by Rick Wood
In truth, she’d rarely thought about him. She had never built up this moment in her mind. He left her life, and he left her thoughts, and that was the way it had to be.
She had Boy. She had someone else in her life. Someone better than him. Someone she could care for, in a way he never had.
With a deep inward breath of confidence, she turned the doorknob, opened the door, and closed it behind her.
There, sat at a desk, beneath a lamp light, in front of a giant window, sat a man she recognised. He had more grey hairs than she recalled. More wrinkles around his mouth. But it was the same kind face, the same body that gave such good hugs.
It was the same, but different. Same man, but different person.
“Oh my God,” he gasped, looking up to see her. “I can’t – I can’t believe it’s really you.”
She stood still. Said nothing.
What could she say?
No. She just looked at him, not realising it was a glare. Not realising that a thousand poisonous thoughts were swimming against her subconscious as she stood frantically static in front of her father.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “My God, I can’t believe you’re here. Cia, I’m so sorry.”
He rushed over to her, as if he was going to embrace her, but stopped, thinking better of it. Instead, he knelt, grabbing the side of her arms, clutching onto her.
“I can’t believe you survived. You’re such a strong girl. Such a strong, strong girl.”
“I’m not a girl,” was her reply, said without thought or pre-planning.
“No. You’re not. Look at you. You’re a woman. A strong, amazing woman. And I’m so sorry I never went back for you, I’m so sorry.”
Her face remained blank. She just stared at him. His words were as good as foreign.
“They wouldn’t let me,” he claimed. “It wasn’t my choice, they – they wouldn’t let me. I tried to go back out but there was – there were armed guards, saying that once you’re in, you’re not allowed out, that they were shutting down, that – I should have fought. I should have fought harder, I know that, I know that now. But look, here you are, and I can’t believe you’re here.”
She gently shook her head, not realising she was doing so.
“I can’t imagine the things you’ve had to do to survive. Did you have to face many monsters?”
She laughed. Only once, but it was a definite chuckle. Not a happy one, but a snort of acknowledgement over such a ridiculous question.
“Why haven’t you already come to see me?” she asked. “I’ve been here for days, or so they tell me.”
“I, well, I – I don’t know. I was scared, I guess. Scared that maybe you wouldn’t want me to come see you.”
She held his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t wrong. And she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of lying and saying that he was. Instead, she turned to the giant window that filled a wall of his office, peering out at the scenes below.
She was shocked by what she saw. Shocked, at first, then she thought – what else did I expect? It was like nothing she’d ever seen.
It was a giant room that went so far into the distance she couldn’t see the end. It was full of creatures. Masketes, Thorals, Liskers – even Wasters. But they were in chains, subdued, caught, wrapped so tightly they couldn’t move. Some of them tried, thrashed against their bondage, fought against it – but these people knew what they were doing. These monsters were kept so securely, tied down with such an excess of chains, that there was no release for them.
Strange, really. How they were so afraid of a Lisker’s bite, yet they kept all of these creatures captive beneath their home.
“What is this?” Cia asked.
Her dad stood and walked over to her, peering over the scenes below. He tried to put his hand on her back, but she stepped out of his reach.
“Learning,” he answered.
“Learning?”
“Yes. Experimenting, finding out all that we can about these things.”
“It looks like torture.”
“They are animals. Monsters. They deserve nothing more.”
She turned to her father and thought about how ironic that statement was. She let it sink in and, in her ingenious mind, she formed an idea. An idea that stemmed into a plan.
“What are you doing to them?” she asked.
“Learning about their weaknesses. Discovering what they are, how they work. Finding out if there’s any way we can wipe them out.”
“Why?”
“Why? So humans can survive. Isn’t that what we want?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure if humans deserve to survive.”
She remained looking below for a few moments of uncomfortable silence, feeling his eyes watching her.
“I’d love to go down there with you,” she said.
“What? Down there?”
“Yes. To see what you’re doing. See what your work involves.”
“I’m not sure it’s safe–”
“Dad, I’ve spent years surviving against these things. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
His face changed. Morphed into warmth, into pain, a reaction to being called Dad.
“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll arrange it for tomorrow.”
She forced a non-committal smile at him.
“Thanks.”
She turned and left. As she opened the door, she paused, and averted her eyes to his desk.
There, framed beside a picture of her and her mother, were the words to the poem she had used with Boy.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She left the room and allowed Dalton to take her to her room.
She didn’t sleep, but she didn’t need to. She’d learnt to live without it.
Instead, she laid on the bedsheets and formulated every part of her plan in her mind. Once she had done that, she waited until morning, for the knocks of Dalton coming to collect her and take her to see her father again.
And this time, it really would be the last time she’d ever see him.
Chapter Forty-Four
Dalton came to collect her again in the morning. This time, his gun was over his back, rather than in his hands. He leant against the wall like the cool kid in a playground, a cheeky smile greeting her.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said as she opened the door.
She couldn’t help but smile at his dorkily charming demeanour. It was a pity he had no idea what she was going to do. He probably wouldn’t survive it.
“Right back atcha,” she playfully retorted.
“Fancy some breakfast?”
No. Not really.
She was antsy, she wanted to get to it – but couldn’t appear suspicious. She had been less than eager to see her dad last night – so if she seemed over-enthusiastic now, it would seem too strange. She had to wait, had to endure a breakfast she felt too sick to eat.
“What’s on the menu?” she asked.
She was taken down to the canteen. On the way, she passed a corridor, where all the numbers began with 2 – for example, 267, 268, 269. She recalled Boy’s number from the previous day, which was 346.
As for breakfast, she was handed two pieces of toast with scrambled egg. The scrambled egg was perfect – the right texture, the correct mixture of egg and milk. She was sure there was some cheese in there too, which seemed strange, but worked perfectly.
“The chef used to be the president’s personal chef,” Dalton informed her, explaining the amazing taste of her meal. “He earnt thousands just following him around wherever he went, making him breakfast all the time.”
It was a shame that her stomach churned with nerves so much that it was difficult to eat. Still, she forced it down – she’d probably need the energy.
“Don’t you think it’s kind of bad?” Cia asked him, curious as to what Dalton’s take on the place was.
“What’s bad?”
“How so many people got this, an
d so many people…didn’t. I mean, there are millions that didn’t make it to safety. Practically all of our species were wiped out, and here are the people who could afford to live, with chefs who make ridiculously good scrambled egg.”
Dalton shrugged. “I wasn’t rich.”
“Yes, but they needed protection, didn’t they? What were you, army?”
He shook his head, swallowing a large mouthful of egg. “Nah. I worked for my dad’s security firm, and I had just enrolled to join the Marines when it all went off. I was still young.”
“How young?”
“Young enough.”
Cia watched him carefully. Something puzzled her about him. Something seemed different. Something about him was…genuine.
“How did I get here, Dalton?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who saved me?”
“Oh. That was me. And my mate, Joe.”
“And how was I allowed to come here? It’s pretty exclusive, I’m surprised–”
“That poem that Danny Rose has on his desk, the framed one. You were mumbling bits of it. Figured they’d want to hear that.”
“So that’s the only reason you saved me? Because of a poem?”
Half of Dalton’s smile slanted upwards, a cheeky glint in his eye.
“Nah, you were cute as well.”
“So it all came with your duty?” she teased.
She realised she was flirting.
Why was she flirting?
How did she even know how to flirt?
“Well, there’s not that many young, attractive women here. Figured we better make a start somewhere.”
She huffed and shot him a glare. He cracked up, finding her reaction hilarious.
“Chill out,” he told her. “I’m joking.”
She looked at him – no, more than a look, she peered at him. His skin was clear but for a mole on the underside of his chin, a mole that somehow added to his good looks. His hair was swept back, and his eyes were big.
She stopped peering at him.
She had to stop.
She was going to put everyone in here to death.
She couldn’t afford to like him.
She couldn’t afford to like anyone.
Watching him hoover down his food, she took the opportunity of his culinary distraction to take the knife from beside her plate and slip it under the table. She placed it down the side of her shorts, unnoticed.
“I think I want to go see my dad now,” she decided.
“All right, give me a minute,” he answered, rushing down the last few bites of his breakfast.
Maybe, in another life, they would have been friends.
Unfortunately, friends weren’t really something Cia could afford.
Chapter Forty-Five
Dalton took Cia to her dad’s office.
“This is where I leave you,” he said.
She smiled. A small, faint, reluctant smile – a concerned one. One that wished they had met under different circumstances.
“Thank you, Dalton.”
“Don’t mention it. See you round.” He grinned as he backed away. “Maybe.”
He left around the corner, and Cia placed four clear knocks on her father’s door. He opened it with that large smile he always had, that one that would precede an exciting trip to the cinema or a theme park or some other glorious surprise. As it was, he was just taking her to see a load of captive monsters.
“How are you?” he asked.
Cia knew she needed to disguise her upset. Hide the way she truly felt about him; the betrayal, the disgust, the detestation. All of it had to stay buried, and she pretended to be delighted at his presence.
“I’m good. Feeling much better after a good night’s sleep, you know?”
“One always does.”
He stood there, looking over her proudly, his face beaming with glee.
“I’m really glad you’re here, Cia.”
I’m not. I wish you were dead.
“Me too, Dad. Me too.”
He led her through the corridor and to a lift, where he selected the bottom level – level 86.
There are 86 levels in this place?
That meant she was 83 levels below Boy.
Not ideal, but at least he’d be as far away as he could be from what was about to happen.
“There are, of course, some health and safety warnings I need you to adhere to.”
“Okay.”
“You are to wear the hazard suit they give you, and not take it off for a moment. You are to follow my instructions at all times, and you are not to approach any of the creatures – stay the same distance that I am from all of them, preferably further. These are dangerous animals, you understand?”
She wanted to smack him in his face and tell him to shut up. Dangerous animals? Safe distance? Did he have no idea how close she’d been to these things, the fights she’d had to endure, the chances of survival she’d had to overcome?
And he thought he was taking care of her?
He deserved everything that was about to happen to him.
They reached the bottom floor and the doors opened to a room of organised commotion. Security stood across the far room, before a window that showed the bottom of each of these creatures; it was the base of the room she’d seen through her dad’s office. Between them and the entrance to this grand room were people in hazard suits, putting pieces of meat in bags, pieces of blood and juices on test trays, passing these on to other people who would secure them in boxes.
He took her to a table where he signed his name and prompted her to do so as well. She did. Then they were handed hazard suits, which they put on, and then were checked. Every zip, every fastening was thoroughly checked, then checked again.
Pathetic, really.
They are so afraid to be in a room with them.
They knew nothing of these creatures.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded. She definitely was.
He led her to a door, where security stood.
“We have Thorals, Masketes, Wasters, and a Lisker. But we haven’t captured the rest yet.”
He nodded at security then went to enter, but Cia stopped.
“Wait, what?”
He turned back at her, confused. “What? What is it?”
“What did you just say? About not capturing the rest?”
“Yes, we have four of the species.”
“You mean…” Cia closed her eyes and shook herself out of it, convinced she’d misheard him. “You mean – there’s more?”
“Well, yes. A lot more. Many, many more. Didn’t you think there were?”
She said nothing.
“I don’t know what you know, Cia, but Hell itself opened up. The doomsday clock had been ticking down. The government and the elite, they knew, but they were the only few that were allowed to know. How do you think they made this place in time?”
“So – there’s more?”
“This happened all over the world. These species are just what came out in this part of the United Kingdom and made their homes here.”
“There are more all around the world?”
“God, yes. Lots more.”
He stepped forward with a patronising smile and an unwanted hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t you see?” he said. “This is only the very beginning.”
Security stood aside, and they entered.
Chapter Forty-Six
Cia marvelled at its grandeur and the volume of creatures. Masketes were chained to the floor across one wall with chains around their ankles, their wings clipped with metallic bondage. They couldn’t fly away, and they couldn’t fight their restraints.
Across the room were Thorals pushed up against the walls, metal wrapped around them. A few pieces of metal even went through the legs, keeping them held against the wall by pain.
Cia was surprised to find herself feeling bad for the creatures.
Then again, she wasn’t su
rprised.
A glance at her father next to her reminded her who the real monster was. Who she really loathed. Whose treatment of others – both her and these creatures included – was nothing more than barbaric.
As she stared at him, she wondered – could there really be more out there? More than just these?
Could these really only be just the few species that she knew of?
She turned back to the creatures, not wanting to scorch her eyes by looking at his smug face for too long.
“Chains aren’t enough to hold them,” he said, noticing her observing the Thorals. “They are too strong. That’s why we put chains through their legs as well. It means it’s too painful for them to struggle.”
A group of Wasters were chained to a wall further down.
And then, the most dumbfounding moment of all – a Lisker. Her first ever time being in the presence of one. It was as big as she’d heard. It was held down by hundreds of metallic spikes fixed down the length of its body, and its head hung distantly on the floor, its eyes drooped. Multiple chemicals were being fed into its head, and it laid dormant as a result.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing to the Lisker’s head.
“Oh, come and have a look,” he said, gleefully directing her, so proud of what he’d done, so happy to have one of these creatures sedated like a pet. No, worse than a pet – a slave. A bitch. A morsel.
“What’s going into him?”
“Those are chemicals to keep it placid. If we don’t do that, then these restraints won’t hold it. As it is, it hurts too much for it too move whilst under drugs.”
“It must be powerful drugs.”
“Yes, and also a lot of drugs. The amount of drugs could kill a person a hundred times over – yet, if we let off just one injection of chemicals, it won’t be enough to hold it.”
Let off just one injection. It won’t be enough to hold it.
The thought played repeatedly through her mind.
“How quickly would it recover? How long until the chemicals would stop working?”
“Minutes. That’s how strong it is – it would take minutes for it to free its mind and liberate itself. That’s why it’s so important we have a competent team monitoring twenty-four hours a day.”