The Watchers of Eden (The Watchers Trilogy, Book One)

by Edge, T. C.

  “I'm not sure. It's possible. People on Eden don't really break the rules, so except for the barcodes there's not actually that much security in general. People just, you know, do their duties.”

  “Yeah, I've begun to work that out since I've been here.”

  We step inside and I hear the door sliding shut behind us. “So, where are the archives?” I ask.

  Theo's face screws up in thought. “It's a bit disorienting. Last time I came down here it wasn't like this. And I came down at another part of the perimeter.” He looks towards a door in the distance over to the right. “I think it's through there somewhere. Come on.”

  We spend the next few minutes creeping through the room, stopping every so often behind stacks of boxes, cargo containers, and large military vehicles to check the coast is clear. Some of the equipment here is so huge I begin to wonder how they got it down here.

  “There's a massive industrial lift that extends up to the deck over on the other side of the level,” Theo tells me when I ask him.

  “But why bring all this equipment here? Why not keep it on the mainland?”

  “Beats me. Maybe they like to keep some safe here. It's more dangerous on the mainland. At least, that's what I've been told.”

  He looks at me as if asking for my own thoughts on the matter. “Well, before coming here I'd never been out of Arbor so I don't really know. You'll know more than me I bet.”

  We continue forward, still not catching sight of any guards, until we reach the door Theo spotted from the other side. There's no sign on it and no way of telling where it actually leads.

  “Are you sure it's through here?” I ask.

  “Honestly? No. But it's definitely in this general direction.”

  We go through the door to find ourselves in what appears to be a stock room specifically for weaponry. Row upon row of high shelves stretch out ahead of us, all filled with weapons of various kinds. I recognise many that we've been training with over the last month or so and that I'm now comfortable using. Many others, however, are alien to me.

  We continue through, reaching yet another door on the far side. Theo goes to open it, but I quickly grab his hand before he's able to push the button, pulling it away.

  He looks at me in alarm, but I have to act quickly. I start running to the left, dragging him with me, slipping around a shelf of pistols and stopping behind it.

  “What's going on?!” he whispers. I don't answer. My eyes are stuck on the door, peeking through a gap in the shelving.

  Any second now, I think to myself. Any second.

  The door suddenly opens, shooting up as two men step through into the room. They hold torches, rhythmically swaying them from side to side, lighting up the high stacks of weapons in the gloom.

  “Guards,” whispers Theo, now staring forward through the gap with me.

  We both stand in silence as they split, one heading to the left, and the other to the right, directly towards us. Now it's Theo's turn to take control. I feel his hand grasp hard at my wrist and begin leading me back away, darting around another shelf. Just as we sneak from his view, the guard rounds the shelf we were hiding behind, his torch bathing the spot in a bright yellow glow.

  Without breathing, without making a sound, we retreat, moving further and further back behind stacks of weapons. The light of the guard continues to sway as he steps forward, whistling casually as he goes. Soon we're at the back wall, with nowhere else to hide. I see Theo crouching low to the ground and follow behind him. He's readying himself to launch himself at the guard should he come round the corner.

  The guard inches closer, strolling towards the final shelf that we're hiding behind. Theo's body tenses in front of me, ready to strike like a viper.

  Then a voice echoes from the other side of the room. “Anything?” it shouts.

  The guard ahead of us turns on the spot, only a few feet away. “What do you think?!” His voice is so loud, so close, vibrating through me in the silence.

  “Well come on then, let's take a break.”

  I let out a long, quiet, breath as the guard begins walking away towards the far side. Towards the door we came in through only a few minutes ago. Theo's body relaxes and he turns to me, an impish smile on his newly fattened face. “Close one,” he whispers. “How did you know they were coming?”

  I check to see that the guard is out of earshot before answering. “I saw them,” I say. “I saw the door slide open and the two guards walk through, just like in the Grid.”

  “Well that saved us,” says Theo. “We'd have been caught for sure otherwise.”

  As soon as the guards leave the room we make our way back towards the door. Theo looks at me, almost for approval, before opening it. This time, there's no one preparing to come through the other side.

  We enter into a large corridor, brightly lit and with various doors leading into other expansive halls and rooms. “There,” says Theo, pointing down towards a section marked 'Archives'. “Now I remember. I came down in the lift from the other end of this corridor near the perimeter. That was the quickest way in from when I was living in the Council Chambers.”

  I let out a small sigh of relief at the thought that he now knows where he's going. For all his uses so far, being poor with directions might well have just derailed the entire plan.

  We walk along the corridor, making sure to watch for opening doors ahead. This time, however, if a guard did come through, we'd have nowhere to hide. It would be a case of surrender or fight. I know what I'd choose.

  Thankfully, however, we reach the archive section without further incident. Once more we're required to enter the keycard, and both wait with bated breath for the light to glow green. It does, and the door slides open, revealing a darkened space beyond.

  As my eyes begin to adjust, I notice that we're inside yet another massive area. Similar to the weapons room, here there are countless rows of cabinets, a never-ending tract of files and documents. We step inside and inspect a sign on the inside of the door, listing the various areas of the room. There are more than a dozen sections. Records for military vehicles and equipment. Battle reports and troop movements. Details of retired and discharged soldiers.

  My eyes drop to the section we're here for. The section marked 'Serving Soldier Records', located at the back right hand corner of the room. I can feel my heart rate beginning to race the closer we get, my head starting to spin with hope and dread all at once.

  Theo continues to search for any sign of a guard as we go, but there's no sign of anyone. Here, in the gloomy archive room, you'd see their torch lit up like a beacon. But there's nothing. No sound of footsteps but our own light treads. No light except the gentle glow of the security lights littered at intervals around the walls.

  Once we're sure we're alone, Theo pulls out his own torch and begins scouring the cabinets for the appropriate files and records.

  “What's his surname?” he asks me, his voice rumbling through the silent hall.

  “Kane,” I say. “It's Jackson Kane.”

  The cabinets in the section are listed alphabetically, so it takes no time to find 'K'. “Keep a lookout, would you?” I ask Theo. Frankly, I want to do this part alone.

  Now I'm sifting through drawers, searching through the surnames starting with a 'K'. Some files are bigger than others. Perhaps belonging to soldiers who have served for some time. Others are as thin as a couple of sheets of paper, most likely new recruits only just arrived. There are lots of those.

  My fingers move fast, frantically, as I flick from one file to the next. Then I find it – Kane, Jackson – and pull it straight out.

  I glance at Theo, who's now looking at me with interest as I pull the file open and run my eyes over its contents. I see a picture of Jackson, standing in military gear, a sort of snarl on his face. I guess it must have been taken soon after he arrived a few months ago.

  Behind it are his vital statistics, notes on where he's been stationed, and various details about his skills, abilities
, and potential aptitude as a soldier and leader. There's nothing here to suggest he's been killed. Nothing to suggest he's been involved in any accident at all.

  Then I flick the page, and feel my hands tremble.

  I don't even focus on the writing, on the report written at the top of the page. All I see are the big red letters.

  M.I.A, PRESUMED DEAD.

  I feel the file slipping out of my hand, my fingers clenching together into balls and squeezing tight. I want to let out a scream. One of anger and relief all melted into one.

  Because I know, right at that moment, that Jackson is alive. That what I've been seeing in my sleep is real. Not a dream. Not a powerful manifestation. But a vision of reality. He's injured. He's missing. But he's alive.

  And I know, right then, that I've been lied to. Lied to by Ajax, the man I'm supposed to trust. Manipulated by him, by Augustus Knight. Toyed with like a doll, made to believe that Jackson's dead so I let go of everything I care about. Let go of my past. Look to the future and commit myself to life as a Watcher.

  I see Theo leaning down at my feet, picking up the file. He reads over the pages quizzically, shaking his head.

  “Not dead?” he whispers, raising his eyes to mine. “You were right.”

  He neatens up the file and slips it back into the drawer, before closing the cabinet shut. “What are you going to do now?” he asks.

  I step forward, open the drawer once more, and pull out the picture of Jackson. “He's alive,” I say, looking at it, “and I'm going to find him.”

  24 - The Storm Gathers

  We're rushing now, back across the level towards the lifts. We take a different route, moving down the corridor we came out onto after leaving the weapons stock room. Theo leads the way, eyes carefully scanning ahead as usual, piercing through the faint light in the distance, ever searching for guards.

  I hear voices, coming to me as if on the wind. They're ghostly, unintelligible, make no sense at all.

  “Stop,” I whisper to Theo, grabbing his arm. It's muscled and sinewy, tightly tensed.

  “What's the matter?” He turns to me, eyes focused.

  “Someone's coming. I can hear them.”

  He's looking up and down the corridor now. There's no sign of anyone. “Which direction?”

  I shut my eyes and hear the voices. Ahead, to the left. I look up and see the wispy figures of two more guards coming forward, through the door. “That door,” I say. “They'll be coming through any second.”

  Theo's eyes dart frantically around, searching for cover, for somewhere, anywhere, to hide. There's nowhere, nothing but a long expanse of corridor behind us.

  “We have to fight,” he says, before darting forward to the door.

  We're there in a split second, just before the door slides open and two men walk through. They're wearing armour, carrying weapons, but aren't expecting company.

  Theo steps in and sends his fist straight into one of their jaws. The man only has enough time for his eyes to widen in surprise before they close just as quickly, his body falling flat onto the cold floor.

  The other guard lets out a yelp of shock before setting his eyes on Theo. He's quick to act, his fist firing straight towards Theo's face, but hitting nothing but air. Theo's below the punch, ducking down and stepping in, slipping behind his back, and putting him into a choke hold. The man thrashes and splutters for a few moments before his body goes limp, Theo gently placing him next to his friend on the floor.

  “Someone might have heard,” he says, turning to me. “We need to get back immediately.”

  We're running again, continuing on towards the perimeter wall. My blood's rushing, filling with adrenaline, as the sight of the wall grows in front of us. In a moment we're through the door, under the tram tracks, and safely inside a lift heading for the deck.

  We both let out a laugh of relief. “Good thing we're wearing the masks!” says Theo, rubbing his fist. I can tell his knuckles are already beginning to swell a little bit.

  “Looks like your combat training has paid off,” I say. “That was impressive.”

  “Thanks. It's fighting Link that's done it. That guy's a brute.”

  It takes no time for the lift doors to open again and the rush of cool, clean air to flow inside. It's so quiet, the night still in its darkest recesses, when we enter through the inner perimeter wall and onto the deck. I look around, not quite knowing where I am.

  “This was the lift I used to use when I lived at the Council Chambers,” Theo says. “It's the closest one. Although, that does mean that our room is pretty much on the other side of the city.”

  “I guess the trams aren't going to be working for a while?” I ask.

  “Nope, afraid not. We're walking.”

  The next 30 minutes or so is spent sneaking through the city, ducking for cover in places when we think someone might see us. Frankly, no one would know it's us anyway, and it's going to take them a while to piece together exactly what's gone on down on Underwater 2 tonight. And I don't plan on being here for much longer.

  When we eventually get back to our room, we both peel the morph masks from our faces. The feeling is incredibly satisfying, like peeling dried glue from your fingers. I hand mine back to Theo, who puts them back in his bag, a seriousness dawning on his face.

  “What did you mean back there?” he asks. “When you said you were going to find Jackson?”

  I sit on my bed, exhausted, the adrenaline now well and truly fading from my body. “I meant just that. I'm going to find him, and save him. Did you see what the file said: MIA. Missing in action.”

  “So you think he's been taken? By the rebels out on the Deadlands?”

  “Yeah, isn't that obvious? In my vision, he's lying in some old dilapidated building. I didn't realise before, but it's probably in an old rebel city, destroyed in the war. I can't leave him there to die. I just can't do that, Theo.”

  “So tell Ajax. Let the military take care of it.”

  I shake my head and wipe my hand down my face. “Are you serious? You think they'd do anything about it? They've been lying to me, telling me he's dead. Ajax is part of that. I can't trust him. I can't trust anyone here.”

  Theo stands and moves over to my bed. He sits down beside me, eyes gentle but filled with resolve. “Then I'm coming with you.”

  “No, I can't ask you to do that. Look, you've more than repaid your debt to me tonight. You don't owe me anything.”

  “It's not about that. Not any more.” He stands and paces to the window and pulls the curtains open, eyes staring solemnly to the city below. “I'm sick of this place.” His voice is sombre and heavy. “I don't want to be here any more. I don't belong here any more.”

  I stand and move to the side of him. “Those bruises on your body,” I ask. “They're from your old friends aren't they?”

  I watch as his face compresses in anger, deep lines appearing across his forehead. “I'll get them back. One day I'll make them pay. All of them.”

  “Your friends?”

  He nods. “And my parents. You can't see the bruises they inflict.”

  “Your parents? But, they're always so polite, so proud...”

  He huffs. “Of course they are, they have to be. But it's all for show. They're ashamed of what I've become...”

  “And who you've been Paired with?” I ask.

  He turns to me, eyes filled with venom. “They act like it's all great because they have to. It's Chancellor Knight's system. If any Councillor disagrees with it, they're cut out, discarded. But behind closed doors, they tell me how they really feel.”

  “That's awful. I'm...so sorry.”

  He turns back to the window and gazes to the empty streets below. “This place is sick, like an apple rotting at its core. You only see it when you're cast out. Now, I'm seeing that clearly.”

  There's no falseness to his words. He's not lying to me. He's not trying to make me feel sorry for him or take pity on him. He's been right at that rotten core, and
now that he's been removed, he can see it all for what it truly is: corrupt.

  “So, when shall we leave?” I ask, almost casually. That's how Jackson and I always dealt with the heavy stuff: by being casual about it.

  He twists once more and looks upon me. “Friday evening,” he says quickly. “It will give us time to disappear when the entire city is distracted by the celebrations.”

  I understand. If we left during the week, Ajax would know we're not there the next morning. The weekend gives us a bit of time to get away when everyone will be busy celebrating the anniversary of the city's birth, one of the biggest events in its calender.

  “There are merchant boats we can stow away on. They'll take us as far as New Atlantis. From there we can disappear.”

  We look at each other with resolve, our features hardening. He looks like he's aged several years overnight, his face growing tougher and more rugged, dots of stubble appearing on his chiselled chin.

  “Will it be that easy to escape unnoticed?” I ask. Once again, I know having Theo on board is going to prove incredibly useful.

  “Shouldn't be a problem. At worst, we can pay people off if we're caught. Merchants from New Atlantis have no morals.”

  “OK,” I say. “We leave Friday.”

  “Friday,” Theo repeats, nodding.

  The next two days pass like a blur. I hear a few murmurings about the infiltration down on Underwater 2, but it seems there are no leads as to who it was. By all accounts, a full on inventory was conducted to ensure nothing was taken, the results of which were inconclusive.

  Theo and I make sure to keep our distance in the Grid, just to keep up appearances. With Ajax's ever watchful eyes on me, I don't want to give the impression that anything is wrong. I get the sense that he knows I'm up to something, but he never mentions it. Now I know how devious he's been, how truly callous and cold he is, I'll be glad to see the back of him.

  I find it hardest keeping things quiet from Ellie. Part of me wants to admit to her that it was Theo and I who infiltrated Underwater 2, that I managed to find out the truth about Jackson. I want to show her that I was telling the truth all along, that they weren't just dreams and flights of fancy, but visions. That Jackson is alive, and I'm going to find him, or die trying.