18 Walls

by Teo Xue Shen

  “What the hell happened to you?” he demands, noticing the blood around my neck and face.

  “Tripped over my boot laces, sir.”

  “You fell and cut your neck?” he asks incredulously. “Do you think I’m dumb?”

  “Was holding my knife, sir,” I reply without hesitation. “Didn’t expect it to come at my neck when I fell.”

  Idphor looks like he’s pondering whether to strangle me. Behind me, Raine snickers. Fortunately, he thinks she’s laughing at me and decides that he wants nothing more to do with this idiotic soldier standing in front of him. He dismisses us and hurries off. I don’t get why he’s rushing off. He’s definitely on Santa’s naughty list. That bastard sure as hell isn’t getting anything for Christmas.

  It’s past midnight when we return to our room. The others aren’t back yet, since they’ve been given permission to return tomorrow afternoon, so it’s just Raine and me for now. Upon our return, she disappears into the shower, leaving me alone in the room. Looks like she’s going to be in there for at least an hour. After all, tears which don’t fall tend to hang around for a very long time. Not wanting to go to sleep without taking a shower first, I grab my rifle, strip it down and thoroughly scrub every single visible part with a brush. By the time I’ve re-oiled the weapon, Raine is out of the shower. I’m thinking of what to say to her when she picks up her dagger and turns towards me.

  “We’ll be getting our Extensions a couple days from now, huh?” she says out of the blue.

  She’s wiping my blood off her dagger.

  “Yeah,” I gulp.

  “You gonna opt out?”

  “Not a snowball’s chance in hell. There’s no way we can stand up to those things without our own Extensions. Trust me, opting out is suicide.”

  “Idphor’s gonna turn you into a water flea or something, you know?” she smiles. “It’s a pretty bad idea to be on his bad side.”

  “You aren’t that safe either,” I snort. “You’ll make a fine ermine.”

  We both laugh. However, there’s something weighing on my chest. Something I can’t bring myself to tell her. Not yet, anyway. She seems to be a little more light-hearted than before and I don’t want to sour the mood. But since she’s the only one who knows about my secret, about my connection to Street 51, I know that I’ll have to tell her someday. That when the rest of the Elites were wiped out; when that strange silence enveloped the warehouse; when her brother, Aracel, bled out in my arms, I felt nothing. Nothing at all.

  7

  Idphor passes out an indemnity form to each of us. We sign and return it to him. No one opts out. In truth, the form only applies to Rick, April and Sean. For Raine and me, even if something goes wrong, there is no one left outside the camp to care about us. A nurse appears and leads us into the hospital where the surgery will take place. We’re settled into individual cots, where a doctor performs a series of tests on us while we await our turn at the operating table. Pulling out a needle he stabbed into my arm minutes ago, the doctor turns to Idphor and nods quickly. Idphor fishes out a crumpled piece of paper from his breast pocket and begins to read out loud.

  “Number six, Himantura chaophraya. Number fifteen, Canis lupus. Number twenty-two, Aldabrachelys gigantea. Number seventy-eight, Odontodactylus scyllarus. Number ninety-three, Pandinus imperator. All good?”

  It makes absolutely no sense to me, but the doctor nods again. They leave the room.

  “Nervous?”

  It’s Rick. He’s lying in the cot next to mine, grinning at me like it’s none of his business.

  “Not really,” I reply. “They know what they’re doing.”

  “Well, I am,” he admits, still grinning that carefree grin of his. “I wonder what I’ll be able to do after this.”

  “You’ll find out soon.”

  “Yeah, I guess I will.”

  We lapse into silence. The door to the ward creaks open, revealing a nurse.

  “Number six,” he announces. “This way please.”

  April swings her legs off the cot and follows him out of the room, gently shutting the door behind her. She’s calm as always. Sean, on the other hand, is obviously anxious. He checks the time, fiddles with the bed sheets and chews on his nails in a constant blur of motion, glancing at the door every now and then as if the Grim Reaper itself were coming. On the opposite side of the room, Raine is sound asleep. I doubt she even heard Idphor read off that list of his.

  “Ren?”

  It’s Rick again.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “No.”

  “Do you like Raine?” he asks anyway.

  “What kind of question is that?” I shoot back, keeping an eye on Raine’s sleeping figure. “Don’t you have better things to think about? The imminent surgery, for starters.”

  If she wakes up or overhears any of this, she’ll probably try to finish what she started on Christmas night.

  “Just answer me,” Rick presses. “I’m trying to take my mind off the operation.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” I reply honestly.

  “Like. Like as in love. Romantically interested in,” he elaborates like he’s talking to a five-year-old.

  “Yeah. I don’t know what that means,” I repeat. “To love. To be loved. I don’t know that feeling.”

  He stares at me, trying to decide if I’m being serious or not. In the end, he comes to the conclusion that I am.

  “Forget it then,” he says uncertainly. “Look, I don’t know anything about your past or how you ended up here, but if I’ve dragged up anything you don’t particularly want to remember, I’m sorry.”

  “Nah. Don’t bother about it.”

  “You’re…alone, right?”

  “Yeah. I get the feeling I’ve said this before, but my parents were killed when I was really young. The military guys brought me in and raised me from then on. That’s how I ended up here instead of becoming a corpse on the streets.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  We are interrupted by the same nurse from before. This time, it’s Sean. He waves weakly at us as he’s escorted out of the room.

  “It’s your turn next, you know?” I say to an obviously perturbed Rick.

  He gives me a brilliant smile, wiping all traces of anxiety from his features.

  “It’ll be fine. I hope.”

  “I guess you’re right. I mean, remember those guys we met in the jungle a while ago? They seemed fine. And I honestly don’t think Idphor will use this chance to screw us over. He’s probably got regulations to follow too.”

  All too soon, Rick is called out, followed by Raine and finally, me. I’m led into a room where I lie in a gurney awaiting further instructions. There are none. The last thing I remember is a needle entering my arm and the world fading into black.

  Darkness. Heaviness. I open my eyes and am forced to squint immediately. Heavy. My head feels heavy. There’s also a sort of throbbing numbness reverberating around my body. If that makes any sense at all. The scintillating sunlight penetrates the drawn blinds, illuminating the dust particles which are floating around aimlessly like mayflies over a pond. Even though the surgery took place in the morning and it’s probably late in the afternoon by now, I know that I’ve been out for over a day. Around me, the other members of Squad 72 are sleeping in cots. I don’t know if they’ve woken up earlier or are still out cold. Either way, we’re not allowed to perform any strenuous activity for a week.

  “I don’t feel any different,” April yawns as she sits up in the cot. “Do you?”

  I shake my head in reply.

  “I feel like shit. But otherwise, nothing. I guess we’ll find out in a week, huh?”

  “Yeah. For the time being, we should get as much rest as possible. There won’t be another time when we can sleep this much in a week.”

  The week goes by in a flash. We do nothing except eat, sleep and some sort of therapy programme to ensure that the surgery has not affe
cted our functionality. Throughout the week, my senses continue to sharpen. I don’t know how exactly to describe it, but I can feel the vibrations in the air. Every footstep, every person’s breath, every spoken word creates a certain feeling which my body can somehow decipher. Sean’s been sniffing a lot while Raine’s constantly wide-eyed, scanning her surroundings with a look of wonder on her face.

  On the last day of the week, we are herded back to our rooms where Idphor is waiting. Or rather, what we once recognised as Idphor. He’s the same person, all right, with the exception of a huge thing protruding from his lower back. It’s as thick as his torso and arches far above his head, a gigantic segmented column which ends in four vicious, scissor-like jaws.

  “Eunice aphroditois. The bobbit worm,” he states, gesturing to the monstrosity hovering above his head. “Follow me.”

  The last thing I want to do is follow someone like that. But he leaves us with no choice. Like it or not, he’s our instructor and he’s the only one who can teach us to control our Extensions. Idphor leads us to a three-tonner, loads us onto it and claps the driver on the back. We’re driven to what can only be described as a vast sand pit. It’s about ten metres deep and as long and wide as my eyes can see. There are other Squads present. I can’t see them, but I can feel them. The pit has concrete walls with rusty iron rungs nailed into them. We remove our shoes and carefully descend into the pit via the iron rungs while Idphor simply jumps from the top of the concrete wall, using his Extension to break his fall.

  “All right, some of you might have already noticed some changes to your bodies. The sharpening of senses, for example,” Idphor explains. “It varies in degree between individuals. But the real thing starts now. You’re about to learn to create and control your Extensions. Line up!”

  We do as he says. We’re facing a vast open area with only sand in sight.

  “Now, close your eyes and picture an extra set of muscles around the area of your lower back,” Idphor continues. “Try to move them. Flex them. The most common point of origin for Extensions is your lower back. However, people do manifest them on other areas too. Their arms, for example. So start from your lower back, then focus your attention to the other parts of your body.”

  I take a deep breath and concentrate. For a long moment, nothing happens. I’m starting to feel like an idiot, just standing there doing absolutely nothing. I’m about to give up and try another part of my body when I feel a strange tingling along my spine. It increases in intensity, which quickly changes into a painful, pulling sensation. I open my eyes. It takes me a moment to realise that I have a tail. Long, black, segmented and covered in bristles. It ends in a bulbous stinger. Scorpion. There’s no doubt about it. It takes me another moment to realise that I have a grand total of zero control over my Extension. It shoots forth, gouging a large crater in the sand. The rest of Squad 72 scatter. I’m flung into the air by my own Extension, forced into a whirling kaleidoscope of colours as I spin around wildly, my Extension thrashing around like a headless snake.

  “What the…?!?” I roar. “I can’t even…”

  My words are cut short as Idphor steps in. His Extension lashes out, slicing mine neatly in half. My miraculous flight through the air is also cut short and I land unceremoniously in a heap, right beside the crater I gouged out of the sand just minutes ago. The stump of a tail still attached to my back is bleeding. Green blood. It hurts. Not the usual sharp pain you feel when you scrape your knee, though. It’s a heavy, throbbing sort of ache which travels all the way to my gut. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the Extension retracts into my body. I run my hands over the spot where it once had been, but can feel only skin. There’s no trace of it left.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Idphor tosses me a bottle of water, “drink up and rest for a while. You’ll learn soon enough.”

  I blink, surprised. Usually, I’d be in for a torrent of vulgarities but not this time. There is a strange expression on his face. He looks…conflicted.

  “The rest of you, stop acting like cowards and carry on!”

  Rick is next to produce an Extension. But unlike mine, his Extension doesn’t extend from his lower back. Instead, it grows from his shoulder blades and encases his entire body, a brownish-grey layer of armoured plating.

  “What the hell is this?” he yells, pulling at the plating. “I can’t get it back! What in the world…”

  “Do the same thing you did to bring it out,” Idphor advises. “Keep your focus and it’ll retract on its own.”

  He’s about to continue speaking when something shoots towards them at an incredibly fast speed. I can’t see it. I can only feel the compressions in the air as it moves. Idphor blocks the object with his Extension. It’s a hardened, rounded club attached to a thin, segmented stalk, fiery red in colour. And it’s connected to Raine. There’s another one hovering above her head, striking randomly at the sand around her.

  “Shit,” Idphor curses under his breath. “Plan B.”

  He leaps at Raine, slicing at her Extension with the scissor-like jaws of his own. Her Extension cracks, but doesn’t break. In fact, it begins to regenerate almost immediately. But Idphor’s target isn’t the Extension. It’s Raine herself. He slips through the wildly spasming clubs and knees her right in the solar plexus. Her Extension freezes, then goes limp as she collapses onto the ground, gasping for air. And just like mine, they retract automatically, vanishing into her skin.

  “Maybe I should have told you guys this first,” Idphor says.

  He’s panting slightly.

  “In increasing order of your numbers: Giant freshwater stingray. Grey wolf. Aldabra giant tortoise. Harlequin mantis shrimp. Emperor scorpion.”

  He points at April, Sean, Rick, Raine and finally, me.

  “Those are the respective animals whose genes you now carry,” he continues. “I’ll be giving you a file containing information on the animals later. You may read it if you want.”

  No one looks interested. I want to try bringing out my Extension once more, but I’m afraid it’ll go berserk again. April and Sean are still standing in line, a look of intense concentration on their faces. Sean’s arm has sprouted black, bristly hair and end in long claws. He hasn’t noticed yet. April, on the other hand, seems normal enough. Nothing is happening to her. After another good 15 minutes or so, Idphor steps up to April.

  “You might be a Neutral.”

  “A what?” April sounds uncharacteristically worried.

  “A Neutral,” Idphor repeats. “That’s what we call people who do not exhibit any physical changes after the operation.”

  There’s a surprised yelp from his left as Sean finally realises that his arm has transformed. Rick, who has managed to retract his Extension, goes to help him. Idphor glances at them briefly, then continues.

  “We’ll wait a couple more days to see if you’re really a Neutral or if you’re just late to exhibit any changes. If the former is the case, you’ll be allowed to opt for a second operation. After all, Neutrals tend not to last too long out there.”

  He isn’t saying it to be nasty. We’ve all just witnessed firsthand the power of our Extensions.

  “What are the chances?” April asks. “For the second operation.”

  “For success, low. For any danger to your body, even lower.”

  “Okay.”

  Seemingly unfazed, April faces the vast emptiness in front of her once again and closes her eyes.

  “Right. The rest of you little shits, get the hell back here and do it again. We won’t leave this place until there’s a reasonable amount of control exhibited over your Extensions,” Idphor announces austerely. “So, unless you wanna be sleeping on unsheltered sand for weeks, you’d better get your shit together.”

  That’s easier said than done. We find out, all too soon, that the eight odd years we’ve spent doing countless hours of physical conditioning have not been token ones. The simple act of bringing out our Extensions and barely preventing them from annihilating eve
rything around us is physically exhausting. It’s like trying to sprint a full marathon when your leg muscles have been reduced to that of an infant’s. And it hurts too. Whenever our Extensions go out of control, Idphor beats them down, or, in some cases, beats us down. Eventually, we do learn some form of control over our Extensions. The size, shape and number of the Extensions, though constrained by their natural shape on the animals themselves, can vary according to what we intend to use them for. By the end of one week, I’m able to bring out not only a tail, but also a couple of gargantuan pincers, all of which originate from my lower back.

  “Hey, Ren!”

  My tail explodes in a shower of green fluid, some of which hits the concrete wall behind me and sizzles away, corroding the material. That’s right. I’ve got venom in that tail of mine. The offending object is a club, one of eight which sprout from Raine’s back.

  “Having fun, are we?” I roll my eyes. “I can feel some sort of pain, you know?”

  While our Extensions are capable of destroying each other’s, Raine has the hardest offensive Extension amongst us. Ever since she managed to control it, she’s taken to smashing mine open whenever she gets the chance. I’m not sure why, but I suspect it’s related to Street 51. No matter how normal she looks, deep down, she’s probably aching. Bitterness takes a long time to fade. It’ll be months before she can fully come to terms with what we spoke about on Christmas night.

  “I’ll get you used to it in no time,” she yells cheerily, sending another club in my direction.

  This time, I leap aside, ascending to a height of three metres. I use a pincer to break my fall, regenerating my fragmented tail in the process. A vibration to the left. On instinct, I raise the other pincer, catching the club as it whistles past. I’ve got a rough idea about how her Extension works. Each time she releases a club, she has to retract it fully before sending it flying out again. Something like a lock and spring mechanism, apparently. The file on the mantis shrimp was surprisingly useful. I fold a third pincer over my head as a shield while a fourth blocks my torso. They don’t suffice. Under the pressure of six of Raine’s clubs, my pincers begin to crack.