by T. C. Edge
I knew it was too easy. Something didn't feel right about it. Ever since we'd left Petram and crossed the wall, everything has been too seamless, so fortunate. Perhaps they set all of this up as a trap, lured us here, into the middle of the ocean. What could we really have hoped to achieve against such odds, against such might.
I don't even know how many Watchers Eden has. Ajax always made out like it was a small force, but whatever the size, they have more than we do. More eyes to search the future, more spies to trace our footsteps.
We were always doomed to fail.
I wake as we cut through the night air, leaving the storm around Tartarus behind. When I do, I find Drake next to me, stroking my hair, his own face written with worry and concern.
“Dad...” I whisper.
He looks down at me.
“Yes, darling?”
“We're going to be OK, right? We're going to get them back, aren't we?” I ask with the innocence of a child.
“Of course we will, sweetheart. Of course we will,” he repeats. I can tell, now, that even he doubts the conviction of his words.
I fall asleep again, my head heavy, my body aching all over through sheer emotional torment and pain. This time I go further and deeper, to the dark places where visions appear. I know what's coming, and this time, I search harder than ever.
The stage is clearer. The crowd around it are louder, their voices distinct in my ears. The faces of my friends, of Jackson and Theo and Ellie, show more details than ever. But this time they're alive, each of them standing ahead of me with their hands bound behind their backs. Everything holds colour. I feel like I'm there.
I turn to the right of the stage and see Augustus Knight once more. He smiles at me with that evil, wicked smirk. I can tell he's enjoying this, enjoying the torment. In front of him I see other Councillors, and among them, Theo's parents. They watch on with hooded eyes as their son stands stoically, about to be executed.
All around are guards. They line the stage, their weapons pointed at me. I look down into my hand once more and see the pistol. Is it really me? Am I the one who's going to kill them?
It's with that thought that I wake once again. I sit up suddenly in the quiet of the aircraft. I look at Stein, breathing quietly, lying flat on the trolley in the medical bay. Drake is nowhere to be seen. He must be in the cockpit with Tommy.
Why? Why would I kill my friends?
It makes no sense to me. I'd sooner shoot myself than do that. I could never kill any of them. Never.
It makes no sense at all...
My thoughts return once more to the one small piece of hope I have, the only solace that's helping me through; that what I've seen, what I continue to see, is nothing but a possible scenario, a possible future. It can be changed. It must be changed. And I alone have that power.
“You're awake.” Drake wanders into the room from the cockpit.
He looks exhausted as well, and I wonder how much sleep he's been getting recently. He comes and sits next to me again, before looking over at Stein.
“Has he stirred?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Well, we'll be back on the mainland soon. As you said before, we need to act quickly, and for that, we need Stein lucid. They'll be sending people out to find us, hunt us down. We need to make our move before they can close all the doors and batten down the hatches.”
“Where are we going now?”
“Back to Markus,” he says. “Then somewhere we won't be found for the rest of the night. We'll sleep in here, then tomorrow we'll make our plan, and make our move.”
He looks back over at Stein.
“As long,” he continues, “as he's in a fit enough state to help.”
“He will be,” I say confidently.
“What makes you say that?” he asks.
I stare at Stein, our only hope of getting into Eden.
“Because he has to be,” I say.
Drake nods, and sits back. Once more, I settle my head against his chest, and his arm drapes over my shoulder. And for the next fifteen minutes I stay like that, listening to his steadily beating heart, as we approach the mainland coast.
24 - Aeneas Stein
We touch down in almost total darkness. The stars and moon sit hidden behind dark clouds above. For miles in all directions no unnatural light can be seen save that given off by our aircraft.
When we step out into the cool night air, we hear the creaking of footsteps over the gravely earth. Then Markus' voice sounds from the shroud.
“Drake, you're back,” he says, coming forward.
The two men share an embrace. I see Markus' eyes look over his shoulder at the aircraft.
“Where are the others?” he asks.
Drake shakes his head.
“They were taken,” he says. “Only Cyra and I got away.”
“And Stein?”
“We found him. He's weak, but alive. He's in the medical bay resting.”
“Oh, thank God for that.”
“And our captives here?” asks Drake.
“They're as you left them, tied up in the cars. I had the pilot call in and tell his base that they'd gotten another distress call and were seeing to it. It should keep them off our backs for a little while.”
“Thanks, Markus, but I fear they'll be coming after us anyway. They'll know we took Stein, and they'll know our plans soon enough.” He glances over at me. “I'm afraid that our friends may be tortured to that end...someone will spill eventually.”
“So tell me, Drake, what happened.”
“It's a long story. For now, we need to make sure we're safe and secure for the night.”
“We'll be fine here,” says Markus. “We're as remote as we're going to get, and the cloud cover will help hide us. I will take the first watch. You two, get some rest. You look like you need it.”
Drake agrees, and we return to the aircraft to settle in for the night. Tommy is once again bound, something he's getting used to by now.
“I'm sorry about your friends,” he says to me as I fasten him to the bench. “You all...seem like good people really.”
“Thank you,” I say, and nothing more.
Then I find a soft spot, and lie down, and once again fall into a fitful sleep where I'm tortured until dawn. It's broken, and many times I awake in the night, wondering where I am, who's snoring lightly nearby, what time is it.
They're questions that have greeted my waking thoughts for so long that they've become nothing but the norm. It's simply a symptom of living life on the road, constantly on the move, always sleeping somewhere new.
Each time, it takes me a minute to realise that I'm in the belly of the plane. That the snoring is likely from Tommy, or perhaps Stein. That the time isn't relevant until the light of dawn appears.
And each time, when I answer those questions, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. That the snoring isn't from Jackson or Theo or Ellie. That we're not back in Petram or back home in Arbor, or somewhere across the wall where we'd be safe, and not constantly hunted. That when the light of dawn does come, it's just going to signal another day of struggle, another day battling against the odds.
When dawn does arrive, I rise up and go outside to find Drake already up and ready. The morning reveals a horrible, tense atmosphere. Inside, I feel sunken and lost and frighteningly alone. The sky has brightened, but it's in stark contrast to my mood. Knowing that my friends might be being tortured right now, however, is the only motivation I need to speed things up.
“We need to talk to Stein,” I say.
Drake turns from the beautiful sunrise. He still looks exhausted, as if he hasn't slept at all.
“Give it a little longer, Cyra.”
“We don't have any longer. I'm waking him up.”
I turn and march back inside the plane, and straight to the medical bay where Stein lies. I drop my hand to his shoulder and shake, gently. Then more thoroughly until his eyes open up.
He grunts and looks ar
ound, confused.
“Who are you...what's going on?” he asks. In the pale light spilling into the plane, he blinks harshly. “I have no food to give you...I have nothing,” he says.
He must be imagining he's still in Tartarus, harried each day for food, living and surviving off scraps.
“It's OK, it's OK,” I say softly. “You're not in the prison any more, Mr Stein.”
Slowly, he comes round. He looks eagerly at the interior of the plane, before returning his eyes to my face. His hand reaches out and touches my skin, and a single tear falls from his eyes.
“Are you real?” he asks.
“I'm real. You're safe now. You're free.”
“I...where am I?”
“Do you not remember last night? We broke you out. We're back on the mainland.”
His eyes scrunch up once again. He looks confused.
Drake appears at my shoulder.
“Mr Stein, how do you feel this morning.”
Stein gulps deep.
“I...I feel OK. Am...am I really free of that place?”
“You are. Can you stand?”
He shifts his body position, and drops his legs to the floor. We step back to give him space. Gingerly, he rises to his feet, using the trolley for support. Then, with some effort, he stands up straight, and takes in a deep breath.
“Do you have any food? I've barely eaten in days...”
“Of course,”
Drake rushes off and returns with some rations. Beans, bread, nothing exciting. Stein wolfs it down quickly.
I take Drake off to one side.
“Shouldn't he be taking it slow. He could eat himself to death.”
“He seems OK to me,” he replies, looking over. “I don't think he's starving. More like he hasn't had a good meal in a day or two.”
By the time we return to him, he's gotten through the food and is looking a little chirpier. Next we give him water, then some medication to help with his aches and pains. Soon, he's looking years younger and has some colour back in his cheeks. He smiles at us, showing off those yellow teeth, and begins walking towards the door.
We follow behind as he reaches the opening, the bright, beautiful sunrise still painting the sky in gorgeous red and orange hues. He steps into the cool morning air, sucks in a long, deep breath, and just stares at the horizon for several long moments.
“I've never seen anything so beautiful,” he says eventually. “I haven't seen land in decades. Nor the sun. Only those walls. Those cold, blank walls...”
He breaks down before us, sinking to his knees, weeping into his palms. We look on with pity. Pity for a man who'd been cast into hell for no reason, forced to live with murderers and rapists without any chance of parole or escape.
And now, with his body withered and old, he has little chance to enjoy his freedom. Because we need his help, and we need it now.
I go to him and rest my hand on his shoulder. It brings him back to us.
“Mr Stein, we really need your help.”
He stands and turns to me, eyes wet. His hands quickly wipe them dry.
“Young girl, I will do anything...anything you want.”
Drake steps forward.
“We rescued you because we need your help getting into Eden. The world has grown more corrupt than you know, Mr Stein. We are here to put an end to it.”
“I know all about corruption,” he says darkly. “It's what put me in Tartarus in the first place.”
“You're talking about Augustus Knight,” I say. “Why did he put you in there?”
His face curls into a snarl, his voice becomes a growl.
“Because he wanted total power for himself. He culled his competition ruthlessly. I've heard things over the years. I know what he's been doing to this country. What do you plan to do?”
“We plan to kill him,” says Drake. “It is our only choice.”
“And who are you? How many support you in this?”
“Many thousands,” he says. “All who have been banished beyond the wall, we all want him dead. I'm sure many on the mainland would want the same.”
“And...you need me to get you into Eden?”
Drake and I nod together.
“There's a background to all of this that I feel you need to know,” says Drake. “I don't know what you've heard in that prison, but we need to fill you in on what's been going on. Come this way, Mr Stein.”
Drake leads us back into the plane, and for the next half an hour, provides a succinct summary of our plight, who we are, what we're doing, and exactly why Knight needs to be eliminated. Stein listens carefully, asking questions rarely. Once Drake has finished, he has his turn to speak.
“Eden is hard to enter. And I don't know what structural changes might have taken place in my absence. If what you say is true, they will expect you to come and will have the place well guarded. Do you have a plan for when you get in?”
Drake and I look at each other. Much like the rest of our mission so far, we're making things up as we go along.
“Unfortunately not. I've never been to Eden, and know very little of the layout. Cyra spent some months training there, but that's all. We will need help from inside.”
“Leeta,” I say quickly, the thought springing to mind.
“Leeta?” asks Drake.
“She took my Testing in Arbor, travelled with me to Eden. She used to show Ellie and I around the city. She knows it really well, and she'll know what's going on there.”
“And you think she'll help us?”
“I mean...she's loyal to Eden and her duty, but there are cracks there. I think she'll help us, yes.”
I think back to when I first noticed the hint of discontent within Leeta's otherwise insufferably positive demeanour. When we passed through Arma and she told me of her son, forced to go and work there in one of the most dangerous regions of all. She'd said, of course, that it was fair, that it was the right place for him; but inside, I knew she was hurting.
“Is there any way to contact her?” asks Drake. “Any way she could help us gain entry?”
“I doubt it. How would we?”
We both look to Stein, as if he might have the answer. His shaking head disappoints us.
“I don't see how it's possible,” he says. “Lines of communication will be being monitored. It's too dangerous to try.”
“Then...how do we enter?” I ask.
Once more, only Stein can have the answer. He thinks for a moment, and I hope that breaking him out wasn't a waste. That he can, at least, help us to do the very thing we broke him out for. If he can't, the capture of my friends will have been for nothing.
Eventually, he speaks.
“I can only speak of what I knew from many years ago. When I was responsible for overseeing the expansion of the city, we built dozens of service hatches into the base of the city for maintenance. It may be possible to enter through one of these, get to one of the levels, and go from there.”
“Sounds possible...” says Drake. His opinion here, however, carries no weight since he's never seen, let alone been to, the city before.
“Won't these hatches be monitored as well?” I ask. “If they're possible entry points...surely they'll be guarded.”
“It's possible they've been overlooked. From the outside, they can't be opened without specialist equipment....”
“What equipment?” asks Drake.
“Cutting lasers. The lock will need to be cut in order to get the hatch open. But that's not the biggest problem.”
“And what is?” I ask.
He takes a breath. “The only entry points will be underwater.”
A brief silence dawns as we consider his words. Then, Drake begins to nod.
“Well, if that's the only option we have, then we have no choice but to try. The question is, how do we get the equipment we need?”
A sly smile rises on Stein's face.
“I know a guy,” he says. “We just have to hope that he's still alive...”
<
br /> 25 - Return to New Atlantis
“What are we going to do with them?” Markus looks over at our prisoners, still tied up in the Custodian car. “The pilot got another call. People are getting suspicious now.”
“We can't hide from that any more,” says Drake. “The cat's out of the bag.”
“Do we kill them?”
I glare at Markus. Drake clearly notes my expression.
“There's no need,” he says. “We'll set them free.”
“Are you sure?”
“It's the right thing to do.”
“OK, if that's your order.”
“Just make sure you knock them out first. Then unbind them. I'd rather they not wake for a little while.”
“Sure thing boss,” says Markus. “I'll take care of it.”
He walks off, leaving me alone with Drake.
“And what about Tommy,” I ask. “He knows what we're planning to do.”
“He does. And so will everyone else now. There's no hiding from that.”
“So...”
“We'll release him too. He's been a great help. He doesn't deserve to die.”
I smile at my father for the change in his thinking.
“Thank you,” I say, hugging him tight. “I'll sort him out.”
We walk back towards the aircraft, and I find Tommy nervously waiting for his fate. He overheard the conversation with Stein when he told us he'd be able to fly from now on. From that point, Tommy's use became zero.
I approach with a warm expression, and untie him. His breathing is a little heavy, but my presence, rather than Drake's, seems to offer him some comfort. Silently, I gesture for him to follow me out towards the cars.
Markus has clearly been efficient in his job. Inside, the pilot and two medics lie unconscious, but unbound. How he saw to that I don't know.
The sight, however, sets Tommy on edge.
“Please...” he says quietly. “I promise I won't say anything.”
His stark eyes search forward. He must think they've been killed.
“It's OK, Tommy,” I say. “We're not going to hurt you. We are not the bad guys, OK. Surely you see that now?”