The Enhanced Series Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  I see agreement and consent. I see a plan being drawn up.

  And as we pass, eyes follow. Lady Orlando’s. Zander’s. I see Walter there too, and Rycard, and Beckett and Kira, and several other members of the Nameless whose voices are deemed important to the task.

  All look at me briefly before turning away. But I only see them in a flash, out of the corner of my Hawk-eyes. Because I refuse to look at them right now.

  And moving through the door, Adryan leads me to the washing area. Several shower cubicles line a wall, with compartments filled with fresh clothes against another.

  I move towards one of the showers and pray that the water is warm. Opening the door, I hear Adryan open his. Just as he does so, I glance across and see him unzipping his jumpsuit, letting the top half fall. And as he does, I get confirmation of what I feared.

  Confirmation of a body scattered with scars. Of a once beautiful frame painted in burns and cuts and blisters. Some will fully heal and disappear. Others will become blemishes on his body that will never leave him.

  Like Rycard, his face now burdened forever, Adryan’s body has been morphed and mutilated.

  And seeing him in such a state breaks my heart.

  140

  Adjoined to the main church hall are sleeping quarters, fitted out with a minimum level of comfort and used by the leaders of the Nameless when they gather outside of the city.

  As far as I understand it, for the most part it’s only Lady Orlando, and a few others, who maintain a permanent vigil here. Mostly the elderly advisors of the rebel forces who can’t, for one reason or another, take an active part in the fighting in Outer Haven.

  Mercifully, I get my own room. There are a few small, single rooms used for the permanent residents, and other larger dorms occupied by the rest when they take up temporary position here. Given what Adryan and I have been through, we’re given precedent over the two free, private rooms that remain unoccupied.

  After a shower that does a great deal to invigorate me, I dress in a fresh batch of dark, rugged clothing – far more the type I’m used to – and happily discard the blue clothing of Inner Haven that I’m very happy to say I’ll never have to wear again.

  Adryan leaves me at the door to my room. His is next door.

  “Goodnight then, Brie,” he says, a little stiffly.

  I offer the same in reply.

  As he turns and moves to his door, my mouth opens and shuts without uttering one of the many things I want to say to him.

  Mostly, it’s the sight of his brutalised body that lingers in my mind, now hidden behind his own outfit of dark jeans, shirt, and leather jacket. It’s a far cry from the smart suits I’ve only ever seen him wearing, and the blood-stained jumpsuit that’s found itself discarded alongside my blue clothing.

  Like me, he’s only too happy to see those items burned and expunged from his memory.

  I don’t think it will be that easy.

  Despite feeling as weary as I ever have, I find it difficult dropping off. The bed is perfectly comfortable, and the night quiet and peaceful. Yet, there are images in front of my mind that won’t leave me alone, keeping me from slipping into slumber as I lie there, facing the ceiling and trying to distract myself with more pleasant thoughts.

  I don’t know how long it’s been when the door knocks quietly. My chest flares a little with the thought that it might be Adryan.

  “Yes,” I say.

  The door creaks open and a far slighter silhouette greets me. Lady Orlando hovers on the threshold.

  “You weren’t sleeping, were you?” she asks.

  I shake my head and croak out: “No.”

  She doesn’t ask if she can enter. She just walks in and shuts the door. Then she moves to the foot of the bed and takes a seat. The light inside is almost non-existent, at least for her. I can pick up her face with my abilities easily enough, but it must be nigh on pitch black for her.

  She doesn’t object to it, or put on a light. Perhaps she prefers the darkness.

  “I wanted to speak with you about the meeting, Brie,” she says. “You have a say in this like anyone else. You chose not to contribute. What are you feeling?”

  Her greying eyes hover on mine, picking them out in the dark.

  “Tired,” I mutter.

  She forces a smile onto her face. She knows I can see her, even in this light.

  “I can imagine. We don’t have to talk about this now, if you don’t want.”

  She starts to stand.

  “It’s OK,” I say, stopping her. I let out a breath. “I suppose I’m just trying to catch up with everything,” I say. “A lot’s happened recently.”

  “That makes sense. You’ve been through a lot for a girl of your age. It takes its toll.”

  “Yeah…”

  “And you must be worried about your friends,” she continues. “I know you want to get them to safety, Brie. That’s important to you, isn’t it?”

  I nod in the dark.

  “But I understand,” I say. “We all have people…”

  I stop, and a silence falls. The rebel leader breaks it.

  “You met people in the High Tower during your time there,” she says. “Good people. Innocent people. And you have a good heart, Brie, a strong emotional core. It is a great asset at times. But during war, it isn’t. I know just what your thoughts are on our plan. I know you will never agree to it. But perhaps you will understand…in time.”

  “I understand,” I say immediately. “But you’re right. I don’t agree. I don’t think that killing thousands is the best way to bring a city together.”

  “It isn’t just about Haven, Brie,” asserts Lady Orlando. “It’s about the future. Artemis is going to be putting plans in place, right now, to ensure that his doctrines are carried out regardless as to whether he’s killed. I’m afraid things have gone beyond him now…”

  “So what’s the point?” I ask. “What’s the point in killing him?”

  “It’s not just about killing him. It’s about killing them all. The entire Consortium. All those under his command. There are dozens of high profile officials who are now becoming a threat. The original plan to assassinate Artemis and replace him with Leyton Burns might well have worked. We had secrecy on our side. We might have shifted things ever so slightly and let Leyton recalibrate the entire inner workings of the Consortium, and the High Tower, and the whole city for that matter. That chance has now gone. Artemis needs to be killed, but his death won’t be enough now. They all need to go.”

  “You mean…all of the Savants? All of your people?”

  Her voice deepens. “They aren’t my people anymore.”

  I look into her fading grey eyes in the darkness. I begin to slip inside, but find her turning quickly away. Shielding her thoughts. Shielding her memories.

  What is she hiding in there?

  “Brie,” she continues, her eyes now facing away at the door. “You have earned the right to speak your mind and be included in this conversation. However, this is war, and I am at the head of this cause. I am not looking for your blessing. I just want you to see the value in what we’re doing. Can I count on you for that?”

  I leave it a few moments before whispering quietly: “Yes.”

  It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth either. I can’t make any promises here.

  She stands from my bed. The removal of her weight, so light and frail, barely causes the soft mattress to move.

  As she reaches the door, I find my mind swirling elsewhere.

  “Lady Orlando,” I say. She turns. “Is it true that there are other people out there?”

  “Where, Brie?”

  “Beyond the city. Hundreds of miles away. Thousands. Rhoth said that the world isn’t as dead as we think.”

  “It isn’t,” she says. “That’s what I’m talking about, Brie, when I say we’re fighting for the future here. There’s much more out there than the people know.”

  “And you? What do you know?”


  “I know that we’ve been isolated here for far too long. But we’re not alone. Far from it. There are many others across the globe. Haven isn’t the only light in the darkness.”

  Her words end the conversation. After a second’s silence to make sure I have no other questions, she slips from the room without saying goodnight.

  And with fresh thoughts of the world beyond this place populating my head, I drift away into the depths of my mind.

  141

  I wake to the sound of loud knocking.

  Before I can answer, the door opens up and Zander walks in. He’s armed. Heavily.

  I blink the sleep from my eyes, and squint at the harsh light pouring in from the doorway.

  “What’s going on?” I croak.

  “Get dressed,” he says. “I’m taking you into the city.”

  “What…”

  I’m having trouble catching up.

  “Just get dressed, Brie. I’ll see you in the main hall.”

  The door shuts, blocking out the light. But I’m awake now, awake and fully refreshed. I grab my watch from my bundle of clothes on the floor and find that it’s early morning. I’ve been out for a good stretch.

  I pull on my clothes and exit the room. Entering the hall, I find it mostly empty. A few soldiers linger, guarding the place from intrusion. Others gather around a set of tables in one corner, poring over maps and documents. Among them I see Beckett, one of the main leaders of the rebels, directing matters with the stern authority of a high profile military commander.

  Over by the door my brother awaits me. He’s not alone. Beside him, I see Rycard, his once affable disposition stripped from him. I quickly move up to join them.

  “Rycard,” I say. “How are you?”

  “As well as can be expected,” he answers. “And all thanks to you, Brie, and your brother.” He dips his head to Zander. “You two saved my family. I’m in your debt. Always.”

  “You’re paying that debt already,” says Zander. “He’s been helping us, Brie, as you know.”

  “I know,” I say.

  I don’t have much else to add. During the meeting last night, Rycard made his opinions very clear about the Savants and the proposed plan to destroy the High Tower.

  Burn them all, I recall him saying.

  It’s amazing how some experiences can twist a person’s soul. Lady Orlando. Adryan. Rycard. All have turned against their own people. It’s only the leader of this cause whose reasons for doing so remain so opaque.

  “Good,” says Zander. “Shall we?”

  We begin moving to the door, manned by a guard called Burton. He opens it up and watches us pass through before bolting it tight.

  The morning air is fresh and crisp. There’s barely a tinge of green to the mist, the lands here mostly clear. I suck in a long gulp of air and taste only the tiniest hint of the poison in the air. I might be getting used to it.

  “So, we’re going to the city then, are we?” I ask. “All of us?”

  “Yep,” says Zander. “We’ll need to check with the scouts to see if the routes are safe. You wanna see Drum, right?”

  “Yeah, of course!”

  “Well, hopefully you’ll get your chance. He’s on sentry duty in the northern passages.”

  A smile scoots up my face as we cross the road and reach the old barn opposite the church. Inside, the secret route down into the underlands starts, the short ladder down into the depths turning the world dark once more.

  The fading light affects none of us, blessed as we all are with Hawk-eyes. Rycard may only have one remaining, but it’s sufficiently useful to let him see through the shroud of darkness. The rest of his abilities, however, aren’t quite what they were.

  “So, you’ve been helping the Nameless?” I ask him as we go.

  It’s an open question. He nods and offers a short reply.

  “I’ve been giving them intelligence,” he says. “I have no allegiance to the High Tower.”

  “You made that clear last night,” I mutter.

  His good eye darts at me.

  “Don’t judge me, Brie,” he bites. “I just want my family to be safe.” His voice softens. “And…thanks to you they are, for now. But now it’s my turn to fight to keep them that way.”

  I don’t want to get into a debate with him about morality. I don’t want to tell him that he’s not talking about fighting, but genocide when he so happily condones the plan to topple the High Tower. It’s obvious that I’m in the minority here.

  Frankly, I just want to be kept out of it.

  “So how is Sophie, anyway?” I ask.

  His face brightens a little in the dark passage. That twinkle that I used to see across his face returns to his left eye.

  “She’s…readjusting,” he says. “The conditions down here don’t exactly fall in line with her, ahem, delicate sensibilities.” He lets a smile lift on his face. “But she’s safe, and so is Maddox.”

  “That’s good,” I say. “Is she in the main chamber?”

  “Yeah. She’s been trying to keep busy down here, but it’s been quite a career shift going from training girls who want to marry up to serving food at dinnertime. But, she’s not complaining, obviously. Others have had to make more significant adjustments.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around,” I say. “So…how is the eye?” I add tentatively.

  “Still busted,” comes his quick reply. “But I’m alive. A lot of others aren’t. I’ve got nothing to moan about.”

  I kind of agree, but kind of don’t. There’s always someone worse off than you, but that doesn’t mean your own troubles should be discounted.

  He isn’t the type to complain about his lot out loud, though. Instead, he’s able to do so by putting all his support behind the idea of killing thousands.

  We all have to vent, I guess, I think to myself with no lack of sarcasm.

  We don’t take long to reach the main caverns, lit with their many fireplaces where the people gather around in their assigned places. By the looks of things, the population here has begun to swell. Certainly, it’s busier than when I stayed down here several weeks ago during my training.

  Zander informs me of the reason; that those with latent Enhanced powers have begun to gather to offer their services. Across Outer Haven, many hundreds have been living in secret, many of them hybrids using the suppressor drugs to conceal their abilities and live relatively normal lives.

  Now, such a thing isn’t possible, and the risk of being discovered by one of Cromwell’s many slaves has magnified by a significant degree. Their only choice now is to join up and fight, or else run the very real risk of being discovered and executed, or else reconditioned to join Cromwell’s cause.

  Already, rumours of exactly what Cromwell is up to have begun to propagate through the hybrid ranks in the city, as well as those long opposed to his doctrines. If only the general public could be convinced of such a thing, then they’d stop from handing themselves over into his unwelcoming arms.

  As it is, the truth remains shrouded and only visible to a small percentage of the people. Those who try to speak out in public are quickly cut down. One particular man – a doomsayer who had been preaching around the western quarter – was quickly immobilised and taken away.

  The same has happened elsewhere. Raids against known detractors have become common.

  The message coming from the High Tower is simple: you’re either with us, or against us.

  They’re growing more bold, and perhaps more rash. The stakes have been raised, first by Cromwell, and then by us. Now, it’s over to him once more, and he’s quickly trying to incapacitate anyone who might stand in his way.

  As we move through the caverns, the sense of tension and imminent threat is very clear. There’s a hustle, even in the early morning, that tells me the entire place is mobilising, the people ready to leave at the drop of a hat.

  If Lady Orlando raises the emergency threat level to 4, then the people will have no choice but to empt
y out and leave the city. Evacuate to the retrofitted mines many miles away to the north. Battle the wilderness and all its dangers, from toxic fumes and deadly beasts, to the many lethal tribes and Shadows that stalk the vast stretches of land between here and there.

  Truly, it’s a perilous journey that will inevitably lead to a significant loss of life. Were the powerful hybrids of the Nameless to accompany them, they’d have sufficient protection to get there mostly unscathed. But such a thing isn’t possible at a time of war, and for the most part, they’ll be largely unguarded during their journey.

  It’s a grim choice to make. Stay here, and perhaps get slaughtered as the Stalkers come pouring through the breach, or leave and face the perils of the wild.

  Lady Orlando’s call. Only she can make the decision.

  Whatever the case, it’s obvious that the people are ready to up sticks and run if the alarms start to blare. Despite the early hour of the morning, they’re all up and mingling, doing what they can to help, just waiting for the word to spread through the underground city that the game is up, and it’s time to go.

  Faces are stretched in worry. Eyes are tight, their lids half closed and covered in falling brows. There’s a general murmur in the air, a constant whisper of rumour.

  I wonder what’s going on up above?

  I wonder how close they are to finding us?

  I wonder if my friends and family are safe out there?

  All such questions are asked, debates posed. Many more join them, and will continue to do so as the hours march on and the day turns to night. Only then will people get some respite from the worry as they sleep.

  Or perhaps not, their dreams now taking charge of the assault.

  It’s the world that these people inhabit. One of constant concern. One of waiting with no way to determine the course of the future, or even their own lives.

  That is the case for most. For those like Sophie, unable to fight, only capable of taking care of her son and performing some of the menial tasks that need doing. Tasks that, when all is said and done, won’t make a difference to the eventual outcome.