by Jane Abbott
Voices, loud and low, murmurs that echoed. Darkness, swirling red and grey. Pain, ebbing like a tide, washing over and through me. Gentle hands, soothing. Warmth. A soft sanctuary. Then nothing.
When I finally came to, I was no longer in the chair or in the dark. A low lamp flickered beside me and I lay on a cot, my upper body propped on pillows, a heavy blanket over me. I blinked several times and, needing to see where I was, tried rolling my head, but pain shot through it, angry and white hot, and I sank back into darkness.
A voice calling, whispering my name, and light, narrow like a tunnel, beaming brighter and brighter. My eyes opened and Alex’s face hovered in front of me, her gaze steady, her hand cool against my brow. I groaned and tried to move, but couldn’t. I was anchored, at forearm and ankle, and something tightened across my ribs, a band, holding me down.
‘Shh. Lie still,’ she said.
Her voice was soft, but she regarded me clinically while her hands mopped at my head, soothed my chest and lifted the bandages on each shoulder as she checked the holes made by my own darts. There were bandages on my wrists too, and she peeled them away to rub some kind of salve on the cuts, before wrapping them again, binding them tight. My body was hot, my head filled with fire, the agony like a knife. I passed out again before she finished.
I don’t know how many times I woke to see her tending to me, before falling away again. Her face appeared and faded, her voice whispered and died away, and I bobbed in a sea of pain. But gradually that faded too, the heat dissipated, and I woke at last to awareness.
The room was barely that, smaller than my quarters in the compound, shored up with wood, the ground nothing more than smooth dark earth. It was cool, but not cold, and the blanket covering me sufficed. Beneath it I was naked. There was something pressed between my legs, but without being able to move, I couldn’t tell what it was. The sheets felt damp with sweat, but the cloth-filled pillows were soft under my neck and shoulders. At any other time, I might have enjoyed the sensation, but there was little enjoyment to be had lying bound and naked on a cot, prisoner to a couple of cruel Guards. Now they’d nursed me back to health, I wondered what other games they had in store, and I shivered, hating the anxiety.
The heavy scrape of a bolt being drawn and the push of the door got my attention, and I half thought of pretending to sleep, to delay whatever was coming. Alex entered, carrying a tray. Again, the door was left open, and that gave me some confidence, her believing that even bound I couldn’t be trusted.
She set the tray on the table beside me and the scent of warm food filled the room; my stomach grumbled and ached with longing. But she left the bowl where it was and sat on the edge of the bed, taking a wet cloth and gently wiping my face. My eyes narrowed to slits as I watched her grease her hands with a little fat and touch them to my cheeks, before she picked up a small sharp blade. I jerked my head away, but she grasped my jaw and pulled me back to face her.
‘Relax. I won’t hurt you,’ she said, and lifting the blade, she began shaving my face with short, deft strokes. I couldn’t help but tense every time that knife pressed to my throat before sweeping up, scraping my skin smooth for the first time in years. Her face was so close I could feel her breath, and I longed to have just one hand free so I could seize that knife and stab it into her. But if she had any understanding of my thoughts she gave no sign, continuing with her work, patiently and carefully, until she was done.
‘Makes you look younger,’ she said, wiping her hands. ‘And the bruises are fading.’
She held a cup to my mouth, tilted it, and I drank. But I kept looking at her face, memorising every feature, every line and every angle. Hers was the face of my next kill. After that, I’d deal with her brother.
She began checking me over: my head first, pulling away the bandage and nodding as though satisfied, then my chest, and each shoulder. I peered down, seeing the puckered wounds, one of them in the dead centre of a mark. The darts were small barbed, so they’d have pulled out fairly cleanly, but shooting metal into muscle does its own damage; it’d be a while before I regained full strength.
Next she saw to my wrists and ankles, where the ties had rubbed and cut. But even those wounds were more brown than red, and not sore. Lifting the blanket, she felt between my legs, pulling out what’d been wedged there – some kind of bottle half-filled with my piss – and replaced it with another before covering me over again. Every movement was methodical, her expression indifferent.
Finally, sitting back beside me, she picked up the bowl and began feeding me like a child, a spoonful at a time. It was some kind of gruel, thin and fairly tasteless, but just about the best thing I’d ever eaten. Hunger made me greedy, but she kept the pace slow.
‘Better?’ she asked, when the bowl was empty.
I nodded, but I was suddenly tired, and I didn’t watch as she packed everything back onto the tray and edged out the door, bolting it behind her.
Later, when she returned, she shook me awake. She wasn’t alone, and I stared groggily at the silent Tate beside her. He was bigger than I remembered, his hands like mallets, and his uniform stretched tight across his chest.
‘I’m going to release the strap so I can change your pillows,’ Alex said. ‘If you make any wrong move, Tate will deal with you. Okay?’
I shifted on the cot, pulling on the restraints and testing their strength, but they were secure, with little give. Slumping back, defeated, I gave a nod, then winced.
She undid the strap and Tate hauled me forwards, the sudden movement making me dizzy. Alex made short work of turning and plumping the pillows. Briefly, I wondered why she was going to all the effort, but perhaps this was just part of their strategy, fucking with my head. Except my head was already fucked. But the pillows did feel better.
Alex thanked Tate, and he buckled me back in and left us alone.
‘Doesn’t say much, does he?’ I observed. My words sounded strange, thick, as though spoken from an untried mouth.
She shrugged. ‘Some people know when to keep quiet.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ I tried again. This time I recognised my voice.
She stared at me for a minute. ‘We’re not what you think we are, Jem.’ Perching on the cot, she spoon-fed me again, more of the same but still good, afterwards wiping my mouth clean. ‘Okay?’ she asked me.
But I wasn’t looking at her face this time. Without all her layers, I could finally see her shape, see the swell of her breasts just in front of me, and I remembered the feel of them against my palm, their fullness. Okay? I was more than okay.
‘Jem?’ She was holding out the cup, and I blinked, dragging my gaze up and staring over the cup, at her mouth.
‘You were wet,’ I said, and saw her freeze, her composure gone. That was what I’d been waiting for, and I went in for the kill. ‘Back in the Hills, when my fingers were inside you, you were wet. Fuck it felt good, Alex.’
Her mouth tightened and she snatched the cup away. Picking up the bowl and the lamp, she turned and left without another word, and I laughed, making sure it was the last sound she heard before she pulled the door shut.
I woke to hands on my shoulders, pressing and prodding, but they weren’t Alex’s. Ballard stood over me, checking his handiwork, his fingers strong, the blunt tips warm on my skin.
‘Like what you see?’ I asked, glaring through slitted eyes.
He said nothing and replaced the bandages before dragging in a chair and sitting by the bed. We eyed each other for a while; he tilted forwards with his forearms on his knees, me pressing back into the pillows, nervous and waiting for some kind of weapon to appear.
‘I’m afraid we got off to a bad start, Jem,’ he said at last. ‘It seems Alex hit you harder than we first thought. You’re lucky to be alive.’
‘You think?’
‘How d’you find your new quarters?’ he asked.
I shifted on the cot, pulling at the restraints. ‘Cramped.’
‘Yes.’ There was a p
ause, and he said, ‘Alex tells me you’re healing well and you’ve started to eat.’
I wondered what else Alex had told him. Not everything, I was willing to bet. I made no reply and waited for him to continue.
‘She’ll be in later to feed you and then Tate will help you exercise. You’ve been stationary for too long, Jem. It’s time to get you up and moving again.’
‘How long?’ I asked.
‘Since you were knocked out? Ten days or so.’
Shit. A third of my time gone and I’d achieved nothing. At this rate I’d soon be dead, regardless. I kept quiet and stared straight ahead. Eventually I heard him sigh, and when he spoke his voice wasn’t quite as hearty as I remembered.
‘I’m not here to hurt you again. I just want to talk, explain a little about why you’re here. Are you ready for that? No more games. No more pain. You can ask me anything you want and I’ll answer you.’
Rolling my head on the pillow, I looked at him. ‘Why?’
‘Why did I hurt you? Or why are you here?’
‘Both. In that order.’
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I had to go to such lengths, but I needed to make sure that you are what I hoped you’d be.’
‘Which is?’
He gave a sad smile. ‘Someone who’s very good at doing something he hates.’
I laughed then, but stopped when it hurt. I was sick of hurting. ‘You’re wrong. I love my job. Especially when it means I get to kill arseholes like you.’
It was a pointless threat, and Ballard didn’t seem too worried.
‘No, Jem. A man who enjoys killing doesn’t make sure every shot is clean, or that his victims don’t suffer. And he doesn’t confess to feeling dead himself.’
‘So that was your point? To make me confess? I would’ve said anything to get you to stop.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. I’ve seen your body. You carry more than just those marks.’ When I said nothing, he continued. ‘So it was probably a good thing you were already half dead, otherwise I would’ve had to do worse. And believe me when I say I wouldn’t have hesitated. But I wouldn’t have taken any pleasure from it either.’
‘Yeah, you’re a real saint, Ballard.’
He tapped his fingertips together, watching me. ‘I’d like to ask you something now, if I may?’ When I narrowed my eyes, and tensed, he shook his head. ‘I told you, no more games.’
‘Well in that case, fire away,’ I said, and saw him smile. There was nothing like a joke between a man and his tormentor to relieve a bit of the tension.
‘What did you make of all those Guards you saw in the hills? Alex said they were heading this way.’
I remembered her concern, remembered thinking it strange; of course, now I knew why she’d been so anxious to avoid them. ‘Are you asking me because you already know, or because you don’t?’
‘I’m asking because I want your opinion. As a Watchman. Why do you think they were there? So many in one place?’
I thought about it, and about what he’d said back in that room when we had being playing games, about me not being where I should have. But as long as the games were done there was no reason not to talk it out, and maybe I’d learn a thing or two myself.
‘You already know I’d been ordered to take the east road. I didn’t. My guess is that order was to make sure I didn’t see what I saw.’
He shook his head. ‘The chances of you crossing paths with those Guards was almost non-existent.’
‘Except we did, didn’t we? And you’re right; the odds were real low. So what if we only saw some of them? What if there were a shitload more that we didn’t see?’ When he frowned suddenly, I smiled; the last thing he’d want were hundreds of Guards pouring into the area. ‘Looks like I might not be the only one in trouble, Ballard.’
‘Except they haven’t arrived at the settlement. And no one else has seen them.’
‘Then your guess is as good as mine. Here’s a thought: maybe they’ve found their own place to hole up in.’
He looked puzzled by the suggestion. ‘Did you happen to get a good look at them? See their insignia?’
‘Yeah, my eyes are good, Ballard, but they’re not that fucking good. And last time I checked, that sister of yours had a pair of her own, so why don’t you ask her?’
‘I did. And now I’m asking you.’
I sighed, and shifted on the cot, trying to get comfortable. He’d been there no time, and was already irritating me. ‘You know what? I really don’t give a shit why those Guards were there, or where they are now. The less I have to do with any Guards – you included – the better.’
He nodded slowly, but didn’t take the hint. ‘Very well, let’s move onto something else then. Something a little more personal. Alex told me your story about the Guard you saw when you were young –’
‘Alex needs to keep her fucking mouth shut.’
He ignored that. ‘He was the Guard you ended up killing, wasn’t he? The one who ensured your induction into the Watch?’
I shrugged. ‘As far as I’m concerned, one Guard’s the same as the next. You should know that.’
‘Not exactly. But if it was the same Guard, then let’s call it an act of vengeance. Or punishment. We could even say it was a good thing, maybe the only good thing you’ve ever done. But these?’ He ran his hand over my chest, making me squirm. ‘These aren’t good, Jem.’
‘That’s your opinion, Ballard. And you can shove it.’
He pursed his lips and frowned again. I seemed to be making him frown a lot. ‘Why is it that people like that Guard, and others – even your own commander – are allowed to inflict so much pain and suffering, while everyone else is so easily disposed of?’
‘Yeah. Coz what you and Alex did didn’t hurt at all,’ I pointed out.
‘We only did what we had to. Unlike others.’
‘Who says the rest of us aren’t doing what we have to? I don’t make the rules, arsehole. I just follow them.’
‘Which brings me to your other question,’ he said. ‘Why you’re here. You like to follow rules, don’t you, Jem? In fact, you rely on them. That’s how you justify what you do, because when you’re made to question it, you can shrug and say you were just following orders. Am I right?’
I scowled then. His words sounded a lot like what I’d told Alex. Was there no end to her blabbing?
But Ballard wasn’t finished. ‘What if I was to offer you a position here, with us? Give you new orders to follow?’
I stared at him for a minute, bewildered. Any orders I followed came from the Tower. And from Garrick. Not from some shithead Guard in some tin-pot outpost.
‘Well, this should be interesting,’ I said. But I shouldn’t have.
His face darkened, and his voice deepened with disdain. ‘How many times have you supplied Garrick with one of his little playthings, Jem? It’s one for every assignment, right? Except after your first – he didn’t make you do it then, did he? Maybe even he thought you’d done enough. But since then you’ve dragged twenty-three girls back to the compound for him to abuse at his leisure. Twenty-three, Jem. Every one of them innocent. And it’s not just girls he likes, is it? D’you bring him boys too? Following your orders like a good Watchman?’
I turned my head to face the wall, but he leaned over and pulled it around again, much like his sister had done the day before, but vicious.
‘No! You don’t get to dismiss this. You don’t get to turn away. And you sure as hell don’t get to say you were just following orders. Because that’s the sort of order that should never be followed. Ever!’
I met his stare, but only for a moment before dropping my gaze. Disgusted, he pushed me away and wiped his hand on his trousers.
‘You make me sick, you and your filthy orders. You call yourself a man? You’re no man, Jem. You’ve got a long way to go before you can call yourself that.’
‘Fuck off, Ballard. You have no idea what you’re talking about. We don�
�t get to choose. We’re thrown into the Watch and we do what we can to survive. Until we can’t any more. That’s it, end of story.’
‘We all get to choose, Jem. You chose to remain when you could’ve left. To be fair though, most people do that. Take the easy way. Keep their heads down and follow orders, choosing the path of least resistance. It’s much harder to fight back, and say no. But sometimes that’s the only choice that matters.’
‘And what happens to the idiots who do that? Oh, that’s right, the rest of us get to kill them off. Shit, it’s no wonder everyone chooses the path of least resistance. It’s a fucked-up world, Ballard, and it’s never gunna change.’
‘It is a fucked-up world. But you’re wrong if you think it can’t change. It will. It already has.’ He stood and paced the tiny room. Step, step, step, turn, step, step, step, turn. Going nowhere and annoying me. ‘Alex said you didn’t leave the Watch when you had the chance because you had nothing better to do. Isn’t that what you told her?’
‘She forgot to mention the important bit. That I’m good at it.’
‘What if I offered you that something better? If you were given the chance to make the right choice, would you take it?’
‘Not if it means having to listen to your shit every day,’ I told him, meaning it.
‘I’m not looking to change you. I doubt that’s even possible. I just want to redirect you.’ He stopped pacing and faced me. ‘We’re going to bring down the Tower. And we want you to help us. Time to redeem every one of those marks, Jem.’
This time when I laughed, I didn’t mind the pain so much. ‘If I had a drop of water for every Diss who’s said they’re gunna bring down the Tower, I reckon I’d have my own Sea by now.’
‘But none of them have used a Watchman before, have they? As I explained, we don’t want you to stop doing what you do. We just want you to do it to people who actually deserve it. Like that Guard.’
Unsure I’d heard him right, it took me a couple of seconds to regroup. ‘You fucking hypocrite. Telling me what a menace I am, how I’m so fucked-up and unworthy. But not so much that you can’t use me to suit your own ends, right? What’re you doing, Ballard? Setting up your own army?’