to enjoy the suggestion, but plays it cool.

  “That’s not for me to say, big man. It depends on what types of power you value.”

  For my money, that’s a pretty firm ‘yes’. There’s no power like being a Mind-Manipulator. And to add being a Hawk and a Dasher – or Hawker – to the mix? Well, that’s a pretty potent combo if I might say so myself.

  The evening continues on, Drum now finding his voice and plucking a multitude of questions from the recesses of his mind. He appears to grow more interested in this strange new world as the minutes and hours pass, my presence perhaps liberating him from the shackles of his shyness.

  As the night grows late, however, instructions are issued from the different section supervisors to quieten down all conversations. It appears to be quite ordered down here, a proper system of governance in place to ensure that things run smoothly.

  Given how even whispers carry a long way through these caverns, too much talking is outlawed by a certain stage of the evening.

  I’m disappointed, but soon realise it’s for the best. With weary eyes and heavy limbs, I’m taken by Zander to another cavern, leaving Drum behind with a kiss to the cheek, and given a mattress of rags to sleep on. Zander makes sure to stay nearby, finding his own little corner to catch a few winks in.

  Before he does, he leaves me with an instruction.

  “Get some sleep, Brie,” he tells me. “Because tomorrow, we’re taking your training to the next level.”

  I drift away with my head a mixed bag of excitement and dread. And in my dreams, so many of the memories I encountered today play out, an endless series of terror and joy and heartbreak echoing in my unconscious mind.

  When I wake, I do so to the same darkness I fell asleep to. My enhanced eyes quickly take in the form of the cave, and I note that Zander is no longer there. Standing, I move back towards the main cave, the space still filled with fires that give a patchwork of light to the place.

  Some glow only with embers now, indicating the passing of the time as I slept. Others continue to roar more furiously, mostly set around the edges of the cavern where lookouts continue to coax them to life as they set about their vigils.

  I search the space and see Drum in his corner, his large silhouette curled up in a ball and facing the wall. Nearby, Ricky’s skinny frame appears, the young man being assigned to the same section as my friend.

  Around the cavern, many other little bundles and mounds can be seen, hundreds of bodies littering the rock floor as they sleep. I check my watch to find that it’s still early, dawn only just beginning to glow somewhere up above. But down here, none of its natural light penetrates.

  Meandering towards the centre of the cave, I spot Zander coming down a north faci
ng passage. He emerges, has a few words with one of the watchmen, and then spies me hovering about nearby.

  “You’re up,” he says, moving towards me. “I expected you to be sleeping a little longer.”

  “I don’t have time to lie in,” I say. “Where have you been?”

  “Outside the city. Lady Orlando requires regular updates.”

  I’m sure she does…

  “You could have told me,” I grunt. “I’d liked to have gone outside the city again. Doesn’t Lady Orlando want updates from me?”

  Zander shakes his head in somewhat hasty and dismissive fashion.

  “I’m your liaison, Brie. She doesn’t want you distracted by any extraneous diversions, and you’ve got enough on your plate right now to be dealing with.”

  It sounds like a fob off to me. She probably just doesn’t want to deal with my inevitable interrogations.

  I have no energy to waste on arguing the point, though. Instead, I turn my eyes to the tunnel we came down yesterday evening.

  “So, let’s get to this then, shall we?”

  Zander’s eyebrows pop up in surprise. “You’re eager this morning.”

  “Yup,” I say, moving off. “Now come on, don’t keep me waiting, Zander.”

  With my brother hurrying to catch me up, we work our way back up through the tunnels, emerging into a misty morning in the outer districts of the northern quarter. The fog is dense, but mostly grey, carrying with it only a light tinge of green.

  Entering onto the streets, I suck it in and feel little more than a tingle in my throat, and across the bare skin of my hands and face.

  “You want a gas mask?” asks Zander, clearly much more used to these conditions than me.

  “I’ll cope,” I tell him. “This is nothing compared to the outerlands.”

  With our senses dialled up to eleven, we begin our morning’s work. In such conditions, visibility is poor, and consequently the threat of Con-Cops or Stalkers is a little more pronounced.

  “They like this type of weather,” I’m told. “Makes it easier for them to creep around and find unsuspecting Disposables before they have a chance to escape. We need to tread carefully, and keep our eyes and ears open.”

  The increased sense of danger serves to have a positive effect on me. With my pulse ticking along a little faster, and my wits growing keener, I feel that these conditions are just about perfect to speed my training.

  There’s nothing like the threat of getting caught to clarify the mind, and expedite the development of my powers.

  So, in that state, the morning goes well. Leading me along, Zander hunts down several more willing test subjects, always returning to the nooks and crannies where he knows them to be hiding.

  Given a multitude of orders to impart, I succeed with each one. I have a grumpy, grim looking man widen his eyes, open up his mouth, and stick out his tongue like a child. I have another dance about like a chicken, clucking as he goes. I even get one elderly woman to stand, walk towards Zander on creaking legs, and slap him as hard as she can across the face.

  That one I thought up all on my own.

  Perhaps as retribution, Zander takes things up a notch. All those orders are easy enough to accomplish. They’re simple, and delivered to simple minds. The next stage, therefore, is to try to conduct some trickier experiments.

  “Basic actions are easier to place into someone’s mind,” my brother explains, still rubbing the sting from his cheek. That woman really did pack a punch. “However, time-sensitive orders, and those that involve various stages, are much harder. And then there are those actions that someone would never take. Trying to get someone to do something against their nature is hardest of all.”

  He gives the same example as he did the previous day. That of sending someone off to the other side of the city to fetch, say, a loaf of bread, before having them bring it right back here.

  Standing down the alley occupied by another lost soul, Zander tells me to get the man to head to the inner district of the northern quarter.

  “Tell him to leave from here ten minutes from now. Don’t worry if he doesn’t have a watch. His subconscious will actively estimate when ten minutes have passed. Make him go to district 2 of the northern quarter. There’s a little market there that should be active. Give him this money, and ask him to buy some bread, and return here immediately.”

  I gulp, looking at the man nestled tight against a wall.

  “That sounds like a lot. What about Con-Cop patrols? I don’t want to put him in danger or anything.”

  “He’s always in danger here. Go head, do it,” he orders firmly.

  It’s certainly a step up from what I’ve been doing. Yet I feel confident that I’ll be able to accomplish it. So I immediately make for the man, hold out a tin of beans to ensure his participation, and quickly slide into his mind as his eyes link with mine.

  The method is the same as I’ve been practicing. I repeat the order over and over, clarifying each part until it sinks into him. I do so until I’m completely satisfied it’s worked, before returning to Zander.

  “What now?” I ask.

  “We wait to see if he goes.”

  An anxious ten minutes follow, during which I spend most of my time staring at my watch. As the minutes tick by, it appears as though my orders didn’t settle properly. Then, suddenly, he climbs to his feet, turns down the alley, and begins meandering away to the south.

  A beaming smile flows up my face.

  “I did it…”

  “The first part, yeah. We won’t know until he returns.”

  “Don’t be such a buzzkill, bro,” I complain. “Let me have this moment.”

  “Fine, bask in it. You’ve got 30 seconds.”

  I suck in a long breath of misty air and smile victoriously right in Zander’s face. I use up every second he gives me, watching him grow increasingly irritated by my smugness as each one passes.

  “Right, time’s up. Feel better now?”

  “Much better,” I say, grinning. “Give me something harder to do. This is child’s play.”

  He stares right at me, and in my head I hear his voice, echoing from the depths.

  Don’t get cocky, he warns.

  I respond telepathically.

  Don’t worry, I won’t, I assure him.

  It is, of course, a hypocritical statement. My actions speak louder than my telepathic words, and I realise that, perhaps, I am being a little arrogant right now. So I let the smug smile drift from my face, and set my mind back to the seriousness of what we’re doing.

  However, the damage has been done. And Zander’s going to punish me.

  68

  With the man likely to take a while before returning, my brother sets me a new test. I can already sense he’s going to push me even further this time. And, well, I probably deserve it.

  I guess that’s a good thing, though. I need him to throw everything at me, to take me right to the edge of what I can do. To put me under stress and see how I react. And that’s exactly what he does.

  With another candidate in sight, he turns to face me and draws a pistol from a holster in his jacket. It’s one of the old fashioned types, a lead-shooter and not a pulse gun. With his back to the timid looking woman taking refuge beneath an underpass, he reaches forward with the weapon and places it into my palm.

  I look at it with a rising tension in me, and then lift my eyes to Zander’s.

  “What do you want me to do with this?” I ask.

  “I want you to give it to that woman over there,” he says impassively. “And then I want you to make her shoot herself.”

  I look at him with blank eyes. He stares back with the same.

  “No. I’m NOT doing that.”

  “You have to, Brie. Like I told you, getting people to do things against their nature is the hardest thing to do. And there’s nothing more against our nature than to harm ourselves.”

  I attempt to hand the gun back to my brother. He wraps my fingers up tight aro
und it.

  “You’re going to go over there, and you’re going to tell that woman to lift this gun to her temple, and shoot herself in the head.”

  I recoil at his words. They’re delivered with such a lack of caring that I feel like slapping him across the face myself, just as I got that old woman to do.

  “Zander, listen to me. There is NO CHANCE IN HELL that I’m going to get a woman to kill herself. NONE.”

  I lay the point on thick, and make my position clear. My brother looks at me with a creeping displeasure, his eyes narrowing and fixing to mine. And as he stares at me, I feel something beginning to change, deep in the back of my head.

  Slowly but surely, I take a firmer grip of the gun, and begin to realise that he’s right.

  Yes, he’s right.

  I will do it. This is my test. I have to do it…

  I turn the gun in my hand, and pull it beneath my jacket, hiding it away. Then I give Zander the smallest of nods of compliance, before turning and walking towards the woman.

  Moving through the mist like a spectre, her eyes find me as I come. They glow with fear and suspicion, just like all eyes do here. As I grow nearer, she retreats, her body language swaying back to keep me at a distance.

  “Who are you?! What do you want?!” her voice stammers.

  “I’m no one,” I say, my voice flowing on the light breeze. “I’m not someone for you to fear.” I pull some money from my pocket, and hold it up for her to see. “Here, I’m someone who wants to help. Take the money,” I say.

  Her brows dig and pinch together. Lines crinkle across her forehead. She seems to hesitate, sensing a trap. I assuage her concerns.

  “This isn’t a trick,” I say. “Look, I’m just a girl.” I pull down my hood and reveal my face.

  It matters not if she sees who I am. She’ll be dead in a minute.

  “Why are you giving me money…I don’t understand.”

  “It’s OK,” I say, my voice pouring like honey into her ears. “Just look at me for a moment, and it’ll all be over.”

  My voice has gone robotic, devoid of feeling and cold like a Savant. The woman continues to doubt me, but it doesn’t matter. She’s staring at me now, entranced. I’ve lured her into my web.