The Enhanced Series Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  A sudden burst of fire halts us as we near. It spreads from another street, a booming explosion ripping the world apart. It knocks us back, and I find myself thrown to the floor once more, slipping and sliding as I try to gather my bearings amid the fire and smoke, and terrible noise.

  I blink the dust away, my eyes watering and ears ringing. I see bodies everywhere now, some crawling, others crouching, few running for cover. A spread of wind flows across my face, whipping through the streets, and ahead I see the Cure charging from the alleys to the west.

  But not all are firing in our direction. Not all are running face forward. Some are moving backwards, hurrying in reverse, firing the other way. My brow crinkles as I see it, before I feel my body lifted again.

  “Come on, Brie! On your feet!”

  Zander’s by my side once more, pulling me back as the Cure advance. But again, I watch in confusion as they come, spreading like water down channels, emptying into the open square.

  Then I see the fear. I see the eyes, widening as they run. And behind, I see black shapes, forms of men flashing through the fog.

  I continue to be pulled away, until I finally get to my feet. My legs are weak, my knees rattling and head spinning. I spare a glance back once again, the square filling now with the advancing enemy. An enemy, hurrying away from something, firing in confusion as they try to turn and take positions of defence.

  And I know, in that moment, that Cromwell has come.

  The black shapes take form in my mind, and I see the Stalkers, draped in black armour, cutting through the enemy as they pour from the west. Super hybrids, more powerful than any other, dozens upon dozens of them, finally unleashed.

  My spinning head loses focus, and I feel my legs threatening to give way. I look back, the street to the east so near now. I take a breath, my lungs gasping and heart racing, and hurry along with Zander by my side.

  Then, a barrage of bullets rips at our feet, and I feel a heavy thud clatter me in the back. I’m thrown forwards once again, and Zander goes with me. I gasp, trying to fill my lungs, winded. Turning back, I see a group of Cure men still in pursuit, firing at us and trying to shoot through our armour.

  The alley is close now, metres away. I reach out for it and try to crawl. Then, suddenly, I feel my body thrown, Zander summoning his strength and tossing me behind the safety of a thick brick wall. I hit the dirt again, my chin scraping, the air still refusing to enter my lungs. More bullets come after me, but merely rip into the wall now, tearing off chunks of brick.

  I get onto all fours, ready to run. I look to my side, but Zander isn’t there.

  A strike of panic, like burning lightning, cuts through me. I turn around and see my brother in the open, on his knees, panting as he tries to stand and come after me. We link eyes, and time seems to slow, and over his shoulder, I see the enemy come.

  I reach quickly to my sides, pulling my pistols. I raise them as fast as I can, aiming them at the soldiers hunting my brother down. I fire as he staggers unevenly to his feet, so unlike himself. The bullets go right past him, plunging into the pursuing men who drop heavily to the floor.

  But not all. I can’t see them all.

  Zander’s body, wearily rising, blocks the path to one. I move left, trying to get a shot. I see an opening and pull the trigger, but I see it too late.

  The man keeps coming, right up to Zander’s back. My brother doesn’t seem to notice, his focus shaken. I take a final shot, my aim true, and send a bullet cutting through the soldier’s forehead. He falls, knocked backwards by the force, and all around him, the square burns.

  I lift a weak smile, faint hope burgeoning.

  And then I look again into my brother’s eyes.

  And my heart stops.

  They’re stark, fading. Their fire is going out.

  My breath holds itself in my lungs, and I see him slowly drop to the floor.

  And then I see it, the blood. It seeps from his body, through his combat gear and armour.

  Emerging from a wound, caused by the knife dug deep in his back.

  I work back onto my feet, and begin to move forward. Moving from the alley, a new burst of bullets peppers me from afar. I’m forced back into cover, slipping to the ground once more. I scrape myself off the floor and look at my twin.

  His hand is now outstretched, reaching out across the dirt. His palm is open, his fingers splayed. He shakes his head weakly, his eyes beginning to droop. I see his lips moving, but can’t hear his words above the din.

  And then, in my head, they rise up, echoing through me from the depths.

  No, Brie, he says slowly, softly. Stay there. Stay…in…cover…

  I stare into his eyes as the words spread through me. I can feel his pain, feel the life in him slipping away. I move again for the edge of the wall, screaming his name now. I can’t even hear my own words, so loud has the world become.

  But as I reach the edge of the alley, I feel myself held back. His eyes remain on me, and with his final ounces of energy, he holds me firm where I stand, where I crouch.

  I press against his will, the tears gathering, spilling, flowing. Our connection begins to fade, his presence within me starting to disperse. I cry out his name again, but there’s no use.

  And I hear him again in my head.

  Go, Brie. Please…

  I shake my head, and shut my eyes, squeezing the tears away. I dismiss his hold over me by force, by need, and open my eyes up again. The square is now filling with more death, the black shapes spreading and storming through the enemy ranks. I don’t spare them a thought. I spare no one, nothing a thought, but Zander.

  I run, covering the short space of ground to where he lies. I see his eyes begging me to stop. I drop to my knees before him, and try to lift him. His legs hang limp, the knife forced through his armour and into his spine.

  All around, the world falls into chaos, but I just hold him there. I pull him to my lap, trying to haul him to his feet.

  “Come on, Zander! Please! Please, get up!” I cry.

  My words aren’t heard. They’re swallowed by the din.

  He shakes his head, a single tear building in the corner of his eye. He looks up at me, and bit by bit, I see his hazel eyes losing their light, their life. They glaze, gradually turning to pebbles. I shake him, shake him hard.

  “Zander…no!”

  He blinks once. The tear falls. His eyes link with mine, and a weak smile curls up on his lips.

  Be happy, my beautiful sister, comes his voice in my head. Be happy, my beautiful twin…

  And looking at me, his face held in that final expression, I feel our connection die.

  287

  I hold my brother’s dead body, unwilling to ever let go.

  The noise of war batters my ears, but I don’t hear it. The flashing of guns light up the world, but I don’t see them. Bodies spread, black forms hunting, but I don’t care for them.

  I kneel, holding my brother, just waiting to join him.

  Waiting to die.

  I look into his face, and all else fades. The tears flow, blurring my vision, the edges of the world black and murky, and only his face caught in the light. I stare until I can’t bear it anymore, and shut my eyes tight.

  And still, I wait for some bullet to find me. For some knife to cut me. For some explosion to tear through me or fire to engulf me.

  I wait, and wait. And nothing happens.

  I don’t even realise it when the noise starts to fade. When the guns stop rattling, and the pulse rifles stop fizzing. When the explosions cease, and the screaming ends. When the pounding of footsteps freeze, and the dust and smoke begin to settle.

  I’m unaware of it all, locked there with my brother like a statue, the blackness enclosing me in a comforting blanket. I think I feel something, some pressure on my shoulder. And a voice, a deep but pleasant sound, filtering into my ear.

  “Brie…” it comes. “Brie…you must let go.”

  The pressure tightens, and I feel fingers
squeezing. The voice clears, and I creak open my eyes. Zander’s face appears before me once more, still staring up at me as he was. For a second I forget, as if waking from a terrible nightmare.

  My heart breaks all over again when I realise that this is all real.

  “Brie…”

  I slowly twist my neck, and see sharp eyes looking at me. Keen but tender.

  They look at me, and then down at Zander, filled with sorrow and grief.

  He looks back at me.

  “You must let go, Brie.”

  The grip firms, trying to coax me to my feet. I hold on tight, refusing Rhoth’s mighty strength. He doubles his efforts, prising me from my brother, all the while whispering, “You have to let go.”

  He eventually succeeds. I feel a coldness unlike any I’ve ever felt as my brother’s body is taken from me. My knees are gravel as I’m hauled to my feet. Standing up against Rhoth’s towering frame, I’m overcome by a fresh agony, working up through every part of me.

  I bury my head in his chest, emptying of all the tears I have left. He holds me tight, whispering softly, rubbing my back, stroking my hair.

  “It’s over,” he says. “The battle is over, Brie.”

  I don’t even hear him for a time. I just hold him, unwilling to open my eyes and look upon the square. Slowly, my ears begin to realise that all is quiet now. New sounds begin to rise, that of shuffling feet, and quiet whispers. That of words of grief being shared, and of bodies being checked for life.

  I manage to summon some final shreds of courage, and turn my head to the carnage. Lit by the lamps, and with the smoke now clearing, I see the soldiers of the Nameless gathering. And standing with them, the Fangs who remain, and the City Guards who saw Zander as their leader in these days of war. They stand around him, around us, many wounded and bloodied, and covered in soot and the grime of battle. They look at him, and bow their heads, honouring a young man who gave his life, like so many others.

  I see Titus among them, his armour so battered and scarred. And West, his young face crinkled by the horrors of what he’s seen, what he’s faced and done. And the hatred too that still lingers. Hatred for the Cure, for the people who killed his family, stole the life he might have had.

  I gradually let go of Rhoth as I see them all, and then my eyes work away, towards the other side of the square. And there, I see black. I see dark armour and dark eyes, dozens of Stalkers lined up together as they watch over the quad.

  They stand, unmoving, their guns fixed to their flanks or hanging at their backs. I look at them blankly, expecting them all to suddenly open fire upon us, to finish the job once and for all. I expect it. I want it. A large part of me wishes for it now.

  But they do nothing but stare, fixed in position and awaiting orders. I see others, old Stalkers not part of this new batch, their cloaks torn and singed, their eyes weary from days of battle. They look at their brethren, but don’t join them. The few of them that remain merely stand alone, as if lost to their thoughts. But no one attacks.

  A tension hangs in the air, but it’s overcome by a smothering layer of grief and exhaustion. The ending of the battle has left behind a calm, the sparse soldiers who remain taking in the wreckage, trying to compute it all in their minds. And as they look upon Zander, they look upon others too. Dear friends and family, loyal comrades and commanders.

  So many lost.

  So many dead.

  A rumbling then sounds, and I lift my eyes to the distance. The Stalkers part, creating a channel through which I see an armoured vehicle come to a stop. My chest tightens at the sight, and from the car I see my grandfather emerge. He comes forward, through the gap and into the square, surveying it all, passing his eyes from his men to ours, looking upon the terrible suffering the people and city have endured.

  I have little energy left in me, my emotions drained by grief and agony. My hatred for my grandfather echoes from within as I see him, pristinely dressed, entering the battlefield like some victorious commander. An urge strikes me. A desire to press towards him, to cut him down. To lose my life right here, right now, but take his with me. To join my brother, to see him again.

  Oh how I miss him already.

  Dry tears are summoned. My body shivers, and I stare forward, ready to take my gun and fire. My hand trembles, hovering as his eyes sway and then land on me, and the lifeless frame at my feet.

  He steps forward, his motion unusual. He doesn’t stroll like he always does. His old legs work harder, moving him fast. A contingent of his men come with him. He lifts a hand, and I hear him croak, “Stay back.”

  He ventures towards me. And my allies, surrounding us, stiffen. He leaves his slaves behind, drifting towards us, unprotected. His eyes, like his step, seem alien to me. They hold a depth of feeling I’ve never seen from him.

  He approaches Zander, and merely stares down at him. Lines grow strained on his face. His forehead crinkles, and his eyes slowly shut. He takes a breath, and then opens them again. On creaking knees, he bends, reaching out gently to my brother’s face.

  “Don’t touch him!” I shout, my voice cutting through the silence. “Get away from him!”

  I try to free myself from Rhoth’s grasp, but he holds me firm. My grandfather stops mid-motion, and stands up straight once more. He looks at me, and his lips part.

  “I…” he says quietly. “Brie…I’m so sorry.”

  His eyes are layered, deep. The blank dispassion they’ve always had is gone, replaced by something more human, more natural.

  I quiver as I look at him, and feel Rhoth’s arm lay down over me.

  “Sorry?” I say, barely able to look at him. “You’re…sorry.”

  I turn my eyes again to Zander, and I begin to break. Inside, I feel half a person, my soul ripped out of me.

  I feel myself drawn back by Rhoth.

  “Come, Brie. You don’t need to be here now.”

  He glances away, and a Fang steps forward, undraping the animal pelt from his frame. He gently kneels down, and lays it over Zander’s body.

  “No…” I say, trying to escape Rhoth’s grasp.

  “It’s OK…it’s OK,” he repeats, holding on tight, not letting me go.

  My breathing comes in bursts now as the pelt is pulled over Zander’s face, covering his beautiful smile in darkness. I shut my eyes, unable to watch, and turn away. A rush of nausea begins to boil inside me, and I bend over, ready to throw up.

  Nothing comes.

  Rhoth stands me up straight again, and in my head I hear something echo. Something deep inside, some memory.

  Be strong, says the voice. Be strong now, Brie.

  I turn, as if the words are spoken by Zander, as if I’ll see him rising from the earth. But I don’t. I see the pelt, covering his body. I see stillness and nothing more.

  But then, I let the figures around him take shape once again. Others, stricken by all they’ve seen and done, all the people they’ve lost. Right beside me, Rhoth, who’s lost so many of his people. And West, who saw his family die, who accidentally killed his own mother and saw his brother taken by a Shadow. Titus, who’s own brother has been lost, and so many others who have suffered such tragedy.

  I look at them, and they give me strength. We are all bound here by death and grief. I am one of many, brothers and sisters connected by this terrible war.

  I dry my eyes, and firm my quivering chin. Then I look upon my grandfather again, whose eyes stay pained. He looks at me, and lowers his gaze to the floor.

  “We got here too late,” he whispers.

  Then he turns, and his voice speaks out across the square.

  “Help them,” he calls. “Help them all. Tend the wounded. Cover the dead. Bring food and water. Now!”

  His Stalkers immediately spring to action. The black mass at the edge of the square separate, and those that have been fighting alongside us begin to do the same. And my grandfather himself moves away, hurrying as quickly as he can towards the rear, arranging for cups of water to be handed
out.

  I watch in silence, just standing there, and the black boundary of my vision begins to close in once more. My head starts to throb loudly, and a heavy feeling of fatigue spreads through my limbs. And as my legs give way, and I collapse to the floor, the last words I hear are Rhoth’s.

  “Medic! We need a medic here!”

  288

  I wake from the shroud in a room coloured white.

  My eyes peel open, and through the gaps I see the form of a sickbay take shape. All is quiet but for a low humming. A thick scent of disinfectant creeps up my nose.

  A shadow looms right before me, appearing from one side. I feel my hand grasped and squeezed, and blink hard to draw in the light. Then a voice, whispering gently, issues from the shape, and gradually the face of Adryan comes into view.

  “Brie…can you hear me, Brie?”

  I blink again, and a wave of deep sorrow washes over me. The tears begin to wet my eyes once more, and Adryan bends straight down to hug me tight.

  “I’m so sorry, Brie,” he whispers, again and again.

  I allow the purge, the cathartic release, weakened by the sight of seeing my husband here. It’s a mixture of grief, so profound in me now, and relief at seeing him alive. I can’t quite explain the cocktail of emotion that is poisoning my body.

  For a few minutes, I cry in his arms, before he slowly pulls away and I take command of my emotions once more. I look into his eyes, and see that they’re wet too, glazed with tears at seeing me here, safe, and yet so heartbroken. They lift, and work to the opposite side of the room. I follow them and see the old shape of my grandmother, sitting quietly in a chair.

  “Grandma,” I whisper weakly.

  She works up to her feet, and steps forward. I see the look on her face that reflects my own. Heartache at losing her grandson. Joy at seeing her granddaughter alive.

  She hugs me, and kisses my cheek, and I forget all need for secrecy now. My mind fills with a thousands questions, and yet they don’t flood from my lips. I look down at my body, lying beneath a blanket, and wonder how I got here, why I collapsed.