False Sight

by Dan Krokos

  I crane my head around, but Noah is gone.

  “Don’t leave me alone,” I say aloud.

  I stay alone.

  He’s not ignoring me; I don’t feel him anywhere.

  The thought of losing him again makes my brain fuzz gray, refusing to even imagine the possibility. I groan and knock my head against the bars, like it’ll shake him loose.

  “I’m here,” he says in my head.

  “Where did you go?” A terrible realization sets in—I won’t be able to hold on forever. Even now my fingers are numb from holding most of my weight. There’s a steady drip drip drip as blood from my foot drops into the water.

  “I don’t know. I can’t control it. It’s like your mind is trying to push me out. I can only show up when you’re calm.”

  “I’m calm!” I scream, as the muscles in my arms cramp into rocks.

  “I don’t belong here. Not enough room—”

  He cuts out.

  “Noah?”

  Then the bolts holding the top of the cell door burst down like tiny bullets, pinging off my shoulders and shooting into the water. I feel tension release in the door and only have time for a breath before the whole thing falls inward and dumps me into the water.

  The door wasn’t made to float. I grasp the bars and try to wrestle it out of the way, but it just pushes me down. The black water lets in no light and stings my eyes. I squeeze them shut, grabbing for the next bar over to pull myself around the door. I’m not going to make it; I’m sinking too fast. The pressure in my ears builds, builds, then aches, then throbs.

  Next the bars are ripped from my hands and a current slams me full in the back, thrusting me forward.

  The warm water gurgles in my ears, stings the wounds on my feet. Seconds pass as I tumble once, twice, no sense of direction now. A column of water pistons me from the side, and I spin again, laterally. I open my eyes and toss my head around and see nothing. No surface. I’m not going to be able to find up. I don’t know which way to kick. My eyes burn; my mouth burns. The black water tastes like stomach acid. Pretty soon my mouth is going to open and I’m going to suck the liquid into my lungs. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

  Noah, I call out desperately. Don’t leave me alone.

  He doesn’t answer. Maybe he was never really there to begin with.

  I sink deeper as the current relents. Sinking means the surface must be the other way. I try kicking that way and feel something tug on my ankle. I kick out, but it’s already gone. Then another current hauls me sideways. This isn’t a natural current—I’m getting hammered from all sides, pushed and pulled around. I have to open my mouth now. Noah isn’t here to share his breath. I’m alone. If he hadn’t kissed me that one time, kept me alive, I wouldn’t have lived to kill him. I wouldn’t have lived to die here alone in the dark.

  The water pushes me farther, and suddenly another wall of water slams into me from the bottom, pushing me straight up. My lungs are about to burst. This is it—I open my mouth to scream and bubbles surge over my face, and then I break the surface, heaving, sucking in water droplets and coughing.

  Two sets of rough hands haul me out of the water and throw me on my back. I try to open my eyes, but it burns too much.

  A moment passes where I consider fighting, just lashing out and releasing all the psychic energy I can muster, but that wouldn’t be smart. I’m half-blind and weak in an unknown location with unknown enemies. And I’m not dead yet, so that counts for something.

  “Noah…” I say, as the filthy water pools around me.

  “What did you say?”

  I crack my eyes against the sting. A man looms over me. He has bristly black hair in a military cut, dark olive skin, and eyes as black as the water. He could be thirty or forty. His clothing is paramilitary—black combat pants tucked into big black boots, and a thick black vest with many pockets and zippers. The guy likes black. And fingerless gloves, apparently.

  The man nudges me with his toe. “I asked what you said.”

  We’re inside a building unlike any I’ve seen before. It’s shaped like a hollow beehive, with the lowest levels having the largest circumference. The inside circumference of each level looks down over the open center of the structure. In the very middle, close to me, a redwood-size column rises from the bottom floor to the top. Catwalks branch off the column, like it’s the trunk of some metallic Christmas tree.

  Next to me is the hatch they must’ve pulled me through. I can hear the water gurgling beneath it.

  “Maybe she doesn’t speak English, sir,” a girl’s voice says behind me.

  The man crouches. “I think she does,” he says. “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you,” I reply. They haven’t impressed me enough to warrant an immediate answer. I’m soaked and sore and pissed off. And confused—they don’t recognize me. If this is a creator-run facility, why did they wonder if I spoke English?

  “See?” the man says.

  “Is there a reason I’m wet?”

  “Protocol,” the man says. “You are in a weakened state. The water has a temporary property that slows reaction time, effectively tranquilizing you.”

  No kidding; I feel wiped out, even though I’ve caught my breath.

  “Great,” I say. “Did anyone else…show up?” Tranquilized or not, I can still feel. Mostly anger. These people have touched me against my will, and I am not free. Until that changes, the anger will burn inside me. I’ll wear it like the armor these people stole from me.

  The man says nothing, just studies me with hard eyes. It’s like he’s surprised.

  “Where am I? Where are my friends?”

  “How did you come through the gate?” he says.

  “I’ll answer your question after you answer mine.”

  He kicks me in the ribs so hard, my lungs seize. Stabbing pain rolls through my chest in time with my pulse. I almost let loose with my power. The pressure builds in my head, but I stop at the last second and roll onto my hands and knees. If I send out fear-waves, I’ll just need a memory shot sooner rather than later. Plus, I don’t want these people to know what I can do until I’m ready to do it.

  “Where are the others I came through with?” I say, once my breath returns. I’ll just keep asking, I don’t care. I see the girl and another man now, wearing the same outfit as the first man, but theirs are a dusky red, like dried blood or rose petals. They wear red cloth masks over their noses and mouths, in the shape of an upside-down triangle, like bandits. The man has shoulder-length blond hair, and the girl’s hair is short and black, like Nina’s. Her skin is dark, and the man’s is so pale it’s like he’s never seen the sun. All three of them just watch me, motionless and emotionless.

  “Where are they?” I have to fight to get the words out; my ribs are throbbing. I struggle into a kneeling position, putting my back to the two in red since they’re clearly not in charge.

  “Alive,” the man in black finally answers.

  I nearly sag to the floor as relief weakens my limbs. Alive. I just have to cling to that—alive.

  My rags stick to me, showing the outline of my body. I want to cover myself, but the three don’t leer at me. They study me like I’m some kind of alien. Not a person—a thing.

  The man crouches before me and uses his thumb and forefinger to turn my face left and right, as if inspecting me. I meet his gaze steadily.

  Then he says, “You look just like the girl who came through a few hours ago. Do you know her?”

  I stand up.

  Too fast, I guess. The man in black rises with me, and the two in red kick the backs of my knees to make me fall forward. I brace for another strike that doesn’t come. Black water drips off me. My hair hangs heavily, and the subtle acidic smell of it makes my empty stomach twist. I fight the scream of pure frustration rising in my chest.

  “Patience,” I hear Noah say.

  It startles me. Are you here?

  Two seconds pass and he doesn’t reply, and my spirits sag further.
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  Slowly, I raise my head to look up at the man in black. He seems content to just stare at me for the next hour. “Where is this girl?” I say, voice hard as ice. Why don’t you know who she is? I don’t ask.

  He ignores me completely. To the two in red, he says, “Send the other girl to the lower block.” Their footsteps travel away, brisk and solid. “No contact,” he adds before they’re out of earshot.

  We’re alone now, and he doesn’t seem worried at all. No hint of nervousness in his eyes or posture. For all I know, he could take me in a fight. And if he sees what I’m capable of, he may get extra cautious and make it harder to escape later. Not to mention I would die rather than leave Rhys and Peter behind.

  Maybe I can appeal to this guy logically.

  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” I say. It’s possible he’s not affiliated with the creators—which would be great—but that leaves the tunnel and black lake unexplained, since Nina clearly knew about them. And she’s clearly one of the creators’ weapons. Or Mrs. North’s, at least.

  “Of what nature?” he says.

  Slowly I stand up again, making sure my hands are visible. I speak calmly. “I don’t know where I am or how I got here. And whatever you think you know about the other girl, know that she’s already killed one of my friends. She’ll kill you too, if you get in her way.”

  The man in black studies me for a moment longer, then turns away. Thirty seconds pass. I try to think of a plan, but my brain is white noise. Soon I hear the two in red returning from a corridor off the main floor. I make note of four corridor openings, one each to my north, south, east, and west.

  “She’s ready, Commander,” the girl says.

  “What are you the commander of?” I say, before I think too much about it. It’s a fair question.

  “Don’t speak—” the red man begins.

  The commander silences him with a raised hand. “Leave,” he says. Their footsteps recede again, no questions or hesitation.

  “My name is Gane,” he says. “I am commander of the Verge, and steward of what remains of this city.”

  “Miranda North,” I say. “At your service.”

  Gane’s mouth is open, like he can’t believe I’m capable of sarcasm.

  Then he laughs and says, “Walk with me.” He heads in the direction the two in red went. Now that he’s moving, his liquid grace is obvious; he glides like a ghost, boots barely making a sound. “I said walk.” He doesn’t bother to look back.

  I’m not interested in making him come back for me. I walk.

  “If I ask you something important, will you listen to me?” I say.

  I’m a few steps behind Commander Gane. He doesn’t mind showing his back to me. There’s some weird bump under his vest between his shoulder blades. I visualize myself stepping forward and driving a fist into his spine. And then what? I need to pick his brain, but passing up the chance to attack him and escape makes my skin crawl with lost opportunities.

  “Ask me,” he says.

  “We came through wearing black suits, like armor. Where are they?”

  He keeps walking. “Why?”

  “We need something hidden in the suits. If we don’t get it, we’ll lose our memories. Me and the others.” Reminding myself of what I would lose won’t help right now, yet I keep doing it.

  He leads me into the corridor, which is really a circular tunnel hewn from rock. The walls are smooth and lined with torches. The kind made of wood with one end on fire. They flicker and paint our dancing shadows across the walls. It’s like we passed from the future into medieval times.

  “We’d lose all of them,” I continue. “Please. We’d be no use to you then.”

  He finally glances back passively. “Who said I want to use you?”

  I try to think of a reply, but all I can come up with is What do you want? I won’t ask him because I doubt he’d give a real answer, and I won’t give him the power to ignore me. I remember the single word Noah uttered in my mind.

  Patience.

  The tunnel curves left and stops at a black iron door. Gane pushes through it, revealing a room with two cells at the far end, with the same iron bars and seams in the floor.

  The right cell holds Peter and Rhys.

  The left one holds Nina.

  The relief at seeing them outweighs everything else, infusing me with new energy. I run toward the bars with their names on my lips. The door slams shut behind me.

  Nina stands in her cage to the left, watching us with her arms folded behind her back. Everything I felt when Noah died comes rushing back, souring my stomach. She’s lucky those bars are between us. I try to ignore her because I don’t want her face spoiling what it’s like to see Peter and Rhys again. All three of them wear the same rough shorts and sleeveless cloth shirts.

  My hands slip through the bars and grasp Peter’s. Rhys grabs my forearm, and we hold one another. Our breath is heavy, like we just ran a mile. We’re together, touching, solid and whole and alive. If I can keep it that way, nothing else matters.

  “You’re both safe,” I say at last. Peter ducks his head forward, and I press my face to the bars and our lips touch lightly.

  That’s enough to bring Noah back. I feel him standing behind me, like a sixth person suddenly entered the room. I break Peter’s kiss too early and turn around.

  “You remember how you kissed me in your cell? You kissed me like we used to kiss. The very same way.”

  Noah…

  What he says is true, and it makes me want to cry. I shouldn’t have done that.

  He ignores me, staring languidly into Nina’s cell. But that can’t be right—how can he see her? Is this just how my brain is visualizing him?

  Gane asks me, “Which would you like to stay in?”

  Fear flickers in Nina’s eyes, then disappears behind a stoic mask. A mask I would believe if she hadn’t taken a step back. Some primal urge rises in me at her show of weakness. I want to tear the bars apart and share her cell for a minute or two.

  “Don’t put her in here with me,” she says. “She’ll kill me.”

  “Why would she kill you?” Gane says.

  “To keep me from sharing information.”

  “Really. Information of what nature?”

  “Of the nature you want. The kind you’ve been searching for.”

  Gane raises an eyebrow. “I’ll need more than that.”

  “Commander Gane, I was sent here to take the eyeless from your lands. I know where the Torch is.” She points at me. “She doesn’t. Therefore I am useful. She isn’t. She doesn’t even know what I’m talking about. Look at her.”

  “Miranda,” Noah says, his voice cutting through me like a sword. He’s right in front of me now. “I remember something.”

  In my mind, Noah shows me the monsters we’ve feared. The ones who will “conquer the world.” The images are blurry, corrupted somehow, but I see enough. They’re spindly and milk-white, hunched on all fours even though they’re humanoid. They move like wolves. I see them flowing through the ruins of a city, galloping on claw-tipped hands and feet. Something controls them. It’s a slender shaft with a red orb on one end, glowing brilliantly, like a bloody star.

  The images snap out of focus, and I’m back in the room.

  “Did you see?” Noah says. “Did you see? How did I know that?”

  I don’t know, I think.

  “There’s more, I know there is.” Noah paces away, hands laced on top of his head. “Give me a minute.”

  When I turn back, everyone is still staring at Nina.

  Gane’s stone face veils his curiosity, but not completely. “You told me that before,” he says to her. “Make me believe you.”

  Nina steps to the bars and grabs them with both hands. “I know how to control them. I can prove it to you. I’ll lead them through the Black.”

  Through the Black…

  Her voice is steady. “I know where the Torch is.”

  I try to fit the pieces tog
ether—the Torch, the Black, and the eyeless. Through the Black, she said. I went through the Black. And now I’m here.

  What’s the Black?

  “I don’t know yet,” Noah says. “Some kind of transport system. I can’t see it. Dammit!” He spins and punches Gane in the face, but his fist passes through like a ghost, as we both knew it would. He walks away with his hands clasped behind his head, breathing through clenched teeth, frustration that he can’t do anything written all over his body.

  Gane remains quiet.

  “Ask yourself this,” Nina says, not giving up. “How could I know about the Torch?”

  Good question. A better question is How do I know about the Torch? Noah somehow granted me the understanding that the Torch is an instrument to control the eyeless, but how did he know?

  “There are thousands of eyeless,” Gane says. “Tens of thousands. The Torch is a myth. And you are an interloper. Anything that comes through the Black is not to be trusted, not ever.”

  Nina shakes her head behind the bars, gripping them tightly. “Don’t be a fool.”

  Rhys says to Gane, “Hey, Cobra Commander, maybe you should listen to us instead.”

  Gane holds up a hand. “Quiet.”

  As if by the motion of his hand, the bars between the two cells rise into the ceiling, rumbling and scraping, iron on stone. Now Nina shares the same space as Peter and Rhys. She steps back again. Smart girl.

  “You will be together while I think on this,” Gane says. “I’m going to open the cell door. Make no move toward it, or I will strike you down.” To my right, a door cut into the bars swings open.

  Now there’s unbroken space between Commander Gane and Peter and Rhys. They’re smart enough to believe Gane, so they stay put. I don’t. I stride forward and Peter wraps his arms around me and lifts my feet off the ground. He sets me down and kisses below my ear and whispers, “Where are we?”

  I have no answer for him.

  The cell door closes behind me, followed by the bang of the big iron door opening and closing.

  Alpha team is alone again. The three of us are on one side of the cell, Noah and Nina on the other.