by Ian Williams
“What’s going on, Jane? Where is he?” she said.
“He’s out the front with Elliot. He woke up about an hour ago and wanted to be outside in the breeze. I’m worried he’s got a slight infection from his wound, he feels really hot.”
Phoenix chose not to follow up with any more questions and continued out the door, brushing gently past them both. She was careful not to unbalance the pregnant Ruth as she moved. However urgent it was that she speak with the man, she was aware that she could not barge them out the way.
As she had been told, the man was outside and with Elliot standing next to him. A sense of relief at having confirmed this with her own eyes came over her. Elliot was talking to him. But about what, she could only imagine. She only hoped it was nothing too revealing about their little group. Her suspicious nature was something her parents had passed down. It had served her well enough so far and she had no intention of giving it up any time soon. Unfortunately, the others did not have as much sense. They were really city dwellers after all. They would never understand how bad things could be, this far out.
The man looked to be in a bad condition still, with a sickly pale tone to his skin. He sat on the boot of their electric car holding a half empty glass of water. The shirt he had been given, a garish green and yellow one from Elliot’s own supply, flapped loosely around his sides and failed to hide the bandages his torso had been wrapped in. Their patient was making a slow recovery and still needed rest.
That was the last thing she had planned for him.
“Hello Phoenix,” Ninety-three said when he spotted her approaching. Saying her name had not put him in her good books at all, in fact quite the opposite.
“How do you know my name?” she asked aggressively.
“Easy, Phoenix,” Elliot said. “He’s only been awake a little while.”
She was having none of it and wanted desperately for him to tell her everything he knew, without delay. “Where did you come from?”
Again Elliot went to put her questioning off for the time being, but Ninety-three stopped him. “It is alright, Elliot. Please let her speak.”
“OK,” Phoenix said, surprised by the response. “Get talking.”
After taking the rest of his glass of water in one gulp, the man handed it to Elliot and wiped his mouth clumsily. He then rubbed his hands together in a noticeably shaky way, not stopping until all the moisture was gone.
“There are some gaps in what I can recall.”
“Bullshit!” Phoenix automatically interrupted with.
Ninety-three looked to Elliot in confusion. Either he did not understand her comment or he was playing for a reaction.
“I assure you I speak the truth. What I remember is all I can retrieve from my memories. Everything else is missing or incomplete. The only thing I can remember for sure is that I have something I am supposed to tell you all. Something that could help you somehow.”
“About the Tower? Or maybe something about Graham? You said he’s still alive. How could you possibly know that?”
“I have no memory of having told you already. I do believe I am missing quite a few things. This body is indeed frail.”
This time it was Phoenix’s turn to look to Elliot and then back again.
“He’s been talking like that since he woke up,” Elliot said, pre-empting her obvious question. “Keeps saying he doesn’t belong here.”
“Is that true? Should you be here?” she asked him directly.
“No. I am somehow aware that something is wrong with me. I do not know who I am or why I should be feeling this way. All that I am is somehow trapped and unable to escape, like I am somehow locked inside this head.”
As he spoke he placed both hands on the sides of his face, only to accidentally slide his left hand into the black box attached in place. He froze his body instantly. Only his fingers remained free to move. They were given the gruesome task of discovering the truth all by themselves. There was something very wrong with him, and his exploration of the device made it clear just how serious it was.
“Any idea what that is?” Phoenix asked softly.
The man shifted nervously in place. “That is something I also appear to have lost. I suspect it should not be there. None of you have one?”
“No. But last night we went back to the Sentient tower and there were others with the same things on their heads. There’s definitely something bad going on and these boxes are connected somehow.”
“I would agree with that statement.”
“So how are we going to find out?” Elliot said. “If he knows anything about Graham, it’s as good as useless if it’s stuck in his head.”
“I think you should meet Stephen,” she said finally.
Elliot looked to her. “Why?”
“Because if we can’t do anything with it, then that only leaves one person who might.”
Elliot squinted. He struggled to contain his obvious disagreement.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said as he began walking back to the house. “He doesn’t cope well with things like this.”
Once Elliot had disappeared into the house, she studied the man’s body language. She had been face to face with the deceitful enough times in the past to pick up on the signs. The worst of which had been Anthony, who she had never known to be trustworthy. She tried her best to spot the usual hints that gave away a liar. He appeared happy enough for her to do so and watched with a half-smile, which slightly disturbed her. Yet after looking at the man in front of her for only a second or two, she could see nothing to dispute what he had said.
So he genuinely doesn’t remember anything about himself or why he’s here? she thought, with a quick consideration for where that left them. Part of her wished he was lying just so they could return to their peaceful way of life. Believing him meant a whole heap of trouble lay just beyond the city limits.
From the outside he looked harmless enough; only young, possibly not even twenty years old, and with a serious lack of any defined muscles. His short, curly blonde hair and ever so slightly flushed cheeks only added to his look of innocence. This kid was no threat to anyone, he could easily have sat in for the Milky Bar Kid. Yet someone had dealt him some serious injuries.
“Do you wish to ask me something, Phoenix?”
“Stop using my name,” she snapped back, “We don’t know each other.”
Ninety-three’s smile vanished instantly. “I apologise.”
“Don’t you remember anything before today?”
“Not in any real detail. I have many conflicting images in my mind, many of which I believe to be less than useful in their current state. I have only one complete image, which I have seen repeatedly since I awoke. It is strange. I can almost feel the memory too.”
“Try closing your eyes. It should make seeing it easier.”
Taking her advice worked straight away. His smile returned the moment his eyes shut tight. “Fascinating,” he said, possibly unintentionally aloud.
“What can you see now?”
“I can see a bright circular light high above. Wait, I see a shape in front of me, a being. No, no, stop.” Suddenly the man began to shout out. “Please, leave me alone. You must let me out.”
“Take a breath.”
She was ignored.
“I was unable to speak, I could not tell them to stop. They called me Ninety-three. Put down the knife. Please, leave me alone!”
She shook him free of the memory with a swift shove, sending him back into the rear window of the car he sat atop. His eyes burst open in surprise. Wherever he had just been, it had been a place full of pain from the look of his physical reaction. He lay back against the glass shaking.
“What happened?” she asked him.
For a few seconds he remained staring forward, past her entirely, to something beyond this world. The image of what he saw only moments ago still haunted his mind.
“I think it was where I came from.”
“What
were you seeing?”
“I’m not exactly sure. Possibly some kind of operation. I was trapped somewhere, watching it happen. After that, I lost the memory. Why is it so hard to remember?”
This had not been her plan, to find herself feeling sorry for their mystery man. Her intention was to ring him dry of everything he knew, including anything to do with Graham’s whereabouts. That looked less likely to happen now that she knew just how messed up he actually was.
At least now she knew what to call him, even if just a number. “Your name is Ninety-three?”
“It is the number assigned to me, yes,” Ninety-three said, pleased to have remembered something.
Stephen stuck his head out the front door and gawked at the man. He had nothing to worry about, she knew, but that failed to stop him finding his own reasons to be weary. In terms of how messed up they all were, he was by far the worst. Even Alex had worked out Stephen was missing more marbles than most, and she always treated him more like a younger brother than someone old enough to be her grandfather.
It took a gentle nudge from Elliot behind for him to step outside.
“It’s OK, Stephen. This man’s name is Ninety-three. He’s a friend.” She still had to definitively decide this, so her comment was all for Stephen’s benefit. Coaxing him out of the house sometimes felt similar to the way people did with a new pet. Of course he was far more capable than his usual demeanour suggested. Like Ninety-three, a lot was either missing or locked away inside the body.
“I don’t want to meet him,” Stephen said bluntly.
“Please. Talk to me then if you don’t want to talk to him. Just come over here.”
He did, with a deliberately slow shuffle rather than a step. Elliot stayed close by to stop Stephen suddenly changing his mind and running back into the house again. It was slightly cruel, but they had no choice. There was a chance he could help. “What do you want me to do?” he said.
“I thought you’d like to see something cool, Stephen,” Phoenix replied, with a nod of encouragement to help him along.
“Sure.”
She pulled Ninety-three up into a sitting position and then reached for his head. She stopped before taking hold. “Do you mind?” she asked. He nodded his approval. “What do you think this little box on his head is for?”
Stephen stepped closer to take a look, his curiosity predictable enough to make him interested. When he could see it clearly, its missing cover and the glowing wires inside too, his eyes instantly widened. She was confident he recognised something.
“Told you it was cool,” Phoenix said.
He kept his eyes keenly studying the device as he spoke. His hand went to touch the inside a few times seemingly without his knowledge. He wanted to investigate more, but his timid personality forbade it. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “Where did it come from?”
Ninety-three spoke while holding his head steady for Stephen. “I do not know. However, I believe it is part of the reason why I am here.”
Stephen nodded in deliberation. “It’s so advanced. I’ve never seen anything so cool.”
“I think it’s broken, Stephen,” Phoenix said, to keep them focused. “Do you think you could fix it for us?”
“Oh no. This is too cool for me to fix.”
“That’s a shame. I was sure you’d be able to,” she said to stir him into rethinking his answer.
“Why? I’ve never seen it before.”
“It’s just that you’re good with technology. You were once called The Sentient Collector, weren’t you?”
“Of course, yes I was.” Stephen replied with pride. But quickly his insecurity returned to pull him back in fear. “He might hurt me.”
“I assure you I am not dangerous,” Ninety-three said after seeing the mistrust written across Stephen’s face; a reaction no evil doer would bother with. “I came here to help you all.”
“But you can’t remember why, can you?” Phoenix asked. She had noticed Ninety-three’s reaction to being seen as a threat. Surprisingly, he acted with concern for Stephen.
“Regrettably, no.” He shook his head in shame.
“See, I think it’s because that box is doing something to you, or even damaged. You might still have the memories, but we can’t get to them while it’s like that.” She pointed to where a protective cover should be. Leaving the glowing wires open to the world, and its habit of making things dirty, had almost certainly left the device faulty. She at least thought that made some sense. Whether that was blocking Ninety-three’s memory or not, she could only guess.
“But if Stephen can’t fix it then who can?” Elliot said.
Phoenix knew someone she could try. The problem was this particular person had once worked for Anthony, just like she had. She was not convinced he would be totally trustworthy. He had been the person to go to if her problems were of a technological nature, such as a bank account she did not own refusing to transfer its money to her. In short, he was a hacker with a good working knowledge of tech most never even knew existed. It was his know-how that had helped Anthony set up his MARC collection sites in the first place.
With Anthony gone, he may have turned to a more legal path in life. Or not. She hoped not, as getting him to help would be more complicated otherwise; blackmail was never her thing, but she had no problem turning to such a tactic when needed. He had only ever been interested in the money, however. He had never shown an interest in what cause his employers were following. So she expected he was still up to no good. It was easier for someone with his skills after all.
“I know someone who might be able to help,” she said, stepping around the boot of the car and opening the back door.
“Why don’t I like the sound of that?” Elliot said. His voice sounded slightly muffled by the thick rear window as she leaned across the back seat for something. What she wanted still rested where she left it the night before. She pulled it out of the foot-well and exited the car. In the light of day it was clear this was no basic weapon. She forgot to even check it over when she stole it. Now she could see its workings and judge roughly how to use it.
“What?! Where did you get that?” Elliot said.
“Cool,” Stephen added. His attention had shifted far too quickly.
“I stole it from that guard last night. I’m not going into the city without protection, it’s still pretty messed-up there. This should do fine.”
Elliot rolled his eyes and sighed. “This is another stupid idea, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so,” she replied.
Raising the submachine gun to her eyes proved useless, as the weapon had no sight. Surely it was not to be aimed from the hip? That would waste far too many bullets. The barrel was not of any standard design either, with a metallic ball on the end rather than a single opening. Strangely, a collection of holes had been cut into the sphere, which all aimed at various angles away from the weapon. Each could easily allow a small bullet to pass through.
“Press that red button there,” Ninety-three said. To her surprise, he knew how it worked.
She found the button on the right side of the weapon, but hesitated. It was not accompanied by a message or a warning, just an unnamed red button. When she pressed it something happened immediately. A small part of the casing opened and allowed an inch high, pointed piece of metal with a tiny circular lens on the tip to flick up automatically into place.
“Wow!” she said in response.
None of the others could see it, just her. The weapon had been fitted with an eye tracking system that could see exactly where she was looking. When she looked at the others she was shocked to see them all highlighted in red, like large glowing aliens. As long as she kept the gun aimed roughly in their direction, she could see it tracking each of them.
“I need to try this out.”
“On what?” Elliot said. He was in protective mode again.
Turning the weapon away from the others, she then found something to aim at; a messy pile of tin cans sat ar
ound their small metal bin. With the eye tracking, she selected three of the cans – separated by a few inches – with one solid blink each. Then when she pulled the trigger the cans jumped in the air almost instantaneously. Everything in between was left untouched, only the cans had been hit. What impressed her the most was that she only had to pull the trigger once to hit three different targets. Even Anthony had never had such an awesome toy!
After switching off the weapon, she watched as the eye tracking lens flicked away by itself. She looked back at the others with a wide smile on her face. The false feeling of invincibility it had given her was clear for them all to see.
Stephen, understandably, did not appreciate it at all and stood with his hands clamped over his ears. He only removed them again when Elliot began to speak.
“Christ, you’re going to get yourself killed. I better come with you again,” he said.
She interrupted their moment of solidarity with a disappointing message for Elliot. “Not this time. It’s just going to be me and our new friend here.”
Elliot disagreed vehemently with a shake of his head. “No way. You can’t expect me to let you two go by yourself. No, I won’t do it.”
Ruth, Jane, Alex and Sean came out to investigate the unexpected noise. They arrived just before Phoenix was about to end the discussion once and for all. The subject was settled either way. She would not let Elliot go too, he was needed at home. Besides, she was certain the city would be more likely to react to her and Elliot entering together. At least if it were only her and Ninety-three, if they were stopped Elliot could be the backup. Whether he liked it or not.
“What’s going on?” Ruth asked.
Elliot replied as if telling, like a disgruntled child. She would not have been surprised to see him crossing his arms and sulking on the spot too. “She wants to take our guest into the city, alone. She doesn’t want me going with her.”
“Look, if it gets dangerous then I’ll leave straight away,” Phoenix said. “You should be here with your wife. What if she goes into labour while you’re in the city?”
“She’s right, Elliot,” Ruth said as she linked her arm with his.