The Cult of The Enemy: The Dark Places Trilogy

by S. G Mark

  Panting, he quickened his pace; trying to block out the memory of what he had just seen. It was his first suicide bomber. Sure, they were common by now, but seeing one was a unique and horrifying experience he had hoped to avoid. Having just witnessed it, the shock and disgust excelled his expectations. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to retch until he erased all memory of the events. The man had been in the DD, he was certain of it. The Resistance would never cross that line.

  He hobbled across the road. Cars had screeched to a halt - their drivers were staring out from their windscreens at the horror that had unfolded. The DD, demolitioners of fucking everything. He despised them. At least The Resistance had their reasons; they had their cause and their convictions. The DD were just vile anarchists hoping for a world of chaos and depravity. He hoped that the bomber had suffered in his final seconds. It filled him with disgust. He even pitied the poor CRU officer he’d been arguing with. The man had only been doing his job, even if it wasn’t morally right. He was just a poor man following orders.

  As he approached the corner, one last look of the scene of destruction was required. He turned and saw the CRU officers descend on those that had remained; their guns still noticeable as they took witness statements.

  He hit something solid. Staggering backwards, he saw his wallet slip from his pocket and spill its contents into the street. The hidden compartment split open; all ten ID cards splayed across the pavement. In an instant, he looked up and his heart sunk like a rusting ship in an oceanic whirlpool. His panic-stricken eyes engulfed the letters: CRU.

  As their eyes met, the CRU Officer glanced down to the pavement and from that moment there was no doubt in his mind as to what was going on. The officer’s lips curled into delightful pride. The cat that caught the cream was now licking its lips with ecstasy.

  Jack stammered out a few syllables, but his convictions were quickly lost. In eighteen months he’d rehearsed this situation, but all his pre-prepared statements, explanations and reactions vanished without trace. Shaking, Jack was helpless as he saw the officer raise his gun. Either way this was going to end badly. He’d been in the CRU interrogation rooms. Water boarding, physical violence - if he were lucky.

  Suddenly, the man crumpled to the asphalt. In his place stood a familiar figure, waving him hastily onwards.

  “Get the fuck over here, now!” he shouted, racing ahead.

  Not bargaining the reason for his escape, Jack hopped over the officer’s unconscious body and fled down the street after Julian.

  After a hundred metres or so, he bore left and Jack followed him into an empty side street. Julian threw open the door to his fancy sportscar.

  “Get in. Now.”

  Jack dove into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut. He didn’t even have time to appreciate the craftsmanship of the vehicle. His eyes were focussed on the dashboard as it lit up and Julian accelerated to freedom.

  It took a few minutes for Jack to speak. His eyes were dazzled by the blurred commercial lights as they sped down the roads. His head was swirling with information. All his covers were in the hands of the CRU now. Fucking everyone he had used to get things done. What did that mean? Was there anyone who would be put at risk because of him? He struggled to think. His brain froze. All he could think of was that he was almost entirely exposed. They had his fucking picture. They knew what he looked like.

  “Thank you,” he muttered.

  “Are you alright?” Julian asked, glancing to look at him.

  Jack nodded, but said nothing. He wasn’t alright. He wasn’t even remotely alright.

  “Why did you come back?” he asked Julian.

  “The explosion. I heard it. And then I saw you with that officer. I couldn’t…” he hesitated, “I couldn’t let him arrest you.”

  “I’m not sure it was worth it… my ID cards… they have them all,” Jack was panicking aloud.

  “I saw,” Julian said, “Harry isn’t your real name is it?”

  “Smart one,” Jack suffered a smile, “You’re pretty calm right now. Should I be worried?”

  “I’m driving, it’s eating all my attention. Else, I’d be a trembling fucking mess,” Julian said, “I mean, god, I injured a CRU officer. I… I committed a crime. They’re going to kill me. Oh my god they’re going to find out what I did and they’re going to fucking arrest me and they’re going find out about… about us, and what I’ve been telling you and oh my god…”

  “Calm down,” Jack reassured him, keeping a worried eye on the roads ahead, “Just drive normally, reduce your speed. You have nothing to hide.”

  “And everything to fear,” Julian burst into frenzy, “Please, god, help me. Please, I’ll do anything you say, just don’t make them find out about what I did…”

  “I promise,” Jack spoke slowly, welcome of the distraction from his own paranoia, “You’ll be safe. No one saw a thing. Everyone was looking at the aftermath. It was all about that. You have nothing to worry about. So long as I have your back, you’ll be safe. I guarantee it.”

  Julian’s speed reduced immediately and Jack sensed that so, too, did his heartbeat.

  “What was that thing, anyway?” Julian asked.

  “Suicide bomber,” Jack sighed, “And no, not us before you ask.”

  They passed a parade of ambulances shooting off to the bombsite.

  “Are you alright though, you weren’t injured?” Julian asked, concerned.

  Jack shook his head, “No, I’m fine. But the women next to me… she’s dead. There was nothing I could do.”

  “Fucking hell, it’s disgusting,” Julian said, turning a sharp left, “What do these suicide bombers hope to achieve?”

  “Chaos,” Jack said, “I don’t know why they do it, it’s not like the DD have anything for their followers to believe in so much they would risk their lives… They just stand for chaos. Rebellion at any cost.”

  “Maybe their followers just haven’t got anything else to live for,” Julian said, “I dunno. It just sickens me. If I’d know the world my daughter was going to grow up in… I might not have -”

  “Don’t say that,” Jack interrupted, “Never wish that. Not ever.”

  He was angry at Julian. It was such a harsh thing to say and though he knew it was a throwaway comment, it had resonated so close to home. Despite the horrible place the country had evolved into, Jack would have his sister back in a heartbeat and it felt cruel for Julian to wish the opposite.

  “Where do you want me to take you?” Julian asked.

  Jack thought about it. Lana’s would be easiest, but there was no chance he was letting Julian drive up and drop him outside the safehouse. Julian had proven himself reliable, but not trustworthy.

  “Drop me off at Euston station,” he said.

  “Are you leaving town?” Julian looked over at him, sharply.

  “I think it’s better for us both if you don’t know that,” Jack said, slouching against the passenger door. The adrenaline kick from the explosion was withdrawing. He was feeling more in control of himself.

  On the approach to Euston, Julian slid his sleek Porsche into the parking bay by the station. Jack turned to him. Gratitude could not define what he felt for this man - this man that he had beleaguered with blackmail. He’d sought out his daughter, just to threaten the poor man. After what Jack had done to Saskia though, he didn’t feel that he was owed this moment of humanity. Had Julian known what had really happened, then Jack would have been torn away in a CRU van, never to be seen again.

  “Thank you,” Jack said, “You saved my life tonight. I won’t forget it.”

  “Trust me,” Julian exhaled in a vague half smile, “Neither will I.”

  “Tell you what,” Jack said, “Enough of the money. Keep it. All I want is information on Quentin. That’s the deal from now on.”

  Julian’s eyes welled up, his cheeks flushed with relief.

  Jack pushed the car door open and made to get out. As he went to slam the door shut again, he paused. />
  “Oh, and should my name reach the media, I’ll send someone to extract you and Beth. Whatever happens, you’ll be safe.”

  What relief there was, fled Julian’s cheeks, “What? What do you mean should your name reach the media?”

  “Harry Kirk was one I the IDs I was carrying,” But don’t worry I never wrote your name or address down. You’re safe, but if it does reach the press - I want you to know that I will do anything in my power to make sure you and Beth are okay. Saskia too, if you want.”

  Julian smiled, flushed with gratitude, “Thank you. For the record… I think you are a good person.”

  Jack shut the door and pretended to walk into the station, a commotion of CRU officers and commuters. When he was sure that Julian had left, he returned to the street and ventured towards the safehouse.

  Lana sprung on him as soon as the door shut behind him.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” she thrashed him comedically with her fists.

  It had been nearly three months since they’d last seen each other.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, inviting her in for a warm hug, “I’ve been really fucking busy. So many people to extract. The CRU are really cracking down on us.”

  Lana launched into his chest tightly, “I’m just glad you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

  Withdrawing from him, she led him into the small living area, the sole occupant of which was a dilapidated sofa on which Lana immediately sunk into.

  “Did you hear him, on the news earlier? War’s a’coming,” Lana said, mockingly.

  Jack sat down on the carpet by her feet. He was exhausted, not just from the day’s events, but from his whole life. The constant travel was a vacuum to his energy.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said, softly, “I wished I’d been here more often.”

  “Don’t be stupid, you’ve had stuff to do,” she said, “More important than us having a laugh on the sofa.”

  “Maybe,” he said, “But it’s nice to be back here again.”

  “You never told me you were coming,” she enquired.

  In all actuality, he had no means of informing anyone where he was. Two days ago he’d had to erase his phone records and sell the device for the train ticket back to London.

  “Sorry,” he said, “You know how it is.”

  Lana nodded, absent mindedly, “So did you see the speech?”

  “Yes,” Jack said, “I’m not sure what difference it’s going to make. We’re fucking fighting a losing battle.”

  “Don’t be like that,” she said.

  “It’s true - at least with me. I know I don’t agree with what you’re doing, but you’re getting stuff done. It’s happening… I’m just moving people from one location to another. I’m a fucking taxi driver, that’s what I am,” he found the rage bursting from him before he was even aware of its presence.

  “You save lives,” Lana said, “I take them away.”

  “So that others might be saved…” he said vaguely, “I just wish what we were doing meant something more than it did. Do you never just feel exhausted by it? By the constant struggle, and the lack of reward? I mean you do one thing and it just seems like it's a victory for a couple of hours, but we’ve been doing this for fucking years and we’re no further to winning than we were back then.”

  Lana laid back on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, “I don’t see this lasting forever,” she began, “But neither do I see this lasting a few short years. I mean look at them out there - they’re sheep. Blind little lame sheep and they need guidance, but they don’t want it because they don’t feel they need it. So we have to give it to them without them being aware of it. And you think that it’s going to be over within a few years? You think that we might actually, finally beat these bastards? I’d rather die on the losing side than survive on the winning and that’s exactly how I see my life ending.”

  It was a shock to hear the resolute defeatist in Lana breaking through. She had always a steel determinedness about her that Jack had admired, even envied. Had he been in any other mood, he might have felt betrayed by her lies. As it was, he felt comforted that he was not alone. Remembering back to his first days in the open world, he had felt how futile the cause was. Recruitment and propaganda; rescuing people who happened to be complete bastards for the sake of a few secrets. Jack was a more experienced member of The Resistance now, but those thoughts had never left him.

  “I don’t want you to die,” Jack muttered, “God, I really fucking miss home right now.”

  Lana sat up and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “You’ll go home one day. I promise.”

  “Can you promise I’ll find it as I left it?” he was on the verge of tears. Eliza’s beautiful face crept into his mind - she was now a distant memory, still cherished, but not as vividly as she once was. “I’ve lost so fucking much… I wish I could just walk out that door and forget and be one of the sheep again. Maybe I wouldn’t be happy, but at least I wouldn’t feel like this…”

  “You also wouldn’t be Jack,” she said, “And that’s why you’re so adorable…”

  She shot to her feet and traversed to the kitchenette in the corner, back turned to him.

  “Do you want tea?” she asked, filling the kettle, “Kevin popped by earlier with a packet for us as thanks for letting him crash here last month.”

  “Thank you,” he said, tea seemed like the best solution right now. It always did.

  Lana set about making them both a cup of tea and returned to the sofa with the steaming mugs in hand. Outside they heard a woman screaming, but they both ignored it.

  “It’s Kyra’s birthday today,” she said abruptly, “Well it would have been.”

  “Oh god,” he instantly placed his hot mug on the carpet and wrapped his arms around her, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really, I just wanted to say it aloud. It’s the one and only time I really allow myself to dwell, and somehow it didn’t seem real keeping it to myself. Like it was just another day.”

  “I know what you mean,” he said, holding her tightly, “Sometimes birthdays feel like the only day I feel anything.”

  “What I wouldn’t give for one more fight with her,” she said, “One more stupid argument over who got the more presents or pocket money. That’s all I want.”

  “I want just one more second to think,” he said, “Just one more and then I might have seen… the car.”

  Lana stared at him intently. He had told her everything in excruciating detail. Of all the people who knew, she was the only one to understand. She half smiled and stroked his hair around his face.

  “So what dream cake would help you right now?”

  “Dream cake?” it was a game they played, to lighten the dark world, “It’d have to be triple chocolate.”

  “With ice cream?”

  “Chocolate fudge brownie ice cream,” he smiled. “A whole cake each, just for us.”

  “Good, cos I’d never share with you. You’re so greedy.”

  They giggled for a while, but the laughed rapidly dissipated, much like the energy they had left in them.

  “I dropped my wallet today,” Jack said, abruptly, “After the suicide bomber -”

  “Suicide bomber - what the fuck?”

  “There was a DD bomber on the tube. It’ll reach the news in a few hours. After it, I crashed into this CRU officer as I fled the scene. My wallet fell out and all my ID cards spilled out.”

  “Fucking hell, how are you still here?” Lana’s face coloured with shock and relief.

  “Someone helped me,” he said, hoping she would ask no further questions about his escape, “But I left all my cards.”

  “Did you have anything about who you really are in the wallet though?” she asked.

  Jack shook his head, “I don’t have anything that proves who I really am. I haven’t had anything like that for nearly two years. I’m a fucking android as far as they are concerned. But my face is printed on every
single card. They must be able to do something with that?”

  At that moment, the door burst open. Emma stood in the hallway, her hair matted with grease and sweat.

  “Yes, they can, Jack,” she said, “You need to leave London. Tonight.”

  Jack jumped to his feet, “Are you alright?”

  “Just ran from the station, I heard the PM’s speech. It’s not great. We have to lay low for a while. We can’t risk anything right now - they would love a little victory early on.”

  Jack noticed how Lana was staring at the wall now.

  “Emma, I’m scared,” Jack admitted, “What do I do?”

  “You’ll be fine. Your face will be scanned and probably put on a list, but it’ll be fine. You are a small fish in a big fucking pond. Just leave, tonight, and you will be fine.”

  He could do it. He had places to stay. In a moment he had figured out a plan. Every night for the next few weeks he would go from safe house to safe house, never staying more than a night at any one location. He would avoid London entirely. The countryside was calm and secluded. The CRU barely ever bothered with cows and fields.

  “Emma,” he said, “Can I see you for a moment?”

  She nodded, “In the bedroom?”

  Jack followed her into the box-room crammed with two bunkbeds and a fold out mattress. Concern was etched into her expression.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Jack unzipped his jacket and took out the piece of paper that Julian had given to him.

  “Kyle needs to see this. Can you get it to him for me?” he said, “It’s very urgent. No one else can see it.”

  Emma looked him in the eye, “You have my word.”

  “Thank you,” he said, returning to the living room to finish his tea.

  Lana’s cup was already by the sink. She had disappeared into another room. A flash of guilt gripped him momentarily, but he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind. It was her confession to make, not his to respond to.

  Emma joined him a minute later and made herself a cup of tea. Jack explained his plan to her and she approved.