18 Walls

  “Now, we bring you an emergency broadcast. The Captain of the Armed Forces of Pangaea has issued the following message to its citizens.”

  A scene on the television screen changes. An empty room with a large oak table in the middle. Seated at the table is a burly man in a black beret. The Captain. Six of his aides are present, standing stockily in a semi-circle behind him. Beside me, Resh tenses. Everyone in the canteen has frozen in place, their eyes glued to the television.

  “Citizens of Pangaea,” the Captain’s booming voice echoes throughout the canteen. “The war with the Savages has plagued us for ages. Today, I am pleased to announce that we will be ending this war within the next three years.”

  Cries of outrage are silenced by the Captain’s next words.

  “After years of hard work, blood, sweat and tears, I present to you, our new weapon which will turn the tide in this conflict. I call it…Bob.”

  No one laughs.

  “Just kidding,” he sneers, his eyebrows bridging across his forehead.

  He snaps his fingers. A bulky, vaguely humanoid figure enters the room. It takes me a moment to realise that it is a person. Covered from head to toe in a multitude of Extensions. From where I’m seated, I can count at least six types, ranging from an octopus’ tentacles to a wolverine’s claws.

  “Not to worry,” the Captain reassures his audience. “This thing may look human, but it’s actually just a machine. This is done so that our soldiers can control it with greater ease if it resembles a human body.”

  To prove his point, one of his aides produces a tiny remote control and presses a button. Faster than my eye can follow, the thing lashes out, knocking the Captain’s beret clean off his head. Sure, the precision and lethality of the thing frightens me. But what truly shocks me is the Captain himself. Or rather, the long scar running vertically down the middle of his head.

  It’s him! The memory of that fateful day surfaces. The cold, apathetic night. The abysmal despair. The horrendous laughter accompanying the lynching. The scar. A dozen voices are screaming in my head, none of them making any sense. Then, I feel someone gently squeeze my shoulder and the world around me shifts back into focus. I realise that I’m glaring at the screen, at the whitish scar running right down the middle of the Captain’s scalp.

  “Ren!”

  Raine’s grip tightens urgently on my shoulder. The pain in her eyes tells me that she knows, that she wants to say something, but doesn’t know what to say. I don’t know what to say either. I mean, I’ve just found out that I’ve been fighting under the orders of my parents’ murderer for ten years. There’s a weight in my chest, like a medicine ball lodged in my ribcage which I can’t expel. Again and again, I’m struck with the horrifying urge to rip my chest open and let out whatever the hell is weighing me down. Except I know that it’s futile. I’ll carry this to the grave with me.

  “Ren,” Raine murmurs. “Please. Don’t do anything rash.”

  Ironically, our roles seem to have reversed. Before I can reply, the Captain speaks again.

  “Rejoice, the Hekatonkheires will bring us victory! The Savages will no longer exist after this!”

  He continues rambling for a good few minutes. Irritated, Resh throws his fork into the mush on his plate where it sticks, quivering upright like an exceptionally forlorn Excalibur.

  “Why the hell do we need your permission to live,” he snarls, more to himself than us. “Impertinent savages.”

  The broadcast ends and the canteen erupts in a chorus of chatter. Barely ten minutes later, an alarm blares throughout the campsite. Resh motions for us to follow as he vacates the table, leaving his uneaten food where it is. Everyone else does the same. At the little grassy field where our tents are pitched, people from all walks of life gather, facing a tiny podium on which Ben is standing.

  “I’m sure we all know why we’re here,” he says slowly. “The Hekatonkheires. Aptly named. Their name stems from Greek mythology, meaning the Hundred-Handed Ones. Although I doubt they actually have a hundred Extensions at their disposal, they, or at least the one we saw, definitely have many more Extensions than the rest of us.”

  “That’s all?” Resh snorts. “Having more Extensions doesn’t necessarily make them stronger.”

  There are murmurs of agreement all around.

  “That’s not all,” I cut in, stepping up onto the podium.

  All eyes are on me. I’m definitely not in the right frame of mind to vocalise perorations, but these people have to know. Underestimating these Hekatonkheires is a horrible mistake.

  “I once fought what I believe was a prototype. It was my utter defeat. The thing had only two different Extensions, but it wiped out four of the best soldiers I had. I barely made it out alive.”

  Raine’s eyes widen when she finally realises what I’m describing. Street 51. It makes sense. Why the lock to the warehouse looked as though it had been hastily broken, why a “Savage” was present within the 18 walls and most of all, why the Elites were decimated in minutes. The only thing that doesn’t make any sense is that I clearly witnessed it experiencing pain. Machines can’t feel pain, not unless they managed to couple pain receptors into the whole package. I’m not sure if it’s possible, but I wouldn’t put it past them. After all, pain is a useful indicator. My gaze roves over the nameless faces in the crowd, then settles on Raine. She gives me a nod of affirmation, the small smile on her lips born from pain and hope at the same time. Her fingers curl tightly around the small, silver locket hanging from her neck.

  “Even now, after I’ve gotten my Extension, I still think it was unnaturally fast. After all, machines aren’t bound by human limits,” I finish.

  “That does make sense,” Ben seconds, obviously relieved to have someone on his side. “A normal human being would not be able to handle so many Extensions at once.”

  Debate abounds. They want to know how we can differentiate between humans and Hekatonkheires. All I want is permission to destroy them. I’m not having any of this saviour bullshit, not with a bunch of killer puppets. Fortunately, Ben concurs. He orders the Hekatonkheires destroyed on sight. That concludes the impromptu meeting and it’s back to lunch for us. Resh, after staring daggers at his plate for a few minutes, finally decides to conduct his briefing over lunch.

  “You will be based in the outskirts of the city at which you were captured.”

  “Oh, hell no,” Rick objects immediately. “Those people you slaughtered are still…”

  “What are you talking about?” Resh sneers. “Those bodies staked to the ground? That was the handiwork of your soldiers. It was a village of Neutrals. They raped the women and strung up the men.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but as bad as we seem, we don’t stoop that low,” Hyung argues.

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, but in war, anything goes,” Resh mimics him sarcastically. “I knew some of the people there personally. Makes me wonder why the hell I’m still doing this shit instead of fighting and killing like I used to.”

  “What are you…” Rick begins angrily.

  “What do we have to do and how do we do it?” I interrupt, eager to change the topic.

  There’s still a lot on my mind. That last thing I need is a reenactment of David and Goliath.

  “Ambush them and knock them out. Do not harm them unnecessarily. That’s all. Our scouts will relay the information and coordinates of your targets at least a day before you’re deployed. You’ll be sent to stake out the location. Sometimes they pass by, sometimes they don’t. Give it a day or two and someone will be sent to collect you.”

  “When will we go?”

  “I’ll collect you when it’s time. Probably tomorrow. The rest of the day is yours to spend.”

  “You’ll be coming?” Hyung asks, trying not to sound too disappointed.

  “Yes.”

  And with that, he leaves.

  “Well, I gotta go too,” Rick says apologetically, gesturing to his bandaged shoulder. “The hospi
tal calls.”

  “We’ll go with you,” I offer. “I want to take a look around.”

  We head in the direction of the hospital. Raine sees me at the back of the group and quietly lags behind. Ivy notices. She smirks and Raine flips her off.

  “You…okay?” Raine asks softly as we walk.

  “Not exactly the best day of my life,” I reply. “But, given the circumstances, I’m doing better than expected.”

  “You sure? Your eyes are a little…unfocused.”

  “What, it’s your turn to worry about me?” I say half-jokingly.

  “It’s repayment, okay?” she looks flustered. “For those times I…those time you…you know, like…for…for everything.”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Okay.”

  I highly doubt she’s convinced. I mean, if she were that easy to convince, I wouldn’t have visited the armoury twice back when we were trainees. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not pushing her away. It’s just that she’s got a lot on her plate too. The nightmares haunting her sleep. The feelings of regret she’s had, made worse by the fact that the enemy has a new face. Our face. She should think about herself a little more rather than worrying about me.

  The hospital is the only building in the entire military base, other than the office, which has a well-furnished exterior. Its white walls shine under the sunlight, crisscrossed with little furrows, highways for various insects scrabbling across its otherwise smooth surface. At the top of the cuboid building is a protrusion, on which a bright red cross sits. The glossy interior is well lit, a strong smell of medication wafting across the lobby. Rick and April make their way to the counter while the rest of us settle into the rows of plastic chairs arranged neatly at a corner like modern terracotta warriors.

  “Uh, I could use a little bit of help here,” a voice floats over from the opposite side of the lobby. “Please?”

  A young, pretty nurse. She’s trying to push a trolley loaded with food into a lift. Immediately, Ivy gets to her feet. Raine and I join her, concerned in more ways than one. Ivy sees the expression on our faces, sticks out her tongue and roars with laughter. Together, we fit the trolley into the lift and squeeze in after it. The nurse nods her thanks, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The psychiatric wards.

  “If you don’t mind, will you help me deliver the food to the wards?”

  “Sure,” Ivy replies smoothly. “You’ll guide us, won’t you, Miss…”

  “Elize. Just Elize will do.”

  Ding. Rumbling unceremoniously, the doors of the lift slide open. Gloom. The atmosphere is dark, as if someone had just switched off the lights, and fringed with a lingering feeling of unspoken yearning. As we push the creaking trolley down the silent, empty corridor, we find, to our consternation, that the heavy oak doors to each ward aren’t enough to stifle the muffled moans of the patients inside. I can empathise. It’s not like I haven’t had my fair share of experiences. If I could, I would curl up in a ward like them, immune to the dangers of the world, harassed only by my inner demons. But I can’t. And that makes me strangely jealous, even though I know they’d give anything to be in my place.

  “Ward sixteen,” Elize says, handing me a tray. “Take a right turn down this corridor and go straight. If anything happens, shout.”

  Leaving Ivy to butter her up, Raine and I make our way down the eerie passages until we reach a door with the number 16 carved into it. Silence. I’m about to knock when I hear a familiar but oddly lyrical voice. Instinctively, my hand freezes in place.

  “I wanted to die because life wasn’t fair,

  Nothing ever seemed to go my way.

  The loss of a love,

  The loss of a future,

  They made me wish I were dead.

  Carnage all around,

  Corpses on the ground.

  If this is hell on earth,

  A hell I can’t bring myself to face,

  Then I wish I were dead.

  But the day I died,

  My comrades agonisingly dragged my corpse to the hospital,

  Even though they knew my heart was still.

  My father sat at the table staring at the seat opposite his own,

  His food cold and untouched,

  Even though he knew my seat would be empty forever.

  My mother stood on the patio, a photograph in hand,

  Until the sweat in her palms and the tears falling from her eyes,

  Turned the picture into a marred chromatogram.

  Even though she knew I would never smile like that again.

  The day I died,

  I wish I’d fought,

  Just a little bit harder.”

  My hand is trembling. For some reason, Squad 526 comes to mind. I wonder what went through the leader’s mind when he put that bullet through his head. He must have had absolutely nothing left tying him down to this life. No family, no comrades. It’s a heart-rending way to go, surrounded by people yet all alone. Raine swallows hard, shooting me an uncertain glance.

  “Whoever is outside, come in.”

  I jump. Shaking off my daze, I enter, Raine following behind. The room is bare, a single bed in the middle. Lying on the bed is a woman, a sheet pulled up to her chin. Or what’s left of it. Half of her face is horribly scarred tissue, her features indistinguishable against their devastated backdrop. Bulging veins crisscross her face, spreading their jarring, bluish tinge across her pale, almost translucent skin. Sitting in a plastic chair beside the bed is Resh. He doesn’t look particularly excited about our appearance.

  “It’s you.”

  “Yeah,” I reply uneasily. “Just helping around, you know, with stuff.”

  I feel like we’ve barged into something we shouldn’t be seeing. Setting down the tray of food beside the woman, who completely ignores me, I give a short nod and leave the room, pulling Raine along. Since we entered, she hasn’t blinked, not even once. It’s as though she’s afraid to close her eyes, afraid that something might catch up to her if she did. I can relate. Without a doubt, I know that the damage done to the woman has to be from an Extension.

  Click. The door shuts behind me. There’s a soft cough and I whirl around to find Resh leaning against the wall.

  “She saved my life,” he begins. “She came from your side. Always believed that we could one day end this bloody conflict. But she got hit by an Extension and, well, you can see the rest. She even went suicidal for a period of time.”

  “Why’re you telling us this?”

  “Buying your silence,” he laughs bitterly. “Not a word to the rest. I come here as often as I can. Somehow, that song seems to calm her down, even if she doesn’t have anybody left that she could possibly care for. So there you have it. The reason why I’m doing this shit. Let’s end this here, all right? You never saw me.”

  “Idiot,” Raine snaps.

  “What?” he frowns. “Did you just…”

  “Idiot,” she repeats. “You. Are. A. Freaking. Idiot. Spineless asshole, doing something you obviously hate and don’t believe in just because someone else said so. You’re wasting your life here. I bet she’d be so disappointed.”

  Ordinarily, I might have stopped her. But this time, something tells me not to interfere.

  “What do you even know?” he snaps, turning an interesting shade of purple. “Don’t go mouthing off when you…”

  “Maybe it’s not the song,” she interrupts fiercely.

  “What?”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re the one singing it.”

  She walks off, pulling me along. He doesn’t try to stop us.

  The rest of the afternoon passes in moody silence. Elize, the nurse, is the only one who remains reasonably cheerful throughout. For Ivy, Raine and me, it’s a sobering prod in the back. The shivering, empty husks, the sudden, violent changes in character; it could have been any one of us, an unfortunate consequence of this war. I take it back. There’s nothing to be jealous about.

  Back in the wai
ting room, we find the others still seated, but no Rick. Exhaustion seems to have gotten the better of them, for they’re slumped against each other, sound asleep. As we approach, April’s eyes flicker open. They fix themselves on mine and, almost immediately, a look of concern crosses her face.

  “Is anything wrong?”

  I shake my head.

  “We saw Ben coming in earlier. He says we’re heading out tomorrow.”

  That was quick. The old dude was probably looking for Resh.

  With nothing left to do but brood aimlessly, I retire for the day. Lulled to sleep by the somnolent croaking of the many insolent frogs which inhabit the area, I wake only when night has already fallen. The faintly glowing face of Hyung’s wristwatch tells me it’s two in the morning. Somewhere along the line, the others had joined me in the tents. Yawning, I step over Hyung’s sleeping figure and onto the slightly damp turf outside the tent. I sit by the edge of the pavement, my feet dangling into the narrow drain beside it. I should be exhausted, but I don’t feel the urge to go back to sleep. A million thoughts surge through my mind. The Hekatonkheires. The people I’ve killed. Raine. The Captain. Just where do I stand amongst them? I almost dare not think about it. I’m afraid of the answer.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  I jump, startled. That’s unusual. Given my enhanced senses, I should have known if anyone were approaching from a mile away. It’s Raine. Not exactly the best timing to catch me unaware. The last time she found me sitting by the pavement with my feet in the drain, she came at me with her switchblade and nearly broke my nose.

  “Yeah, something like that,” I mutter.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.”

  “Take your time,” she says, sitting down next to me. “I’ll try not to interrupt.”

  That’s unfair, coming to me at such a time. The offer is too tempting to resist. And if she’s going to have to know someday, I might as well tell her today. It starts off as a trickle.

  “What am I?”

  “Huh?”

  Now, a stream.

  “What am I?” I repeat. “Am I human? Or Savage? Or worse?”

  “Haven’t we already established that there’s no such thing as a ‘Savage’? Of course, you’re human, just like me.”