The Cult of The Enemy: The Dark Places Trilogy

by S. G Mark

  He clicked on a menu that brought up a name generator window. The first name that appeared there was Macleod.

  “Charlie Macleod?”

  “Go on then,” Jack said, wondering if he could handle pretending to be this Charlie person.

  “How old are you son?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “Right, probably could get away with twenty-nine judging by that fine grisly beard you’ve got going.”

  Jack instinctively stoked his chin - it was hardly more than stubble. He watched in awe as Stuart created his new identity. He was born on the sixteenth of October in Inverness. His current address was listed as being in Oban. At the bottom right hand corner of the card there was a large number three.

  “What does that mean?” Jack asked, pointing at the screen.

  “Level three travel licence - means if you’re randomly stopped, they won’t ask too many questions as to why you’re hundreds of miles from home. All done now,” he said, hitting the print button.

  The machine behind them wheezed as it geared up. Four short minutes later it had produced a shiny plastic Identity Card.

  “Gotta love these 3D printers,” Stuart said proudly.

  They climbed up the rope ladder and crawled out of the cupboard. Having gone first, Jack turned to help Stuart out but saw that he needed no such aid.

  “Give it a few weeks and you’ll be used to crawling in and out of tight spaces as expertly as a fifty-eight year old man,” he smiled.

  In the living room Kyle had not moved an inch. He was staring resolutely out the window, like a cat eyeing potential prey.

  “All done?” he asked, not even turning to look at either of them.

  “Yep,” Jack said, examining the card more closely in his hand. It had every intricate detail that the genuine article had. They were identical in every way.

  “So what’s your name?”

  “Charlie Macleod. I’m twenty-nine years old,” Jack recited.

  “And what do you do for a living?”

  “Uhm,” he paused for thought.

  At this point Kyle turned on his heel, “We’ve got a long journey ahead of us I see.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Stuart encouraged Jack with a twinkle of his kind blue eyes.

  “We best be off now, Stuart,” Kyle said, “Once again, thank you so much for your help.”

  “Nae bother, pal,” he said, “Give my regards to Alex - it’s been awhile since he’s popped by!”

  Kyle led the way outside and back into the car. As Jack made his way to the back of the car, Kyle threw out a hand to bar him.

  “This time you get to go in the front seat, like a big boy!” he joked.

  They waved to Stuart through the windscreen as they reversed out of the driveway. Jack shivered suddenly.

  “Cold?” Kyle asked, putting on the heating.

  “Yes, but also strangely excited.”

  Kyle’s expression was duplicitous. Part of him radiated camaraderie and pride, while the other expressed concern and dread.

  The dirt track they drove down wound its way through dark woods until it snaked into barren wilderness. Foreboding clouds nestled above the wintry landscape of snow speckled heather moors which stretched up to the distant blood orange mountains. Isolation hit Jack hard. He sensed how remote they were. The only signs of civilization were the desolate, winding road they were destined to join and the ruins of an old bothy sitting pathetically on top of a treeless mound.

  The countless journeys up the hill near HQ had not prepared him for how alone and vulnerable he felt right now. His skin prickled with fear and his imagination sparked a million eyes staring at them from hidden hideouts. Questions formed in his mind faster than he could answer them. What might happen if they were caught? What should they do if they were stopped? Were they supposed to fight back, even commit murder just to escape?

  “I know you’re worried,” Kyle said after a long twenty minutes of difficult silence.

  “No kidding,” Jack’s sarcasm resurfaced for first time that day.

  “Rule one of being a terrorist,” Kyle’s tone attempted to lighten the mood, but Jack knew the sentiment was all too serious, “Don’t panic. Right now, we are two guys out on the road. We’re in the middle of nowhere. The chances of us being stopped are ridiculously low.”

  “But what if we are?”

  “Then you smile, ask them how they are, maybe mention the football scores and then show them your ID. The key is to act naturally all the time,” Kyle encouraged, “They will never know what’s going on inside your head, and you can conceal your intentions with a little calm and a lot of preparation. It’s just acting, really.”

  “Acting? I’m shit at acting,” Jack panicked. Visions of embarrassing school plays returned to haunt him.

  “You’re pretty fucking good from what Alex tells me,” Kyle continued, “You see that desperation you had to keep your past a secret? It’s the same driver for us. Lying is a matter of life and death to us - and when you have death’s claws scratching at your neck, you learn very quickly how to lie and how to lie well.”

  “I’d prefer to learn before I’m in that situation,” Jack said, his tone laced with unease.

  “Alright, then,” he said, “Let’s start with who you are.”

  “Who I am?”

  “Charlie Macleod. What do you do for a living, Charlie?” he said, fixing his eyes on the road ahead.

  “Uh, I work in… a shop,” Jack replied.

  “Alright Charlie-who-works-in-a-shop, where did you grow up?”

  Glancing back at his card for reference, “Inverness.”

  “And why did you move to Oban?”

  “A girl?” he shrugged his shoulders, “I have no idea what there is to do in Oban… is there anything at all?”

  “Fuck knows - fishing?”

  Jack felt uncomfortable. He’d successfully fooled half his brain into thinking this was a game, but the other half was vehemently reminding him that if he fucked up, it might actually kill him.

  Little pools of perfect reflection melted into view. Tiny lochans saddled the road for the next few miles, each one imitating the foreboding sky. It was so beautifully remote. Though warmed from the car heater, Jack still felt a shiver run down his spine when he gazed out at the unyielding landscape. On the horizon were magnanimous mountains with sharp precipices, deep gullies and spectacular views. A part of him wanted to be out there, wandering the hills with nothing but a backpack to carry. He’d just keep walking until he settled for the night under a crystal clear sky sprinkled with far off galaxies and dazzling stars. The sun would rise in a glorious explosion of colour and a new day would bring more aimless adventure. There was a solace he found in his day dream that he never expected: to be isolated.

  Kyle’s presence in the car was growing to unnerve Jack. For minutes on end he could lose himself in the mountains, only for Kyle to drag him back to reality at the change of a gear. Though he was not speaking, the very idea of Kyle made Jack feel very nervous. He symbolised the unanswered questions he had. He acted as a reminder to Jack’s own naivety and ignorance. He was scared of not being able to cope with the pressure of having a CRU officer approach him or having to lie in public and keep up the pretence of being a whole other person. What embarrassed him even more was that he didn’t know what he feared. If he fucked up, what would happen to him? Would a gun be pulled? He’d seen them in the hands of police officers before, but somehow they were less threatening then - after all he had nothing to hide. Now he knew too much and he was scared that it was tattooed across his face, that it was an undercurrent to every word he said.

  “Are you alright?” Kyle asked after nearly half an hour of amicable quiet.

  Jack struggled to summon the energy to reply. In truth he wasn’t alright, but that was the last thing he wanted to convey. Kyle never wanted to bring him here this quickly and Jack was increasingly understanding why. He wasn’t ready.

  Apparently sens
ing his doubts, Kyle did not wait for an answer.

  “The first time I was stopped by the police they asked me where I was going. I’d only joined The Resistance a week then. We didn’t have training nor a support network like we have now. When you were on the streets you were on your own. If you made it back alive it was a bonus,” Kyle said, “They asked me for my ID. I gave them the fake one, shitting myself that I’d forget my name or when I was born. I hadn’t even learnt my backstory then - what did I do for a living, who my family were and all that. I didn’t think it was important. I thought I just needed a name, that’d do.”

  Intrigued, Jack tore his gaze from the rain-spattered glass, briefly wondering when it had even begun to pour.

  “What happened?”

  “I remembered my name and age, but I fucked up the story part. Made it up on the spot and somehow they bought it.”

  “I’m shit at making up things on cue,” he said, dismayed by Kyle’s display of superiority once again.

  “That’s not what I’m saying, Jack,” he replied, “What got me out of a dangerous situation wasn’t what was said, but how I said it. I talked complete bullshit at him, but he bought it cos I was confident. These people don’t give a shit about what you do for a living or where you grow up, they aren’t looking to hear your life story. They are inspecting the way you hold yourself, examining how you respond to their questions - are you nervous, are you agitated. Innocent people don’t act guilty.”

  “This isn’t making me feel any better,” Jack said, resting his elbow on the car door.

  “I get it, you’re scared,” Kyle comforted him.

  “No you don’t,” Jack snapped, “You really don’t. I didn’t walk into this voluntarily. I was torn away from the world, then told what I knew of it was all wrong and for the past few months I’ve been deciphering the real world from the one I remember. It’s like trying to find meaning in a scribble. I can’t see what it is - it’s just this… thing. A thing I know I’m meant to hate and do to an extent, but it’s a distant hate… It’s like a dream. Everything that I went through - everything that I saw other people go through - the memories don’t carry any weight because all that emotional resentment was an after effect. I’ve… I’ve been in HQ so long I’ve forgotten what I should be hating them for.”

  The huge weight in his chest bolstered slightly, like a shipping container on stormy seas. He wasn’t any happier for saying his fears aloud. Instead he just sat in a shamed silence as he waited for Kyle to berate him on why he had joined The Resistance in the first place.

  “I don’t blame you,” he said.

  Jack looked up, brow furrowed as confusion marched along his cerebral cortex.

  “Maybe I made a mistake by training you for so long,” Kyle continued, “It doesn’t matter now though. Everything you’ve ever learned is going to fade into obscurity next to what the real world is going to put you through. In a few hours, we begin your real training.”

  “And where are we going for that?”

  “Grab some sleep,” he said, “You’ll see.”

  Though Jack eventually slept, he did not wake feeling rested. Eyes shut to the world, he still heard the gentle hum of the engine as they continued to twist and turn through the unrelenting wilderness. He was conscious to the act of living, but blind to all else. His mind had drifted far from the countryside, but to a little terraced house with a red door. He missed home more than ever now. Frequently he would wonder what he would be doing had fate been kinder to him. By now he would be back on Rations, though more than likely still jobless. With Alex missing, Jack would be tending to Eliza and Maggie offering them false comfort. In contrast to life in the bunker, the memories that kept him alive and the possibilities of what could have been tasted more desirable than ever and it was that which he clung to when his eyes were too tired to stay open.

  “Jack,” Kyle whispered to him, gently nudging him with his free hand as the other vigilantly held the steering wheel.

  When he opened his eyes, he was met with further black. Night had fallen.

  “Where are we?” he asked, sheepishly.

  “About three miles from Fort William,” Kyle said, “We’ll be stopped at the town border. Best be on your guard. When they ask for your ID, just smile and act sleepy. I’ll do all the talking.”

  Suddenly Jack was more alert than he had been in months.

  “What do you mean, we’re going to be stopped?”

  “Major towns and cities have border patrol,” Kyle explained, “They only check for your travel licence. Don’t worry.”

  “Don’t worry? We’re in The Resistance and we’re being stopped by the CRU?”

  “Actually it’s BCU - Border Control Unit.”

  “Christ,” Jack’s focus fixed on the horizon.

  They were approaching population. In the distance he could see amber lights twinkling. Headlamps beamed in front of them - their first fellow travellers since leaving the bunker.

  “What happens if they ask me a question?”

  “Answer it,” Kyle said, leaving Jack feeling distinctly out in the cold.

  And then he saw it. Ahead of them was a small gate reminiscent of Checkpoint Charlie. A barrier blocked the side of the road leading into the town. Several uniformed guards patrolled around it and when they spotted the car, they marshalled together in preparation.

  Kyle slowed to greet them, winding his window down. It was unfathomable to Jack how at ease Kyle was.

  “They can’t read your thoughts, Jack,” Kyle said from the corner of his mouth as he stopped parallel to the guards.

  One of the men approached Kyle’s side of the car and communicated with him through the window.

  “ID please,” he ordered.

  Kyle obliged, slipping the man his card. Horror struck Jack - he did not know Kyle’s alias. If he was ever asked to address him, he was surely going to cause them both to be arrested.

  “And yours, please, “ the man looked to Jack.

  He focussed on his breathing as he handed the man his ID.

  Several agonising seconds passed as his ID was inspected. Every horrific scenario he could imagine was happening inside his head simultaneously. Any moment now the guard was going to spot the one flaw in the car or ask him something specific about the town he supposedly lived in. It would be just his luck for the guard to have lived in the same town or next door to the address listed. Luck was his mortal enemy and never on his side.

  “That’s fine, thanks,” the guard said, “You can go through now.”

  “Many thanks, sir,” Kyle smiled, “I hope you had a good Christmas.”

  Jack imitated a smile and failed miserably as the barrier lifted and Kyle drove through. He was not quite processing what had actually happened. How had they been allowed to just freely wander in?

  “See,” Kyle grinned, “Piece of cake. Confidence is all you need.”

  “Fucksake,” Jack was in shock. All he could think of was what might have gone wrong, rather than all that had gone right.

  However, his shock soon melted into intrigued as they approached the outskirts of the town. Lampposts lined the road. It should not have amazed Jack to see that they were lit, but it did. In every direction he was surrounded by civilisation. There were people on the streets, walking their dogs or carrying shopping.

  “I’d forgotten what they did,” Jack muttered, his hands pressed against the window as he gazed upon the witless population. “Look at them all, do you think they know?”

  “Know what?” Kyle asked, peering over with concern.

  “Know we’re here, why we’re here…”

  “Nope,” Kyle said, “And they probably will never know.”

  “It’s sort of sad, isn’t it?”

  “Sad?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure who for… us or them?” Jack turned from the window and exhaled a trembling sigh that liberated several hours of nauseating tension, “Where do we go from here?”

  Kyle’s answer
came in the form of his finger pointing through the windscreen to a light high above the rest of the town.

  The solitary light was isolated in darkness and quickly disappeared behind a high embankment by the side of the road. They were driving through the heart of town now. Though hardly bustling, a small crowd had gathered on a plaza by a set of traffic lights they were forced to stop at. At the centre of this crowd was an individual dressed in a strange black uniform. It reminded Jack of a street performer and he anticipated the individual to commence juggling or something equally absurd at any moment.

  “Community Caller,” Kyle’s tone etched with resentment.

  “What’s that?” Jack watched with heightened intrigue.

  “They rally the community round to make them take part in activities,” Kyle explained, “From cleaning up rubbish to burning the belongings of a household taken away by the CRU, that little bastard in the centre will make you do it whether you want to or not.”

  “What happens if you refuse?”

  “You disappear…”

  The traffic lights turned green. Jack observed the crowd until they disappeared from clarity in the rear-view-mirror. The concept tripped him up. A Community Caller, to unite the community. It did not seem all that bad, but he was sure he was missing something. He nearly always did.

  Five minutes later and they were pulling into a gravel car park. Wheels crunching over the jagged rocks, they came to rest at the edge of a cliff which looked over the valley below. The town clung to the lower slopes of the hill they’d just climbed. Amber diamonds twinkling in poor imitation of the night’s sky. A loch snaked its way across the panorama. Everything beyond the bubble of civilisation below was painted with a cold blue. To look at the tips of the mountains on the opposing side of the loch sent shivers down Jack’s neck. He felt as if he had just plunged into arctic waters.

  Behind them was an old barn-like building. Though the roof was modern, the building itself reeked of the rustic eighteenth century. The brickwork matched that of the many ruins they had passed in the journey over here. A small concrete ramp connected the ground to the entrance, above which an engraved wooden sign was hunk.