The Unleashed

by Sarah Dalton

  “Who are they?” I asked. We followed Mrs Murgatroyd’s lead. I stayed close to my mum, all too aware that these men could rush and trample us, or take us out in a fight. I wouldn’t like to see how my gift fared against thousands of trained fighters.

  “This isn’t even half of them,” said Mrs Murgatroyd. “There are five warehouses, each with two thousand men living in them. They train both outside and in. There’s a shooting range and an assault course behind the warehouse.” She walked slowly, with her hands behind her back. “And they all answer to me.” Her eyes shone with excitement. “Watch.”

  She approached the first line of men and stopped right in front of them.

  “Bow,” she said to the closest.

  The man dropped to his knees, his head bent low. I hated to see it. It was like her cutting my hair all over again; humiliating someone for an audience.

  “Get up,” she ordered. The man stood with his back straight. “Punch number thirteen.” The man – who had twelve stitched to his jacket – turned and punched number thirteen in the mouth. I recoiled as the blow drew blood. Thirteen didn’t even flinch. “Punch yourself in the groin.” Twelve punched himself between his legs. Not even a wince.

  “Stop it,” I blurted out. “I get the message. Why have you brought me here? This is horrible.”

  “This is power,” said Mrs Murgatroyd. “This is the army the GEM own. And when you join them, the GEM will have all the power in the world.”

  I stared at her aghast. “I’ll never join that army. Never.”

  Mrs Murgatroyd and Mum shared a look. Then Mum sighed and took my hands. “Mina, the GEM have a good cause to fight for. They need to stamp out the Resistance for good. They are bad people, Mina.”

  “No, they aren’t,” I said. “They fight for the Blemished. They help people.” My voice quivered. What did I really know about the Resistance? For years I thought my mum worked with them, fighting against the GEM. I’d seen the run down, sorry excuse for the Resistance in Area 14, who met in the Slums and stood around arguing. “Uncle Matthew was in the Resistance.”

  “Your Uncle Matthew was brainwashed,” she said with pursed lips. “I think it’s time you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “What they’re really like.”

  We left the warehouse, leaving the strange identical army to themselves, and Mum drove us back to the GEM. My time in the open air had been brief and disturbing.

  Mrs Murgatroyd left us in the flat. Mum made us a pot of tea, and then flicked the television channels until we got to a fuzzy screen. I leaned forward so I could see the picture better. Two people with scarves obscuring their features held a young girl towards the camera. The young girl, possible a little younger than me and GEM beautiful, had tears streaming down her face. Mum turned up the sound so I could hear her pleas.

  “They’re going to kill me,” she cried. “Please help me. Please do anything they want.”

  “GEM pigs. You have not met our demands. We asked you to shut down all genetic cloning, to abolish your disgusting ways. And yet you continue to create filth like this girl here.” The voice was distorted and gruff, but unmistakably female. She shook the young girl, making her scream. “Now, you will pay.”

  With barely a second’s notice the woman lifted a sword high above her head.

  “Turn it off,” I yelled. “I don’t want to––”

  The sword swung low and I closed my eyes.

  “Is that who you want to help?” Mum asked.

  24 ~ Angela ~

  They were in trouble. On the first day they climbed on each other’s shoulders and pulled at the bars covering the window. It was no use. They refused to budge no matter how hard they tried. Then they examined every last inch of the cell, searching for something – anything – to help them escape; even a tiny mouse hole to widen with their bare hands. The guards caught them with their backsides in the air, searching each nook and cranny of the tiny room, and stormed the cell with their batons aloft. Angela experienced the harsh rap of a truncheon against her flesh, as well as the soul crushing sight of being held back as guards beat her boyfriend to a bloody pulp. Afterwards Cam quietened, and crawled into a corner, staring out through his bruised eyes; staring into nothing.

  But whilst their situation seemed bleak, it was blatantly obvious that only Sebastian remained unharmed by the guards. Could it be that Vincent Cole still loved his son? Why else would the guards go easy on him? And if he did, it gave her hope. Hope that he’d stop the execution and let them go. She clutched her knees and bit her lip. She had to cling to that thought and never let it go.

  Fruitless days passed. Cam pulled away from her, growing terser by the hour, and Sebastian slipped into a near catatonic state, which infuriated Ginge. After days of sharing the same room and the same toilet, Angela began to hate them all. Even the sight of their faces and the sound of their voices drove her mad. She hated the way Ginge walked up and down, running her hands against the bars. She hated Cam’s pouty lip as he waited for his bruises to heal, moping in the corner. She even hated Sebastian’s whimpering at night. Most of all, she hated herself, for letting the prison get to her, and for almost turning against her friends. If she let it make her crazy it was game over for all of them. She loved them really, and she had to remember it. She had to make herself remember.

  “They’re winning,” Angela mumbled half to herself. “If we lose hope it means they’ve already won.”

  “We need a plan,” Ginge said for the hundredth time. “We cannae just sit here an’ wait te die.”

  Cam sighed. “We’ve been through everythin’. Jus’ leave it, eh?”

  “I can’t believe you said that.” Angela glared at Cam, on her last nerve with his defeatist attitude.

  “If one of us pretends we’re sick, we can overpower the guards an’ take their guns,” Ginge said.

  “We’ve been over that plan,” Cam replied. “An’ it’s as effin’ stupid nae as it was then. We’re weak. We’ve nae chance o’fightin’ ‘em. Ye felt the thrashin’ we took the last time.” He gestured to his black eye. “We’d just be killin’ ourselves sooner.”

  “Not necessarily,” Angela said. “The guards didn’t hurt Sebastian. They must be under orders to leave him alone.”

  “Aye, that’s true.” Ginge’s eyes widened. “We can use Sebastian te get oot.”

  “How?” Cam gave an overdramatic shrug. “He’s no’ all there.”

  Sebastian sat cross-legged on the stone floor, tracing through the dirt with his fingers. He’d lost all hope. He’d even lost weight. His cheeks sunk into hollows – sharpening his cheekbones.

  Ginge crouched next to him. “C’mon, nae. Ye cannae leave us like this.” Her voice took on a new note of desperation, high-pitched and whiny. “Ah need ye. Ah dunnae want te die.”

  When Ginge’s voice cracked, Angela sunk to her knees. For the first time since she’d left Area 14, she felt out of control and helpless. The realisation hit her that they’d need much more than a half-baked escape plan to get out of the cells. She slumped against the wall, suddenly devoid of all energy.

  “So much fer ma big talk, eh?” Cam said. He pulled at a thread on his jumper, focussed on the floor instead of anyone’s eyes. “Sayin’ ah’d never let anythin’ happen te ye. Well here we are. About te die.”

  “I don’t need to hear this,” Angela said in a quiet voice.

  “Why not? It’s true. Ah’ve been nothin’ but a mess since the day ah were born. Ah was only born ‘cause ma da’ raped ma mother. He hated me. He hated me, an’ he tried te punish me when ah ran away from him. He killed so many people jus’ fer that. He invaded the damn Compound because of it.” He ripped the thread from his jumper and turned his head towards the wall. “An’ nae he’s dead an’ all ah dae is cause more pain. Ah didnae stop ye from comin’ on this journey when ah knew it would be trouble, an’ it wasn’t fer you. It was fer me. Ah wanted te get out, an’ nae look at us.”

  Angela scuttle
d over to him. She couldn’t bear to see him like that, because she knew he was shutting down bit by bit, losing himself to his guilt and grief. He sniffed, and she knew he was trying to hold back tears.

  “Cam, listen to me. We’ve all been through too much, and it makes you want to give up. I almost did that once when I thought I’d lose everything. Do you know what happened next? I met you.” Angela took his hand. “It was you who helped me be a better person. Your influence. None of this is your fault. You’re a good person.”

  Cam leaned into her shoulder and she ran her fingers through his hair. It’d grown a little, and the dirt weighed it down, yet underneath all that, it still felt soft and fluffy like always.

  “I know this is about your dad. It was awful, truly awful, to lose him in those circumstances. And I know you feel helpless, because I feel it too. We have to remember how strong we are, or we’ll never get out of here. I believe in you.” A strange, cold feeling spread over Angela’s body, and her mouth tasted odd. She ignored it and carried on. “We need you to come back, Cam. You’re our rock, you’re my rock, and I miss you.” Her mouth tasted metallic and she wanted to gag. But she couldn’t stop now that Cam was nearly back. “I know you can help us right now. You’re the most resourceful man I know. We have to get out of here or we’re going to…” Angela trailed off. Her hands trembled and she glanced down at them, feeling strangely disconnected. “I don’t feel… well.”

  A freezing cold spread through her muscles, and along with it came this dread that she was going to die. She was sure of it – knew it like she knew herself – and there was nothing she could do. An electric bolt shot up from her feet to her head and she tipped away from Cam, hitting the floor and shaking uncontrollably. Her limbs jerked. Her teeth chattered together. She saw Cam leaning over her, and heard him shout, “Angela” before the cell went dark.

  *

  “She needs a medic! Get someone in here now. Ah mean it. So help me, ah’ll kill the lot o’ye when ah get outta this cell.”

  “Cam,” Angela muttered. It took all of her strength to say the word. “No. Don’t.”

  The cell stank of urine, and Angela felt the wetness between her legs with complete horror. She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn’t let her. There was something soft under her head, and Ginge and Sebastian knelt beside her.

  “Dunnae try te move. Jus’ lay still,” Ginge said. She used the sleeve of her top to wipe sweat from Angela’s forehead.

  “Angela!” Cam knelt by her side. “Yer awake. Ah was so worried.”

  Angela half drifted in and out of consciousness, and Cam’s face faded. It took her a few moments to realise where she was, and then she started to cry huge, fat tears. She just wanted to be alone. She didn’t want any of these people seeing her like this – with pee stained clothes and the remnants of drool drying on her chin. Cam held her to him as Angela cried into his chest. She’d never felt so completely demoralised and exhausted. The memory of losing control over her body brought nothing but shame and horror.

  “Don’t cry, baby,” Cam soothed. “Dunnae cry. Yer okay, and that’s all that matters.”

  Footsteps approached the cell and Angela shrank further into Cam’s arms, not wanting anyone to see her. She just wanted them to go away, everyone except Cam.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Dad!”

  Angela pulled back from Cam to see Sebastian jump up towards the cell bars. He clutched hold of them and stared out at his father. Angela managed to sit up, leaning against the small cot-bed by the cell wall. She lifted her knees up and hoped no one noticed her accident. There wasn’t much of a damp patch; luckily it’d soaked into the concrete.

  “Angela had a seizure,” Sebastian explained. “She has epilepsy.”

  Vincent turned to Angela. She shuddered under his hard, dark eyes. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, trying not to meet his gaze.

  “Do you need something?”

  Before Angela could answer, the short man appeared. “They’re going to die, Vincent, and yet you’re offering them things?”

  “For God’s sake, Edward, I’m allowed to make them comfortable. It’s the least I can do.”

  Vincent still had a shred of humanity left. That was interesting. This Edward guy called the shots; it was him who Vincent consulted with before delivering their sentence. Without Edward in the picture, he would be more reasonable. It made sense, Vincent must’ve been a mess after his wife died, and Edward played on his vulnerability to manipulate him into controlling Area 14. From the way they disposed of the Moorlanders, it seemed that they ran the place with an iron fist, punishing by death instead of trial. Perhaps that was all Edward, and not Vincent. Perhaps she would be able to talk to him – to persuade him to save his son. She rubbed her temples, trying to work the pain out of her body. Nothing had made her feel as weak as the seizure, and now was the time for strength – not weakness.

  “I would love food and water,” she said. “I feel very dehydrated.” Vincent nodded. “And we… we really need a bucket of water or something to wash ourselves with,” she added.

  Vincent glanced to Edward before he spoke. “You can have all of those things.” His eyes flickered over to Sebastian before he left.

  Sebastian slumped against the bars. “He’s never going to let us out.”

  “No,” Angela agreed. “At least not with that Edward guy around.”

  “Aye, he’s pullin’ the strings all right,” Ginge added. “Yer never gonnae get ‘round yer da’ with that guy hoverin’ over his shoulder. An’ ah dunnae like his weaselly little eyes. He’s evil, ah know it.” Ginge glared out into the hall.

  Cam remained thoughtful for a while and then said, “They’re comin’ back with food an’ water fer ye, Angie. De ye think ye’ll be able te run?” He squeezed Angela’s hand.

  “I don’t know.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “She’s too weak. Face it. We’re doomed.” With a sudden burst of energy that made Angela jump, he punched the bars. “We’re going to die.” He punched the bars again. Ginge rose to her feet and pulled him back. Sebastian’s eyes flashed with his old temper. At least he’d come out of his near catatonic state.

  Footsteps sounded along the corridor. Vincent brought the food and water himself; he passed bread, a hunk of cheese, and a litre bottle of water through the bars. Cam took them and carried them to Angela. She’d never been so glad to see a bottle of water in her life, and drank it down greedily before wiping her mouth and passing it to the others.

  “So this is it then?” Sebastian said. He scrambled to his feet and walked towards his dad. “You’re going to kill us – four teenagers – to further your own career. You’re going to kill the last family member you have.” He laughed bitterly. “But then I always was a disappointment to you. We all were. Eve messed up, so you packed her off to the GEM. Who knows what they did with her. She’s probably dead by now. So you’re already a murderer.” He stood right up to the bars, just inches away from Vincent. “And I was too weak, too emotional you always said. You called me a baby for crying when Eve left. A mummy’s boy.” He took a deep breath. “Then there’s Mum. Someone for you to slap around and blame for everything. She was just some convenience for you, someone to take your shit out on. You never loved her.”

  “I loved your mother very much,” Vincent said with a thickness in his throat.

  “LIAR!” Sebastian shouted so loud Angela started. Her muscles clenched. “You lie.” He hit the bars. “Why did I come back for you? Why? You’re making me a murderer. You’ve forced me to put a death penalty on my friends and the girl that I love,” Ginge sat up straight when she heard that, “because I came back for you.”

  Sebastian’s face reddened and his body convulsed; almost like he was going into a seizure. He beat the prison bars and then staggered back, clutching at his hair. Angela realised that Sebastian was struggling with rage. In the Compound he’d been drugged by Dr Woods, pumped full of rage, and she had
no idea whether it had altered him permanently.

  “Sebastian, fight it,” Angela shouted. “Fight it.” She turned to Vincent. “When we were in Scotland your son was drugged by a mad man and made into a rage-filled monster. Sebastian was strong enough to fight through the drugs and save Mina from death. He stayed back and fought while the castle crumbled around him, almost dying. Your mummy’s boy is a hero. And now you’re going to kill him. You should be ashamed.”

  Sebastian fought back, taking deep breaths. Ginge stood by his side with her arms around him, soothing him back to being Sebastian again.

  “I think you should go now,” Angela said, forcing as much hatred into her voice as she could muster.

  Vincent Cole backed away from the prison cell, his mouth flapping open and shut. He stared at his son as though he’d seen him for the very first time. Angela smiled as his footsteps disappeared down the corridor. Yes, there was definitely something left in that shell of a man.

  25 ~ Daniel ~

  The walls closed in around him. He couldn’t sit still any longer, so he paced around the enclosed space, longing for fresh air. He’d stretched out his jumper from worrying the sleeves and bitten his fingernails down to the quick. Why hadn’t they left? Why were they still here?

  Matthew, Jonathon and Des stood over a map stretched out on the round table. Daniel watched as they pointed to markers and discussed strategies whilst leaving him and the Freaks out of it. He desperately wanted to know their plans. On more than one occasion, he strode up to them and demanded to know what was going on, before Jonathon gave him a harsh glare.

  He missed the sunlight. The basement offered little in the form of light or air. It smelled stale and mouldy, with the body odour of many people lingering in the air. At the Compound, you could escape by hanging out in the fields. He flexed the muscles in his arms; they felt weak after days of inactivity. Just like the rest of him. Here he was in the basement like an idiot whilst Anna drugged and brainwashed Mina. He was sick of it.