by S. G Mark
“Fuck off,” he whimpered, the fight flailing and whimpering into submission.
“I can make your wife think anything I like. I can make her hate you; make her repulsed by you.”
He slunk further into the wall, desperate to merge with the masonry and disappear from reality.
“As for your boys? I can make them wish they’d been aborted rather than have you as a father…”
A spark ignited in his eye and lunged forward into the darkest corner of the cell, screaming at the man, “I will find you! I will fucking find you!”
As he fell into the empty void, he hit his head on the wall and he was knocked to the floor; blood trickling down his eyebrow.
“My god, you’ve really gone?” another man’s voice sounded from nearby.
He refocused and saw a familiar man in the doorway, which lay ajar behind him. As his vision adjusted, he slowly made out the appearance of his visitor.
Wearing smart black shoes, he was not from around here; his trousers were purest black save for the regimental pinstripes; suit jacket to match. But it was not this man’s attire that threw him; it was who he was.
“Cameron?” he backed away in fear.
“David, calm down,” Cameron approached gently, “Calm down or I’ll get one of the guards.”
“Get away - you’re with him! You’re with him!”
“With who? There’s no one here?” Cameron said, shutting the door behind him. “Look, we’re definitely alone. Is that better?”
David, kneeling pathetically on the floor, looked up pleadingly to Cameron, “Are they safe? Are they safe?”
Cameron shuffled his feet on the floor, “They are being cared for.”
David lunged forward, grabbing Cameron’s shins, “You promised me!” he spat.
But Cameron was too strong, overpowering him easily and throwing him backwards with ease.
Defeated, David wept into his hands, fearing what had become of his family. Cameron Snowden had made him a promise to keep them safe, but he was allied to The Advisor now. His family were in danger, perhaps even dead.
“Why did you come?” he cried. “Why? Why now?”
Kneeling down beside him, Cameron gently pulled David’s hands away from his face and looked at him intently for a number of seconds.
“We used to be friends,” Cameron sighed, “Now look at you.”
“He took it,” David whispered, fearful that he would be overheard, “He took me away. Don’t let him take you away.”
“Take me away from what?” Cameron sneered, “My own sanity? You stole the money, David. You brought this on yourself.”
“Then why did you come? Why did you even come?” he said vacantly.
“I came to tell you something,” Cameron stood up and faced away from him for a second before turning back, “Something I didn’t want you to hear from anyone else.”
“What?” David surveyed Cameron’s dangerous gaze.
“I won. I’m Prime Minister now.”
Instead of jealousy or anger, David was drowned only in fear - not for himself, but for his friend.
“Quit. Now. Quit and leave the country,” David said maniacally, “Send your family first. If they won’t have you, they will take them. Leave.”
“Calm down, David. You had your turn. I thought you would take it badly, that’s why I wanted to be here to explain,” Cameron begun, “It wasn’t about taking over your job or stealing your legacy. It was about what's right for the country and - and well it was widely believed I was the right person for that job.”
“Have you met him yet? Have you met him or have you just received his playful notes?”
Worry spread across Cameron’s face, but he lied regardless, “Who? I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“So you have met him!” David laughed, “You won’t have long left now.”
As David giggled into mania, Cameron looked down on his friend with both contempt and pity.
“I came here as a friend, but this is my game now. I play by my rules, not yours,” Cameron said forcefully.
But David’s giggling merely continued into hysterics. He toppled back over himself, his limbs as limp as a carcass. Straightening up, he leaned against the wall for support, slowly dragging himself off the muddy floor. Dirt stained his face and the rags he wore as clothes, but a new energy burned within him; something he could not even explain himself.
“You really think they are your rules, Cameron? You really think it is your game?” David laughed harder than ever, “You really think that you won? You were chosen, Cameron. Chosen because you are feeble. Chosen because you are weak. Chosen because you are gullible. Chosen because you will jump whenever that man says so, because you see now I know! I know! He said I would understand before the end and my god do I understand now. Silver or gold, Cameron, silver or gold!”
“You’re nothing but a babbling madman, bitter that his time is over!” Cameron sneered, making his way to the door. “I thought I’d give you one last chance, but no. You really are every inch the disgusting traitor he made you out to be.”
Fearing that Cameron would go without understanding what dangers he was getting into, David pounced forward, once again clutching on to his legs. Cameron shook David off, clamping his shiny shoe on his face.
“You dare touch me again,” he said dangerously.
“Be careful, Cameron. Be careful before it’s too late. You don’t know what kind of man you’re dealing with.”
“No, I really didn’t when I first met you. We were good friends. The longest friend I ever had. And it turns out you are nothing but a thief and a liar and I’m disgusted to ever think I was proud to know you.”
Cameron dug his sole in a little further, pushing David’s face away from him, before retreating to the door and knocking three times.
Meanwhile David crawled to his knees, wiping the traces of mud from his face. Panting for breath, the former Prime Minister clung to the last vestiges of his sanity. His fight was over; his demon gone and moved on to the next victim.
“Cameron please,” he said breathlessly as the door opened from the outside. He made no bid for freedom, for he cared not for what it meant any more.
“David, I’ll see that your wife and kids are okay,” Cameron said, “But as for us? We’re done.”
The guards stepped aside to allow Prime Minister Cameron Snowden through. They each had a hand on their guns, their default stance.
As the door began to slowly shut, and his friend disappeared from view, David ran up to the ever-closing gap and screamed at the top of his voice, “Some men look to silver for fear of gold! Why did they fear it, Cameron? WHY DID THEY FEAR IT?”
The cell door shut. The madness resumed.
Chapter Four
The sky was a patchwork of crimson, pink and cobalt blue. The sun, as if crashing into the Earth, vanished from view, leaving only an organic beauty in its wake. By contrast, the distant mountains were faint charcoaled drawings as a warm haze descended over the valley.
Mosquitoes buzzed around Jack’s flapping arms as he tried to bat them away. He was sitting by the flower bed again, deep in a mental conversation he might have with Scar had she been there at all. Instead, her lovely daffodil smiled back at him reassuringly. In fact, the whole bed was smiling in the dusk. Wherever he was in the world, it was a beautiful place. It had been years since he had ventured out to the country and it was calming not to hear the sound of traffic or the constant barrage of sirens. Still, the circumstances that he found himself sitting on the grassy knoll in the middle of nowhere continued to disconcert him.
Three days had passed since Kyle had led him out here for their conversation. In the intervening time, Jack had been left largely alone. However, he suspected that Kyle had steered clear for reason other than compassion, for there had also been a strange atmosphere contaminating the farm. Jack fathomed that it must have had something to do with the visit from the CFA, but he was not party to the d
etails. Though he slept in the same dormitory and ate the same meals as them, he had little or no interaction with the others. They paid him little attention and it was only Kyle and occasionally the boy, Aiden, that acknowledged his existence. Jack was feeling more alone than ever.
Only one advantage came from being ignored by his captors. He was allowed to freely roam the farm - not daring to venture more than the fatal fence that Kyle had outlined as the perimeter of his cage. As such, every morning after Jack woke he would ascend into the upper farmhouse and take stock of the day, collecting his many thoughts and opinions on The Resistance. For days he analysed their behaviour, trying to read them from afar as if a naturist studying another species. But instead of expected results, they defied to be characterised as anything. They weren’t wholly religious. There were no services or prayers or any paraphernalia lying around that nodded toward any hint of an extraordinary belief system. Even their political voice was quiet. In all the conversations that he listened into he never once overheard a political debate or declaration. Perhaps they had been ordered to keep quiet about such things whenever he was around, but then why? He was at their Headquarters. If they could not talk freely here, then where could they? It struck Jack as odd that he was not able to categorise them as he previously could.
Lying on the grassy knoll, Jack was able to briefly escape the atmosphere below ground. Whenever he saw Kyle, he was marching across the yard in the midst of deep conversation with another or barking back orders at others. Jack had not the chance to speak to him and did not want to interrupt. He had never seen Kyle quite like this before: he was so determined, so focused. Such things were alien to Kyle - at least the Kyle that Jack knew years ago.
Intuition told him that the panicked atmosphere might be business as usual for Headquarters. The Resistance were a terror organisation, and as such should be constantly seeking to cause destruction and mayhem. That’s how one of the CRU pamphlets would have read, at least. Now that Jack was amongst them, and observing the people behind the rage and fear, he was not convinced that it was as clear cut as that. Something else was going on, though Jack could not quite pinpoint what.
“Dinner’s just about ready,” Aiden stuttered. Sometimes he became nervous when talking to Jack.
Jack turned around and saw the boy walking through the little gate. His curly hair was looking more flustered than ever. Jack still had not gathered his exact age, but he had seen the boy’s father, the farm owner; a wrinkly yet stubbornly strong man named Joseph, who was as elusive as the others.
“Hey Aiden,” Jack said, sitting up, “I was just watching the sunset.”
“It’s lovely isn’t it. I’m quite glad I didn’t grow up in the city. I don’t think I would have liked not seeing the stars at night,” he said distantly.
“Sit with me a while,” Jack said, offering a dry patch of grass near him.
Aiden hesitated, “I’m - I’m not s-sure.”
“Come on,” he encouraged.
“D-dinner’s ready and all…”
“Aiden, please. A few minutes. I’ve barely spoken to anyone in days and for once in my life it’s not of my own volition.”
Stuttering still, Aiden reluctantly sat down next to him, crossing his legs as if he were still in primary school.
“You grew up on this farm?” Jack asked.
Aiden nodded, “Yeah, it’s been k-kind of cool.”
“What about school? Don’t you go anymore?”
“N-not f-for a while, n-no.”
“Oh sorry,” Jack begun, “You must be more than eighteen!”
“No, I’m fifteen. I just don’t go.”
Raising an eyebrow, Jack invited a wordless question.
“M-my Dad stopped me years ago. S-says they don’t teach right anymore.”
A raven swooped down nearby, its caw echoing across the valley. It seemed to Jack as if it called mournfully, there was a sadness in the way that it came to rest on the fence post.
“And what do you think?”
“What do you mean, what do I think?”
“Don’t you want to go to school?” Jack regretted his question milliseconds later. He was speaking to a teenager, of course he didn’t want to go back to school. “I mean, don’t you think you’re missing out?”
“On what?”
“On life, on fun things, on seeing your mates?”
Aiden returned him a strange look that only a teenager can. It was a wistful look of utter confusion and neglect to care too much about the question he was answering, “I dunno what you mean.”
“Do you like it on the farm?”
“It’s all I know,” Aiden said, though Jack detected a hint of sadness.
“When I was your age, I was always out with my friends. I wasn’t working a farm,” Jack said, trying to coax an emotion out of the child.
“It’s all I can do to help. Until I’m older, they won’t let me prove myself any other way.”
“You want to join them?” Jack was astounded and unsurprised.
“Don’t you?” Aiden’s reply was almost accusatory.
Jack was reticent to answer honestly. He didn’t want to make his decision public. How Alex or any of his cronies could believe he would ever join them was beyond him. They destroyed lives - regardless of the reason why. They were relentless terrorists, whose only aim was to seek to instil chaos and random rebellion. What part of that did he want to join? What part of that did anyone want to join - the thrill of the chase, the dance of excitement that they were doing something with their lives? Aiden was fifteen years old, tainted by a solitary life away from his peers and poorly guided by his elders toward a path which no teenager should hope to adventure.
“I hear what they say about you,” Aiden said, “They’re all wondering why you are here. I know you are not here by choice. It obvious, even to me.”
“You’re right,” Jack spoke truthfully, “I don’t want to be here. I want to be living my old life, as hard as it was. You shouldn’t trust these people, Aiden. They don’t know what’s best for you. You don’t know what they do.”
Aiden backed away abruptly, “You think I don’t know they are killers? You think I don’t know what they do down there, what decisions they make about who should live and who should die?”
Taken aback, Jack tried to calm a reddening Aiden down, “I don’t mean to say you are ignorant, just merely -”
“Naive! I may be young, but I’m not blind. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve seen this glen be destroyed by the government - their schemes to Collate the farms. I’ve seen what they do to people who refuse. I’ve seen the bodies buried in the woods far over there - all the farmers that defied them! All the farmers that denied them their payment. That would be us if not for The Resistance. My father, dead. My body, rotting in the ground simply for saying no!”
“What do you mean, if not for The Resistance?”
Aiden sighed, “In return for being here, they source the money we need to pay the government to keep us from Collectives, to keep us from the grave. We need them. Without them, we would surely be dead. Either way. The Collectives are worked by slaves, or as good as.”
Unable to comprehend what Aiden was saying, a dumb expression spread across Jack’s face. Was this just more propaganda or was there substance to what Aiden was saying? Everything these people said was coloured by conspiracy.
Before Jack could say another word, a deep grumbling sounded from behind. It was the first engine he had heard in weeks and was surprised to see it driving into the farmyard at dangerous speed. As Jack and Aiden emerged from the grassy slope, they were just in time to see the car skid to a halt yards away from the farmhouse itself. Aiden’s expression was physically pained at the sight of the near miss.
Aggressively racing out of the car and striding into the farmhouse was a furious and ruffled Alex Reader. Inhaling sharply, Jack was frightened to see his old friend. The last time he had seen him was during the early hours of the morning in which he reveale
d his true persona. Ever since then, Jack had not been looking forward to seeing him again. Though Alex was not even aware of Jack’s presence, the animosity between the pair of them was striking. Jack immediately felt stripped of any confidence he had clamoured together over the past few weeks. Suddenly all his mistakes returned to him, as searingly painful as if they had just been made. Eliza burst through from the vignette of his mind, smiling broadly and wickedly as she excruciatingly enticed forth every single memory Jack had of her.
Instinctively, Jack followed his friend inside. The farmhouse kitchen was warmly lit by an array of candles. It was customary for someone to be sitting at the dining room table, but presently there were none and it was cast in a forgotten shadow. The secret passageway had just shut behind Alex. Aiden immediately strode over to the hidden hole in the skirting board and opened up the tiny compartment. Jack, despising himself for it, enjoyed the ingenuity of it all. Inside the compartment were small stones, a handful of gravel. Aiden took one piece and let it drop down the adjacent black hole. They waited until it hit the ground beneath. A second later the wall jarred opened a touch. Jack kicked it aside and dropped to his knees to slide through in his haste to catch up with Alex.
Restoring himself to full height, Jack stormed down the staircase, whilst Aiden ensured that the entrance was locked. At the bottom, the two guards leapt to the defensive when Jack burst through but quickly returned to their placid patience when they recognised him. Switching his head left and right, Jack saw that the corridor was empty in either direction. He turned to one of the guards.
“Where did Alex go?”
The guard pointed down the corridor, the end of which Jack knew to be the War Room, but consequently had never been allowed entry. Regardless, but cautiously, he stepped up towards the black metallic door. He heard nothing from inside - not even a bassline of conversation. Pressing his ear against the door without incurring the suspicion of the two guardsmen, he felt only the cold touch on his earlobe and heard nothing from within.