by Lisa Jade
I suppose this is the thrill I was after. I wanted to be a Scout so I could see and feel and do new things, and feel fear and excitement and joy. I suppose this is close enough. Maybe this will be enough to make me happy. I stare down at Brick's calm face, and feel a small sense of happiness.
Yes. This will be fine.
I stand up, but suddenly he lets out a small grunt and I stop. He stirs, and his eyes open just a little. I give him a warm smile and after a moment or two he seems to recognise me.
"Hey, Mouse."
His voice croaks and I try to pass him some water, but he pushes it away and tries to sit. I wrap my hands around him and try to support his weight, but he's far too heavy and it doesn’t do much good. He looks around and chuckles.
"The infirmary, huh? I should've known. Was it that bad?"
I nod, passing him the drink. He gulps it down eagerly, so fast that it drips from his chin and soaks the dressings on his chest.
"This is... pretty embarrassing," he tells me, passing the cup back, "for you to see me like this."
I tilt my head.
"I mean, I know you're going to be the Doc someday, but you're still a girl. I bet I look pretty pathetic right now."
I simply smile and put my hand on his back in what I hope is a comforting motion. He brushes the sweat from his head and examines his injuries.
"Damn, it looks worse than it feels. Or am I totally hopped up on painkillers right now?"
In response, I point at the clock and brandish a small needle. He flinches back - and I feel like laughing. The guy is massive, unafraid, but a needle leaves him unnerved. I take his arm gently, gingerly, and push down on the plunger.
"Hey," he says, his voice suddenly hushed, "what's with your face?"
It takes me a moment to realise that he's talking about my cheek. Where he hit me earlier in a moment of pain, I can feel a small swelling and a bruise blossoming there. I prod at it; it doesn’t hurt, but I suppose it must look bad. He stares at me for a moment, and then clamps one hand over his mouth.
"Fuck. I did that, didn't I? Damn. I'm really sorry."
I give a dismissive wave of my hand, but he still seems upset. I'm not too bothered though. I've seen Dr Newton receive much worse in the past; scared patients armed with needles and their own teeth, launching themselves at him in a fit of rage and fear. In comparison, a punch to the face seems pretty mild.
The door clunks open, and Adam enters. His eyes glide over the scene in front of him, Brick sitting upright, me supporting him, staring at one another other with a curious expression. For a moment I think he's going to scold me like he always does, but then his expression softens and he nears the table.
"Hey, mate," he says to Brick, "how are you doing?"
Brick forces a pained smile onto his face.
"I'm alright. Mostly embarrassed."
"There's nothing embarrassing about what happened," Adam tells him, "that mecha came out of nowhere. Our regular approach just didn't work on it. Besides, you got hurt blocking me and Sparrow from that attack. I feel like I owe you an apology... and a thank you."
Their eyes meet, and suddenly I feel a rush of something special between them. It goes beyond friendship, beyond camaraderie. They're like brothers, in perfect sync, each other’s strength. Their mutual respect is inspiring, and I'm reminded why I wanted to be a part of that particular team.
Adam claps him on the back, careful not to go near his injuries.
"You rest up, alright? We're going to need you as well as you can be for tomorrow."
"We're heading back out there, huh?"
I wave my hands wildly at them, signing madly. Are you crazy? You could have died today. You need to give it time and plan, not just go running out there blindly again!
Adam shakes his head.
"I don't understand, but I'm willing to bet you're telling us it's dangerous. Is that right?"
I nod, and he places his hands on his hips, a smug look on his face.
"That's okay. We'll be fine to go out tomorrow, even with Brick not being one hundred percent."
I glare at him, my hands working overtime. And what makes you think that?
Clearly choosing not to discuss it, Adam stands up and heads towards the door. He reaches for the handle, but after a brief moment he pulls his hand back.
"Mouse."
I stare at him, and my arms cross in front of me defensively. Great. What now?
"You need to rest up for tomorrow," he says, "Heaven knows we're going to need a field medic out there. Be at the gate by dawn."
He leaves the room without another word, and silence washes over us. Brick fixes me with his gaze, his mouth falling open.
"Did he just..."
I stare blankly at the spot where Adam just stood, his words soaking in. He expects me to be with them tomorrow, at the gate. They need a field medic. I need to rest up. The sentences make sense in my head, and I know what it would mean if anyone else has said it. But this is Adam. This is the person who wants to keep me locked in here forever. He wouldn't change his mind just like that, less than a week after turning me away in front of the whole Council.
But then, I feel the corners of my mouth starting to twist. They curl into something akin to a smile, and as I look across at Brick I can see he's smiling, too. I can hardly breathe, but suddenly happiness is flooding through me. I stand up and jump, punching the air. If I could, I'd cheer. Brick mimics me, howling in delight in my stead.
He did it. He changed his mind. I'm a Scout!
"Well done, Mouse," says Brick, "I knew you'd convince him."
I simply smile back. Brick then leans back, and instinctively I find myself darting behind to help him lie down.
"I'm alright," he tells me, "I'm fine. But Boss is right. We've both gotta rest up for tomorrow. I'm sure I can get fighting fit overnight - I've done more in less time before. But I bet you've got a lot to do, so you can go. Infirmary's closed anyway, and I'm pretty sure I have to spend the night here. I'll wait for the Doc to get back and explain it to him. I bet he'll be happy for you."
I pause. I hadn't thought about that. Brick's right. Dr Newton will be happy for me. He's been fighting so long for me to be given a chance, and now it's paid off. If only I could tell him myself... but he's right. The sun is setting, and I have a lot to do before it rises again.
I prep a bed for Brick and dose him up before waving goodnight. The infirmary can get pretty cold in the evening, once the dome stops magnifying the heat and starts reduces the temperature. I step outside and shiver a little in the cold.
As I pass by the gate, I hear a familiar voice.
"Ash! Ash, up here!"
I look up - Bree is on watch, as always. She waves madly, demanding I meet her. I climb without hesitation, and this time I feel light and airy. I seem to float on every rung of the ladder, and as my head pops up onto the platform, I see her grinning. She has a mischievous smile, the kind that makes you a little suspicious that she’s playing a prank. But as I climb up next to her, she laughs.
"I just heard!" she cries, "You’re going out tomorrow, aren't you? I'm so excited for you!"
She bounces a little, and it's surprisingly difficult not to join in. I just settle for an energetic nod and a wide, toothy smile. She leans back and starts picking idly at her nails.
"So? Are you excited? Nervous? Terrified?"
I nod. Yes. Yes to all the above.
"Just remember what they always tell you. Adam is the Boss. You can't question him – even if he’s being an idiot. I know it's tough sometimes not to punch him in his grumpy old face, but you’ll have to. You're going into a pretty dangerous area, by the sounds of it. It's deeper into the city than they've ever gone before. It's practically at the limit. Any further and they'd likely not come back at all."
Her smile drops a little, and she looks me up and down, her bright eyes tracing my face.
"I mean, they're going to protect you. They always do with a newbie. Of course, newbies
don't usually go on dangerous trips like this, but... I mean, I'm sure you'll be fine..."
Her lower lip trembles, and suddenly I feel the nerves set in. She's right. This is dangerous - far more dangerous than I had thought. For some reason, Adam has realised that I'm not entirely useless, but does that mean I'm capable of something this big? I've never stepped outside the gates. The most scared I've been was when I was a kid, and I was helpless to act then. What's changed about me in the past twelve years to make me stronger? And, even with all the work I've done, all the hours I've poured into it, will I ever be as strong as the others?
I remember sitting outside the infirmary countless times, my chin in my hands, my eyes tracing every movement of the Scouts. I would watch them train for hours, and I'd find myself mimicking their motions when I thought I was alone. I'd sit in silence and watch as they ran laps, did target practice, and synced together over time. They went from a rag-tag group of kids to legend-level Scouts. They're a perfect team, working flawlessly together, their loyalty inspiring those around them - including me.
But am I really ready to be one of them?
Bree sits up now, shuffling towards me. There's not a lot of space on the platform and it creaks as she moves, but she keeps going until she's right in front of me. Her arms raise, and before I know it she's thrown herself over my shoulders, pulling me into an awkward embrace. I can hear her breathing, snuffly and nasal. Is she upset? I wrap my arms around her, pulling her even closer, entangling my fingers in her hair. She buries her head in my shoulder and I marvel at how tiny she really is. Barely a teenager, Bree has never known anything beyond the walls of Fairground. She doesn't know what's out there, only that it's scary and that people die.
"Promise you'll be careful," she whispers, "promise you won't die."
I simply tighten my grip, trying to blink the tears from my eyes. I can't promise her that - I don't know if I'm strong enough to. And even if I could, I can't form the words. But I know this kid. She needs me, or she'll be swept under the rug for the rest of her life. I'm not important. I don't know that much. I don't have a voice. But I'm the only person here who's ever taken the time to listen to her, and if I don’t come back home, she'll never be heard.
Chapter Three
Sunrise bursts through the cracks in the side of the bunker, lighting up the dark space with a reddish-orange glow. Right now I should be asleep, or just barely stirring from my slumber. I should be blinking in the gentle light of morning and heaving a sigh at the thought of another day in the infirmary.
Instead, I'm already up. I have been for hours. My usual blue scrubs lie in a crumpled heap on my bunk - I'm wearing more suitable clothes now. A shirt with straps to hold my weapons, thick jeans with a leather belt, heavy boots that thud with each step. Over that I put a jacket, long and dark, with a hood that rests on my shoulders. The overall effect isn't quite as cool and edgy as I'd have liked, but it's still better than scrubs.
"Mouse? This just came for you."
One of the other girls comes into the bunker and passes me a parcel. It's wrapped in brown paper and tied with a bow - and I immediately recognise the handwriting. Dr Newton.
I gingerly open the packet and pull out a number of small items. Shin guards and leather gauntlets, dark gloves with parts cut out. Items purely to help protect me from injury while I'm out there, or to help me steady my grip on a weapon. I smile; something about it feels parental, like he's seeing me off on the next step of my life. He'll likely not be able to see me off in person, but it's nice that he thought of me. So I pull on the extra equipment, take a deep breath, and head outside.
I reach the gate in a minute or so, and am surprised to find that I'm the last one there. The others are standing around, laughing, joking. Kicker and Brick poke and prod at each other playfully, fighting like siblings. Adam and Sparrow are deep in conversation, but they part once they see me.
"Mouse!" says Sparrow, "What time do you call this?"
I glance at the sky. The sun is still rising, though I suppose I should have tried to be here earlier. But then she just laughs, and starts pacing around me. She looks me up and down, carefully eyeing what I'm wearing.
"Hey, this is pretty good," she says, "I see the doc also gave you some extra equipment."
She points at my gloves, and then at her own. They match - and now I can see a tiny, embroidered circle on the back of both sets. I'd thought it was a poorly repaired patch, but now I look closer, it actually resembles a little Ferris wheel. Fairground's symbol. Sparrow reaches behind her and pulls out a few items, which she hands to me. I recognise them immediately. A small blade and a firearm, both of which I tuck into my belt. A HT - what the Scouts call a walkie-talkie - and a massively oversized gun. It's white, but has been patched up with any scrap metal we've got. I take it with confidence. I've practiced with a pulse launcher before; they keep small metal mines in them, which when fired, latch onto the nearest item and send out an electromagnetic pulse. Not enough to permanently disable or break a bot, but enough to keep it motionless until you can get away. I count the pulses inside. Ten. I have ten shots.
Adam steps in front of me, his eyes sliding over me. I try to pull my shoulders back and appear tall, strong, competent. He narrows his eyes at me, and then the corners of his mouth draw up in what I suppose could be a smile.
"I've spent a lot of time thinking about this," he tells me, "wondering if it was the right choice or not. I thought I'd made my decision, but you impressed me yesterday. I saw you deal with pressure like a pro."
I remain still, nerves fluttering in my stomach, but I'm secretly pleased. I hadn't been thinking of him when I treated Brick. I hadn't even noticed him, or cared what he saw. I was too focussed on the job at hand. But he was watching.
"But don't think that makes you a Scout," he adds, "you're not. At least, not yet. Going out there every time is difficult and forces even the strongest person to change. You learn what fear is like, and your only option is to overcome it or die. I'm giving you a chance to prove yourself. Don’t let me down."
He turns, pointing to the city.
"We'll take the East route," he tells us, "just like yesterday. Keep the same order as before - Mouse, you stay behind Brick. Sparrow, bring up the rear. And remember, that mecha from yesterday might still be there. We disabled it partially, so it's weaker, but it's still a ten foot tall killing machine. If you catch sight of it, warn the others. Keep low. And for the love of god, don't shoot at it. We don't plan on fighting anything today. This is just a recon mission. We need to know what's in that sector so we can plan it into our routes. Try to avoid combat where possible. Got it?"
As he speaks, people begin to unlatch the gates and pull them open. They let out a deafening, almost unearthly squeal and I wince. Suddenly the city is opened up before me, and I feel a sense of panic in my throat. Damn. This is a lot scarier than I thought.
The others start walking, and they step perfectly into a line. I clutch my pulse launcher and follow, slipping in front of Sparrow.
"Hey!"
We look up - and the others laugh. It takes me a moment, but then I see her. Bree, standing on the guard tower, waving a scrap of cloth around like she's aboard a ship. She beams down at us. Kicker waves back, and I hear Sparrow chuckle.
"She's a sweet kid. I think she's wishing you luck, Mouse."
I find myself smiling back at her, and I give a small wave. I've never been overly exaggerated in my movements, so I won't wave madly, but judging by the whooping sound she makes I assume she can see me. I close my eyes for a moment, and I can feel the message behind her farewell. Good luck. Best wishes. Come home.
But then it's over, and we're through the gates. They clang shut behind us, and I can hear them tying the chains around the lock, securing it. That's it. I couldn't get back in now even if I wanted to. Luckily, I don't.
The path we take into the city is long and winding. Piles of rubble sit around us, remains of the buildings that used to be here. Most
were destroyed in the initial attack, but the rest have crumbled over the years. Somehow, the buildings in the city have remained more intact than the ones around here. I tread carefully at first, a little cautious, placing my feet as silently as I can and looking all around.
"Don't worry too much," Sparrow whispers from behind me, "this area is pretty clear. We don't usually come across any bots out here."
I nod and try to appear more relaxed, but it's not natural for me; I still hunch over, holding the launcher aloft. Its weight is surprising, and I dread to think how my arms might feel in the morning.
We reach a high ridge, and Adam signals with one hand. I don't know quite what the sign means, but everyone else crouches low, so I follow suit. We crawl to the edge of the ridge and look out, down the slope and into the city. From here, I can see the truth of the city. I can see sofas in the scorched houses, I can see faded paintings on the exposed walls. I can see ancient blood splatters and the worn, yellowed skeletons of people who died twelve years ago.
"Look at this, Mouse," says Adam, and he points at something. I follow his gaze to where something moves amongst the rubble. As we watch in silence it expands, glinting in the sunlight, legs and arms growing around it. It unfolds until it's as tall as a man, with five legs and hand-like appendages the size of barrels. I can only assume it used to be a construction bot of some kind. It skitters around, looking this way and that, but it doesn't see us. After a few moments, it vanishes entirely from our sight.
"It's a tough lesson to learn," says Adam, "but a good one. Bots are all different. They could look like a bug or a bird or a dog. From a distance, you might mistake one for human. Don't approach it. Be on your guard at all times. If it can't speak to you, assume it's hostile and attack or run. Never, ever trust a bot. Got it?"
I gulp hard. You don't need to tell me twice. I grew up by Dr Newton's side. I've seen Scouts carried through the gates, their clothes soaked with blood, their voices hoarse from pained screams. I've held people down against their will to give Dr Newton a chance to treat them. I've seen the horrible aftermath of what can happen out here. My hand quivers on the launcher.