“Where should I report to—?” Quinn said, but the guard had already spun on his heel and headed away.
Quinn looked over at Hamilton, who was already issuing orders and whipping the men up into a frenzy. He was in trouble. How was he going to beat someone as efficient as Hamilton?
Chapter Sixteen
Siren collapsed on the bench. She was exhausted. She’d never been much of a cook. And, to be fair, doing what she was doing today hadn’t really been cooking either, only preparing. Preparing and serving. That was fine with her. If she had to cook, she would chargrill everything and everyone would end up starving to death.
She had chopped, stirred, cut, sliced, and doled. Worst of all, after she thought she was finished for the day, she had to clean. It was the hardest work she had ever done. People didn’t seem to take much care with cooking when they weren’t going to be the ones who had to clean up at the end of the day.
Still, Cook had given her a compliment and told her she’d worked well. It wasn’t in Siren’s nature to slack off and not do her fair share. Cook had told her what to do, and she had done it. At the end of her shift, she’d told Siren to go grab whatever she wanted to eat. She would return again in the morning. Siren couldn’t say she was excited about the prospect.
She grabbed an empty tray and piled the leftovers high on her plate. It did look good, though she didn’t chew with much enthusiasm on the carrots she herself at diced. She’d eaten half her meal when someone sat down opposite her. It was Quinn. He looked equally tired as she did.
“They really make us work for our meals, don’t they?” Quinn said.
“My blood sweat and tears went into this food,” Siren said. “Literally. I hope you enjoy it.”
“How can I now?” Quinn said, tossing down his fork.
But he was too hungry not to eat, so he picked up his fork and continued spooning it in his mouth.
“I’ve been training,” he said. “Marching. Exercising. Do I look like the kind of person who does exercise?”
He shook his head.
“The other guards said their training has been doubled since Hamilton took over,” he said. “And there’s reason to suspect this is just the beginning. He’s going to keep on adding to our training! And the guy who told me actually smiled about it! How was your day?”
“Not good,” Siren said. “I’ve been in the kitchen all day, chopping and cleaning. I have a newfound respect for the dinner ladies at my old school. No wonder they were always in such foul moods.”
“Did you get anywhere with…” Quinn said, referring to Siren’s secret mission.
“No,” Siren said. “I haven’t been able to make one jot of difference to the general mood of the people in this place. It’s like they’re all on some kind of pills that makes them as high and happy as a kite.”
“I suppose they all know how bad it is out in the world,” Quinn said. “They’re happy to be here. They have everything they need to live happy lives.”
“I guess we’re the only depressed people here,” Siren said.
“Because we’d prefer to be out in the world,” Quinn said. “But then, most people don’t have our unique abilities, do they? Speaking of which, I’ll be injecting a little unease into the locals this evening.”
“Tonight?” Siren said.
“I’m on night watch duty,” Quinn said. “We’re one of the farthest from Arthur’s Port, so I can get a good grip on some of the Undead I can Sense out there. Still, it’s not easy. I can sense the Controller’s firm grip on them, but I should be able to wrestle him free.”
Siren nodded, taking a moment to chew on a piece of sausage.
“Are we sure we want to do this?” she said. “Maybe them feeling secure like this is the best thing.”
“It might be,” Quinn said. “In the short term. But one man having this much power is never good for everyone. Especially for people like this.”
“But isn’t that what you want?” Siren said. “More power?”
“If you think that, you don’t know me very well,” Quinn said. “I want what’s best for all people. Not just the few. If we can speak with the Controller, we might get him to see reason.”
“And if we don’t?” Siren said.
Quinn didn’t answer, and focused on the chewy piece of pork he’d had the misfortune of unearthing.
Chapter Seventeen
Quinn was on night duty with a pair of other guards. They grunted in pain every few minutes from the increase in intensity of their workouts. Quinn was glad he wasn’t the only one suffering. They stood on the fringes of Second Chance, the lights from the lanterns that hung in the street from posts were small globes in the infinite darkness.
“How many Undead do you usually see each night?” Quinn said to one of his fellow guards.
“See?” Gary said. “Maybe half a dozen or so.”
“How many do you usually have to kill?” Quinn said.
“Kill?” Gary said. “None.”
Quinn blinked. They saw half a dozen Undead a night, and it was safe to assume some of those Undead would see them too, and they never attacked the guards? It was more than a little suspicious. But then, people quickly got used to new norms. They would accept anything so long as it happened frequently enough that they would take no notice of it.
“More dangerous than the Undead are the Raiders,” Gary said. “But we usually hear their engines from far off. That’s about the only time we really see any action out here. And that doesn’t happen all that much.”
Quinn turned to look in the distance at the darkness. He couldn’t see them, but he knew there would be another set of guards on either side of him, forming a perimeter. If any danger got too close, they sounded the alarm and the guards from the barracks would come running.
Gary took out a pack of cards and took a seat on the upturned bucket.
“Poker,” he said to Quinn. “You play?”
“Not if I can help it,” Quinn said. “I usually lose.”
Gary turned a second bucket over.
“Then welcome, friend,” he said. “Seeing as we don’t have a lot, certainly not any money, we bet with the things to do have. Smokes, food, beer. The good stuff.”
“I don’t have any of that stuff either,” Quinn said.
“It’s all right,” Gary said. “When you go to the kitchens, you just make sure to slip a little in your pocket. Make sure Cook doesn’t see you though. She can be right mean when the mood strikes her.”
The idea of that large woman chasing him with a wooden spoon gave Quinn the shivers. He felt sorry for Siren. One false move, and Cook would be on her.
For thirty minutes of playing poker and hemorrhaging food he’d have to steal at some point, Quinn barely picked up on many Undead. The Controller had done a great job in keeping them away. In fact, remarkably well. Quinn was aware of how powerful he was. Much more powerful than himself. Siren said he’d felt like an Undead to her. Was that just because he’d learned to block Siren out, or did he seem so much like an Undead because he was one?
It was an idea Quinn had given a lot of thought in the past, but never took seriously. What would happen to him if he did turn into an Undead? Would he lose his ability? Or would be become one of them? There was some evidence now for the strength it might give him. But at what cost? Siren had mentioned the smell that came from the Controller. The fact he really was Undead.
Gary won another hand, this time with two pairs. He collected the matchsticks that represented their food items. He was gathering a real feast.
Then Quinn felt them. Out there. He didn’t snap his head around to look in their direction, but he wanted to. Half a dozen, clumped together in a single group. They meandered in one direction, then another, without purpose. The Controller hadn’t picked up on them yet. Were they outside his influence? Or had he simply fallen asleep?
The Undead were coming closer now. Quinn reached out for them, and welcomed them like old friends. He took control of th
em, and their memories—what few they still held onto with their decomposing brains—entered his own consciousness. He could see what they could see. He felt what they felt. He could feel the Controller inside them, Pushing against him. But at this distance, strengthened by his proximity, Quinn was stronger.
“Did you hear that?” Gary said.
One of the Undead had scuffed his feet on the dusty ground.
“No,” the other guy said. “Just hurry up and deal the cards. I need to win some food back.”
But Gary didn’t move, and continued to peer into the darkness. When no sound came, he turned back to the table and dealt the cards. His movements were slow, as if he was thinking about something else. His ear twitched, listening in the direction of where he thought he’d heard a clumsy footstep.
“Oh, momma,” the other guard said, fanning out his cards. “Come to papa.”
Then they came out of the darkness. Gary leapt to his feet, knocking the table over and backing away in haste.
“Hey!” the other guard said. “Don’t think we’ll start this hand again just because you knocked the table over! My luck’s just beginning to come in.”
“Look!” Gary said, pointing a shaking finger at the approaching Undead.
“Jesus Christ!” the other guard said, jumping to his feet. “What do we do? What do we do?”
“The others,” Gary said. “We have to warn the others!”
The Undead groaned, nipping at their heels as they turned and ran. Quinn jogged after the guards, keeping a strong grip on the Undead behind them.
The guards ran past a farm on their left. Quinn sent two Undead in that direction, and then another toward another farmhouse. No one would be harmed. Quinn simply wanted to scare them.
The farming families screamed in the two houses and ran out, terrified. There were no gunshots. No one was allowed firearms. One farmer’s wife picked up a rolling pin and bashed an Undead’s head in. Clearly not everyone was bashful. Their job done, Quinn sent the Undead back out into the darkness. There was no need for them to die. They had already served their purpose.
Quinn followed the other two guards into the barracks, making a beeline for the officer’s rooms. Hamilton, despite the late hour, was at his desk.
“Undead!” Gary gasped around a mouthful of oxygen.
“Where?” Hamilton said, getting to his feet.
“West,” Gary said.
“How many?” Hamilton said.
“There must have been ten of them,” Gary said.
“Twenty,” the other guard said.
Hamilton turned to Quinn.
“Somewhere between that number,” Quinn said.
“You boys did the right thing,” Hamilton said. “No use getting yourselves killed. Go get some hot chocolate. We’ll handle this.”
He rounded up a large group of guards, waking them from their sleep. He divided them into two groups to cover more ground. Quinn sipped on his hot chocolate and got ready for bed. Gary and the other guard were busy telling their tale of a brush with the Undead to the other guards, now awake.
More than a few bunks squeaked with those unable to sleep that night. Quinn was not one of them. He slept like the dead.
Chapter Eighteen
Palek stood before the villagers on a raised plinth. The entire village had been roused in the middle of the night. In fact, they had been roused from the moment Gary had yelled, giving voice to the Undead that had breached their defenses. They had spilled out into the street.
Although Quinn had considered staying in his warm, comfortable bed, he decided to force himself up. It would have seemed too strange if he, one of the men who had initially discovered the Undead, now decided to sleep, having suffered no ill effects. Rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, Quinn wandered amongst the townsfolk. The fear on their faces was palpable.
“This has never happened before.”
“I can’t believe they got so close!”
“Maybe next time they’ll come right into town, into one of our houses!”
“My kids… They’ll never get to sleep after this. To be honest, neither will I!”
Quinn was sorry for having brought so much disruption and unease amongst the townsfolk, but he reminded himself it was for the greater good. He’d begun to do his part, now it was Siren’s turn to do hers.
He didn’t notice her at first, when she stood beside him. She didn’t say hello, didn’t offer a word in greeting. He could tell by the look on her face that she was concentrating, focusing all her ability on massaging the emotions of the men, women and children around them.
“I want to assure you,” Palek said. “Everything that can be done is being done. And with Captain Hamilton here to organize the guards and watch over us, I’m even more sure of that. We as yet have found no sign of the Undead that entered people’s homes.”
“Except for the one I smashed the brains in of!” the farmer’s wife said, still brandishing her rolling pin in one beefy hand.
Rather than the cheers she had apparently been expecting, she got mutters of dislike, and people shuffling away from her and the blood-smeared pin.
“Be that as it may,” Palek said, attempting to assuage the rest of the townsfolk. “There has been no further sign of the Undead in the other parts of town. There is no reason to suspect there will be more.”
“One is too many!” a short woman said, clutching a young girl to her tightly.
“I know what I saw!” a farmer said. “An Undead. Right there! On my landing! Staring straight at me, bold as brass! It wasn’t the dark I was afraid of. And yes, I’ll admit I was afraid. I’d think any sensible, half-thinking man would have been afraid. It was an Undead!”
The villagers broke into nervous chatter, muttering amongst themselves.
Hamilton took to the stage. A hush came over the townspeople. Here was a man of great respect, one that would be difficult to turn. Siren would need to manipulate the mob if she wanted to turn them. They certainly had their work cut out for them.
Chapter Nineteen
There was a stark difference in the emotions of the villagers the following morning. The majority ate in silence, deep in concentration and their own thoughts. One of the chefs dropped a pot, and half those eating hopped on the spot. There was no merriment or fun chatter, at complete odds with just the previous day. They ate with furtive glances over their shoulders.
Palek had arranged for musicians to play calm tunes while people ate. Palek was a smart fellow, Siren thought, but she knew people and their emotions better. He’d made a mistake by introducing the live music. It made people realize they had entered a different part of their lives here, that things would never be the same again.
“Feels like we’re on the Titanic,” Cook said under her breath.
Siren knew with certainty that she was not the only person to think like that. Siren suspected Palek had allowed the musicians to play whatever they wished, and most musicians were liable to play downbeat songs, which these musicians certainly did.
Around midday, when Palek came to get his lunch, he had apparently realized his error, and approached the musicians and asked them play upbeat songs. It didn’t have the same reaction as Palek had intended. The upbeat mood of the music was at a vastly different tone to that the people were currently facing, and only went to heighten their emotion of sadness.
Siren used Palek’s attempts to calm the people against him, pulling on the frayed threads. It was she who forced constant mistakes on the part of the cooks, and the loud noises set the diners on edge. Most of them ate less than usual, and threw away what they didn’t eat. Cook didn’t blame them. She was afraid too. That was the problem with the Undead. They could come out of nowhere, at any time, and claim another victim.
But Siren didn’t get away with her acts unscathed. Cook smacked her on the back of the head with her wooden ladle more than once, accusing her of daydreaming. Siren didn’t care, and focused more intently on the job in hand. She was an
entertainer, spinning various plates at the same time, trying to keep them all up in the air.
Eventually, there would come a tipping point, as there always was. Whether it was in forcing someone to give her what she wanted, or making them terrified of their current situation, it took a great deal of poking and prying until she began to feel them teetering over the edge.
Peering around at all the people working hard in an attempt to build a place for themselves and their families, to survive in a post-apocalyptic war-torn world, gave Siren no pleasure at all.
She and Quinn were very likely going to destroy this place.
Chapter Twenty
The guards were understandably nervous after the terrifying events of the previous night. They would never admit it, Quinn knew, but even he could sense it in them. He didn’t need Siren’s ability to pick up on it. Perhaps it was because he had been with her for so long. Sometimes you began to pick up on the kind of things that others around you could do instinctively.
Wasn’t that a fact he’d read once? That a person was the sum total of the five people he met the most on a daily basis? As he’d exclusively been hanging out with Siren he supposed that made him fifty percent Siren. He knew it didn’t work like that, but it made him smile to think she was such a large part of who he was.
Perhaps that was all Siren had, an especially heightened awareness of other people. She could pick up on the slightest changes in their voices and the way they said certain words and how they interacted with others. That could have been true before, in the old world, but now there was no denying the power she manipulated people with.
She had managed to convince people to do things no one else had ever done before. Had she also done the same thing to him? He didn’t doubt it. Who didn’t like to win arguments? He would have done the same thing in her position. As for important things, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to override their own sense of self just for what he wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to believe Siren would have done the same either. If any part of himself had rubbed off on her, he hoped it was that.
The Compulsion Series (Book 3): Expulsion Page 6