by Darren Lewis
As the girls became acquainted with their new home underground Mary started to notice the far away looks on many of the faces during breakfast, lunch, at work or even reading a book. The person seemed to be focused on whatever they were doing but their eyes betrayed that they existed in their own personal hell. Mary realised that these people, these employees, military or not happened to be caught in the same situation. They also had families and friends on the surface at the mercy of the dragons and the truth in their eyes and expressions Mary recognised was the same as hers. They were lost inside their own version of events. From their loved ones escaping and staying safe, to husbands, wives and children suffering endlessly before the ultimate release of death. Time passed and the medical staff became the number one resource for the survivors trapped underground as they sought relief via psychological or pharmaceutical avenues. Mary for her own part felt no reluctance in sharing her fears and grief with Gabby and McCaffrey as they in turn did with her, it was Brooke who required a more substantial intervention by using anti-depressants. Mary was worried for the girl at the time, thinking the drugs would turn the girl into a husk, a shell of the person she used to be. Time, if not a healer, at least allowed Mary to observe the improvement in Brooke and she received a great deal of credit from McCaffrey for how she would take care of the troubled young lady.
“Mary? Come in? You there?” Brooke's voice asked along with a crackle of static. Mary cleared her throat and wiped her eyes as she focused on the task at hand.
“Yes I'm here.” She replied simply, glad that Brooke couldn't see her expression.
“Gabby wants to know if you can go to the vending machine in reception and get her a cola?” Mary chuckled with a bit more force than necessary banishing her remaining memories of that day.
“Tell her we're not leaving operations, Brooke.” McCaffrey answered this time on his own handset. The sound of a long suffering sigh came though Mary's handset and she could imagine Brooke gesturing in the over dramatic fashion of hers when no one understood her sense of humour.
“Okay. Let's do this.” Mary said firmly, pulling out a chair from one of the consoles and sitting as comfortably as possible. The chair wheels squeaked and squealed in protest after years of neglect but the padding was still in good order so Mary started a routine of deep breathing exercises to relax and clear her mind, actions that Gabby and Brooke would also be performing. The goal being to 'sense' Brooke and for her in turn to tune into Gabby.
Mary tensed and relaxed a muscle with every breath taken in and released. She began with shoulders, bringing them up as forcefully as possible to her ears as she breathed in and then slowly relaxing them down as she exhaled. Mary continued on like this, moving down her body by muscle group. Clenching and releasing until her body seemed to be melting into the chair she was sat upon.
Mary allowed her calf muscles to relax and she closed her eyes, picturing the staircase she and her friends had fled down into the bunker. She drifted past the doorway and saw the metal grids comprising the floors and decks of each flight. Bright yellow lights burned on the walls, two per flight lending a harshness to every texture and shadow. Mary descended serenely, the movement of her mind's eye reminded her of the gentle bobbing of a balloon caught in a small breath of air and in the operations room she smiled. Mary continued, focusing now on a swifter descent to Brooke and the stairs became a yellow blur until she saw her friend sitting near the entrance to the bunker, not on a chair but on the floor, legs crossed with her back against the concrete wall. Mary stopped for a moment to take in her friend's face. When Brooke was sixteen she appeared ten years older, the bouts of depression drawing themselves onto her face, seemingly pulling her features downwards as a match for her emotions. Two years on and at eighteen Brooke now resembled her age, a testament to her friend's and the doctor's commitment to her wellbeing. Mary felt a warmth flush her chest in the operations room and she saw an orange glow expand from where her mind was positioned in front of Brooke. It covered Brooke imbuing her with the same glow. It moved smoothly until it covered her entire body and then it melted into her clothes and skin. Brooke gasped and arched her back. Her mouth split into a wide grin and she looked around the bottom of the stairwell.
“I assume you're down here, Mary?” Brooke asked in a deep tone, one Mary hadn't heard before. Mary nodded and tutted to herself. She moved forward and gently grazed her mind against Brooke's forehead.
I'm here!
Brooke laughed again and this time it was Mary's turn to gasp in wonder. She experienced a wealth of emotions pouring from the girl sat cross legged before her.
You…you never told me you felt this way! Mary said, half accusingly.
I wasn't sure either. Brooke replied, laughing out loud at the wonder of the non-verbal conversation and the secrets it had revealed. No. That's not true. Brooke paused and she screwed up her nose in thought. I knew how I felt about you. I was just scared you wouldn't feel the same. You used to think I was such a bitch. Brooke's mind dimmed slightly as she finished, Mary interpreted it as the equivalent of a shy whisper or embarrassment.
You were. Mary said quite matter of factly, sending a pulse of affection with the seemingly harsh thought. But we've all come such a long way and now we know. Mary stated firmly and Brooke nodded, a smile once again on her face. We'd better continue. Gabby's waiting.
Do you think she'll understand?
So, you think I can't hear the two of you from down here? Gabby's mental tone was filled with amusement.
You bloody eavesdropper! Brooke accused her friend.
It can't be eavesdropping. This is all in our heads. Gabby reminded Brooke.
Alright. Alright. Mary interrupted. Do you think anyone else can do this with the crystal?
At the station or anywhere?
We can't answer anywhere. But why us? Why us three?
Mary could still sense Brooke and Gabby as a soft weight in her head. Like her, the question of their apparent joining led to silence.
Perhaps it needs us? I mean you can definitely sense a presence from the damn thing. Maybe it's lonely. Brooke said breaking the silence. Mary shrugged.
Maybe we'll never know. But it does make you wonder if others at the station have this ability and are keeping it quiet.
What? Like Bilson?
Silence descended once more only this time like a black shroud over the girl's contact as each went quiet with the possibility of another hearing their conversation.
HEY, BILSON! YOU'RE AN ARSEHOLE!
Both Mary and Gabby erupted into howls of laughter at Brooke's silent yell. Brooke's high pitched shriek of laughter echoed in the stairwell and all three though separate in location were joined in the warm tears that ran down their faces.
Phew! Gabby finally said, gaining some control on her mirth. I think you two need to have a chat, preferably some place private. Mary once again felt the warmth from earlier but this time recognised it as affection for her friend standing down near the core.
Agreed! Mary and Brooke chimed in together.
You know. Gabby remarked. If this was a musical we'd break into song right now.
Shut up, Gabby!
The village — Gabby's memories
Gabby dropped behind the stonewall and into thick mud onto her hands and knees. Her breathing was almost out of control and accompanied by whimpers of fright. Her mind raced with one profound yet simple question at what she'd witnessed and the voice following her.
Sweet Jesus! What the hell? Oh, sweet Jesus, what?
Over and over, speeding through her thoughts, matching the rapidity of the air drawn into her lungs. A breath became a sob and tears spilled onto the muddy ground as Gabby pictured the scene. It was close to midnight and ten men and women, adorned in armour Gabby recognised out of history as that worn by knights but updated for the twenty first century, bedecked with wicked looking spikes and hooks. Each standing with their respective dragons and holding court on a small village of people, survivor
s of the war. The village itself dated back to the construction of the main farm in the area during the early nineteenth century. As the farm grew, cottages and houses for farmhands were built within walking distance of their place of work. Dirt tracks that allowed the transport of produce to market by horse and cart were replaced by stone and then tarmac as the years went by. To Gabby it was a surprise to discover it. Her trips away from the station to this moment had revealed nothing of the situation of the world above. The maps housed at the station showed the surrounding roads but gave no indication of habitation and Gabby had only noticed it because of the glow of orange fire. A small green, created a century before, was home to a few wooden benches and a war memorial, in remembrance for those young men lost so long ago. It was here that torches had been lit and placed in a large circle, then the men and boys of the village were separated from the women and girls and made to line up in front of a green dragon. Gabby saw the hopelessness, the utter desperation in their faces and in the way they held themselves. She thought she should feel shame for them, that they would not stand up even with their families close by and to be cowered so. Gabby swiftly realised, as she watched the dragons from her hiding place, how physically overwhelming these creatures appeared up close and that these people had suffered years of it.
“We know members of the resistance fled here and they were offered food and rest.” Gabby identified the man speaking but the angle of light from the fire didn't allow her to see any features. “That is not in question and we're not here to interrogate you but merely educate.” The figure speaking raised both his arms as if pleading with the frightened crowd. “All we wish is to be as one. That road is difficult, I acknowledge that but I know if we work together a better world can be achieved.” The arms dropped and the speaker's head looked down at the ground. “The resistance uses a symbol, quite a famous one used by a gentleman named Churchill and I know many of you are aware of it, especially those of you from the old world. It is my intention as a first step towards peace, to educate you away from using it.” As his words finished the first man in the line was grabbed up by two of the larger riders and dragged before the green dragon, his arm forced towards the dragon's mouth. The man screamed, followed by the cries of fear and protest from the rest of the village. Nine dragons reared back on their haunches and sent a torrent of orange fire into the sky, silencing the noise. In the bright light Gabby saw the instant the dragon snapped at the man's hand, taking it cleanly. He screamed once and then mercifully passed out. The limp body was handed over to two of the group standing guard on the village's inhabitants. They laid him gently upon the ground and tended his vicious wound. Many were crying but the majority of the men forming the line in front of the green dragon were silent, but it was not a silence of defiance but of disbelief. To witness such a horrific act had temporarily confounded them all.
Gabby backed away a step from the tree she was using as cover and she felt a sharp pain in her hand. She flinched and gave her hand a confused look as she removed the clenched fist from her mouth, she had no memory of placing it there. In the flickering orange light, she could see her teeth marks curving about the forefinger of her right hand. Another scream penetrated the night and Gabby jerked in shock. Shaking her head, she turned and fled, all thoughts of maintaining cover scattering as she pushed through bushes and low hanging tree branches. More screams in the distance pushed her further and further away from the nightmare she had witnessed. She ran while sobbing incoherently and stumbled with no conscious thought of direction, Gabby simply had to get away.
Plunging through a hedgerow Gabby immediately bashed her hip on stone sending her falling to the ground. White pain lanced into her back but Gabby simply scrambled up again, her feet and hands pushing, grasping at the wet grass for purchase, adrenalin vanishing the pain away. Dimly aware she was now in a graveyard Gabby automatically slowed and scanned the darkness keenly for more obstructions. By good fortune Gabby located a gravel path running through the graveyard and followed it until it led her to the opposite side and a low stone wall. Gabby paused and wiped the sweat from her brow and neck before leaning both hands on the wall and resting.
“Who are you? Speak!” A man's voice rang out in the night.
Gabby squealed in shock and vaulted over the wall, dropping to the ground, her breathing out of control.
“Well, well. What have we here?”
A torch brightened the area instantly and pointed straight at Gabby on all fours in the mud.
A hand grabbed Gabby's shoulder and lifted her up roughly. She yelled in protest and attempted to wriggle free but the grip was too strong.
“Out on a night like this.” The owner of the vicelike grip mumbled. “Dragons in the sky and you're running around like dinner.” A roar echoed through the night, scaring resting birds from the branches of nearby trees. “Shit!” The voice dropped to a harsh whisper and the torch was extinguished immediately. Gabby was forced back into the mud and held there. She struggled again and felt hot breath against her ear. “If you wish to survive the next five minutes with your limbs intact I suggest you keep still!” The last word was punctuated by the hand holding her down pressing down harder. Gabby closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. As she brought her fear under control she heard a terrific noise from the sky and Gabby visualised a great old wooden clipper, it's huge sails unfurled and whipping and snapping in response to the wind it had sought and found. The hand pressed down on her shoulder harder and whoever the man was holding her down placed his head close to hers. The sails whipped again, closer this time and the truth dawned on Gabby causing her heart to palpitate, she was hearing a dragon in flight for the first time, beating its way across the sky. The realisation froze any reasonable thought she might have had and for what seemed like hours, Gabby was forced to lie in the wet mud trying to hide by sheer act of will. After a few minutes or hours Gabby shivered and felt the cold mud sapping away at her heat, leeching it for its own deeds, and Gabby thought incoherently what the hell does mud want with my warmth? What will the dragon do to me? I'm scared, oh please help me, so scared. What did McCaffrey want yesterday, Mary said it was important. Who pushed me into the mud…. what mud? I must change the orders for, for…Brooke's birthday?
Gabby jerked awake, the soft yellow light around her creating a haze that she could not see through with blurry, sleepy eyes. She scooted her legs up to her chest and pushed backwards, jamming herself up against a stonewall.
“Ah, you're awake. Good.” A soft voice from the haze reached her. She rubbed her eyes furiously, dashing away the last remnants of sleep. A figure approached her and as she rubbed the last of her dreams away a young man sat himself down on the edge of the cot she had been sleeping on. “I hope you're well rested. It seems you've had quite a night.” Gabby blinked and swallowed nervously. The young man sitting close by was clothed in a simple white robe, tied with a black rope. A large hood hung loose down his back showing his curly, blond hair cut to the shoulders. Gabby had been in the presence of many older men during her residence at the station with the only people of comparable age being Mary and Brooke, this was the first male she had met even close to her own age. He smiled and Gabby considered it genuine as it crinkled his eyes and though she thought his face quite plain she had to admit his eyes were large and beautiful. In the light of the cellar she swore they had a faint red cast to them. Feeling heat rising uncomfortably to her cheeks Gabby cleared her throat and looked about the room she had woken up in.
“I take it the dragon passed us by?” She asked quietly, judging by the cool air, stone walls and earthy smell that she was in a cellar or basement of an old house. Her eyes found his and he nodded.
“Oh yes. You're quite safe now.” The young man's eyes went distant for a moment and then returned their focus on Gabby. “I've brought you some food and drink. Please help yourself and rest.” Gabby frowned as she didn't feel the need to rest but the young man rose and crossed the cellar quickly, leaving her with an open m
outh as he exited and closed the door behind him.
* * *
Gabby considered herself a polite young lady. The emotional struggles of her past were well and truly behind her. Her abusive, drug addled parents were more than likely dead and despite her declarations of hate for them, she found herself grieving more than she'd ever thought was possible. The staff and military officers remaining at the station had become her family, as well as Mary, Brooke and Dr Eames to a certain extent and she felt a great sense of pride that she'd been chosen to lead the first in a series of reconnoitres into the world above.
That said, she was bored and extremely frustrated. The door the young man had exited through a short while ago was locked and Gabby had resorted to banging on the wooden door with her fists and then, when there was no response, she started to holler, kicks replacing the pounding of her fists. Over her own noise she heard the turn of a key and went quiet immediately, stepping back from the door. The door opened cautiously and the head of the man Gabby had met earlier came into view, his eyes round and eyebrows raised. Gabby placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head, expectancy written in her expression. The young man twitched a nervous smile and entered the room fully, closing the door softly behind him.