“I think you need stitches,” I say quietly, sure that the Medicet will be here soon. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He tries to take his shirt off but winces in pain at the slightest movement. “Let me.” I unbutton his shirt and help him take it off, one arm at a time. Even this basic task causes him enormous pain, and I know he’s trying to be brave for me. I see several bruises forming over his ribcage and on his back, it’s obvious that he’s taken a severe beating. “Who did this to you?” I say angrily as I feel the fury building inside me.
“My father.”
“Why?” I ask, as I cannot fathom how any father would have cause to do this to his son. He won’t look me in the eye and that tells me all I need to know. “He did this to you because of me?” I ask skeptically.
“He is vehemently opposed to us Ariana, he’s refusing to vote you in as my assigned suitor and he warned me to stay away from you. I was arguing with him and he ... he just lost it. He’s swung a few punches at me in the past, but nothing like this, he was out of control. I tried to defend myself, but I seriously thought he was going to kill me. Jaden pulled him off and I just ran.” I can see the pain, anger and fear in his eyes, and my heart aches for him. I look around as the Medicet appears, applies the stitches and administers pain medication. I know it will only be seconds before he passes out; I manage to get him upstairs just before he succumbs.
I sit on the edge of the bed stroking his face and running my fingers through his hair, thinking how young and innocent he looks in sleep. What possesses someone to inflict this kind of pain on one of their own? Someone they are supposed to love, cherish and protect? And as I have thought so frequently recently, this can’t surely be about me? Why is it that Cal’s father has an issue with me, and my father seemingly objected to Cal? Why has my life become so complicated and difficult? I leave a glass of water beside the bed and resentfully leave the room. I want to curl up beside him, hold him, and ease his pain, but the authorities won’t let me. I know it’s pointless to be mad, all it will do is exacerbate my stress levels, but I won’t be able to internalize my feelings for much longer. I feel like a pressure cooker that’s about to explode and I feel a fervent desire to run to my woods and scream my head off in privacy. Instead, I try and get some sleep.
His face is so close to mine that, even in my sleep, I involuntarily stretch out my hand to touch him. “Ari, Ari, can you hear me,” he says urgently. “I hope you can. I love you. Hang tight, I’m coming to get you.”
I sit bolt upright in the bed, there’s no mistaking it this time. Zane has just spoken to me.
PART II – ZANE
CHAPTER 16
It was a bright, crisp spring day. The day my whole world fell apart, the day that Ariana was wrenched from my life. In some respects, it’s hard to believe that it was only two years ago, in other ways it feels like an eternity has passed. I still grieve for her as much as I did at the start. There were those who told me it would get easier, but it hasn’t, and I know it won’t. I wonder which situation is hardest. Mine, because I remember everything, or hers because she can’t.
The not-so-subtle knock on my front door heralds her arrival; Isla, my closest friend here in Connecticut. Ariana used to fulfil that role until ... I stop myself from going there, Isla has a short fuse, and she’s sick to death of my desolation at this stage. And it’s not solely because she has designs of her own, but mainly because she can’t stand to see me beat myself up over it time and time again. I wonder what she’d make of the dreams. I deliberately chose to keep it a secret from her. I feel bad because she tells me everything, but she just wouldn’t understand, no one does. The depth of my connection to Ari is inexplicable.
“Zane, get your butt out here now or so help me, I’ll come in there and drag you out myself!” Isla shouts through the letterbox. I grab my weatherproof black jacket from the banisters and yank open the front door.
“Keep your hair on Munroe, always in such a hurry,” I tease. She’s dressed for the wintry weather in jeans and her khaki green rain jacket. Her short, blonde hair is wet from the drizzling rain, but she couldn’t be less concerned. That’s one of the things I find so refreshing about Isla, she’s not in the slightest bit vain or caught up in her appearance. Ari isn’t vain, but she took pride in her appearance and she liked to look nice. Isla is more your stereotypical tomboy.
“You’re far too laid back Anders, that’s your main problem,” she mocks me in response as she arm punches me. It’s full force.
“Why do we always have this same argument? Our shift doesn’t start for thirty minutes, we have plenty of time,” I say.
“I just love winding you up.”
“Well, add it to your list of skills, you’re damn good at it,” I jest. I’m pleased that our easy going relationship has finally resumed, things were a bit difficult there for a while, but she seems to have gotten over it. Her friendship is really important to me.
I hear footsteps running behind us. “Wait up guys,” I hear a voice shout out and I immediately place it.
“Hey Cian,” Isla says as he appears on her left. Cian Phellps is another of our co-workers in Ceut, the state-owned pharmaceutical company that manufactures all medication, medical supplies and equipment for Novo. We were lucky to get jobs at a time when so many are still out of work, yet it’s hard to consider ourselves fortunate. My job is mind-numbingly boring and as far removed from my desired career path as you can get.
My real passion is technology, hand me any type of computer or technical gadget and I get lost in an alternate universe. I’ve been messing about with computers since I was a kid, there isn’t much that I don’t know about them. Not that I get many opportunities to indulge my passion these days. All modern technology is banned on Earth and all technical devices were confiscated in the early raids. I managed to hide some of my equipment and I have encrypted all the devices so that the data is unusable if it winds up in the wrong hands. I’m glad I had the foresight to stash them, immersing myself in my computer world is the only thing that keeps me from going crazy, that and thoughts of my family.
On Sundays, I usually make the five-hour round trip to see my mother and kid brother. The usual pang of anxiety hits me as I think of them. Being forcibly separated from Ari was distressing enough, but then my family were made to move to another state after I located work in Ceut. Government policy dictates that only those who work in Ceut or in the military infrastructure plant, the two state industries in Northern Connecticut, get to live in the area. My mother couldn’t pick up work in either plant, so she was forced to move to New York, where she eventually secured work in the new textile factory. Elijah, my thirteen year old brother, attends the state school there. He will have three more years before he’s forced to look for his own employment.
My ambition had been to attend Southern Connecticut State University and achieve a Degree in Computer Science. That was before the devastating events that almost destroyed Earth and the atrocities inflicted on us by the new authorities. “Yo, dreamer, come back to the land of the living,” Isla says sourly. She has a special knack for determining when I’m being pensive. She thinks I’m wallowing in it and is on a one-woman mission to rescue my troubled mind. Good luck with that, I think.
“I’m all yours,” I say giving her my full attention.
“If only,” she mutters under her breath.
We make it on foot to the train station in plenty of time. It’s just as well, considering they’ve changed the time of our habitual rail service, without any advance warning. It’s only a twenty minute train journey to the Ceut Plant and we pass the time playing cards. All the old-school traditional activities and forms of entertainment have made a comeback on Earth, now that we have no access to the internet or gaming. The only programmes aired on TV are old re-runs and the news feeds are all government-fed propaganda, I barely turn it on anymore. We receive no information on life in Novo and I was completely in the dark until recently. The irony of the situation is that, in
trying to destroy our way of living and keep us under the thumb, the authorities have inadvertently generated stronger bonds within communities. There is a real ‘them and us’ culture in existence now, the need to survive has forced our people to delve deep within their reserves, and find the necessary strength to pervade.
I stare out the window as the forest comes into view; the memories surge forth rapidly. Ari and I used to run out there every morning before school. When we were training for events we spent a lot more time at the school running track, but our favorite place to run was the woods. I still go there sometimes, if I can sneak out without being spotted by any of the Rangers. It’s difficult to stay within the confines of the law if you want to have any sort of life here. The curfew is in operation from shortly after I get home from work until it’s time to leave again the next morning. It’s a deliberate attempt to curtail social interaction and keep us all locked up in our homes like virtual prisoners. I used to sneak out for a run without too much trouble, but that was before they doubled their efforts. Now there are twice as many Rangers on duty around the clock and the number of fly-bys and overhead monitoring has significantly intensified. I now know why of course.
The train slows down as it approaches the station. Cian busies himself with tidying up the cards and secures the pack firmly in his backpack. Isla is looking at me in consternation, I know I’m really testing her patience to the limit at the minute. It’s the influx of dreams. It’s all become so real, so raw again, but I don’t know how to switch it off. And even if I did, I know I wouldn’t want to.
I remember the first time I recognized my ability; Ari and I had been training for a half marathon together when I had to unexpectedly pull out. My heart condition had only just been diagnosed and I was scheduled for my first surgery. I was recovering in hospital the day of the race and I was eager to know where Ari had placed. I was on a countdown until she visited that night. I must have been focusing so hard on visualizing it, that I subconsciously tapped into the part of my mind that housed my extrasensory perception. For all of a sudden, I could see her, approaching the finishing line, the beads of sweat on her forehead, the look of fierce determination on her face as she pushed herself over the line. The clock registered her time, 1:43:12. I didn’t realize what I’d seen until she showed up that night, proudly showing me her certificate, with the official time documented. I knew it wasn’t coincidence, although it took several more similar episodes before I really believed that I had some form of special talent.
I haul myself out of the seat and follow Cian and Isla off the train. I make an effort to engage in their conversation as we walk towards the plant. Once inside the building I clock in and say my goodbyes to Isla. She works in the medical supplies section while Cian and I work in medical devices. Occasionally we are assigned to other units and I’ve spent periods of time in all sections of the facility by now. Each job is as boring as the next, but I don’t complain. I come in on time, do my work and go home.
“You coming to the party on Saturday?” Cian asks as we get changed into our work gear.
“Maybe,” I say and my tone is deliberately non-committal. I may have plans and besides the incident with Isla happened the last time Cian threw one of his infamous parties. I’m not sure returning to the scene of the crime so soon is such a good idea.
“Ah, come on man, you’ve got to come. Abe has been brewing a special concoction in honor of the occasion,” Cian says persuasively.
“What is the occasion?”
“My twentieth birthday.”
“OK, I’ll be there,” I say, knowing that he would be offended if I didn’t show my face at all. Cian is the eldest within our group; I turned nineteen a couple of months back and it was Isla’s eighteenth birthday the last party celebration. I instantly feel guilty, and I know it’s because I haven’t treated her right.
Cian and I make our way down to section five and I mentally prepare myself for a long day ahead.
***
I’m bone weary at the end of the shift and grateful when the clock booms signalling the end of the working day. I wait in my usual spot for Isla and she amicably hooks her arm through mine as we walk down the path towards the train station. “Where’s Cian?” she asks.
“He had to stay back to complete his section.”
“Again?” she asks the obvious.
“Cian was born to be creative. Standing on an assembly line cutting pieces for medical devices was never in his grand plan,” I say, and it rings true for all of us. Cian seems to majorly struggle though and it’s not for sheer lack of effort on his part. People often mistake him for a layabout, but you know what they say about judging a book by its cover? With his shoulder length jet black hair, piercing green eyes and unkempt dress sense he looks like a disgruntled, dishevelled member of a rock band, and people automatically assume he has that temperament. But Cian gives everything one hundred percent; he’s just completely unsuited to the work he’s doing.
“Is the plan still on for tonight?” Isla asks. I nod in response. I quickly look left and right to ensure no one has heard.
“You must be more discreet Isla, remember what we’ve been told.”
“Chill, it’s not like I gave anything away.”
I know I’m being overly cautious, but I’ve been jittery these last few weeks, the memories of our fallen colleagues are never far from my mind. It all started one night after work.
Isla, Cian and I were walking out of the Ceut building to commence the journey home when a number of NSAF vans came careering around the corner, over the grass, and veered up towards the front entrance. We had stood transfixed, unable to tear our gaze away. We watched as several workers were dragged out by Rangers and beaten bloody in front of our eyes. It was a deliberate act of savagery, meant as a warning to others. At the time, we three had no clue as to why this had happened. I had puzzled over it for days until that fateful night.
I’d been assigned temporarily to the lab and I had to stay late in order to complete my tasks. I was walking from the train station towards my house when someone grabbed me from behind and shoved something roughly over my head. I was plunged into instant darkness and I couldn’t see anything in front of me. I felt two pairs of arms restrain me as I thrashed about, fueled by the rush of adrenaline flooding my body. Realizing quickly it was pointless to resist, I’d allowed them put me in the back of the vehicle and had sat silent for the duration of the short journey. All kinds of scenarios were playing out in my head, but I had focused on staying calm and alert, ready for an escape if the opportunity presented itself. I knew we were going deep underground by the sheer number of steps we descended. We came to an eventual stop and I was lead down numerous corridors and brought into a warm room. When my mask was withdrawn, it took several minutes for my eyes to adjust to the light and my surroundings. He’d introduced himself as Agent Dale and explained about Clementia, the clandestine resistance movement building momentum on Earth. Their aim—freedom for all mankind.
“What’s this got to do with me,” I had asked.
“We need to build the best team around us if we’re to have any chance of success. Infiltrating the government systems is a high priority and requires specialist IT skillsets, skillsets like yours,” he had replied.
“How do you know about my computer skills?” I’d asked curiously. I’ve gone to great lengths to hide my equipment and my work, to avoid detection, or so I thought until that moment.
“Your name was given to us by a sympathizer,” he had explained.
“Who?”
“That’s classified.”
He then gave me a tour of the extensive operational facility. Central Control is a huge square room with manned desks spanning the full circumference. There are large screens positioned at every vantage point, showing an array of graphs, grids, communications, maps and other live military information. In the center of the room is a large oval-shaped table, surrounded by twelve seats. There’s an exit point at the back left-
hand side of the room which opens into a long, narrow corridor with a succession of meeting rooms and offices on either side. Agent Dale also showed me the training unit and weapons storage facility. He pulled up a map and pointed out the various other sections of the vast underground tunnel network, which include an equipment manufacturing division, research facility, laboratory, aircraft hangar, medical center, educational center and living quarters.
The depth and breadth of what they’ve built covertly underground is astounding. When he had taken me into the control room, I’d known instantly—by all the high-tech screens and equipment—that this hadn’t come from sympathizers on Earth. “There are sympathizers on Novo?” I had asked incredulously.
“Yes. You need to go away and think about what you can do, what you can help us achieve, and whether you want to play a part. It’s not without danger, although we work hard to protect our own,” he had said, before I was escorted back to my house.
I recall my fretful night’s sleep that night and my internal agonizing. The next day I told them I couldn’t get involved. In hindsight, I should have requested more time to think. I’ve always been a planner, a thinker and it’s rare that I act rashly, or make any ill-considered decisions. Over the next few days, I had begun to regret my decision, but I’d been pressured into giving a quick response, I rationalized.
A few nights later they had kidnapped me again. This time Agent Dale showed me pictures and videos and explained in detail about life on Novo, outlining the government plans and unpopular policies. I had grown immediately frustrated at the senselessness of the situation. I was shellshocked by the images of Novo, a sophisticated planet—created in Earth’s own likeness—where advanced technology and telecommunications were the order of the day and its citizens went about their day ignorant to the plight of those left behind on Earth. The rage and fury I felt were instantaneous. Agent Dale, clearly used to this type of reaction, permitted me to vent until it was all out of my system. Then he showed me the picture that changed everything; it was a picture of Commander Skyee.
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