by T. C. Edge
He hands me his sidearm, a regular pistol, and keeps hold of his pulse rifle.
“Right then,” he says, turning to the door. “Let’s get out of this hellhole.”
128
Up the swirling stairs we go, leaving the guard in the booth behind. With the Hawks at the front, and Zander at their backs, and then myself and Adryan at the rear, we reach the passage on the ground floor of the building, searching for any other guards.
There are none.
We press on quickly, darting towards the door. Reaching it, Zander looks to the two Hawks, and sets the order firmly in their minds.
The order to distract.
The order to attack.
Just outside, two guards will be stationed. Beyond them, there will be dozens of others, dotted here and there, ready to spring into action when we make our move.
And now’s the time.
Before he opens the door, the Hawks’ gas masks are taken. One is passed to me, the other to Adryan. We both stow them away in our clothes, ready for later use.
Then, opening the door, the Hawks step into the harsh daylight, and immediately pass by the two guards and begin moving straight for the far end of the courtyard where the front gate sits, locked tight.
The guards watch them go as my brother steps between them. Still dressed as a Stalker, he flashes his eyes upon them both, one after the other, and takes command of two more men. These aren’t Hawks, their vibrating, energetic movements suggesting that it’s Dasher blood that fills their veins.
Weak minds, both of them, and easily taken by Zander.
Two more men for the fight. Two more men to add to the diversion.
Within only seconds of appearing outside, they both leave their posts and begin hurrying after the Hawks, their paths diverting a little to the right.
From the shadows of the doorway, Adryan and I stay hidden, looking out as the guards peppering the yard begin to take note of the strange activity of their colleagues.
As their attention turns to the Hawks and Dashers, Zander gives Adryan and me a nod to tell us it’s time to go. Following him, we begin rushing out of the door and to the left, slipping along the side of the building. Our appearance is quickly noticed, a guard up on the wall looking down upon us and calling out: “Where are you taking those prisoners?!”
Zander doesn’t answer.
Instead, he rushes faster, and so do we, and soon we’re rounding the side of the fortress-like warehouse built for death, and the guard up above is raising his weapon to us and calling louder.
And behind, over in the square, other guards are doing the same, now realising that something is very, very wrong.
They’re right, and just at that moment, as the guard on the wall gets set to fire, the terrible sounds of battle begin to blare in the courtyard, the four men under Zander’s command now firing freely upon their brethren.
Gunfire rattles, and pulse rounds buzz, and on top of it all, a loud alarm begins to call out across the entire facility, drawing in more guards from its various corners.
It all happens so fast that I barely notice when Zander sends a round of energy up to the guard on the wall, taking his life. He calls for us to run, and as a three we do so, sprinting now with all we have towards the rear of the complex, the high wall of the cell-block to our left, and the perimeter wall of the REEF itself to our right.
Along the wall, more guards appear, readying themselves to fire. My brother is too fast for them, dashing forward into more promising positions and taking aim before they can counter him. More lives tumble as he cuts his way through, clearing a path for Adryan and me to follow.
My own firearm remains primed and focused on the path ahead. My head swivels regularly behind, turning to see if we’re being followed as we rush between the two tall walls. In the background, the clattering of gunfire thrashes in the air, the four guards under Zander’s command doing everything they can to offer the distraction we need.
Yet, very quickly, they’ll be disabled and killed.
We have little time to waste.
My brother knows the way. He knows it from the time spent in the mind of the Hawk, guiding us towards a supposed weak point at the rear of the base. But more guards continue to block our way, hindering our progress, and for the first time, I’m forced to use my weapon.
They come from the front, a small troop of four rushing in ahead of us. Two are Dashers, speeding in, zipping off from the flanks of their colleagues who fire from a distance.
Zander stops and reaches back, shoving me behind some cover against the building, into a small alcove in its façade providing momentary peace from the fresh surge of gunfire driving its way towards us.
I drag Adryan with me, and shout at him to stay hidden. Then, with no choice but to join my brother in the fight, I activate my Dasher powers, feel my muscles spill over with energy, and rush to join the fray.
I’m greeted by the sight of my brother in battle.
So skilled is he, so practiced and primed, that he dominates those before him, sliding between gunfire without breaking sweat and quickly taking down those around him. Only the Dashers, their speed almost matching his own, are able to offer any sort of combat.
Yet while their speed is comparable to his, his eyesight presents an advantage. He sees them coming, reacts before they can administer a blow or send a slug into his body. Turning left and right, forwards and backwards, it’s as if there are several of him, his body defended from every direction.
However, even the most powerful can be overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers. And so it seems to happen, his attention spread too thin, split by too many foes. I’m forced to act, to join him, my legs churning against the concrete ground as I propel myself into the centre of it all.
Joining the maelstrom, I drop my first foe with a blow to the head using the butt of my weapon. The second presents more of a challenge, coming from behind, only caught by my Hawk-eyes as he appears so quickly from the rear.
Swivelling to face him, I instinctively lift my weapon and fire, spraying the air with bullets that, with my Dasher powers enabled, move more casually from the barrel of my gun. My foe, a Dasher himself, is able to see the first few coming, but not the last.
It connects with his torso, finding a gap in his armour, the burning bullet burying itself into his flesh. Immediately, the man’s face lights with pain, and he tumbles back to the ground, his hands reaching for the wound to stem the flow of blood.
He’s the first man I’ve ever shot. I don’t think he’ll be the last.
I have no time to contemplate such things. Nor am I able to figure out whether or not I’d have finished him off. In the end, I don’t need to.
With his own foes vanquished, my brother appears from nowhere, panting faintly as he lifts his pulse gun to the man’s chest and blows a far larger hole straight through him. The guard drops, and Zander turns to me.
“Where’s Adryan?”
I lift my finger to the alcove he left me in.
Seconds later, he’s zipped to fetch him and brought him back to me, our path now filled with a mixture of fresh corpses and the more fortunate unconscious guards who dared try to stop us.
“Up there. Go!”
His finger aims for the nearest watchtower right in the far corner of the base. Utilising our powers once more, we move there with as much speed as we can muster, the battle at the front of the facility now beginning to cease as our mentally oppressed allies are overcome.
With Adryan being rushed along by Zander, we come up on the watchtower in no time, its previous occupant already dismembered by my brother during the previous skirmish. Grabbing my wrist, he pulls me towards the ladder and begins shoving me up. I climb to the top as Adryan goes next, Zander bringing up the rear.
Reaching the summit, I get a look out over the wall and into the woods. They’re so close, the toxic mist lingering nearby at the base of the nearest trees, their vines almost close enough to tickle the outer façade of the facil
ity.
Looking over the edge of the wall, I feel a jab of concern at the drop. Twenty feet of freefall to the floor, with a metre or so of concrete path right at the base of the wall.
As I look over, I’m soon joined by Adryan and Zander, the former still appearing slightly dazed by what’s happening, the latter as alert as it’s possible to be. My brother scans the outer edge of the wall and the concrete below, and quickly surmises what I myself had come to conclude.
“We’ll have to jump beyond the concrete. The earth looks softer on the other side. I’ll go first, and steady your landings.”
He doesn’t wait to debate our other options. There aren’t any.
Instead, he merely flings his frame straight over, whooshing through the air and landing several metres below in the swirling mist. I hear a splash as he hits the earth, and little else.
The gunfire behind has stopped. Now, only voices are rising, figures looming once more as a fresh force of guards begins to gather and search. Their eyes catch us up on the wall, and the chattering renews, bullets being spat in our direction, pulses of energy eating away at the little walls of the watchtower.
We have no time. I push Adryan to the edge, and shout “jump” into his ear.
He doesn’t delay, but isn’t able to jump far, his legs and body too weak after days of malnourishment and torture to launch himself as far as Zander did.
I hold my breath as he glides ungraciously from the summit, only just landing on the other side of the concrete as Zander awaits with outstretched arms, slowing his landing as best he can.
Then it’s my turn.
I duck low as a few bullets wiz and crack, and with a final leap, soar into the air and quickly hit the deck, my energy sufficient to fling me towards the softer earth beyond the wall, and into my brother’s waiting arms.
I hit the ground with a shudder that runs up through my body and bones, my ankle close to snapping as it squashes into the soft mud, slipping inwards. My brother is strong enough to halt my speed and soften the blow, catching and steadying me as we lock eyes.
“You alright?!” he calls.
I nod.
And pulling me towards Adryan, who hovers under the close canopy of trees, we surge away from the wall, just as our enemy begins to reach the ramparts and send their bullets to chase us.
Into the shadows we go, lifting the gas masks to our faces.
Running off into the unknown.
129
The woods grow quickly murky and thick. Beneath our feet, the ground turns sticky, the constant toxic rainfall in the area giving life to bogs and swamps that aren’t easy to navigate and traverse.
Led by Zander, who’s spent plenty of time wandering the outerlands beyond the northern reaches of Outer Haven, we quickly find ourselves losing sight of the facility at our backs, descending into a dangerous and dark world, where the threat of death and injury awaits around every turn.
Our pursuers won’t stop just because we’ve escaped the high wall. Many will already have made the leap themselves, following our step into the forest, with others spreading through the main gate and coming at us from another angle.
It’s the Dashers I’m most worried about. Without the burden of Adryan, they’ll be able to search quicker, cover more ground than we can. And to add to the issue, my husband seems to have developed a limp.
At first it’s hard to see, given the unsteadiness of the ground and the hurried nature of our escape. Only once we’ve made it a little way into the woods do I notice that his left ankle isn’t operating as well as his right. That each time he puts any weight on that side of his body, a fresh grimace of discomfort joins the many days of torture-induced pain that’s built up behind his eyes.
“It’s fine,” he mumbles, seeing my show of concern. “I’ll manage. Don’t slow down for me.”
His faculties are returning at least, the adrenaline-fuelled escape dissipating the drugs that linger in his blood, freshening his weary mind for the task ahead. He knows that, unlike my brother and me, he’s incapable of moving quickly through this swamp, incapable of fighting off our attackers as we can.
I’m sure he doesn’t want to add an injured ankle to his own disadvantage. He’s far too proud a man for that.
So I don’t even mention it to my brother, who continues to battle his way through the bushes and trees and tangled vines that block our path, navigating cleverly through the deeper swamps and continually searching for more sturdy ground.
A fall into one of the bogs could be fatal. Such is the toxicity of some of the pools of water here that the skin can quickly be burned away without sufficient protection, and the mind addled by pain and madness before you can step from the deadly bogs.
One uncertain step can end up being your downfall.
But my brother is well experienced, and leads us through as quickly as he can manage as our pursuers call out in the distance, passing along orders and information as they attempt to hunt us down.
Unfortunately, we’re leaving a trail, the rush of three bodies through this untarnished bush enough for a skilled tracker to follow. And with Bats and Sniffers among our pursuers, we’re well aware that we have no option to let up or slow down. We must keep going, on and on. And if we have to face our enemy again, so be it.
Under the canopy, the world is dark. My eyes, and Zander’s, are able to deal with this murk. Adryan’s aren’t; yet another weakness.
As the forest thickens, so the light fades even further, and Zander quickly stops at the front and swaps masks with Adryan.
“This one has night-vision,” he says, passing my husband the Stalker mask and visor.
He takes the regular gas mask and slips it quickly onto his face to protect against the fog, and Adryan does the same. It seems to have an impact, his vision suddenly far improved and pace speeding as his footfall becomes a little more sure.
Our pace quickens through necessity. The chasing pack isn’t far behind. It’s still early afternoon, yet the daylight is lost down here. And even through the cracks above, a gloom is gathering as clouds start to cover the sun and blot out its warm illumination.
We hurry on, and the noise behind us gets louder. Then, suddenly, I hear the cracking of twigs closer to our rear, a little way off to the right. My eyes skim through and catch sight of a Dasher dancing as quietly as he can manage through the trees.
Not quiet enough.
I see him. So does my brother. Within moments Zander has disappeared himself and engaged the man in combat. Yet this one he doesn’t kill. Trapping him against the trunk of a thick and craggy tree, he sets an order into his mind to aid us in our escape.
As we set our sights ahead once more, the attacker turns and moves off in the opposite direction. A minute later, the sound of gunfire cracks once more in the distance, the man causing havoc within the ranks of his own men.
My brother, once more, has proven his considerable worth.
An hour passes by as we’re accosted a couple more times. On each occasion, my brother handles the men while I stay with Adryan, protecting him. I want to add my own powers to the mix, but Zander shows me I’m not needed. He tells me too with a firm order.
“Leave them to me,” he growls. “Stick with Adryan.”
Only once am I forced to help, when a Brute comes charging through the bushes and Zander’s gun fails to fire. As he dodges the giant, I step in and disable him with a shot to the knee. It cracks against the cap and the Brute howls a deafening roar of pain, his weight shifting as he tumbles and sinks into a thick, muddy pool of acid.
His howling intensifies and sends a chill right through me as his face is covered in the burning mud, causing boils and blisters to bubble up on his skin.
“Finish him off,” orders Zander. “Stop that howling.”
It’s my test. My first kill.
I lift the gun and aim it at the Brute’s head, just below the protection of his helmet. My delay is enough for Zander to shout: “Finish him.”
His sudden words cause my finger to jolt on the trigger. The bullet fires and the howling ends. A huge body sinks into the mud.
I’ve killed my first man.
Mercy, I tell myself. This one was mercy.
I can’t dwell on it.
Into the depths of the forest we go, the hunters behind us now so dispersed that we might just have lost them. For another hour we trek without further interruption, and a deep silence pervades the world. Exhausted and drained, my brother finally allows us to rest in the shadow of a little rocky outcrop, hidden to the side of a small clearing.
Adryan has returned to life now, but the grimace on his face hasn’t left. I make him take a seat within a small cave cut into the side of the rock and lift his left ankle up onto my knee. It’s swollen badly on one side, his movement severely limited.
Zander, prowling around the clearing and constantly checking for any sign of our chasers, doesn’t notice. Adryan doesn’t want him too either.
“It’s fine,” he assures me. “It’s just a sprain.”
I move in to sit beside him, gently lowing his leg back to the ground. For a few moments, we sit in silence, watching Zander from the shadows as he peers through the trees and tries to get his bearings.
“I tried to get you out,” I say quietly.
Adryan’s eyes don’t turn to me. He continues to stare blankly, his mind still badly messed up by the last few days he’s had to bear.
“I tried to make an exchange,” I continue, “to bargain with Cromwell. You for Agent Woolf. Lady Orlando wouldn’t take it.”
“Of course she wouldn’t,” he says. “That was never part of the deal.”
I turn to him. “What deal?”
He drags a breath into his tired body. “The deal that, if we got caught, we were alone. At least, that was the deal for me. Your brother was never going to let that happen with you.”
“And you were OK with that? Adryan, they could easily have made the exchange. After everything you’ve done…you deserved to be freed.”
“I’ve done no more than anyone else. I have no fear of dying, Brie. As soon as they came to the apartment to take me, I knew that would be my fate. I made my peace with that a long time ago.” His soft eyes fall to mine. “But thank you, for coming here. You took a risk…that maybe you shouldn’t. But thank you.”