Anderson had let Feyer boil up with anger, but now he felt an interruption was needed.
"Hey let’s cool things down Feyer. Take a look at yourself woman! What do you aim to do exactly – drop one of our toughest Avoiders with one of your crutches?"
"I don’t give a fuck. I was nearly raped in that mortuary down there and he says that I was fucking hiding!"
"We know you weren’t Feyer."
"What do you mean know? You wouldn’t have been able to see the details of what actually took place in the market-square from up here. I can see how you could have spotted the second-floor laser cannon crew but you couldn’t have seen the massacre in the square in detail?"
She had glared at Wingate when she had correctly detailed the laser cannon location and then the certainty in Anderson’s voice started to penetrate. As Feyer briefly fell silent, Anderson decided that it was time to drop his bombshell.
"We were there Feyer. Luke Bridges saw everything from the fringes of the square. He was our shadow. Luke has always shadowed active provision squads. He reports directly to me and until Goslar, it was good news after good news. None of the pack knew about shadowing until now – there was no need to illuminate this form of surveillance. His role has always involved assessing the method of operation. He follows provision squads in and gets out when the raid is nearly completed – or as in the case of Goslar, when the specific aims of the squad are thwarted."
Feyer’s anger returned.
"So that toad leaves when the shit hits the fan does he? Before I’m going to get gangbanged by a couple of project perverts!"
"Yes, but not before he’s seen your supposed leader scuttle away when the gunfight kicked off, or before witnessing you setting the charges that blew the Kaiserworth. He left after the last of the five died; they had ignored the correct order that you gave them. Do you see why our shadows have a use now Feyer? Do you see how they can tell me the truth Mr Wingate?"
Feyer was stunned and her emotions were quite confused. Her anger had initially increased when she felt that someone could have eased the pain she went through in Goslar, but she also felt a sense of jubilation because the whole pack had heard her words validated by their leader – exposing Wingate as a liar at the same time.
Anderson spoke again.
"Sorry for letting you suffer Mr Wingate’s lies Feyer, but we had to let the truth be established in front of the whole pack, after the failure in Goslar, you became their collective Saint, but Mr Wingate didn’t catch your spirit did he? Instead he has become the incarnation of cowardice – with treachery thrown in for good measure. Unfortunately your disgusting behaviour has forced my next move Taylor."
Anderson quickly drew his pistol, fitted the silencer and pointed it at the astonished unarmed pack member. Wingate didn’t have time to plead for clemency as a bullet ripped through his main neurological vault! Anderson realised that his new hard line approach had shocked the Avoiders and a uniform silence hung over the execution venue for some thirty seconds after the killing. He then closed the assembly with orders that encapsulated his new authoritarian form of control.
"We are going to leave this base tonight and find another temporary base deeper into the mountains. The project is going to know about this base when they scan the dead-heads and we aren’t going to wait around to be massacred. Feyer will follow the rest of us in three days time, once her injuries have recovered slightly. She can hand pick three Avoiders to remain with her and I will detail our rough location to her, before our departure. This assembly is now closed."
The pack made their way back to the caves, reflecting on the change that had come over Anderson. He had felled Wingate in a single act of calculated brutality. Some Avoiders privately felt that his summary-execution bore the hallmarks of MC-Project discipline and not the democratic style of leadership that they had become accustomed to. Even Feyer had been disturbed by the finality of Anderson’s discipline. She had hated Wingate twenty minutes earlier, when he tried to transfer his cowardice to herself, but despite this factor she couldn’t justify the execution of a man who had previously been a very dedicated pack member.
Later Anderson gave Feyer some written coded details surrounding the pack’s next Harz base and he instructed the woman to select the sentinels who would remain with her whilst she recovered.
Feyer asked Ludmilla, Blackwell and another British Avoider called Matthew Reed to remain with her. None of the three expressed any objection to her request and they inwardly felt very honoured by their selection.
Feyer hated resting as the others took turns in looking out for project forces and by the middle of the third day she couldn’t stand her incarceration any longer. The woman ripped off her bandages and started to partake in the rigorous training schedule that she had become accustomed to. As she shadow - boxed in the candlelit cave interior, sweat glistened on her brow. Her lithe frame may have been quite elfin on a first sighting, but the woman possessed a power that belied her slight exterior. She had rightly acquired a position of high rank in the Harz – pack through both physical strength and her astute leadership qualities. After finishing her exercises, she left the cave and located her three pack colleagues. She had decided to take a radical initiative and her group were going to be offered their own unique agenda. She spoke in a concise style of language that got straight to the point.
"I’m not going deeper into the mountains folks. That move plays into the hands of the MC-Project. Anderson may feel that his new get tough attitude will keep the pack together, but I don’t want to be part of a system of control that breaks the solidarity of the past. When the dead-heads reveal their visual story, the project will apply form to the Harz – pack and they will see that we have implemented a higher-up deeper-in base transfer time after time. When have we ever returned to a place where the project ran us ragged? Never is the word you are looking for."
Matthew Reed spoke out against Feyer’s line of argument.
"Return to Goslar Feyer? We’d be cut to pieces if we went back there! Five Avoiders were wiped out in that fucking place and you were nearly raped. How the hell can you contemplate returning to that scene of carnage?"
"Easily Matt! Think about it. The last place the project would expect us to relocate would be Goslar. It’s only a matter of time before they locate Anderson and the others. Our small group would just be lambs to the slaughter-if we follow their lead. Don’t you understand folks – the freedom party’s over! They’ve got too much on us now. We need to fragment the pack because some of us just might sink back into hiding if we scatter from the main pack. If our small pack initiated this splinter-logic, the whole pack would eventually catch our spirit and break away in small groups – if they survive that long that is! You three can do what you want though and anyone who wants to rejoin the others can have the relocation details that Anderson left me. I’m going back to Goslar tonight. An empty house won’t be hard to find in a town of the dead and dying!
"During the day I’ll feign vagrant identity until I can find a long – term venue to escape those bastards. Don’t you see the best hiding place is in the jaws of our enemy! I’ll give you five minutes to discuss where you want to go."
Ludmilla and Blackwell didn’t need time to look at the options and they stood by Feyer, united in their support for her. When he realised that one was now three, Matt Reed followed suit. His words lacked the certainty of the gestures of the other two.
"I guess you’re right Feyer. I can’t help feeling that we’re running out on the others though."
When the four of them reached the fringes of Goslar late that evening, eight fighter planes screamed high over their heads and then the distant mountain range was briefly lit up with tracer fire. No one said anything but everyone knew.
FOUR
The form writhed in the icy depths and darkness enveloped its frame. Splinters of blue ice tore into Klue’s lungs, but as the surface drew nearer the creature’s savage rejuvenation began. The eyes bore through th
e blackness as the strength of the predator grew. Moonlight started to penetrate down through the Lofoten waters and this furthered the dark inspiration that pushed the creature upwards. Klue sensed the imminence of the second arrival and fetid excretions were expelled from the form as the moment approached.
With only seconds left. The propulsion turned the creature momentarily on its side, but a vertical entry position was regained by wild thrashing strokes from the hind - quarters. The beast tore into the world for a second time, amidst a cloak of Phosphorescence and Klue was catapulted a few metres above the surface – due to the cumulative pressure behind the upward journey.
As it trod water, saliva was brushed from the mouth: like a man in motion but essentially a creature through the frame. It sensed land and moved towards the indistinct mass close by. It sensed prey but wanted to tame the misery of hunger - lock it in place with cruel desires that allowed play before the kill. Klue trembled as a hunter’s anticipation coursed through cold veins. It had been too long, so he was going to savour the first slaying – starve himself just that bit longer until they arrived on the scene. He expected them, the unwitting servants of his black desires – the sacrifice to usher in his rebirth.
As his form contacted land, he drew himself up to his full height. Klue was a man when he needed that shape, but a beast when he revealed his true nature.
Both forms entwined as he surveyed the Maelstrom. He waited for them, his glinting eyes forcing a cold marriage with the dark waters. They would come.
* * * * *
Klue slept on a hard rock until the light of dawn awakened him. His eyes instantly returned to the sea and a small fishing vessel could be seen navigating the channel. The Maelstrom was Klue’s playground and the four fishermen were about to receive his blessing for the first and last time.
The beast climbed higher up the outcrop and hatefully stared at his liquid domain. A faint smile creased his face as the first ripples of his presence spread across the water. Klue flexed his lean frame and let his malevolence incite the Maelstrom. As the waves increased in height the fishermen looked upwards to the darkening sky. The skipper feared the vortex that had claimed the lives of so many that had tried to navigate these harsh waters. He gave the order to return to port, but then Klue started to spin the currents, forcing the vessel into the circular movement that signified an impending whirlpool. A white sea mist blew across the channel and the waves rose to an awesome sight. The vessel had now been sucked into the eye of the Maelstrom and Klue directed the impending tragedy from his dark pulpit.
As the waves increased in force a howling wind could be heard, but the screams of those on the boat still managed to penetrate the chaos. Klue smiled as he heard them suffer. He enjoyed prolonging the torture of his victims and when the waves looked like they would suck the vessel under, he would relax his hold just a little, let the boat spin out to a calmer area and raise the hopes of the four men on board. After the bluff the creature would pull the vessel back into the whirlpool and the screams would rise again. Klue tired of playing after his sixth mock – release and he sank the boat with a savage fell swoop. As the boat was pulled deeper down it split apart and the four occupants drowned before their lungs exploded with the pressure. Their dead faces told the story of Klue’s torture, but none would see the portraits of suffering because both the wreckage and corpses sank into the oblivion of the darkest fathoms.
After his work was done, Klue lay outstretched on the stark rock outcrop. His chameleon form melted into his surroundings. He had enjoyed his play, but he looked forward to the impending days when his enemy would seek him out. A journey would call him soon, but on that morning he was savouring his rebirth. This was his lair and his Lofoten outpost had a fitting name to carry his presence. The Lofoten people knew his temporary home by a memorable name – Hell!
FIVE
Water dripped into the cellar of the dilapidated Goslar residence. The floors above Feyer’s pack weren’t inhabited, but project searchlights often penetrated the upper stories after darkness fell. It was this factor that forced the four Avoiders to share their nightlife with black rats in the recesses of the cellar. During the day everyone except Feyer, wore rags and mimicked the wasted expressions of the Prerogative Three victims around them. They queued for provisions like the others and managed to steal tinned foods from abandoned shops. Feyer couldn’t go with the rest for fear of being recognised by MC-Project sources and thus her incarceration had been total. The pack had spent a week in the cellar and the woman was becoming stir – crazy!
On the eighth evening Feyer actually managed to go into a deep sleep. Usually the damp and the rats would wake her several times during the night, but on this occasion she was dead to the world. Blackwell was on sentry duty that evening and he had stolen a couple of furtive glances at his dark haired leader as she lay sleeping. He adored the woman, but they had only been intimate once a couple of months back and now her eyes had a keep away look about them. He hoped that one day she would lighten up again, but right now he felt that there was too much fire in her mind.
As Feyer entered R.E.M her mindsight started flooding her brain with an assortment of disparate images. Recollections of Wingate and Anderson intertwined with juvenile recollections from her childhood days in Norway. The deep sleep kaleidoscope suddenly started to fade, diminishing into a blanket of darkness.
A series of non-activated images then forced their way into the woman’s mind. Feyer looked down on a moonlit sea from a viewing position high in the clouds. She enjoyed the space of a bird, although no species was registered and she would experience a feeling of plummeting descent before rising again to her previous high altitude. A faint smile emanated from the corners of Feyer’s mouth, because she was essentially enjoying her metaphysical gliding at this stage. Something broke the surface of the sea below her and immediately the woman dropped to survey what had entered her dream world.
As she dropped nearer to the source that had risen from beneath the waves, a fetid scent rose upwards to check her descent. Whilst the woman had seen through the darkness with the clarity of a night bird, the foul stench activated a very human revulsion in the dreamer. She was experiencing a surreal state where the visionary was anchored by the real.
Blackness temporarily interrupted the images, as the woman twisted uneasily in her sleep. When she settled, the images returned and it was daylight. She had a ground – level perspective now and she observed a craggy rock outcrop nearby. She overlooked a cold sea and a mist was thickening over her vista. The putrid smell was now far more pungent and the human side of the dreamer felt bile rise in her throat. Something arose right in front of her, but it faced the sea and she couldn’t discern the face of the creature. She noticed the black plated texture of the form in front of her, but then panic overcharged her system and the dreamer once again took flight.
Feyer experienced a horizontal trajectory when she left the outcrop and she viewed her surroundings at great speed – just a couple of metres above the now turbulent waves. As she started to rise, she saw a small boat caught up in a violent whirlpool. Her vision wouldn’t release her upwards though and she was forced to witness the suffering of the boat’s occupants time after time. The screams of those on board pierced the woman’s psyche, leaving an indelible register. When the vessel eventually broke apart the dreamer was forced under the waves, seeing death at touching – distance. The dying still released screams that penetrated to Feyer through the depths and her last recollection of the vision involved life draining from one of the victims. His eyes rolled white and his face was like a pallid death – mask sinking deeper in the water.
"Feyer! Yo Feyer! Come round now. Wake up for fucks sake! Please woman wake up!"
The voice belonged to Blackwell. Feyer had been thrashing from side to side and knocking her body against the hard cellar walls. It had taken the efforts of all three Avoiders to restrain her and yet even when she regained full consciousness, it took her a few minutes to regain
full cognisance of her surroundings. Feyer had vomit over her clothing and scratches were apparent on her arms. When she had recovered a little Blackwell spoke again.
"Jeez Feyer! You were like a woman possessed then. What the hell were you dreaming about?"
"It was like some virtual-death program. I can’t make any sense of it. The images were mainly based on memories I guess, but I can’t account for some bits! I just don’t fucking know!"
She then turned on her side and retched again as the fetid smell returned to her nostrils.
* * * * *
Thousands of kilometres away in Washington, Jess Wheeler kicked over his desk in frustration. He was alone, examining the laser footage of recent MC-Vault explorations and his private agenda wasn’t being realised. It had been over twelve years since he had first learnt that the Main MC-Vault may hold answers to some of man’s eternal questions and Wheeler had been the executioner of the person that carried out this private research. For the last four years, he like Mr Fray before him, had been fascinated by the opportunity to prove the existence of gods or devils. When he achieved Project – Leader status, he had ensured that one security unit had a sole duty that was concerned with the acquisition of individuals that professed to have seen God or were reputed to be possessed. Each individual had been placed in cryogenic storage, until they could be made ready for exploration.
When one of the selected was reanimated, Wheeler would instruct his team to perform visual operations on the Main MC-Vault and the vault-extension in some cases.
The Scream of Feyer: hitching a ride with a suicide bomber Page 4