by T. C. Edge
We close in on the gate, and I issue a further command to Agent Woolf.
“If we’re stopped, tell them…”
“We won’t be stopped,” she drones.
I’m slightly taken aback. Usually, under my control, the subject doesn’t interrupt in such a fashion.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“I said we won’t be stopped,” she says, staring forward. “I have free reign to travel wherever I want. They’ll recognise the car.”
I peer at her.
“Look at me,” I command.
She does so, her black eyes so dull. I slip inside her head and see no brewing deception.
“Fine. But if we do get stopped, tell them you’re taking me to the academy, like before. Nod if you comply.”
She nods, and the car begins to slow as it turns down the short road to the gate. Nearing it, the structure begins to open, and the colourful, vibrant, world of Outer Haven is revealed.
A smile emerges on my face as the car slides through, my eyes briefly turning to the man on guard. As always, it’s a Brute, although I can’t tell whether or not it’s Magnus as the car travels through without interruption.
Clearly, Woolf was right. Her car gives her access anywhere, even at a time of high tension like this. As we pass, the Brute merely watches as we glide up the street, working straight through the centre of the western quarter.
Now, and only now, do I allow myself to relax further. At least, as relaxed as I can be at such a time. Truth be told, the last time I felt fully calm was before any of this happened, before I found out who I truly was.
Since then, I’ve barely had a chance to catch my breath, my life hurtling along at a hundred miles per hour without any hint of slowing down. Yet now, that end looks to be coming, rushing up faster and faster.
The light at the end of the tunnel is blooming.
“Take us to the north of district 6,” I tell Agent Woolf. “Find a quiet, unwatched alley, and park the car. Give the order now.”
She repeats my words to the vehicle, her voice alone capable of commanding it, and we work straight for the destination Zander assigned.
The colours beyond the windows of the car grow brighter as we go, the first advertising boards beginning to brighten as the streets fill with pedestrians. I look upon my people with a studying eye, searching their faces for the creases of worry and fear that have been marking their visages for so many weeks. Now, those cuts are only getting deeper, word of the attack last night at the water treatment facility only serving to spread further panic through their ranks.
As we come to the large intersection near to the southside of Brick Lane, I find the streets swelling with poor souls, their stricken eyes cast to the sky in dread. Across the many screens attached to the flanks of the tall buildings, news of the attack begins to play.
“Hold up,” I say as the car cruises through. “Stop the car, Romelia.”
Agent Woolf passes on the order. The car halts abruptly, right in the middle of the street.
I turn to her with a deepening frown.
“Not here! To the side of the road!”
She acquiesces and the car swerves off to the curb, unblocking the flow of traffic. As it stops, I turn my eyes up to the nearest screen and watch, looking upon the security footage that had been captured by hovering drones.
The wreckage is vast and total. The entire water treatment facility, a grand structure comprising several buildings, has been laid to waste, leaving only a steaming pile of rubble and the carcasses of burning buildings. Still, fire-fighters work to put out the blaze, the reporters on the scene already making the people aware of the importance of this particular attack.
As if they didn’t know already…
Here, clean water is our lifeblood, and the water treatment facility is the very heart that pumps it around the four quarters of Outer Haven. The water beyond our borders is, quite simply, too toxic to be consumed without purification, and without the means to detoxify it, the clean water reserves will quickly dwindle.
I can see the worry etched across every face. Those already fearing for their lives as the threat of the Fanatics loom, and the streets grow more populated with Con-Cops and City Guards, will now have to contend with an entirely new concern.
In weeks, and perhaps just days, some of them will already be scrapping for survival. They’ll look to the Consortium to deploy emergency measures to save them, frantically clawing at their feet for aid.
But that aid, I know, will never come.
“Let’s get out of here,” I grumble, turning away from the footage. “Get the car moving, Romelia!”
The order isn’t specific enough. She merely looks at me with a blank expression so typical of her kind.
“District 6, for Christ’s sake! Do what I told you before. Find us a quiet alley.”
Her cold words tumble, and the car glides off once more.
We pass by Brick Lane, and my eyes turn straight up, getting no more than a glimpse of the academy half way up as we cruise by. In that flash, I try to spot Mrs Carmichael, or Tess, or Abby, or Nate, or any of the other residents of the only home I’ve ever known. I see no one, all of them most likely huddled around the TV in the common room, afflicted as the rest of them by fear.
On we go, passing the market too, another thriving place that has now become a graveyard. My mind fills with thoughts of Fred and Ziggy and Drum, and Rycard and Sophie join them. All people directly affected by that day, some of the many hundreds, many thousands, who have seen their lives changed or lost by that cowardly attack.
Finally, I look upon the shelter in district 6 as we journey northwest, the gateway to the underlands I used to frequent. Down there, not far through the tunnels, the waterfall will be raging, and the river rushing, and the many tunnels that link through that network still being searched for some path to the north.
Then, as the world quietens in the north of district 6, creeping closer to the boundary wall away in the distance, the car begins to cruise down an empty side street, a couple of sleeping cats darting from their holes as the lights blaze ahead and light up the dim passage.
The soft sound of the engine begins to fade, and the car shuts down, and my eyes turn forward and backwards to make sure we’re alone. And then, with a final order to Agent Woolf to stay in the car, I step out, and find a figure already walking towards me, drawn right here by the connection between us.
Dressed in his dark cloak and hood he comes, his pace quickening as he nears me. And when he does, I fall into his arms and he hugs me tight, and I feel some of the unbearable weight upon me lift.
He swishes back his hood, revealing his wavy brown hair and hazel eyes. Within them I see exactly what I need: strength, resolve, a steadfast unwillingness to relent.
He smiles bright, the most natural expression I’ve seen for many days, and dips his eyes to the car.
“She’s in there?” asks my twin brother.
I nod, move to the car, and peek inside.
“OK, Romelia, you can get out now.”
Agent Woolf emerges, those cold black eyes so murky and dark. She moves right behind me, and I see Zander inspecting her as she comes.
“You’ve got her on a leash, sis,” he smiles. “But I’ll take the reins from here.”
And stepping forward, he locks eyes with her, and I see his hazel irises flash as he sets a new order. And as he takes control of her, a wave of relief escapes me.
Agent Woolf is finally off my back.
106
With the whole of Outer Haven – not just the northern quarter – under a particularly tight watch, I don’t spend much time with Zander, much as I’d like to.
We huddle in that quiet alleyway, Agent Woolf now firmly under my brother’s control, and quickly pass notes. Mostly, I ask how my friends are doing down in the underlands: Drum and Sophie and Rycard.
I’m told they’re fine to the best of my brother’s knowledge.
“I’ve been a little
busy recently, as you know,” he announces, a firm indication that he doesn’t have time to keep checking in on those I care about.
Seeing as it was only yesterday that he had to escort Sophie and Rycard down there, I consider that a recent enough check in. Not that someone like Rycard needs, or wants, such interference. I’m sure he’s feeling emasculated enough having so little control over the security of his family.
I do make him confirm, however, that Drum hasn’t yet signed up to become a soldier. When I ask whether he was out there fighting the previous night, Zander baulks at the suggestion.
“Brie, he’s barely been down with us five minutes. We’re not exactly going to shove a gun in his hand and toss him out there to fight. You seem to underestimate how organised we really are.”
Again, the firmness of his answer is enough for me. In fact, I’ve missed his assertiveness. Not that Adryan has been a poor substitute or anything – in fact, he’s been great. It’s more that my brother has a power that I don’t possess. Or, I should say, the same powers as me, only far more developed and practiced.
If he was up in the High Tower alongside me, I’d feel so much more confident. Because as supportive and useful as Adryan’s been, he can’t do much to help. For the most part, it’s just been me up there, fighting to stay hidden, fighting to discover a path to the summit.
It’s a significant weight to bear.
Once I’ve confirmed that my friends are safe, Zander turns the attention to my mission. Now face-to-face, I’m able to quickly explain it for the first time. As I do, I can’t help but instinctively dart my eyes to Agent Woolf – who’s been temporarily deposited back into the car – to make sure she’s out of earshot.
“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Zander says. “She’s mine now.”
I like the idea. A significant part of me hopes he puts her through some real hell when he gets a chance.
As I give my brother the brief overview of my plan, I watch him closely for approval. His eyes linger on me for a second before he begins to nod, slowly at first and then with a little more fervour.
“I’m impressed, sis,” he says. “Although, I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve taken everything the High Tower’s thrown at you and just got on with the job. I honestly couldn’t have done it better myself.”
“Oh, please,” I say, tapping him on the arm. “You’d have had Cromwell in a body bag days ago.”
“Brie, I’m serious. You’ve done everything that’s been asked of you. Now, it’s just that final step. Are you sure you’re ready?” He shakes his head as soon as he asks it, and speaks again. “Stupid question. I know you’re ready. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve grown this last week. I can feel it. You’re different.”
“You think?”
“Massively. You’ve got this, Brie. I’d want no one else but you up there tomorrow.” His eyes narrow and his expression grows more grave. “Have you got an escape route sorted out?”
It’s something I haven’t given a huge amount of thought to, which I suppose is strange given the situation. Mostly, my focus has been on getting up there, and not on getting down.
Yet, what thought I have given to it has led me to a single conclusion. That there’s only one way out of the High Tower: straight through the lobby and out the front door.
“That’s your plan?” flinches Zander as I inform him, his brows pinching. “You think that’ll work?”
I shrug, a part of me somehow resigned to the fact that, maybe, this really was just a suicide mission after all. I guess, in some fashion, I’ve managed to suppress the idea of such a thing. I thought it would be easier if I didn’t think about it too much.
“There’s no other way, Zander,” I say. “I’ll head straight down as soon as I’ve pulled the trigger. I’m just hoping there’s no reception party to greet us.”
“Us? So Adryan will be with you?”
“Of course. He’ll join me on my way down at level 51, and we’ll escape together. That’s all we could figure out from the schematics…”
I can see the doubt in my brother’s eyes. I don’t like the weakness, the worry. I reach out and take his hand.
“Don’t worry about me, Zander. I’ll be fine, whatever happens.”
My words are enough to renew his resolve. He nods and merely says: “I know you will, Brie,” with a small smile gracing his lips.
I consider it a good time to leave, before my strength wanes and gives way to weakness. Yet a final glance at the car sets a final topic to my lips. It’s one I know Zander prefers to avoid, but one that’s perpetually lingering in the back of my mind.
“She knows who our parents were,” I tell him. “Agent Woolf…she saw the picture I have of them in my apartment. She might just know about one, or both, I don’t know. But she definitely knows something. It’s the last favour I’ll ask of you, Zander…find out what she knows.”
He glances back to the car, and returns with eyes of fire.
“Oh, I plan to, Brie. I’m going to dig right in for all our sakes. We’ve heard rumours of a new directive that’s about to be issued. She may have more details.”
“A directive?”
He nods, casting his eyes down the street.
“It’s for them,” he says. “For everyone in fear, everyone too terrified to work or go about their lives. We’ve heard that the Consortium will be offering ‘optional reconditioning’ to suppress their fears, to let them live their lives without their worries bearing down on them.”
“Optional reconditioning,” I whisper. “You mean people are going to willingly become their slaves?! It won’t just be their fears they suppress…it’ll be everything. They’ll just make them into drones like the Con-Cops.”
“That’s what we suspect, yeah. The attack on the water treatment facility will only make people more willing to comply, more obedient. People will sign up in their droves, just to free themselves of their fears. And when they wake, they won’t be themselves anymore…”
“That’s…terrible,” I breathe. “So this is what it’s been about all along? All the attacks by the Fanatics have led to this? Make people too afraid to leave their homes, make it so they have no alternative, and then offer them this magic pill to solve all their problems?!”
My brother nods slowly, his eyes still lit with that distant flame. A flame that’s been burning for years, that’s fuelled him for years as he’s fought against this doctrine.
“This is their final play, Brie,” he growls. “It’s evil…evil genius. To create a situation where people willingly give themselves over to slavery without even knowing it. A certain part of me…” he shakes his head, refusing to finish the sentence, refusing to give voice to his thoughts.
But he doesn’t need to. I know what he was about to say, because I’m thinking the very same.
It’s as he said…evil, but genius. A masterful plot to take utter control of the masses without even getting them to lift a finger in their defence. To spread apart a wide net, set a fire behind them, and have them all rush in to get caught in the mesh.
“It will start soon,” he continues. “They’ve been building a new facility out beyond the city. We think that’s where they’ll do it…”
“But why not the REEF?” I wonder.
“The connotations are too negative. Those who know about the REEF are aware that it’s for criminals, for full reconditioning and execution. They needed somewhere else to take these people. I’m sure it’ll be dressed up more pleasantly, to be more welcoming. But in the end, it’s got the same nefarious purpose.”
“Then I guess I have to stop it,” I say fiercely. “If I kill Cromwell, that will do it, right? It will prevent all of this?”
He nods with full conviction.
I open my mouth to further my line of questioning. Zander’s hand lifts to stop me. And from his lips comes the same sentiment he’s ushered time and again.
“Keep your mind on nothing but the mission, Brie. Take that final step. You can
end all of this before it even begins…”
“No pressure then,” I say, my eyes dipping and a wry smile rising.
He lifts my chin and sets his eyes firmly on mine.
“There’s lots of pressure…” His own sardonic grin climbs onto his face. “But isn’t that how you work best?”
“You’ve got me there,” I huff. “Just do that favour for me, Zander. Find out about our parents. And I’ll just hope I’m alive to hear about it…”
“I will,” he whispers. “And you will…”
And with that, I turn and don’t look back, leaving my brother behind in the company of the foulest person I’ve ever met.
Although tomorrow night, that might just change.
I have a suspicion that I’m about to meet someone even worse…
107
I’m onto the final stretch now. The finishing line is coming up fast. It’s do or die, and I hope with everything within me that I accomplish the former without the latter.
Do, but don’t die, that’s the aim of the game here…
Of course, the ‘do’ in question is a little matter of murder. Adryan or Zander would instead prefer the term assassinate, which I suppose is technically true. I am to assassinate the most powerful man in the city, and then walk with my traitorous, Savant husband right out the front door.
Easy.
Right now, I’m considering the final stages of my plot having got back to the High Tower without a hitch. I even managed to pass back through the western gate without any trouble, which is something I owe to my sparkling personality.
Or, the fact that it was, it turns out, Magnus who was on duty. My presence naturally appeared out of the ordinary, but I assured him that I’d merely been over to Outer Haven to see my friends, given the attack on the water treatment facility from the previous night.
Usually, protocol would be to report me, and yet Magnus, like his brother, appeared happy enough to forgo such procedure on this occasion. I gave him a hug for thanks, something which reminded me of my past embraces with Drum, only much larger, and sped my way back to the High Tower.
