by T. C. Edge
“Indeed, Zander,” says Lady Orlando. “What do you suggest?”
He takes a weary breath, and blinks a few times. The fumes are most certainly running out.
“We need to spread the word to our loyal commanders around the city. We saw Titus on the way here, and informed him of what we saw…”
“Titus?” questions our grandmother.
“He’s a mid-ranked City Guard, running a unit in district 6 of the western quarter. He’s loyal. A friend of Brie’s.”
“I see. And, you informed him?”
“We did. And we told him to speak with Commander Burns, Rycard, and other commanders if he can. He is a smart man, and will do so covertly. It all needs to be done without any Cromwell loyalists knowing.”
“OK, I’ll speak with Commander Burns immediately.”
“Good. We need to also keep a close watch on Colonel Hatcher. Assign a couple of men to have eyes on him at all times, though without drawing attention.”
“I can handle that,” says Adryan, “for the times he’s in the command centre in the foyer. I’ll speak with a few others to ensure he’s kept under watch.”
“Is that enough?” I ask. “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, try to subdue him somehow. Take him out of the game completely?”
“Tricky,” says Zander. “He’s running the Stalkers, and while they’re fighting with us, we need them.”
“And they’ll keep fighting with or without his guidance,” I assert. “Most of them are working alongside our own units, aren’t they? They’re well dispersed. It’s not like they’re all together in one place.”
“Actually, that’s another point,” says Adryan. “We need to make sure eyes are kept on them too. If they begin to gather, that’s a sign that they may well be preparing an assault.”
“Good point,” says Zander. “That falls under the remit of the commanders around Outer Haven. Tell them to look out for unusual behaviour. Any radio transmissions should be monitored if possible. Can they be intercepted?”
“Possibly, if we assign manpower to the task,” says Adryan. “Not all communications, but we can pick out some.”
“Do it. Listen out for word from Cromwell and the soldiers at the REEF.”
“Got it.”
“And Hatcher?” I ask, stressing the point. “We have Woolf locked down. Hatcher remains the only real threat in our midst, right? Do we really want him wandering around, armed to the teeth?”
“Not really. But until we know he’s lying to us, what can we do? He’s in a poor state, that much is clear. We have Marler protecting Lady Orlando. And other soldiers around.”
“And you’re both here now too,” says Adryan.
“Perhaps not for long,” says Zander. “I don’t intend on staying.”
“You will stay for a time at east,” commands Lady Orlando. “You’re in dire need of rest. You’ve done a wondrous job, both of you, but you’re no good to us in this condition. We can pass on the information you’ve given us and take the reins from here.”
“We will soon, I promise,” says Zander, voice softening.
“And…Hatcher?” I say again, exasperated. “I feel like I’m beating a dead horse here. So, we just let this leader of the Stalkers wander among us, when we know Cromwell’s going to stage a coup?”
“We don’t know that yet, Brie,” says Zander.
I roll my eyes.
“After everything you’ve discovered, I thought you’d fully doubt him by now.” I load my tone with the weight of Cromwell’s crimes, of the pain he’s inflicted. On our family. On this city.
My brother stares at me for a moment, then turns away.
“What do you suggest then? About Colonel Hatcher?” asks Lady Orlando, diffusing things.
I think for a moment, then shrug.
“He’s injured, right? We could have some medic inject him with a sedative, disguised as pain relief or something. Knock him out, lock him away, and take away his comms. We should withdraw any threat, however likely or unlikely, from the game. Call me suspicious, but that’s how I’d play it. Then again, it’s not my call. That’s just an idea, do with it what you will.”
“It’s a good idea, Brie,” smiles Adryan. “We will consider it, right Lady Orlando?”
She smiles too.
“Indeed. But for now, I think you need to rest. Both of you. Tensions are high, and you both look like a strong wind would blow you over right now. You have dispensed all necessary information. If there’s nothing else, it’s time for bed.”
I stifle a weak grin at her manner of speaking to us, like children trying to steal an extra hour or two past their bedtime. I look at Adryan, wondering if he’ll come with me. Unlikely, given the state of things right now.
Then the door suddenly knocks, enough to break the silence and make me jump. Adryan marches straight for it.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Marler,” comes a muted voice.
Adryan opens the door, and the gifted hybrid walks in. He’s one of the few remaining who saw to the destruction of the High Tower. The likes of Kira and Beckett have already been taken from us. We’re running low on men like him, and it’s a comfort to know he’s fit and firing and ready to protect our leader.
He comes forward, scanning the space and seeing Zander and me.
“Zander…they told me you were alive. I barely believed it. Where have you…”
“I’ll handle that question in a moment,” says Lady Orlando.
Marler nods.
“Yes, my lady. I was told to come here?”
“Yeah, by me,” says Zander. “I don’t want you leaving Lady Orlando’s side like that again, do you hear me?”
Marler frowns.
“It was only for a few minutes,” he says, drawing back.
“A few minutes is enough for an assassin to do their work. You stay with her at all times. You stay vigilant at all times…”
“Marler knows what to do, Zander,” says our grandmother. “He’s been doing a fine job so far. We will update him on what’s happened. Now like I say, you need your rest and you need it now. No more delays. Off you go.”
Zander sinks a little into his shell, then gazes at her for a few long moments. His lips open but nothing comes out. I can feel his emotions pulling him in all sorts of directions as he looks upon his grandmother. Will he tell her he knows? Should I?
It is, I know, of minor concern right now. No need to complicate things quite yet. So without another word, he nods to her and then moves towards the door, slipping away alone. I glance after him, and then find Adryan moving to my side.
“Come, Brie, I’ll take you to your room.” He looks back at Lady Orlando. “I’ll be back in no time, my lady,” he says.
She smiles at us.
“Please, take a few minutes together. I’ll update Marler, and see you back in the command centre.”
We move off towards the door, passing through and exiting into the corridor as Zander’s frame disappears out of sight up the stairs. It’s as though he wishes to get to his bed as soon as possible, get to sleep as soon as he can. The sooner he does, the sooner he can wake and get back to work. It’s so difficult for him to leave things unattended, even with the world now wise to what we know.
I don’t follow so fast. We walk a little slower, and with my most recent task complete, my mind turns again to my friends.
“Have you seen Mrs Carmichael, Tess…” I ask softly as we go.
“Not for a day or so,” he says. “But they’re perfectly safe in Compton’s Hall.”
I nod, and we climb the stairs, moving back for the busy foyer and the lift to one side. I catch sight of Colonel Hatcher, still working circuits around the room, clutching his side with one hand and holding his radio in another. His manner is otherwise calm, passing orders to his men and clearly intent on hearing perpetual updates from them about the state of the fighting.
I like to trust my gut as often as I can, and with Hatcher I don’t feel the
grip of dread I thought I might. It appears to be business as usual with him. And here, alone and injured, with no backup to speak of, he doesn’t strike me as an obvious threat. At least, not now that we’re alert to its possibility.
As we reach the lifts, however, he steps out of my mind. Such concerns can be left for others right now.
Instead, it’s Drum who marches forward, lumbering straight into my thoughts as the lift doors close and the box begins to rise.
“Have you heard much from the southern quarter?” I ask Adryan. “Are they holding firm?”
“Yes, so far.”
“And Drum? He’s out there, somewhere. He was assigned to the central blockades. Do you know if he’s OK?”
Adryan’s eyes work down a little, covered by his brows. The tiniest of changes to his expression fills my heart with a pulse of panic. Then his head shakes, and my panic evens out.
“I…I don’t know, Brie. I’m sorry. There’s been so much to do here. I’ll find out for you, I promise.”
I let out a breath and nod hurriedly.
“Please do. I need to know.”
“You will,” he smiles.
The lift opens, and level two appears. Down the corridor we wander, away from the noise below. The sounds of battle, spreading from all sides of Outer Haven several miles away, are constant but muted.
We enter my room, the one I first shared with Kira, then Tess, then Adryan himself as he fought off my nightly demons. My makeshift bed remains as it was, untidy and unmade. I’m led straight for it, as Adryan helps me stack my weapons on the table - pulse rifle, combat belt, handguns and holsters - and aids me in removing my armour. The armour is light and yet it feels so good to remove it, covered in grime and blood from so many battles. My outer layer of clothes follow, leaving me in my underwear, body bruised and battered all over, skin pallid and peppered with blotches of varying colours.
Adryan looks upon me with a delicate eye.
“It’s nothing,” I assure him. “I’m just a little banged up, that’s all.”
He nods and begins gathering my things.
“I’ll get you some fresh clothes and armour,” he says. “You can’t be putting this back on when you wake.”
His eyes glance over me once more, before he begins moving back for the door. I reach out and stop him, taking his hand and dislodging some garments that spill straight to the floor.
“Stay. For a few minutes. Till I…fall asleep?”
He smiles and nods silently. I move to the bed, tucked to the right of the room, and climb under the sheets and blankets. Adryan drops down behind me, his breath warming my neck. I reach back and take his hand, and pull it tight to my chest. His body is my armour now, my protection. He will shield me as I sleep.
But before I do, I turn my neck, and see him close. I part my lips and lean in, and draw him towards me for a kiss. A kiss that may be our last, as each one was before it. A kiss I need, to stabilise my mind, calm my thoughts. A kiss that helps to cast some light on these dark, dreadful days.
Then I turn again, and rest my head on the pillow. And with the memory of his soft lips on mine, I quickly fall away into a dreamless sleep.
271
I wake alone and with a body filled with aching muscles.
The room is windowless. I have no view of the world outside, no manner of telling the time. My watch, waterlogged and as battered as I am, no longer operates. I creak my weary body up and let my Hawk eyes sift through the available light until the world comes into view.
There, on the floor just by the bed, I see a little clock. It ticks quietly, and tells me the time. It’s not yet dawn, not yet light. Only half past four in the morning. Adryan must have set it there.
The thought of him has me turning. I realise his breath is no longer on my neck, his chest and torso no longer pressed to my back. I feel suddenly cold, a shiver creeping up my spine. I turn to confirm his absence, and see an empty bed.
Looking back into the room, however, I note a fresh pile of clothes, neatly set out and ready to be warn. They sit behind the clock with new armour alongside too. I glance up to find my weapons still on the table, the architects of so much death.
I drop my head through necessity. My mind swims with darkness and images of battle, and my ears throb with the beat of war. I can’t even tell if it’s real or imagined. It takes a few moments for me to realise that it’s the former, the battles still going on all over the city.
It sounds louder, though, and closer. It may just be that my refreshed mind is picking up the sounds with more clarity. Or it may be that the Cure are closing in. I cannot tell.
I’m not sure quite when I came here. It was night time, and certainly not midnight yet. An hour or two earlier than that at the very least, perhaps more. My sleep has been long enough, and uninterrupted. Yet my body clock has woken me. It knows I can’t stay here much longer.
With another effort, I lift my frame and sit up. Now I see something else, towards the other side of the room. A chrome container, filled with water, and a sponge sitting on an inbuilt shelf. I heave my frame up to my feet and walk over to it, dipping my fingers into the liquid. It’s warm, gloriously so. I notice a little note next to it, lying on the floor.
“For washing when you wake,” it says in handwritten script. I’ver never seen Adryan’s handwriting. Frankly, there’s little cause for such things now. But this must be it. It’s precise and yet attractive, just like him.
I assume he must have only just brought the container in, given its temperature. Then I notice that there’s a little, circular knob on one side. I turn it one way, and the water begins to heat. I turn it the other and it cools. Yet another device I’ve never seen or heard of. Probably a standard fitting for every home in Inner Haven, a foot washer or some such thing.
I set about washing myself of several days of accumulated filth, my focus primarily on my hair. I hadn’t noticed until now how badly coated in soot and solidified smoke it was, little more than a tangled and stinking heap atop my head. I can only imagine how bad I must have looked returning to the city.
I satisfy my curiosity by letting the water settle, before leaning over it and looking at my reflection. My face is almost black, my hair the same. I barely recognise myself for the look in my eyes, stark and strained. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen myself with such an expression.
As I begin clearing away the grime, I reveal a girl who seems to have aged a decade in a day. I’m not fresh faced anymore. No one would call me 18. There are lines in place that have taken hold around my eyes and across my forehead, lines of worry and anxiety that, perhaps, are only temporary. Nothing but a show of my constant expression of concern for those I love falling. At least, I hope so.
Thoughts of my loved ones springs my mind back to life. I quickly conclude my wash, turning the water black, before pulling on the fresh clothes set to the side. The fabric feels delightful, the sensation of new clothes on clean skin one that’s been such a rarity for me of late. Even in my days at the academy, new clothes were almost unheard of.
I finish the job by stacking my body with weapons, fastening my belt, and setting my pulse rifle to my back. It’s not heavy, not particularly, but would be considered a burden I don’t need to bear until I’m back out there fighting.
But I bear it anyway. I will never be without this gun until the war is over.
I leave the room right then, the time already speeding towards five in the morning. Dawn will come soon, splashing colour on the streets and revealing the many lost. I wonder how many died as I slept. What was it, six, maybe seven hours? How many might have died during that time? Hundreds? Thousands? Blink at a time like this, and a life is lost. Close your eyes for hours, and you might just miss the war.
Not intending on missing any more for some time, I hurry down the corridor and towards the lifts. My muscles, warmed by my standing bath, discard their many aches and pains and quickly increase in mobility. My head is still heavy, though will soon wake I�
�m sure.
As soon as the lift sweeps to the hall, and opens out into the command centre, it does so. The endless noise is still rampant, perhaps even more than it was before. I send my gaze from corner to corner and see an undulating sea of bodies, flowing and rippling. There’s a growing desperation in the air, a growing commotion. My mind snaps fully awake. All lingering exhaustion is frightened off like a flock of skittish birds.
To no surprise, I see Zander already awake. He doesn’t have clean clothes like me. I doubt he even took them off to sleep. He’s in brisk conversation with our grandmother, and I notice that Commander Burns is there too, summoned from the front lines to help form a plan. I wasn’t summoned from my sleep, however. It tells me just where I rank in the scheme of things.
I prepare to set off towards them, but find myself accosted by the sight of Adryan rushing over. His eyes have grown darker over the last few hours. As I slept, it would appear no one else here did. And what exactly have I missed?
He reaches me quickly as I stand outside the lifts. His first question, as it usually is, concerns how well I slept.
“Good. Fine,” I say. “I’m refreshed. Ready to work. What’s going on, Adryan?” Then Drum marches into my head. Above all other concerns, I’d like to know about him. “Did you find out about Drum?”
My eyes widen. I lean in to make sure I hear him just fine. I hunt down any change in his expression and feel some relief at what I see. A half smile, telling of the good and the bad.
“Yes. He’s fine, Brie. As you say, he’s in the southern quarter. Though…not at the central blockade anymore.”
“Oh? He’s back from the lines?” I ask, hoping but not expecting.
“Sort of. As far as I know, he’s helping cover the lanes and alleys in the eastern districts of the inner southern quarter.”
“Right. So, away from the main fighting?”
I imagine where he is is similar to how we found Titus. Covering various possible entry points, but generally away from the more dangerous areas.
“He is. Though, the Cure have made some advances. The central blockades have been abandoned. All units have now withdrawn to the inner blockades.”