The Sentient Corruption (The Sentient Trilogy Book 3)

by Ian Williams

  The lock finally slid away and the door creaked open, moaning a little until the person pulling it had gained some momentum. Graham’s tiny world was instantly flooded with daylight. Despite a temporary blindness, he was still able to remain far enough toward the rear to stay hidden from the invader.

  “What we got this time, Smithy, more moisturiser for your bald head?” one of those outside the vehicle shouted to his friend.

  Graham initially failed to notice when one of them entered and began making his way down the central path, between the large wooden boxes. Thankfully, they were not coffins at all. He could now see that they were in fact only transportation crates, with metal corners to protect the edges.

  “Fuck off, Pierce. How should I know, anyway?” the other answered with a short laugh. He was only a metre or two from Graham’s hiding spot now. “It’s probably something for that weird equipment they keep messing around with up on the Ring.”

  “You’d think they’d tell us what that thing is supposed to do. After all, we’re the ones bringing the pieces to them.”

  Listening to the two men talk made Graham nervous. Not only because he should not be there, but because he had no clue as to where there was. If this was a supply drop then he could be anywhere, especially if he had slept for days.

  The unpredictable nature of his blackouts meant he could not entirely rule this out. He needed to find out the exact time before even contemplating working out where he was. That would roughly tell him how long he could have been travelling.

  His latest lapse had lasted long enough for him to have found a change of clothing during it. This worried him more than finding himself waking in the back of someone’s vehicle. It told him that his mindless zombie-like state still had enough cognitive ability to make decisions. Was he simply forgetting after the event, or was something else, something much worse, going on? Was he in fact not himself at all during these moments?

  He had no answer for that and instead assessed what he now wore. His sleep-walking self at least had some style and had dressed him in a battered brown leather jacket and heavy duty jeans that were frayed at the bottom. They were certainly not his own clothes. He poked a finger through a small hole in the tatty navy-blue sweater he wore to confirm it.

  “You ready for the first crate?” The nearest man was now threatening to step on Graham’s foot, which stuck out a little. Even with his legs up against his chin, Graham could still not fully hide his body.

  “Yeah, better start at the front,” came the reply from outside.

  Graham stuck his head out over the top of the crate to see the man called Smithy walking back to the door with a glowing tablet in his hands. With the bright sunlight shining through Graham struggled to make out any detail on the man, only that his neck and head were the same thickness.

  “Right. First crate reads, part number: 8265E.”

  “Check. Next one.”

  The hiding place Graham had chosen began to worry him. It was beginning to look like the two men were there to unload all of the crates. Once they had finished checking the numbers against their list they would find him soon after. He had no plan at all to deal with that.

  “Hang on, are we a crate short?”

  “What?”

  “I said… actually, let me check the manifest one more time.” The man’s heavy handed screen bashing told of a slight frustration with the handheld device he worked with. Graham suspected he would be met with the same if discovered.

  Watching from cover, he waited until both men were outside before chancing another movement. While the two were sorting out their records he thought to try and sneak out. That way he could try and convince them he had been walking along the road all this time. Being found inside their vehicle was a big concern for him.

  He crept slowly toward the outside world and began to see roughly where the vehicle was parked. As the light balanced out against his surrounding darkness he saw a long row of buildings stretching far away. The vehicle had used the old city roads and was somewhere within the city limits. But he could see no force-field. All he found around him were apartments and office blocks, all as tall as the standard for the city – which gave him no clues.

  “We can do the paperwork later,” one of the men said. “Let’s just start unloading it all first.”

  Graham tried to duck between two of the crates as one of the men returned suddenly.

  Jumping quickly up a short set of steps, the man then became angry a second later. “Hey, who the fuck are you? What are you doing in there?”

  “Shit, sorry,” Graham said as he gradually turned to face the music. It was then that he realised precisely how much trouble he was in. The man sending a piercing stare directly at him was dressed in green and brown camouflage fatigues. They were soldiers, which meant he had caught a ride on a military vehicle. “Look, I’m no trouble, guys, honestly.”

  “Then get the hell out of there, before I drag you out myself.”

  The second soldier reappeared and stood beside his comrade, holding a flashing pistol and aiming it at Graham’s chest. “Show me your hands, now,” he shouted from behind the sight of his weapon.

  “Please, just listen to me, I’m not here to cause any–”

  Before Graham could finish his plea he was pulled clear off his feet. He fell flat on his back, cracking the rear of his head on the textured floor. But he was given no time to recover from being stunned so suddenly and soon found himself being dragged out of the truck by his ankles.

  Once his feet slid down and to the floor a metre below him, the two soldiers rough handled him into a standing position. Even though dazed and highly confused, he was then questioned on the spot, a thick hand on his chest to keep him there.

  “What’s your name?” the armed soldier said. His weapon hardly swayed in his hands.

  “Why were you in there? Tell us now,” the other ordered.

  My family is going to kill me, Graham told himself with absolute certainty as the unarmed soldier pulled him away from the truck and began to lead him around the side. He could then see for himself just how bad things were going to get for him.

  His previous assumption proved correct, he was indeed within the city. Although he had never been able to even guess why until then. Now he could. He instantly regretted ever having a conversation with Jane about Stephen and Sean’s situation.

  Somehow, and without his own knowledge, he had taken himself to the front line. After everything he agreed with his family, after they begged him to remain uninvolved, he had ended up doing exactly the opposite. He had gone to the same place Stephen and Sean were supposed to be.

  As the soldiers marched him down the middle of the road, he was able to investigate his location as the apartments gave way to a wide open space. Twisting his body to the side, he caught a quick glimpse of the vehicle he had arrived in.

  The truck was huge, with tank-style tracks running along the sides as tall as an average man. What Graham had been hiding inside was in fact one of two shipping containers, one stacked on top of the other. A pair of thick steel arms ran vertically up the side of the containers holding them in place. At the front was a small and windowless cab that housed the drivers of this monstrous machine.

  “Hey, keep moving forward,” the man holding Graham in a tight arm lock ordered of his distracted prisoner.

  Seeing a few of these massive vehicles scattered about the space ahead told Graham exactly how well-prepared the military were. They appeared able to set up a base anywhere they liked. Using these, they could take whatever they needed with them, seemingly regardless of size too.

  In the opposite direction to the large vehicle he had arrived in – the way Graham was being escorted by his military companions – were a collection of single-storey, grey structures. These were temporary buildings, brought in for the military personnel to utilise; such as make-shift barracks or offices.

  One of the soldiers behind Graham began to speak into his radio as they walked toward
the grey buildings. “This is Private Pierce of the Royal Logistical Corps. I’m with Private Smith. We’ve just apprehended an unknown individual hiding in the back of our vehicle. Please advise.”

  Graham had something much more important on his mind than to worry about his own situation. He could only see clearly for a few hundred metres or so in front of him. Beyond that everything was shaded a shimmering shade of purple all the way up into the sky high above. This close to the force-field it looked like a solid wall as high as any buildings within, probably even higher.

  Where the force-field touched the ground was the definite edge and not even the buildings had been able to hold it back. Rather than cut through the closest structures it had simply pushed them aside or flattened them entirely. Some sat in half, with one piece on the outside and the other behind the purple glow. For as far as Graham could see, the force-field was there and racing away in each direction. He was amazed that it had covered such an enormous part of the city. It had to be miles wide.

  The soldier’s radio popped loudly, bringing their little group grinding to a halt. But Graham could only hear his captor’s responses. “Yes sir. Understood.” The soldier then turned to his partner, Smithy, and explained their orders. “We’re to take the prisoner directly to the lock-up. Brigadier Harrington will deal with him.”

  “And after that?” Smithy asked.

  “We unload the truck, dummy. They still want that shit up on the Ring.”

  What is this Ring thing? Graham asked internally. He was sure any words spoken aloud by him would be answered with a fist to his stomach, so he kept them to himself for the time being.

  As they set off toward the nearest grey structure, they moved much faster this time. Immediately after arriving they forced Graham up a short set of steps and through the automatic, sliding metal door. Inside, it became obvious what this particular cabin was used for; a row of metal bars ran the length of it, all along the back wall. These were cells, one of which would now be Graham’s new home.

  Another soldier stood up from his desk and met Graham’s group halfway down the row of cells. “Private Pierce, Private Smith,” the soldier said with a nod to each of them. “What do we have here then?” he said.

  “Sir, this man was found hiding among the crates in our vehicle. He is to be held and questioned.”

  “Very good, private. Put him in cell number four.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Graham was again forcibly moved, this time backwards until reaching cell number four. As soon as the door swung open automatically he was thrown inside, where he quickly found the tiny bed at the rear of the cell with his own shin. “Bollocks,” he complained.

  “Shut it,” Private Pierce said as he slammed the door shut.

  After a few more formal exchanges of words, the two soldiers who had discovered Graham left the building, leaving him to watch from behind his bars. He stood at the door to his cell with his hands gripping the bars and twisting, his anger finding an avenue to vent that did not result in being hit.

  He could not believe what had happened to him. He was being punished and threatened and none of it was his fault. Would any of them go along with his story of being taken there by his own body, against his will? That would possibly make his situation even worse if they thought he was unhinged.

  “Hey,” Graham called to the soldier sitting at his desk again. “Hey.”

  “What?”

  “This is just a misunderstanding, that’s all. Can you let me out of here so I can explain?”

  The soldier laughed to himself and then swivelled his chair to face away from his talkative prisoner. “Save it for later,” he said, turning his attention to his glowing computer display built into the surface of his semi-circular table.

  There was nothing Graham could do, he was stuck here and his family had no idea. They had to be going crazy with worry. While the hopelessness of his predicament slowly sunk in, he thought on this. Despite having no knowledge of his journey to the front line he still felt guilty about it. Had he wanted to get there that badly? His mind was too fixated on this imagined disappointment to really make an attempt at answering this question.

  A small window opposite his cell allowed him some form of an outside view. Although hardly panoramic it was still better than nothing. He took to watching the activity out in the large yard to alleviate his worries a little.

  It looked hectic out there, with a constant movement of smaller wheeled vehicles and even the occasional marching soldier or two. What exactly the military were currently trying to do about the force-field covering the city was beyond him. If they were unable to get past it then what, if anything, could they really do? The fight was inside the purple bubble of energy. The many soldiers hanging around this place were totally redundant while outside.

  A beep and a flash of blue to the side of Graham interrupted him as he followed another pair of soldiers marching across his narrow field of view.

  The soldier guarding the cells had received a message that required his immediate attention. After quickly reading it, the soldier let out a long sigh and then stood up from his desk, switched his device off and made for the door. Before stepping out he took one last check of his cells.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he said with a thin-lipped grin.

  “Funny,” Graham replied before the door shut.

  He was then left in silence and with only a porthole sized window for entertainment. Stepping back to the bed, Graham decided to sit and rest while alone. From there he could only see the purple glow of the force-field to the right and a blue sky in contrast on the left.

  However much he tried, he could not remove the force-field from his view, it was too big. In the end he simply shut it out entirely by closing his eyes, and allowing his brain to concoct some reason why he was stuck in this place.

  A few moments of quiet were all he could manage before he was again interrupted by something. This time it was another person speaking to him.

  In surprise, he snapped his eyes open again and searched around himself for the source. For another worrying second he had assumed the world had moved on behind his back again. Luckily, nothing of the sort had happened – which partially disappointed him. He was still locked in his cell, just as before, except now he had a companion.

  “Hey, you,” the person said.

  Graham quickly spotted another prisoner resting his back against the bars a couple of cells away. This stranger faced the other way and presented only the back of his head to talk to.

  “Jesus, you made me jump. I didn’t realise there was someone else here,” Graham said.

  The man still spoke with his back turned. “No worries. So, what you in for?”

  Graham stood and approached the side of his cell, where he then rested his arms on the bars. “Just a misunderstanding. They found me in one of their vehicles.”

  “Oh, a stowaway. Few too many last night, hey?” The man slapped his knee. “Must have been a fun little shindig.”

  “I wish,” Graham replied with a scoff. He vaguely recognised a nervous tone to the man’s voice, similar to the way he often made light of situations himself. Within only a few words he had seen a kindred spirit in this stranger. They shared traits that he could instantly understand. It put him at ease better than any view out his window could provide. “So, why are you here then?”

  “Me, oh, no reason. I like the peace and quiet, I suppose.” The stranger sounded roughly around the same age as Graham. His thick brown hair swept gracefully across his head in a style similar to the one Graham would ordinarily have had. His own hair now appeared a mess and desperately needed a wash, or two.

  “I’ve got a feeling it won’t always be this peaceful. You got a name?” Graham asked.

  The man ignored the question in favour of his own. “You have a plan for getting out of here?”

  Graham was instantly put off by the strange question. But before he could think of anything to say in reply a loud noise from outside
interrupted him.

  A rapid and repetitive thumping sound rumbled across the yard, getting louder the closer it got. He turned to his tiny window opposite and sought out the approaching culprit. The settled dust and debris started to fly off in roughly a circular shape as the craft hovered above. Something was coming in to land, right in the centre of the busy yard.

  “Something wicked this way comes,” the stranger said as though to himself.

  “What?” Graham asked. He recognised the quote from somewhere, perhaps something he had once read, but he could not pin-point where. After a few moments to wrack his brain, he gave up. It would come to him eventually, he suspected.

  The sound intensified until it became a forceful wind, pushing hard against Graham’s little prison building, which shook in response. He angled his head up and bent his knees to see higher into the sky. Doing this immediately gave him a sight of the large vehicle lowering itself to the ground slowly. It had large aircraft wheels, one beneath the nose of the craft and one under either of its large wings. Graham could see the three sets of rotors on each wing too, the reason for the booming sounds.

  The craft touched down with a creak as the body took its own weight. Then moments later the rotors began to whirl down in speed until they stopped entirely.

  From his position, Graham could just about see the rear of the copter as its tail split horizontally and the bottom half lowered down to the ground. A line of soldiers then began to disembark and wander off. It was a transport craft, but from where it had come from Graham could not tell.

  Maybe they’re from this ring thing they keep talking about? he considered.

  “They certainly have some cool toys here; don’t you think?” the stranger said, his back still turned.

  “They do indeed.” Graham continued to watch as the craft emptied. It appeared to be a shift change of some sort, as other soldiers soon started to board the vehicle soon after. “I’ve only seen these kinds of vehicles on TV.”