Fragmented

by Madeline Dyer

  But it doesn’t.

  And the Zharat are getting closer.

  Esther’s right behind me, starts saying something, but I can’t make it out.

  Pain shoots around my hip as I try with the grid again. I cry out in frustration. My left eyelid twitches, and some sandy soil blows against me from outside, gets in my eyes. Sharp stings.

  Get out.

  Nausea races through me.

  Get out now, Seven.

  There’s a rushing in my ears, and I turn, trying to rub my eyes with the back of my hand. We need another exit—but the Zharat are too close, I can hear them.

  “Stay back!” Corin shouts. “Sev, get out!”

  But I can’t. I can’t do a thing. I was right—this isn’t the type of grid that swings open. This is the type of grid used to block an exit.

  We’ve trapped ourselves, like herd animals backed into a pit.

  And they’re going to kill us.

  I turn slowly, maneuvering my body in the small space, my face pressed against the rough rock. Behind me, Esther’s shaking, pressed up against the side of the tube, as if her posture will make her smaller or make the space bigger.

  I look past her, see Corin, his face pushing through the shadows, the darkness. He’s having difficulty—the tube walls are either side of him, and he breathes hard with every movement.

  He’s almost at us, but then he yells out and twists to the side, throwing his hands forward. Somehow, I see his fingers as they try to get a grip on the floor. Behind him, movement and light—a torch. The flickering beam and Corin’s foot lifting up—no, being lifted.

  “Get off!” he yells.

  My mouth dries as I see fingers wrap around Corin’s ankle. Then he’s dragged backward.

  “Corin!”

  My scream fills the space, and then a beam of light burns my eyes, makes me turn my head.

  “Get back over here now—and we won’t kill any of you.”

  The voice is low, gritty, male, and I can’t see who it belongs to—everywhere I look, I see the impression of the torch beam, burned into my retinas. But the words are a lie. I know that. They might not kill Esther or Corin, but they’ll kill me. Manning made it clear they kill female Seers.

  Oh Gods.

  I swallow hard, feel mucus at the back of my throat.

  Corin shouts, then I hear scuffled sounds. A moment later, the voice barks again.

  Esther retreats, just about managing to turn around in the small, low space. I follow her, pulling myself along on my stomach until the space widens, and then hands grab me, pull me roughly toward them. My heart thumps. The side of my face catches on rough rock, and I wince, but the Zharat don’t stop—they pull me to my feet, force me onward.

  I try to see how many of them there are, but I can’t make them out properly because torches throw light everywhere. The men are just shapes, shapes that snarl and dig their fingers into my arms as they drag me along.

  Shapes that will kill me.

  My throat tightens.

  Somewhere ahead, Esther whimpers.

  “Keep going,” a whiny voice says, and the words are right next to me. Sudden heat brushes my neck. My arm jerks out, my hand touches a body, I scream.

  And then—

  Then something goes over my head.

  I freeze and try to take a breath, but I only suck the gritty fabric closer. I try to breathe more shallowly, but he’s holding the fabric too tightly over my face, and I can’t see anything. It blocks out everything, even the torchlights. My chest burns. I turn, smack into something hard. Fear rises up in me.

  Shit.

  The fabric across my face scratches. The sudden blindness is horrible, more than if it was just the darkness around me. Because this is a barrier, a physical barrier. It makes me feel sicker, and I feel something moving inside me.

  Oh Gods. I remember the waterboarding—the cloth against my face, the vomit stuck against my lips. I shudder.

  I try to listen, try to think. I need to think, have to think.

  Corin. Where is he? He’s not shouting now. There’s no sound from him. Or Esther. There are no sounds from either of them, not at all.

  The bad taste in my mouth gets deeper, spreading down my throat as the intensity rises. Sour and bad and old.

  “Walk,” the man barks at me. I feel his hands on my shoulders, cold, like splinters of ice that scratch my soul, bestrewing frost over my being, freezing me. I shudder, but I walk.

  He guides me forward. The stench of stale sweat drops over me.

  “Keep walking, faster,” the man holding me says.

  I keep walking. No choice. Oh Gods. My head whirs. I start to feel strange. My movements become mechanical. I know I should be thinking about how I’m going to escape from this. How we’re all going to escape.

  I trip over something—a rough bit in the ground? Think we’re at the end of the exit tube. We turn left, and the air gets heavier.

  The man prods me in the back. A sharp dig. My tear ducts burn. I speed up, and then, a few minutes later, there are steps to climb. And more. Then we turn left again—down another tube? I’m not sure; I’ve lost all sense of direction.

  The air gets colder still. I shudder. Then my foot lands in something wet, and I wince. The soaked leather of my shoe-wrap makes a slap-slap sound on the ground as I walk.

  Someone breathes heavily.

  “Down here,” a voice says a minute later, and then there are more steps, leading down this time. Sharper ones, uneven.

  I count them as we go down. There are eighteen. Dread fills every step I take.

  If you’re deep enough, no one will hear your screams when they kill you.

  I flinch—don’t know where that thought came from—and nearly stumble.

  We keep walking. I hear more voices, more of the Zharat.

  A few minutes later, they tell us to get in the cage. Then I’m pushed forward, and I trip over something, throw my hands out, hit the floor.

  I hear the sounds of metal against metal, a big clang. Then I’m pulling at the textile material around my head. My fingers catch on string—they tied it? When?—and my breath comes in shallow bursts as I try to work the knots out.

  It takes me ages—ages while the Zharat must all just watch me, and I don’t understand.

  I get the fabric bag off, throw it to the side. Harsh light floods my eyes, and I blink rapidly, at last see the metal bars on three sides of me—they stretch from the floor to the ceiling. The fourth side of the enclosure is a lava wall, rough, lumpy-looking—and in front of it is Corin. I rush toward him, and his arms go around me, locking under my ribs. We’re breathing hard, then we’re both sliding down, grasping at each other and meeting the hard stone floor. I turn my head, but the light’s too bright still, and everything’s spinning.

  It takes me a long time to make out the figures on the other side of the bars. The men, the women. Mart. I see him, feel my muscles tense.

  Then they leave.

  Corin shouts something, then peels himself from me, gets up. He runs to the metal bars, throws his weight at them. They don’t move. The gate is secured with a padlock. It’s a big one, and the electric lantern on the far wall—about four feet away from the cage—lights up the metal. It glints, smiles. Something about it reminds me of the Luger I had a long time ago.

  “Where’s Esther?” The question shoots out of me, makes me feel sick.

  I turn, look around again, and so does Corin. But she’s not here. It’s just us. Just us—alone, but Manning doesn’t want us alone together, does he? Or maybe they’ve only got one cage…and they’re going to kill us anyway….

  I clap a hand to my mouth, and then Corin’s yelling. Yelling and yelling.

  The Zharat don’t come back.

  A few minutes later, Corin turns back to me. “Are you hurt?”

  He moves closer. He doesn’t sit next to me though, just stands there, breathing hard. His hands are clenched into tight fists, and I pick out a vein on his neck
that’s pulsing. His forehead is bleeding a little, and I think of all the injuries he sustained in the fight for me only earlier today—yet he’s the one asking me the question. I don’t even know how he’s standing.

  I shake my head, then draw my knees up to my chest. I need to think. There’s got to be something I can do. Corin’s already tested the metal bars. I look toward him, then touch the back of my head. I swallow hard. There’s a lump at the back of my throat that tastes like yam pottage.

  Corin exhales, doesn’t speak.

  And I don’t know what to say, so I just stare at the shapes in the lava, imagine them as different animals. A lion. An antelope. A gorilla. I should feel scared, I’m sure. I scratch at my neck, look across at Corin. They’re going to kill me for being a Seer. But what about him? He was helping me escape. And Esther? I swallow hard, don’t like where my line of thought is going.

  I press my lips together. They taste salty.

  We hear the footsteps long before the Zharat reappear. Three of them. Manning, Jed, and Mart. Now their eyes are on fire, and if there was anything friendly about them before, there’s nothing left now.

  I stand up slowly.

  Manning steps up to the cage, the other two flank him, a few feet back. The Zharat Chief holds a gun, and he tosses another one at Jed, but Jed’s reaction is slow, and he nearly drops it. Mart smirks.

  Corin points at Mart. “I thought you killed him.”

  Manning shakes his head. “He ain’t the one who sent the kavalah after the woman. None of us was—Jed traced the kavalah out of the cave, found the life-energy it had already obtained from its human wasn’t Zharat. So it ain’t Mart who sent it.” Manning’s eyes flicker to me; there’s something dark and dangerous in them. “Though she deserved it. Traitor.”

  I frown and look at Jed—he told me before that Mart had been dealt with. I press my lips together, feel sicker still. And now Manning’s saying Jed knew Mart wasn’t involved, that no Zharat were. Why would he lie about Mart?

  My mouth dries, tastes scratchy. I try to distract myself by staring at Manning’s gun, try to work out its make and model, but I can’t see it properly. I don’t like the light in here, it’s too bright. I’m dizzy enough already.

  “You’ve got to let us out,” Corin says. “This is mad. And where the hell is Esther? We weren’t even trying to escape. Just exploring, and we got stuck in that tube—why have a tube that narrow? It’s ridiculous. I don’t know what the hell you—”

  Manning points the gun at him, lining it up through the bars, and Corin freezes. My mouth dries. My throat tickles. I stay where I am, brace my legs, try to think of something to do.

  “Don’t lie. We know you’re spies for the Enhanced Ones.” Manning’s words drip with venom. “Do not deny it. We know. And we will kill you both.”

  “What?” Corin exclaims. I think he’s forgotten about the gun. Or he’s not bothered anymore. He points a finger at Manning, and the gesture reminds me of Rahn. “Are you mad? Spies?”

  Manning’s eyes narrow. “If you were just trying to escape, man, you’d have gone for an entranceway. You were going for that grid. To pass messages out to the Enhanced.”

  I stare at him. This isn’t about me being a Seer? My gaze jerks to Jed. He hasn’t told them?

  “No, we weren’t going to pass messages on because we’re not spies,” Corin persists. “We were exploring.”

  I stand up straighter, and a weak, humming noise fills my ears. I flinch. It sounds like a swarm of flies. I look around, can’t see any. Strange.

  “I heard you,” Mart says, and his eyes are narrowed, on me. “I heard you planning a conversion attack.” He points at me. “You were speaking into a radio, organizing it. You’re the one in charge of it.”

  “What?” I shake my head, heart pounding. “No! I’m not… I wasn’t!”

  “Don’t lie your way out of this,” Mart snarls.

  “He’s the one who’s lying,” Corin yells, then he limps right up to the bars, right up to Mart. “I know you don’t like Sev, and you’re holding a grudge against her since you tried to attack her. Manning, this is stupid. We are not spies. I’m telling you—and where the hell is my sister?”

  Manning just smiles. “Esther’s safe. She’s a good woman. I know she ain’t no spy. You was using her. She won’t be punished.”

  “What?” Corin exclaims. He looks back at me, mouth dropping open.

  “Yes,” Manning smiles. “We know what you are.” And he smiles across at Mart, pats him on the shoulder. Mart’s lips curl into a dangerous grin. “Our executioners be on the way.”

  Executioners?

  And we’re being killed because we’re spies, not because I’m a Seer. The whole thing seems ludicrous.

  I glance at Corin. His face has paled.

  “You can’t actually believe this,” Corin says. “We’re not spies—let alone spies for them!”

  For a second, I think Manning’s face is going out of focus…then I blink again, and it rights itself. Pain flits across my forehead.

  Jed makes a slight gasping noise, and Manning looks at him.

  “Search the cave,” Jed says, eyes on me. His voice is slow, like he’s drugged. “Just in case the enemy is here. And look for the radio she has been using.”

  “Just kill them,” Mart says, pointing at my face. “She’s a spy. And Jed’s right—we’d better do a search. It was a proper conversion attack she was planning, and it sounded like Enhanced Ones are definitely in here.”

  “I wasn’t planning a conversion attack!” I glare at him, but then the humming in the air gets louder and more irregular, all crackly and abrasive against my ears. I rub my bare arms with my hands. My skin is sore.

  “You… Don’t kill them… ” Jed shakes his head, gasping again. “You need to…” He trails off, then starts talking fast in the Zharat language.

  I start to feel strange. My vision blurs again, but the left corner’s lifting up, tilting. No. Can’t be. But it is. I shake my head, frown, then feel pressure all around my temples. I touch them gently, try to massage them.

  Interference. That’s what I can hear. It’s everywhere. Crackling. Hissing.

  I look toward Corin, blinking hard. For a second, I see two of him.

  “Jed?” Manning says, and his tone makes me jump. His voice sounds strange, like he’s underwater. Or like I’m underwater. One of us is.

  My heart rate soars. I think of the kavalah, feel my temperature rise. Oh Gods. Not again—he can’t have got my eyes again… But before I didn’t feel strange like this until the kavalah had been in me a while… And what if this one was already in me, when I saw out the grid?

  But I didn’t see much. Barely saw anything. It was just…generic. Nothing to identify this place. Just sand and rock and vegetation and—

  The crackling around me gets louder, and I shake my head from side to side.

  Nausea pulls through me, my gaze catches Jed’s. He’s staring at me, his expression blank, his eyes defocussing. Oh Gods. He can see it. He can see the kavalah in me.

  “Jed, man? What is it?” Manning’s voice. Angry. Too angry.

  My Seer pendant burns savagely, suddenly white hot against my skin. I inhale sharply as the pain circles me, and Jed grunts. I press my hands to my sides, then feel something in the pocket of the jeans. I pull it out—a ring. The ring. The engagement ring. I drop it back into my pocket quickly.

  Then I realize it. Whatever’s happening to me, it’s happening to Jed too. And I know, just know, it’s happening to all other Seers. It’s a Seer thing—nothing to do with a kavalah or Raleigh! And I don’t know how I’m so certain, but I am.

  And Manning and Mart will see it happen to me. They’ll know. They’ll know I’m a Seer.

  Then they’ll kill me.

  Jed raises his arm. “The others—check the others… The other Seers…now!”

  And he looks at me, directly at me, and his eyes are the clearest things I can see. They’re the only shapes
that are strong in here. The only things that aren’t moving, blurring.

  He knows. Confirmation. I’m a Seer, and he knows.

  Yet I’m still alive.

  He doesn’t want me dead?

  Jed coughs, bending over. He twists around, and then he’s pushing Manning and Mart away. “Go and check the others, now!”

  The air’s getting too hot. It’s smothering me. I try to bat it away, but can’t. My hands won’t work, and my movements are too jerky. I’m not in control.

  “Sev?” Corin’s hand is on my shoulder, and I twist my head as I try to see him. But his face is falling away from me.

  “Go… Check the others now…” Jed cries. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him pushing Manning and Mart farther away still. “A God is dying.”

  Manning and Mart go. They just disappear.

  A God is dying.

  I look at Jed. He sent them away. He sent Manning and Mart away. He’s protecting me? I don’t understand, but it seems important. And I’m sure the reason is close, it’s obvious, but there’s too much other stuff and the air’s murky and I can’t work it out because I can’t breathe, can’t get enough oxygen, and my head’s pounding. Pounding. Just pounding.

  A God is dying.

  I start to choke. Saliva goes the wrong way. I gag, feel Corin’s hands on me. I try to turn.

  The pain sets in.

  Needles, they scratch my eyes. Pull at my ears. Soft flesh, tearing.

  Screaming. Screaming. Screaming.

  I feel my body stiffen as though it isn’t my body, but someone else’s. I feel everything harden—my lungs, my liver, my heart.

  The last thing I see is Jed falling to the ground: how his body just collapses, the amount of foam that spews from his mouth, and the way his eyes roll backward, unseeing. And then there’s nothing left. Nothing left for me to see—only darkness.

  And the darkness stretches on forever.

  I open my eyes to see the sharp edge of an axe two feet above me. So sharp. A fine line. I stare at the blade. It’s—

  I scream, roll over just as the axe comes down. Someone shouts something—Corin?—and then everything’s a blur of movement and darkness. And there’s not enough light in the caves, and I can’t see properly.