Crimson

by Ben Wise

  I could be quiet for her.

  She tells Claire to hide under the bed. She begs her. Her voice sounds so much more desperate, remembering it now.

  “No mummy, I have to protect them,” Claire says, shaking her head.

  There’s a loud bang as the bedroom door explodes inward.

  Two hands pull me out of my memory, gripping me too firmly under each arm to lift me to my feet. A voice tells me succinctly to walk. More pushing and shoving gets me heading in the direction they want.

  “Take them to the main entrance for processing. Keep the hoods on them until you get there. Given all the trouble this one caused last time she was here, they’ll be going to the high security area so that they can be better guarded and away from the other residents here.”

  One Problem at a Time

  “Always with the hoods, always with those damn hoods,” a new voice says. “Let me guess, they’re taped up too?”

  “You know it’s the security protocol when moving captives about,” the woman says.

  “And beating them is also part of that protocol?”

  Nothing is said in response. The hood is pulled off. I’m standing in a hall filled with tables and benches. The man who spoke stands in front of us; older than us but not by much, a sharp face with black hair slicked back. He wears his uniform without the air of formality the guards behind him have.

  “Here, let me get that off you,” the man says as he tries to gently peel the tape off my mouth. There’s no gentle way to do it, but it’s a relief at least. He un-cuffs me, then repeats the process with the others.

  He steps back to address us. “Right, I’m the warden of this facility. As you well know, you’re here at the mercy of the Templars. As you by now can tell, they are not interested in playing nice. Some are still chaffing from the last time you were a guest of the Templars and are eager for retribution. At all times follow the directions the guards give you. Needless to say, if you try anything or if you attempt to escape they’ll shoot you.

  “You’ll each be assigned a room off the main courtyard and be allocated separate times for use of the exercise yard. Otherwise, you’ll be in solitary rooms. Take in your friend’s faces, because it’ll be the last time you see them for a while. Please don’t find out the consequences of attempting otherwise. Know that you will be monitored.

  “Anyone found without their bracelets or any other device that they are required to wear will be assumed dangerous and summarily shot. No questions asked. If you cooperate with us I will do what I can to make your stay here short and reasonably comfortable. Avoid making it unnecessarily shorter by attracting the guard’s attention.

  “Now, if you’ll all follow me to your cells, in them you’ll find clothing you will need to wear.”

  He opens the doors of the hall and leads us out to a rectangular courtyard. Surrounding the courtyard is the concrete facility with what appear to be cells on every side. A covered walkway wraps around the outside of the courtyard, but the yard itself is open to the air, a large grassy park complete with trees and even a bird fountain. It’s such beautiful sanctuary, so incompatible with the bleak surrounds.

  We stop in front of the first room. He twists the handle on the half a foot steel door. It slides open.

  “This is you,” he says pointing to me. “It’s all automatic. Twist the handle and it has an assisted opening that does the work for you. And when you close it, you just need to get it started and it’ll slide itself closed. It’s locked and unlocked during the day on a timer. You’ll hear a five minute warning alarm each shift change. If you’re caught outside when the doors lock and a guard has to let you in, there will be consequences.

  “Next to the main hall is the library if you’re looking for something to do. You can take books from there to your room.”

  He turns from me. “Now let’s get the rest of you to your rooms.”

  The door slides shut behind me once I step into the room, cutting me off from the world.

  The room is just a long narrow corridor. Against the left wall is a bed, beside which is barely enough space to pass.

  Beyond the bed is a desk with a couple of books piled on it and a plastic chair tucked underneath. After another metre or so of empty space, the far left corner of the room is sectioned off behind a small wall. The wall itself is covered in polished stainless steel, acting as a poor mirror. It’s a little too claustrophobic for my liking. I’ve slept in worse places though.

  “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” I say out loud. The walls don’t answer.

  A stack of clothes is arranged neatly on the bed; a familiar looking pair of utilitarian navy pants and matching long-sleeved button-up shirt. At least they’re better than this useless gown. I strip off and stand naked in front of the steel mirror. I close my eyes as my hands slide down my body; I imagine it’s her for a moment, caressing me gently, touching me. But when I open my eyes the girl in the mirror is fuzzy and distorted. Tired and battered. A sigh as I put on the briefs that lay tucked at the bottom of the clothing pile. I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Next is a poor excuse for a bra. Or maybe it’s just a short tank top? I can’t tell. It’s not like I have anything in the way of curves to fill it anyway. Why would she settle for something this broken? At least the pants fit.

  A buzzer goes off as I finish buttoning the navy shirt. The cell door slides open with a loud click. This must be my little piece of scheduled freedom. Grabbing a book from the small pile on the cell desk, I put on the slip-on shoes that wait next to the bed and tentatively step out of the cell. It turns out that freedom for somebody as tired as me isn’t much different than confinement, there’s just more sun involved. Still, I find a comfortable spot under a tree to start reading. The bark of the tree I’m leaning against is worn smooth, the grass underneath surprisingly soft; this comfortable spot is, I’m guessing, a popular place for others to spend their time. This would be a nice place to relax were it not for the cold surroundings of this concrete jail.

  The book struggles to hold my attention. The lead heroine is well developed, but the plot, right from the start, is contrived. As I read further, I develop the feeling that the lead character deserves a better story than the one this author has given her. I mostly skim through the book, bored, but with nothing else I can do. The sun is a warm blanket wrapped around me.

  “Hello there,” a young voice says from around the other side of the tree. A girl, mid-teens, pokes her head around the tree, dark hair hanging over the curious smile on her face. “Why are you sitting here, all alone?”

  What choice do I have?

  “You have choices. You’re just holding onto the restraints,” she reaches up and taps me on the side of the head, “up here so tightly, you can’t see them. You can’t get them off because you believe you can’t get them off. Stop listening what your mind tells you the rules are. You hold back because you’re afraid of failing. This façade you’ve constructed to protect you from everything you’ve had to go through, it’s holding you back and it’s time to tear it down. Expose yourself to the unknown, the abyss. Stare it down. Stop blaming yourself for everything that has happened, find Claire and get out of this place.”

  “And how do I do that with these on?” I say, waving my braceletted wrists at her, frustrated. “And even if I do get them off, then what? I barely know how to control my talent.”

  “The rumours say otherwise.”

  “I had help, I wasn’t in control.”

  “Had help? How could you have had help? They’re attuned to the wearer. It has to be the wearer that gets them off. It’s the wearer that must let go of their restraints. Nobody else can do that for them.”

  “I definitely had help.” I insist.

  She just shrugs. “Then I don’t know,” she says. “Think about it. I need to go; I’ve already spent too long here. Before I leave you to your sleep, your friend Cara; your talents aren’t the only thing you need to stop holding back.”

  She moves as if t
o step back around the tree.

  “Wait, before you leave, how do you know who I am?”

  “One problem at a time.”

  She slips behind the tree before I can ask her name. I follow her around the tree but she’s nowhere to be seen.

  I see Mum in the distance, standing at the edge of the trees, holding a wrapped up bundle in her arms. Dad is beside her, he has Claire in his arms. It’s only been a few minutes but it feels like a lifetime to my four year old self. I hear Mum and Dad calling out for me. Claire is pointing in my direction and jumping excitedly in Dad’s arms. I run towards them as quickly as my little legs can take me. Dad smiles at me and pats me gently on the head when I reach them.

  Even then, at five-years-old, Claire knew exactly where to find me.

  “We’re really lucky Claire knew where to find you.” He says without a hint of the anger I was expecting. “She and you are going to be inseparable. Now why did you run away like that?”

  “I thought you were going to send me away and that my replacement had just arrived.”

  “Aww, don’t be silly.” Mum says. “We’re not replacing you. And we’d never send you away.”

  Mum’s expression suddenly turns serious. She and Dad share a look of worry. Then they start to rush us back towards home. “Come on everyone, quickly quickly, we need to get back to the house right away.”

  Self Discovery

  A buzzer fills the courtyard, pulling me, unwillingly, from my sleep. My back is killing me and I feel absolutely exhausted; this tree was a lot more comfortable when I first sat down. The courtyard is still empty, but for a pair of guards in the distance. I watch as one of them walks over to me. He’s older than me, certainly, but with his sandy brown hair and a soft face that lacks the hard edge the other soldiers have, he comes across as young, barely an adult. But in a place like this? It’s an illusion, a deception.

  “That buzzer is the warning to tell you that you need to return to your cell. If the other guards see you out here, well…” he shakes his head. “Just head back quickly now. I’ll bring your meal to you shortly.”

  He holds his arm out in a gesture to help me up. I help myself up. He shrugs.

  The sound of the lock on the massive door to my cell echoes throughout the room as it clicks shut. The place feels empty. More than just physically. I sit, exhausted on the bed, my mind unfocused.

  Moments later, the cell door slides open again.

  “Here, I brought your dinner,” he says. “I have to be honest though, the food here is pretty terrible. I snuck in a chocolate drink for you, to try to make it bearable.”

  He carefully places the tray of food on the bed beside me and returns to the doorway.

  Do you have a name?” he asks, hopeful.

  I sit silently, head ducked, trying to avoid conversation. What does he want from me? I just want to finish reading my book. No, that’s a lie. Right now all I can think about is Cara.

  “That bad, huh?” he says. He sighs, dejectedly. “Try not let being inside this place get to you. We’re not all bad, I promise.”

  Really? You could have fooled me. I stare at him, annoyed. And I want to scream at him, yell at him with all my anger. But tired as I am, I don’t want to make things worse.

  “Ok, I get the hint. I’ll be back in the morning with your breakfast.”

  He turns and heads out of the cell, his warm smile tinged surprisingly with a trailing hint of remorse. On the tray, some nondescript meat and other colourless portions compete to see which pile of sludge is the most disgusting. Still, it’s better than what I’ve seen some street vendors offload in the stalls of the abandoned suburbs. Nevertheless, I spend more time playing with the food than eating it. It’s just so… boring. If I wasn’t so damn hungry I wouldn’t bother at all. Most of the food I can’t identify. It all tastes the same.

  When I’m finished I throw the tray at the door in frustration. A mini act of rebellion, for what it’s worth.

  With nothing better to do, I try returning to reading. Unsuccessfully. I keep slipping into a daydream as I play out different scenarios of escape with Cara. Pure fantasy. I shouldn’t hold false hopes. Before long, I throw the book into the corner in bored frustration and try curling up to sleep.

  Soldiers rush through the door, guns raised.

  “Don’t move!” The first one yells as he runs in.

  Mum stands protectively in front of Claire. A black shadow lashes out from her and pierces through the man’s throat. He takes one more step before falling forward. He lies awkwardly, his dead eyes open staring directly at me.

  A gun behind him goes off. Shadows strike out from mother as she wraps herself protectively around Claire. Another man falls through the door, dead. The shadows dance around her, trying to protect her. More guns fire.

  Dad rushes in from the other room. He calls to her. No Dad, run away. More guns fire. More men die.

  Everything goes quiet. Mum lies curled around Claire; the shadows now silent. Dad stumbles, falls to his knees. A boot kicks Dad out of the way. Hands drag Mum’s lifeless body away from my sister. I want to scream. A soldier bends down to pick Claire up. From my hiding spot I watch him lift her up to take her away. I want to run out and attack him. Claire looks at me, calm, and shakes her head.

  “…no.” I whisper.

  I take a deep breath and open my eyes. It must have been a nightmare, another memory from my childhood. The room is dark. I have to get out of here. I have to find my sister. All I’ve managed to do so far is get more people hurt, captured. Just like I got my parents hurt. Just like I got my own sister captured. If only I hadn’t have run off that day. Instead of having to spend the time finding me, they would have been better prepared for the attack. We all might have escaped together. And how did I repay my sister for finding me that day? I got her locked up with these psychopaths. I can’t imagine how frightened she must have been.

  Staring at the ceiling it’s clear I’ll not get back to sleep again. Was I just fooling myself thinking I could free my sister? Am I just fooling myself thinking Cara will ever want me?

  A female voice fills the room. “A fool, perhaps, but not for those reasons,” she says. “Not as foolish as your sister thinking she could keep you safe from here forever.”

  A black figure materialises in the dark room, sitting on the desk with her legs swinging playfully over the edge.

  “But we are all fools in one way or another,” she says. “I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself the last time we met. I’m Macha. Now, where’s my sister Nemain? What’s her excuse this time?”

  “You mean Nem? I haven’t seen her since yesterday.”

  “If she gives me some bull about those bracelets I’ll slap her upside the head. This is typical of her, always leaving me to do her work for her.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Nem pipes up angrily, appearing in the corner of the room.

  “Shit, how long have you been there?” I exclaim.

  “Girl, don’t you get it? Unless you send me away, I’m always with you.”

  “You were there the whole time?” I say.

  “Of course.”

  “Why didn’t you help us when we were captured? They could have killed us!” I scream at her.

  “I would have stepped in if necessary. I thought it was… character building,” Nem says. “You could easily have gotten out of that situation. Anyway, you’re inside their Keep now, isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “They had guns and there were lots more of them than us! And if you can’t tell, I’m not exactly free to wander around this place!”

  “So? I can’t do everything for you.”

  “I take it that includes getting these things off?” I ask.

  “Is your one this slow?” Nem asks Macha.

  Macha laughs. “Oh yes, they’re definitely cut from the same cloth.”

  Nem turns back to me. “Look, I am you, a manifestation of your power. I’m totally at the mercy of your powe
r. And while you believe those bracelets hold sway over you, while you choose to limit your energy and your control over it, there’s nothing much I can do for you. On this side of the veil, you are as much my gateway as I am yours to the other.

  “I think this is a good lesson, in some ways; learning to use your abilities blindly. You can’t always trust what your mind is telling you. And your talent is just another sense. There are people out there capable of manipulating your very perception of the world. You have to trust in your abilities and trust what your intuition tells you. You have so much potential waiting for you to find. You just have to stop holding back. Stop being afraid. This wall you’re hiding behind to protect yourself. Break it down.”

  “I’ve heard those words already today.” I say, curious. “Were you the little girl in the courtyard earlier today?”

  “What girl in the courtyard? You walked outside, sat down under that tree and promptly fell asleep,” Nem says.

  “I swear, while I was out there, there was a girl who came up to me and spoke to me.”

  “It wasn’t my or mine’s doing,” Macha says.

  “Curious. Perhaps it was your subconscious predicting the future,” Nem says.

  “Maybe,” Macha says. “Did the girl in your dream look like you?”

  “She was a few years younger than me, but yes, she did look vaguely familiar. She had red hair just like mine. She could have been me five years ago. Why didn’t I recognise that at the time? That’s really weird.”

  “Curiouser and Curiouser, don’t you think?” Nem says to Macha.

  “One problem a time,” Macha responds cryptically.

  “That’s what she said!”

  “Look, just forget about that for the moment. Let’s concentrate on getting you out of here. Why don’t we try something?” Nem says. Then, taking one of the books from the desk, throws it at my head. I prevent it from hitting the wall behind me by stopping it with my forehead.