by Eyal Kless
Vincha slowly pushed herself to a sitting position and leaned back against the wall. She still heard the cries and groans from behind the Tarakan steel wall.
Daeon said something else to her, but she couldn’t process it. She saw a hand extended out to her, a gesture of peace, but when Vincha looked up she saw that Daeon probably expected her to try again. His guard was up and his other arm was tucked in, protecting his ribs and chin. She would not be able to surprise him with another attempt even if she’d had the strength. Vincha refused the extended hand.
Daeon crouched in front of her instead, keeping a safe distance from her legs. This time she heard him clearly. “Look, I’m sorry I had to handle you like that in the cave. Nakamura wanted you neutralized and weaponless . . . and you kept shooting that big dead Troll. I did what I had to do, but I didn’t know Nakamura was going to rip your clothes with the blade of his staff or handle you the way he did. I mean it is his command, but I was . . . not happy about it, okay?”
Vincha nodded slowly as another scream echoed in the corridor.
“What are you doing to him in there?” she asked, hating the tremble in her voice. “He’s just a kid.”
The look of surprise on Daeon’s face seemed genuine. “You think it’s the Puzzler being tortured in there?” he said with incredulity. “I can assure you the boy is sound asleep in his quarters. I can take you there and you can see for yourself.”
“So who’s screaming?”
Daeon stared at the wall behind her for a moment before answering, “Nakamura.”
Vincha turned her head to the door. “What’s he doing to himself?” She rose to her feet and Daeon took another cautionary step away to the side, answering her question in a soft whisper.
“He’s asleep, Vincha. Nakamura is dreaming.”
54
“Done.” Rafik leaned back as he pulled his fingers out of the puzzle box.
“Already? You’re getting good.” Herev picked up the box and turned it around in his hand. He pointed at the side of the item. “See the five stars here? That’s the difficulty of the lock. This is the most complex box I have. I thought it would take you half a day to solve. Guess we could do some shooting practice now, or play a game, or”—his thick eyebrows danced—“maybe I can teach you some fencing.”
Rafik shook his head. “No, I want another box. Find me something harder.”
Herev fiddled with the puzzle box in his hand, scratching his head.
“I said, bring me another!” Rafik shouted, banging his fist on the metal table.
Herev took a step back. “Okay, relax, kid,” he chuckled. “You got some temper, that’s for sure. I’ll go see what I can find in Sci’s lab.”
A soft chime sounded as the door slid open, and Daeon and Vincha walked in carrying plates. It took Rafik a heartbeat to recognise her without her red hair. She smiled and winked at him.
“Look what I found,” she said. “Real food! No more rusting pills. I made this!”
Daeon handed a plate to Herev, who whooped with joy. “Man, what a treat. Sci’s cooking tastes like his medicine.”
Rafik looked at all of them with a blank face until their merriment died.
After a spell of awkward silence Vincha stepped forward and gently placed a plate on the table between several puzzle boxes. Rafik couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted real food, but the smell just brought back memories of home and people he would never see again.
He swept his hand in the direction of the plate and then watched it land with a crash on the floor. Vincha’s face was ashen.
“Rafik, I’m—”
“Bitch.”
Daeon and Herev exchanged glances behind her back.
“You don’t understand—” she tried again.
“And now you’re an ugly whore, too.”
“If you just let me explain—”
“You don’t need to explain. Goll and Deesha didn’t need to die.” He looked at Herev. “Deesha didn’t deserve to be sliced in half.”
Herev simply shrugged and busied himself with his plate.
Daeon began picking up the food from the floor and putting it back on the plate.
“You don’t understand.” Vincha rose to her feet and tried again. “It was our only way out.”
“No,” Rafik shouted, his lower lip trembling. “It was your way out. You just sold me to a different crew.”
That got everyone’s attention.
“You think I have rust for brains?” Rafik shouted. “You’re no different from any Troll. You just wanted a bigger cut, so you stole me from the Keenans.”
“This place will give us freedom, you will be free.”
“Liar!” Rafik was standing up now, shouting. “Don’t lie to me. Maybe they will let you go after this, but I’m a Puzzler.” He held up his marked fingers. “I am their key now. They will never let me go. In the Hive, at least I had someone to talk to. I had Pikok. I could walk around. But here, I’m stuck underground until Nakamura decides to go on a deep run.”
As if on cue, the door slid open and Nakamura stepped in. They all turned to face him and Rafik stopped shouting. Even here, in his own territory, Nakamura’s face was hidden, but just a glimpse of his chin and neck was enough to put the fear of the Prophet Reborn into Rafik’s heart. In his gnarled hand, Nakamura grasped his black staff, which was almost as tall as he was. He surveyed the room slowly. “Problems?”
“Just a mild disagreement. Nothing to worry about,” Vincha said.
Nakamura stepped towards Rafik. Vincha moved out of his way as Nakamura plucked a plate from her with his free hand. He stepped closer to Rafik. “You should eat,” he whispered.
Rafik looked like he was ready to move his hand in another sweeping gesture but as if he anticipated the boy, Nakamura let go of the staff and caught Rafik’s arm in a grip so strong that the boy yelped in pain. Instead of falling to the ground, the black staff stayed upright, producing a soft humming noise.
Nakamura ignored it. “Eat,” he commanded.
Rafik pressed his lips together in defiance, then slowly sank back into his chair. Nakamura pulled up a chair and sat next to him. Rafik fixed his eyes on the plate, not looking at Nakamura.
“Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Vincha tensed. Should Nakamura raise his hand to strike the boy, she would intervene, no matter the consequences. Daeon took a tentative step towards her, his eyes imploring restraint, but instead of striking Rafik, Nakamura took everyone by surprise with a question.
“Are you afraid of me?”
Rafik seemed to be pondering what his answer would be, then shook his head. “You’re just different.”
“Then look at me.”
The boy slowly turned his head and looked straight into Nakamura’s cowl. He visibly shuddered.
“Am I ugly in your eyes?” Saliva dripped from the darkness of the cowl onto Nakamura’s chest.
“The pattern of your face is strange.” Rafik lowered his gaze.
That brought a throaty chuckle from Nakamura. “You could say that. What would you say if I told you I was afraid of you?”
“I’d say you have rust in your brain. I’m just a Puzzler. I can barely shoot a hand blaster.”
“Yes, but you are a very special Puzzler. And believe me, I’ve met more than a few.”
Rafik straightened up in his seat and looked at Nakamura with new interest. “Why is your face like this? Did someone beat you up?”
“Many have tried to . . . beat me up.” Nakmura said the words as if he was tasting them on his lips. “And when I was a boy your age, many succeeded. But I was born this way, distorted. You see, Rafik, some people are born with tattoos on their bodies, but I was born tattooed in my mind. It was a miracle I survived. My own father wanted to kill me, and after him there were many others who tried. When I grew up a little and came to understand how different I was, it was me who wanted to die. But somehow, I knew I came to this world for a purpose, that my life was not
meaningless, and my power was needed in this world. I know you feel the same way, Rafik. I know you hate being a Puzzler, but know this is your true nature, your calling.”
Rafik nodded slowly. “So what is your power?”
Nakamura answered wearily, “When I was younger than you are, a woman found me wandering in the woods, alone, starving, and practically naked. She was a hermit herself, and not of the soundest of minds, but she took me into her home and saved my life, because there was no way I would have survived by myself for much longer. I stayed with her for several years, and for a while she was the mother I never truly had. Then one day, I began dreaming of her death. No matter what I told myself in the morning, I knew she would die, and soon. In some visions it was an accident, in others a raid, but the worst visions were when I saw it would be from my own hand. I could not understand why I would kill the only person in the world that showed me kindness and swore never to do anything to harm her. She ended up falling ill and suffering greatly before I found my courage to do the decent thing. You see, Rafik, I can see the future, or possible futures, that is my power, and sometimes I can help the best future happen by taking certain actions, even if those actions seem strange or cruel to some.”
“You mean you are like the Prophet Reborn?” Rafik asked.
Nakamura nodded. “Perhaps I am.”
But Rafik shook his head in disbelief. “It cannot be. Everyone knows the Reborn was and will be perfect in mind and body—” He stopped his recitation midsentence, realising the insult in his words too late, but Nakamura leaned back on his seat with something that must have been an attempt at a smile on his deformed face.
“I know I am not pleasant to look at, but this is just a side effect of my curse. I see events that could lead to other events, and from the earliest moment I can remember, I knew that you and I needed to meet. It is the best of the possible futures I have foreseen.”
“I dreamed about you, about how we met.” Rafik looked suddenly worried. “Does this mean I can see the future, too?”
Nakamura shook his head within the darkness of his cowl. “No, Rafik. Many times, my visions come to me in dreams, and when I am asleep I sometimes share them with others, especially when my dreams are strong. When we were both asleep you could likely sense I was looking for you, and at times you shared my visions.”
Rafik considered Nakamura’s words for a moment. “You have very bad dreams.”
Nakamura’s chuckle sounded like a death rattle. “That’s what the woman hermit told me, just before I put a pillow over her face. Are you still afraid of me, Puzzler?”
“A little,” Rafik admitted.
“Don’t be. You are safe here.”
“Everyone promises me that I will be safe with them, but we end up fighting Lizards and almost dying.”
“Sometimes fighting is necessary for the good of us all.”
“Now you really sound like the Prophet Reborn.”
Nakamura tilted his head. “Maybe I am not the Prophet, Rafik, but perhaps I am just your prophet.”
He fished a puzzle box from a hidden pocket and gently placed it on the table next to the plate of food. “This is a level-thirty puzzle lock. I have only one like it, and I have never seen a more difficult box.”
Rafik’s eyes widened. “Are we going on a deep run?”
“Yes. As soon as you can master this puzzle box, then we are going on the deepest run, to the very heart of City within the Mountain, where no man has visited since the Catastrophe.”
“Why?”
“Because I have seen all the possible futures, and our meeting brings us closer to the best possible outcome. You will take us on the deepest run ever attempted, for the biggest prize.”
“And what then?”
“Then we will all be free and rich beyond our wildest dreams.”
The crew smiled and nodded at each other in approval behind Nakamura’s back.
Rafik shook his head. “You will just spend all the metal and then want to go in again.”
Nakamura leaned forward and touched Rafik lightly on his shoulder. “No, I give you my oath, Rafik. After this run there will be no others.” He turned his head briefly towards Vincha and said, “You will be free.”
Rafik was silent, then he raised his head and looked straight at Nakamura. “Does it hurt?”
“My face?”
Rafik hesitated, then nodded.
“All the time. But I’ve learned to live with pain.”
“Are you angry at the Prophet Reborn for making you like this?” Rafik continued, before Nakamura could answer. “I am angry at him. I prayed every day. I didn’t do anything bad to anyone. Why did he curse me? I lost everything, everyone . . .” his voice trailed off into an uncomfortable silence.
When Nakamura finally answered it was the first time his voice had a hint of tenderness to it. “Yes, I was angry, Rafik. In those rare moments when no one was hitting me or cursing me, I did ask those questions and I felt sorry for myself.” He put a deformed hand on Rafik’s shoulder. “But eventually I understood that we are here for a purpose, that we rose from the ashes of humanity, different but no better. Those who inherited powers must use them to propel our race, whatever’s left of it, back to greatness. That is why we are what we are.”
“But my powers are useless,” Rafik said with a raised voice.
Vincha was suddenly, painfully, aware of how young the boy was.
“I can’t do anything useful except open puzzle locks.”
“On the contrary, Rafik, you are the most useful of all of us. Perhaps the only real useful one.” Nakamura gestured around them. “You see, my boy, we are all freaks.” He pointed at himself and added, “Some more than others. But you, Rafik, you are pure. Those Trolls in the Hive, with their Tarakan attachments and big weapons, called you ‘key.’ They did their best to make you feel useless—but believe me, sometimes to make the biggest difference in this world, all you need to do is open the right door.” Nakamura leaned forward. “You know what you really want, don’t you? What is it you dream of when you sleep peacefully?”
Rafik answered without hesitation. “I want to see the wall of symbols. I want to solve the Great Puzzle.” His eyes shone when he spoke.
At that moment Vincha suddenly realized Rafik’s markings ran all the way up his arm, thinning down to black lines at his elbow. For some reason the discovery frightened her.
Nakamura nudged the puzzle box in his direction. “When you master this puzzle box we will go to the heart of the City within the Mountain, and there you shall find what you seek.”
Watching Rafik, Vincha saw the boy’s demeanour change as he looked at the puzzle box. His entire body seemed drawn to it. He reached out slowly, his marked fingers outstretched for the holes. But Nakamura grabbed his hand and moved the box away.
“Not now, not yet,” he said, but Vincha heard the excitement in his voice.
“Why not?”
Nakamura shoved the plate of food in front of the boy. “First,” he said, “you must finish your dinner.”
55
Vincha was not a great storyteller. Her tone of voice stayed flat, almost emotionless, throughout her story. She was acting as if this was a report to a crew commander, giving facts, quoting dialogues, and describing actions, yet keeping emotions out of it. I found myself adding my own interpretation of what she or Rafik must have felt. It was a good technique I came up with in order to establish empathy with whomever I was interrogating. I kept listening to her with my eyes closed while imagining the events she was describing, and I suspect that Vincha’s monotone voice, my own fatigue and the enveloping darkness caused me to doze in and out of the dream world. Luckily, at some point Vincha’s voice changed, and the penned emotions in her tone jolted me out of my stupor before anyone noticed.
“I thought,” Vincha shrugged, “he was only saying this to get to the boy, you know, rusting his brain a bit so he would be docile and they could use him in the deep run. I mean, what was t
hat all about, ‘best of all worlds’ and ‘opening the right door’ and Rafik being ‘the pure one’? That was just a load of loose wire. Nakamura was priming the boy, that’s what I thought. Daeon showed me some of the information they’d gathered. They had a good map of the first two levels of the run, but the prize lay deeper, in the city’s inner sanctum, completely uncharted territory. He said Nakamura could predict the future and he was going to make them so rich and powerful that they, well . . .” Vincha smiled. “Daeon actually used the word ‘we’—that we could carve a small empire for ourselves. I didn’t know about the future prediction—maybe Nakamura was that kind of freak troll. I just wanted enough metal to retire and never see a rusting Lizard ever again.
“It took Rafik three days to convince Nakamura he was ready to try his puzzle box. But it proved to be a disaster. As soon as he placed his fingers inside the holes, Rafik’s eyes rolled up until we couldn’t see his pupils and his body went into a spasm. We lay him down on a bunk and tried to calm him down but Rafik kept twitching and drooling. I’d never seen anything like that before. I was ready to plug him out, but Nakamura said not to touch him and stopped Sci from using any medicine or even to give Rafik fluids through a needle to his vein. There was nothing left to do but watch over him.
“Rafik stayed attached to that rusting box for eight days. After the initial shock, his body went limp and his breath was shallow and slow. He didn’t eat, and he only swallowed when we forced water into his mouth. His eyes were open, but he saw nothing and he did not react to anything that was happening in the room. I spent as much time as I could guarding him, hoping that if I was left alone I could pry Rafik’s fingers out of that rusting puzzle box, but Nakamura was no fool and there was always someone watching us both. To be honest, most of the time I was just trying to keep Sci’s brew and my own meals down, since I was still feeling the plug sickness.
“Rafik was down for the count, and in a way, so was I. With nothing else to do, I had time to think, which caused serious doubts about Nakamura’s plans to surface. Why risk ourselves for some mythical treasure inside the City within the Mountain when the hardware alone in this hideout could have been sold for a fortune? Would a murderous freak like Nakamura keep his promise to Rafik and myself, and why would he? I was beginning to realize I’d made the wrong play with Rafik, but there was no choice but to make the best of the situation. So I tried to get to know the crew better, hoping I could find a way to turn them against Nakamura, or at least get one of them onto my side in case Nakamura decided I was expendable.