Daywards

by Anthony Eaton

‘I don’t think so.’

  Then he moved around to the bottom of the table, fiddled with something else, and again Dara had the uncomfortable sensation of her bladder relieving itself of its own accord.

  ‘Done.’

  ‘Good.’

  Dara listened as the men’s footsteps moved over to the doorway. First one exited and then the other, but the door didn’t close right away. Instead, Drake’s voice floated back to her.

  ‘It will take me about fifteen minutes to gather the items I require for this procedure, Miss Dara. During that time, I suggest that you have a long think about your refusal to assist us with these few trivial matters, because if you are still being obstinate when I return, you will leave me with no choice but to proceed. That will be a pity, because eighty-five per cent of the people who’ve been subjected to this particular, very effective, method of interrogation have never emerged from the induced catatonic state into which they were placed. And those who did wake up were often … rather damaged. A little limited in their ability to perform basic actions like walking, speaking and eating, for example. Please think hard about whether the price is worth it.’

  Then the door hissed shut.

  A hopeless blanket of despair settled over Dara. She didn’t doubt for a moment that Drake was serious. But even if she told them about Jaran, she had no idea where Ma Saria and Eyna were, and it seemed unlikely they’d believe that.

  She blinked as a sheen of tears blurred across her eyes.

  This was strange, because there’d been no response from her tear ducts when Drake had blasted them with that red light. In fact, her eyes had felt unnaturally dry and itchy ever since.

  Then her fingertips began tingling. At first the sensation was faint and uncomfortable, like ants crawling across her skin, but it quickly grew in intensity and began to spread up her arms and into her shoulders, carrying with it a warm, dull ache.

  Her toes were tingling, too.

  The feeling seeped from her shoulders into her neck and, without warning, her head flopped sideways, so that she was suddenly facing the doorway. Instinctively, she tried to turn the other way and this time, to her delight, her body responded to the command from her brain, and she turned her head to look left.

  Her left arm twitched – a real, actual movement and not a phantom tug of muscle-memory such as she’d had under the influence of the paralytic.

  Dara almost shouted with joy, but stopped herself.

  Everything is monitored. And Drake had specifically told them that he’d be listening in.

  All the better. Dara grinned inwardly. When it came to being silent, she was second to none.

  Dara lay waiting as her body came slowly back to life. The experience was far from comfortable, accompanied by a series of sharp cramps and spasms, and she had to fight the urge to try and rise too soon. If she did, if she tried to move before her body was fully her own again, the chances were that she’d crash or collapse into something, and then it would all be over.

  Eventually she felt strong enough to risk sitting up and with trembling arms she pushed herself upright. Now she could look around properly.

  The room, as she’d suspected, was one of the semi-opaque domes she’d seen dotted around the Eye. It was one of the smaller ones, she judged, perhaps just five or six metres in diameter. Overhead, the hexagonal panels glowed with uniform brightness, so that the light inside was even and shadowless. Along one wall a long, curved bench was covered with various pieces of tech. In the other wall was set the entrance door – a blank rectangle made of the same plastic material as everything else.

  Leaning forward, Dara was caught by a sharp tug at her left hand and she realised that the fluid line Raj had put in was still in place. Holding the hand up, she fiddled with the small connector before dislodging it by the simple method of grabbing it firmly and ripping it out. It popped from the back of her hand with a small gush of blood and a bright stab of pain.

  She went to swing sideways from the bed and found herself tangled in another clear tube, this one running upwards from a device on the floor between her feet and connected into her left leg. Unlike the one she’d just removed, this tube was thicker, capable of carrying a higher volume of fluid, and the connecting canula was securely taped into place just above her ankle. There was no way she would be able to pull it out.

  Dara was pondering this, when she noticed two odd things. Firstly, the tube into her leg had been clamped; at the bottom of the canula, so close that she’d thought it was part of the canula itself, a small metal surgical clamp had been locked into place over the soft plastic tubing, effectively cutting off the flow of whatever it was entering her body.

  Secondly, a small friction cutter had been slipped onto the table between her thighs, where it wouldn’t have been visible to anyone not standing at her feet.

  Raj.

  Without any hesitation, Dara grabbed the cutter, slipped it over the tubing below the clamp and triggered the blade. It sliced through the tube neatly, which fell away onto the floor, and immediately a gentle but steady flow of clear liquid began forming a widening pool below the table.

  She was free.

  But free to go where? The only way out seemed to be the door, but somewhere on the other side of it she knew Drake was waiting, quite possibly on his way back here even now.

  On shaky legs she tottered across to the nearest glowing wall panel, the simple act of keeping her footsteps light and silent a much bigger effort than it should have been. She pressed the panel tentatively. These structures were clearly temporary, designed to collapse, so perhaps she could just pull a panel out.

  No such luck, though. The luminescent plastic, which felt oddly warm and cold at the same time, proved as unyielding as the plascrete walls of the dome back in the city.

  Her time now running seriously short, there was no other option but the door. It took only a moment to creep across and locate the simple pressure panel mounted on the wall beside it.

  Here goes, she thought, and placed her sweaty palm against the cold plate, hoping like the sky that there was no sort of identity scanning device attached.

  Clearly there wasn’t, because the door slid aside with a pneumatic hiss, and there was Mister Raj, waiting with one finger pressed against his lips.

  Everything is monitored, Dara reminded herself.

  Raj turned and led her along a long, gloomy passageway – one of the silvery connections she’d seen joining the various domes and structures in the clearing. There were no windows and the only light came from small powerlamps mounted at intervals on the left-hand wall, so there was no way of knowing if it was day or night outside. Dara realised she had no idea how long she’d been kept in here.

  At the end of the passageway was a T-junction, and Raj took the right-hand corridor, which ended a few steps later at a steeply angled ladder. Her guide climbed the five or six steps, triggered another pressure plate at the top, and a heavy hatch swung back to reveal a brightly lit corridor, different from the temporary silver ones. Before climbing through, Raj signalled Dara to stay still, while he poked his head through and checked to make certain the way was clear. Then he moved on and Dara scurried up and through behind him, before the hatchway closed again.

  She guessed they must now be inside one of the three large structures. Nothing here had the collapsible look of the dome and the passages. The passageway into which they’d stepped was made of solid metal, with coloured pipes running along the walls and all manner of strange tech everywhere.

  There wasn’t time for sightseeing, though, because Raj had hurried ahead, moving with increasing urgency that encouraged Dara to speed up her own pace. Halfway along the corridor he stopped, turned and then knelt at Dara’s feet. From a pocket on his jumpsuit, he pulled a large patch of flimsy looking material and peeled a transparent backing strip from it. Then he took hold of the canula that was still attached to her leg, and which she had already bumped painfully several times since she’d left the dome. He twisted it
slightly and then pulled the tape off it in one quick, smooth gesture.

  Dara clenched her teeth against the expected pain, but none came. By the time she looked down again, Raj had removed the canula from her leg and applied the fabric, which adhered to her skin, stopping any bleeding.

  Then, with a satisfied nod, he triggered a doorway in the side of the corridor. Above it, a red light began flashing and the door slowly wound open to reveal a small, tight space behind it, which he gestured her into.

  For the first time since having her body returned to her, Dara hesitated. The flashing light seemed ominous and the room was little more than a dark, unlit cupboard. What if all this was a trap, some elaborate ruse to scare her into cooperation?

  One glance at the worried expression in her companion’s eyes, though, and Dara decided to take the risk.

  She stepped past Raj and through the doorway. The room was only just big enough for her to stand upright. Raj leaned in and spoke for the first time, his voice a bare whisper in her ear.

  ‘As soon as the outer door opens, they’ll know. Alarms will go off everywhere. But I’ve disabled the drones for at least the next halfhour, and it’s early afternoon outside so you’ve got a couple of hours before anyone else can come out after you.’

  ‘Why are you helping me?’

  The pale man smiled. ‘My daughter would have been about your age now, if she was still alive. I would want her treated this way.’

  He didn’t give Dara a chance to respond, but slammed his fist against a button on the wall and quickly whipped his arm and head back out into the corridor, only just getting them clear before the doorway hissed shut between them.

  ‘Good luck,’ he whispered as the door hid him from view.

  There was a loud pop and a surge of pressure in her ears, and then, to her amazement, the other wall of the room slid aside and warm, natural sunlight streamed in to the small chamber.

  The ground was about two metres below the edge of the door and Dara steeled herself for the leap. Somewhere behind she was dimly aware that a siren had begun emitting a low, regular ‘whoop’. She needed to get out now, before someone thought to lock the door again.

  ‘Thank you!’ she yelled back at the sealed hatchway behind her and then jumped. Her left ankle twisted slightly as she landed, but not too badly.

  As she’d suspected, Raj had led her into one of the large buildings and she emerged disoriented, lost in a maze of silvery walkways and thick cables. Then she spotted a corner of the Eye, and beyond it a glimpse of forest.

  Alarms were going off everywhere, inside and outside. From the nearest walkway, she heard loud shouts and running footsteps. Then, above her head, the doorway through which she’d escaped slammed shut with a vicious finality. That prompted her into action and she started running, carefully avoiding the myriad cables that littered the ground between the buildings, weaving her way as fast as she dared towards the green haven of the forest.

  To her amazement, she reached the forest edge without interference, and once she was standing safely in the shade of the first large trees she looked back. On top of one of the large structures a hatchway swung open and a figure in a silver suit and helmet began to emerge, but it got only halfway out before suddenly throwing its suited arms over its head and sliding back inside again.

  In daylight, the Nightpeople’s camp looked less frightening. The domes were dirty and worn and the silvery walkways had been visibly patched in a number of places. Even the permanent buildings had a tired and faded look about them. Their black surfaces, which last night had seemed to shine under the hard light of the powerlamps, were worn and pitted.

  After a glance at the top of the Eye, to reassure herself that the spherical drones weren’t, as Raj had suggested, coming after her, Dara allowed herself a grim smile and then, with a determined look on her face, she turned and vanished into the patchwork shadows of the afternoon forest.

  By the time the sun was finally below the treetops and the whole forest sinking into golden twilight, Dara was well clear of the Eye and, she hoped, the Nightpeople. Her stomach rumbled, but she didn’t dare stop and find food. At her side, her small bundle of tech, which she’d retrieved before plunging into the forest, swung against her hip and she thought briefly about the sachets of prosup she’d flushed down the creek. Da Janil always had a thing about waste. He wouldn’t let anything be discarded, even broken-down tech. He used to lecture the littlies about it all the time. Now she understood why.

  For most of the afternoon she’d plunged nightwards, below the sheltering foliage while following the line of the escarpment, all the while keeping a close eye on the descending sun, as it arced inexorably towards the horizon. Raj had told her she had at least ‘a couple of hours’ before anybody could follow her, but then what? She was also constantly listening behind, always half-expecting the resonating buzz of a drone to come floating through the trees.

  Luck seemed to be on her side, and as the hours passed without any sign of pursuit she allowed herself to relax, to let the swing of her footsteps fall into their more natural rhythm, and to draw some energy up from the warm forest floor beneath her bare feet.

  Despite her hunger, she felt okay. Strong, even. At least the Nightpeople had given her the chance to rest up. She’d walk all night, if necessary, though she’d prefer not to. She had a destination in mind. Somewhere up ahead, half a day’s walk from the Eye, she knew of a large fissure in the escarpment, a deep scar clefting into the dark granite cliff face. She’d noticed it several times when swimming at the waterhole and had always thought it looked particularly climbable. If she could find it in the dark, she’d have a way to descend to the coastal forest in relative safety. And once down there, on familiar ground, there was no way Drake or Blin would ever find her, even with all their tech.

  As twilight started to fade from the sky, Dara stopped and reached, relishing the familiar tug as the earthwarmth helped her flow out into the wider awareness of the Earthmother. Back at the Eye, the now-familiar coldness of the Nightpeople’s camp was unchanged. Down in the clan caves a similar sensation prevailed, although here and there isolated sparks flared occasionally, like a distant campfire seen from a long way off, flickering between trees. There were also moving patches of nothing, of the same cold emptiness as the buildings, which she presumed to be individual Nightpeople moving around.

  Slowly, not wanting to exhaust herself, she started to push out further, hoping to find Eyna or Ma Saria nearby, but before she could do so, a vibrating thrum caught her attention.

  Something was coming from the Eye, headed in her direction. Dara thought it must have been one of the drones, but the sound was different and built too quickly. This was a low-pitched hum, which set the air vibrating and resonated into the ground so deeply that she could feel it as much through the soles of her feet as her ears.

  Straining her eyes, Dara peered back the way she’d come, frozen for a moment in fearful indecision, hoping for a glimpse of whatever bit of tech they’d sent after her. But it remained hidden by the forest and cloaked by the deepening darkness. Once she thought she caught a bright flicker, like lightning, somewhere in the sky several kilometres away, but it was gone in an instant.

  She set out again, following the hunting trails of small animals and occasionally pushing her way through thickets of spiny underbrush. The night continued to hum and vibrate around her. As she grew more accustomed to the sound, Dara began to realise that there were three or four separate tones, suggesting several different sources moving independently of one another. On one occasion, Dara stopped, faced daywards, closed her eyes and turned her head left and right, as she would if trying to locate a hopper by sound alone. It did her no good. The humming filled the evening air completely, betraying little more than the fact that it was coming from somewhere daywards of her present position.

  The sound scoured the evening and Dara noticed that all the usual scurryings and scuffles of the forest were absent. Even when she strained h
er ears and focused her hearing on the background, trying actively to ignore the humming and concentrate instead on the more natural sounds of night, she heard not the faintest insectile chirp.

  Later in the evening, the weather picked up from the south, a slow, languid breeze at first, but quickly building into a solid wind that set the canopy whipping back and forth in a frenzy. Through the branches she glimpsed the sky, the moon all but hidden behind long streams of ragged cloud that fled past in a blur. Dara knew this weather pattern well. In a couple of hours she’d be caught in the middle of a gale. The southerly wind would carry cold air up from over the saltwater and bring with it freezing, torrential rain. Once established, the storm might last for days. Normally she’d have cursed to be caught out like this, but tonight the thought brought a grim smile to her face. Whatever tech the Nightpeople were using to search for her, if it flew then it wasn’t going to be too useful for the next little while.

  Ignoring the growing, gnawing ache in her belly, she pushed on, angling through the bush towards the edge of the cliffs so that when she did finally come across the cleft there would be no chance of missing it in the darkness.

  The wind picked up again, increasing in its ferocity, and somewhere close by a large branch crashed down heavily, causing Dara to leap sideways, startled. It took several minutes to calm herself enough to continue.

  The wind also swept away the sound of the search. The resonant hum now reached her ears only during small lulls in the weather. Three or four times she thought she caught quick flashes of intense light through the trees, but it was possible that it might have been nothing more than lightning.

  As the first fat drops of rain splashed down around her, Dara stumbled across the edge of the scar. Quite literally. One moment she was winding through dense underbrush, a hundred metres or so inland of the cliff-edge, and then suddenly her foot slipped, the ground beneath her vanished and she found herself sliding sharply down a steep gravel slope for several metres until her momentum was checked by a low, scrubby tree.