by Edge, T. C.
I don't shoot. I can't. I dodge through gunfire and turn us back inwards, up another alleyway heading back towards the street we left Theo and Link on. Jackson calls for us to run faster, that the tunnel is just ahead at the end of the alley to the right. We leave the rebel forces fighting, and dying, in the detritus. Bodies falling on either side, the blood of youngsters spilling into the grime.
The light at the end of the alleyway grows fierce, and we burst back out into the blistering heat. The streets are now emptied of fleeing civilians, the entrance to the tunnel close to our right. I don't turn that way though. I turn left, searching up the street for Theo, for Link, for the two Watchers sent here to take us.
The street is so filled with smoke and dust that I can hardly see ahead. Jackson calls behind me to keep going, to get to the tunnel, but I keep staring forward, searching for my friends.
“Go,” I say. “Get Ellie and the Leader to safety. I'll see you down there.”
Jackson tries to pull me again, but this time I rip my hand from his and turn my eyes to him. “GO, JACK! I have to check on my friends!” I roar, my voice splitting the air. “I'll be OK. I swear it.”
He stares into my eyes for a few seconds, but must know my mind is made up. Then he turns, quickly, and pulls Ellie and the Leader towards the tunnel.
I stand alone now, staring back into the fog of smoke and soot. I hear grunts ahead, the sound of fighting echoing through the shattered streets. I begin walking forward into the cloud, lifting my sleeve to my mouth to prevent my lungs filling with smoke. I can only see a few metres ahead, shadows of rubble piles and old battered cars slowly appearing in front of me.
Then I see a body. The shape of a man lying on the ground. I rush on and bend down to examine him, and see blood pouring from a bullet hole in the head. But it's not Theo, and it's not Link. It's the face of one of Knight's Watchers, the back of his skull split open and emptying its contents onto the dusty earth.
The sight is repulsive, but brings a sudden feeling of hope to my heart. If they bested him, they can best the other. I keep going forward, faster now, as the fighting grows louder.
And then I hear it.
A voice, close by to my left. That deep, resonating voice that rumbles right through my body. Calm and cold and devoid of any emotion.
“Stop right there, Cyra.”
I turn to my left and see a shadow appear through the mist, dust swirling around him. Dressed in black and with that chiselled face, cut from stone. Eyes of deepest grey, like slabs of cold slate.
Ajax.
I lift my weapon and point it straight at him, only a few metres away. His face doesn't change, doesn't flinch. He just stares into my eyes and slowly shakes his head.
“You're not going to shoot me, Cyra.”
I raise the gun to my shoulder and stick my finger to the trigger, pulling lightly. But he just stares at me, and whispers again. “You're not going to shoot me.”
Then, suddenly, his eyes dart into the fog ahead, towards the continuing sounds of battle. In the blink of an eye he moves forwards, slipping behind me before I even know it. I feel a sharp tug at my back and feel myself being flung backwards through the air several metres, landing with a thud on my back. As I hit the ground, I see the spot where I'd been standing explode in a thousand shards of cement and stone as a ball of fire swells in the mist.
I feel Ajax by my side, crouching low to the ground as the fire lifts into the air and fades. “Don't move,” he tells me again, before darting forward into the smoke.
My head spins. My ears ring. My eyesight blurs slightly around the edges. But through the clearing mist I can now make out figures, the shapes of bodies. One rushes towards me and I brace for an attack, trying to focus to see what danger it will bring.
Then I see Theo's face, bruised and bloodied, but alive. He emerges through the smoke and is quickly by my side, lifting me up into his arms and flinging me over his shoulder. He begins staggering towards the tunnel as I continue to watch the smoke clear behind him.
“Link?” I croak, but he doesn't answer.
He doesn't need to.
In the distance, caught under a pile of rubble, I see him. Eyes closed, body unmoving, blood dribbling from his lips. Theo continues to run forward as I bounce on his shoulder, my vision blurring around me.
“Link...” I croak again.
But again, Theo says nothing.
Then, just before we descend down into the tunnel, into the darkness, I see Ajax. He moves forward, the other Watcher to his side, and stares down at Link. He crouches to his body, brushing blood from his mouth, and I see his head drop. His star pupil. The boy he trained for months, who only wanted to help people. Now lying dead in the middle of the street.
31 - Revelations
I wake to silence.
The booming of explosions has ceased, the relentless rattle of gunfire ended. All that remains is a light ringing in my ears, and the sound of weeping nearby.
I scan for the source and see Ellie, sitting up against a bare rock wall, her head tucked into her knees. Theo sits next to her, arm around her for comfort, eyes staring at his feet.
My head aches as I shakily shift on the bed and drop my legs to the floor. My feet hit hard rock with a muted thud, and Theo's eyes raise up to mine. He looks at me for a few moments, a sorrow on his face, before gently slipping his arm off Ellie's shoulder and coming towards me.
When he reaches me we hug, and I feel warm tears running down my cheeks. Tears of relief and happiness at seeing him alive and unhurt. Tears of grief and anguish at the thought that Link is dead. At the sight of Ellie, distraught and broken-hearted on the floor. I want to go to her, hug her, tell her it's going to be OK. But I don't. I can't. Nothing can take away her pain right now. The sort of pain and fear and desolation that no training in the Grid can prepare you for.
Theo releases me, and we sit together on the bed. He whispers to me in the silence, telling me what happened, his face growing in anger and sorrow and regret all at once.
He tells me how he was knocked out during the fight, leaving Link alone. He came around to find that one of the Watchers was dead, lying prostrate on the floor, his head blown apart. Nearby, Link was still there, fighting hand to hand with the other Watcher in the swirling smoke.
Then the explosion hit, tearing the ground from under them. I see a tear building in Theo's eyes as he tells me how Link saw it coming a split second early and pushed him out of the way of the blast. The rubble came down on him instead, just as Ajax came rushing through.
Theo knew there was no fighting them off alone. So he ran, found me lying there in the street, picked me up, and headed for the tunnel. He trails off as he speaks, shaking his head.
“He saved me,” he says. “After everything I've done, he saved me. I don't deserve to be here. I should be dead, not him.”
I hug him again and tell him he's done nothing wrong. But he won't hear it. “I've done more wrong than you know,” he says, before standing and walking off into the darkness of the tunnel.
I follow him with my eyes as he goes, but don't move from the bed. I just sit there, the sound of Ellie's sniffs and sobs still filling the cave, unable to move, unable to think. Numb from everything that's happened. From everything I've seen and done.
Eventually I go to Ellie and sit beside her. I don't say anything. I just wrap my arm around her and pull her towards me. Her head rocks to the side, settling on my shoulder, and a fresh stream of tears falls from her eyes.
Then I think of Jackson, almost forgotten among the turmoil. I know he's safe. He must be or Theo would have said something. Yet I can't see him. Him or the Leader in the cave.
I tentatively ask Ellie if she knows where they are. She tells me, through her sniffs, that they went ahead to help people escape the tunnels. It's a labyrinth down here, apparently. And there's only one way out that few people know about.
We sit in silence for a while as Ellie's sobs begin to dry up, exhaustion taking ov
er her body. I stand and help her towards the bed, laying her down on the thin mattress and stroking her head until she falls asleep. In sleep, perhaps, she'll get some respite from all this. I only wish that were true.
It's a while later that the silence is finally broken, the sound of gentle footsteps coming from the darkness. I lift my head to see Jackson appear from the dark shroud down the tunnel, his pace quickening as he sees me. I stand and rush towards him, jumping into his arms and gripping him tight.
When I finally let him go I see that half his face is caked in dried blood and soot, his eyes worn and weary. I run my hands through his hair and feel a cut, sticky with blood. He grimaces as I touch it but assures me it's just a scratch.
We sit against the bare rock and Jackson tells me where we are, his voice low and empty and completely drained. “Deep in the mountains,” he says. “Down one of an endless series of passages. We'll stay here for tonight. Tomorrow morning, we need to keep moving.”
“Moving where?” I ask.
“To the other side of the mountains. There are more cities in the east, Cyra. This isn't the end.”
I let out a breath at the thought that there's more to come. More fighting, more war. This, I know, is only just the beginning.
We sit in silence for a little while, a heavy weight on top of us both. It's not like before, back home, where we'd make light of our troubles if ever they got too serious. Nothing back then seems serious now. Over three short months, things have changed forever.
So we just sit, and don't speak, except to talk about what we might do or where we might go. For all his apparent knowledge of this place, of this cause, I know Jackson knows very little. The path that lies ahead of us will be determined by the Leader who still lives. The beacon of hope who these people will look up to now. Will he choose to retreat into the recesses of the Deadlands to live in peace, or fight for something more and risk losing everything? Whatever he chooses, me and Jackson and Theo and Ellie are stuck along for the ride. There truly is no going back now.
Soon Theo reappears. His eyes pass over us, still slightly shell-shocked and forlorn, before quickly turning away. He finds a darkened corner of the cave and settles in against the wall, looking a million miles from the boy I first met. I go to speak to him, to make sure he's OK, but all he does is keep his head low. He, like all of us, just needs time to process all of this.
The minutes and hours pass, and I sense Jackson growing more agitated. He spends most of his time looking down the tunnel, listening intently for any sound of footsteps coming our way. The Leader told him he'd make sure that any stragglers knew where they were going before returning to us. That meant going back towards the entrance and the chance of encountering more Eden soldiers.
Then, from nowhere, the Leader appears, walking almost silently through the darkness. Jackson rises to his feet quickly and moves towards him. They whisper for a few moments in private before Jackson returns to me.
“He wants to speak with you alone,” he says.
I stand and walk towards the Leader, his face still darkened by soot and shadow. I join him at his side and we begin walking down the tunnel, lit only in places by dim lights built into the rock ceiling.
To the left and right small alcoves have been cut into the rock, fitted with beds and shelving containing tins of food and other rations.
“This place has been used for decades as a sanctuary against the threats from outside,” says the Leader. There's something about his voice that's so familiar, so comforting. “The tunnels were built during the last war for the people to hide in and escape through if they needed.”
We continue on, passing other passageways and tunnels leading in various directions into the mountains. The place looks like a maze, impossible to navigate except by those who know the way.
Soon we come to a large opening, a wide cavern with several linking tunnels leading off from it. In the middle is a stone table, and a spotlight shining down on it from above. The Leader moves towards it and I follow. On top is a stone basin, filled with water that drips from the ceiling above.
“Please, wash,” he says.
I dip my hands into the cool water and lean down to splash my face. Immediately my fingers fill with grime, dark liquid dripping down from my face onto the table. The Leader passes me an old cloth and I wipe my face clean, staining the fabric black.
“That's better,” says the Leader. “Now I can see you properly.”
His eyes twinkle with memory as he looks at me for a few moments. Those blue eyes, sparkling behind his mask of dirt and grit.
“You did well today, Cyra,” he says. “You saved lives.”
I shake my head. “I didn't save anyone. I should have seen the attack coming.”
The Leader steps forward, drawing closer to me. “You can't blame yourself for that. No one saw it coming.”
“Not even you?” I ask.
He looks at me questioningly. “No, how would I...”
“Because you're a Watcher too,” I say quickly. “The way you dodged that ceiling when it fell. The way you moved through the street. You can see into the Void, can't you?”
Slowly his head begins to nod. “You're right. I can.”
“And was it you who saw me? Me and my friends coming to find Jackson.”
He nods again. “That was me,” he says.
It's a question I've been wanting to ask Jackson. Something unsettling in my mind that I can't figure out. The fact that they knew it was me in that underground shelter. Only someone who knew me could possibly know that.
“But how did you know it was me?” I ask.
The Leader hesitates for a moment, before turning away. I watch as his hand slips into his cloak, pulling out something shiny and metallic. He looks at it for a moment, eyes deep with a lingering sadness.
Then he turns back to me, and I see what he's holding. In his hand is my mother's watch, the face cracked and broken.
“This was your mother's watch,” he says. It's not a question. He runs his finger over the cracked surface, just like I've done a thousand times.
“How...do you know that?” I whisper.
He doesn't answer, but moves towards the basin. He places the watch on the table and drops his cupped hands into the water. I watch on as he washes his face, the dirt and soot quickly clearing and revealing his tanned, weathered skin. His slightly crooked nose. His firm, dimpled jaw, covered in a shroud of dark stubble.
He raises his face back up to meet mine, a smile arching at the corner of his lips.
“We have a lot to catch up on, Cyra,” he says.
And then I see him. See the man I knew. The man I loved.
The man who was taken from me when I was a child.
The man who I thought was long dead.
My father, Drake.
Next in the Series - City of Stone
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