The Enhanced Series Boxset

by T. C. Edge

  Eyes closed tight, I await the terrible zap, my heart rate flaring to unprecedented levels.

  Nothing happens.

  Are they toying with me? Will they spare me the torture of being immobilised?

  A rush of air, flowing past my cheek, presents an answer. I can hear Walter exclaiming loudly to my side, and creak open my eyes to see that a third figure has appeared before us.

  The flow of air signalled his introduction. He moves like a whirlwind, his body a blur as he tangles with the two Stalkers. I can barely make out what’s happening before, suddenly, he stops and grows visible in front of my eyes.

  And as he stands ahead of me with his back turned, the two Stalkers become visible too, collapsing into mounds of black armour on the concrete floor at his feet, knocked out cold.

  The figure turns and reaches down to me, and I see the keen hazel eyes of Zander staring into mine.

  “Hi there, Brie,” he says casually.

  “Zander…” I whisper. “How…how did you find me?!”

  “Instinct,” he says quickly, pulling me up to my feet. “We’d better get you out of here. You too, Walter,” he adds, turning to the chemist, who creakily stands from the dirt.

  As he does so, Zander moves over and kneels down beside Astor. He conducts a quick check as Walter says: “He got zapped,” as if that needed explaining.

  I watch the proceedings, still feeling in a slight state of shock, my breathing hard and pulse soaring and body trembling in a way it’s never done so before. I feel as if I might just pass out as I watch Zander pull out a little device from his belt and set one end to Astor’s neck.

  Shaped like a wide pen, Zander presses a button on the other end, and a little shock appears to pulse through Astor’s body. The reaction is immediate, just as quick as that of the immobiliser. This particular device appears to offer an antidote, his limbs relaxing and eyes blinking and body coming back to life.

  A remobiliser…

  With a groan, he sits back up as Zander stands and moves back to me.

  “Did they see you,” he asks me, eyes fierce and probing.

  “What do you mean…”

  “Your face? Did they see your face? Did they recognise you?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  Truly, I hadn’t thought about it. In the heat of the moment, I wasn’t exactly caring if they’d recognised me from the ceremony. But, now that I think about it, it could be important. Very important.

  If they did, then I have no chance of going back to the academy. If they know who I am, and who I was with, then tonight has turned me into an outlaw.

  A rebel.

  A Nameless.

  The reaction on my face makes my concerns clear to Zander.

  “OK,” he says, rounding on the two downed Stalkers. “It’s not a problem. I can fix it.”

  “Fix it?” I ask. “You mean...kill them?”

  “That’s the easiest option,” he says. “I’d shield your eyes, Brie…”

  I shake my head.

  “I’ve seen people die,” I say defiantly. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Suit yourself,” he says, withdrawing his own pulsar gun from a sheath on his belt.

  He aims the weapon right at the heads of the two Stalkers, firing two blue shots of energy, one after another in quick succession. There’s something methodical about his actions, the systematic murder of two men having no impact on him at all.

  He turns back to me as I watch the blue haze fade around the freshly cut holes in their heads.

  “Now what the hell are you doing here, Brie?! I told you to stay safe back at the academy!”

  “I came looking for you. I need to know more, Zander! I need to know everything!”

  His eyes soften a little, and a smile arches gently across his lips.

  “And you will,” he says. “But not here. We need to get off the streets. It’s not safe around these parts, and you can be sure that two dead Stalkers will cause a fuss.”

  “Then where?” I ask.

  His eyes sweep to the north, right towards the boundary of the city and the outside world beyond. And a single word issues from his mouth.

  “Home,” he says.

  25

  We venture further north, the fighting behind us growing distant to our ears. Around us, the streets grow darker than ever, a dead space with no functioning streetlights, no advertising boards.

  Here, only the natural light of the moon and stars, or the occasional fire flickering down an alley, give shape to the buildings. A derelict portion of an otherwise flourishing city, left to rot by those in power.

  Running alongside Zander, it becomes evident that his position among the Nameless has been fully confirmed, and Mrs Carmichael’s concerns assuaged. He gets caught up with what happened from Walter and Astor, who tell him the attack was sudden and unexpected.

  “They’re growing more bold, more aggressive,” says Walter. “It’s escalation after the hijacking at the ceremony…”

  “Someone must have talked, or been followed,” says Astor. He glances at me, and I feel compelled to defend myself.

  “I wasn’t followed! And I certainly didn’t talk!” I say.

  Astor appears a little doubtful.

  “You can trust her,” says Zander authoritatively. “She’s got more to lose by coming here than anyone.”

  We stop down a deserted street, and gather into a four. Zander pulls out a pair of goggles from his jacket and steps towards me.

  “Put these on, Brie,” he says.

  I take them and place them over my face. Immediately, my vision is completely blocked, the world turning black.

  “What’s this about?” I ask. “I thought you said you trusted me!”

  “It’s not about trust,” says Zander. “We can’t have any outsiders knowing of our secret passages, not this far north.”

  “But I won’t tell anyone!” I counter.

  “I know you won’t,” he says, laying a hand on my shoulder. “But our enemy have powerful means of extracting information. It’s best if, for now at least, you remain in the dark.”

  In the dark. Literally…

  I choose not to argue, despite wanting to tear the goggles from my eyes as I’m led further on. In truth, all this has happened so fast I’m finding it impossible to keep up.

  Perhaps Mrs Carmichael was right. Perhaps I should have just forgotten about all of this, gotten on with my simple life. Right now, I’m being led towards something I don’t properly understand, something I feel I have no control over at all.

  And it’s that total loss of control that I don’t much like.

  Now walking blind, I feel my other senses beginning to grow more attuned as we go. The sounds of our footsteps become more pronounced. The smell of the overgrown, rotting streets fills my nose, the changing of the air noticeable as we move through a secret door and enter into a passage.

  Staying by my side, Zander guides me on, talking me through it when any obstacles come my way. Despite my quickly improving senses, my bearings are swiftly lost as we wind to the left and right, moving downwards towards the underlands of the city, the old tunnels and passages that were once part of the thriving metropolis that existed here.

  Soon, my senses give shape to wider caverns as our footsteps echo louder, and the air seems to grow less dense, spreading out over a wide space. Other scents waft up my nose too, those of people and their odours. And the quiet sounds of talking filter into my ears, growing louder the further we progress.

  “What is this place?” I ask as I gingerly make my way through the caverns and caves.

  “Refuge,” answers Zander.

  “For who? The Nameless?”

  “Anyone under the thumb of the Court. We give shelter to all those who’d see a terrible fate under their doctrine. Hybrids who’d be executed. Enhanced who want to escape Inner Haven. Unenhanced who have committed minor offences and would otherwise be reconditioned. All are given sanctuary here.”

&n
bsp; Soon, we’re stopping once more, and saying goodbye to Walter and Astor.

  “Thank you again, Zander, for your help,” says Walter. His voice turns to me. “And you, Brie…I hope you find what you’re looking for down here.” I feel his hand take a light grip of my upper arm, and his voice lowers as he leans in. “Welcome to the cause,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”

  With that, I hear two sets of feet shuffle away as he and Astor move off. Alone now with Zander, I ask if I can take the mask off.

  “Not yet, I’m afraid. We still have a little way to go.”

  We press on, continuing along passages that feel more narrow than the others. Interconnecting passages, perhaps, that link the larger caverns where these people come to seek safety from the Con-Cops and Stalkers who prowl the streets above.

  I find myself asking if what happened this evening was a regular occurrence around here.

  “Unfortunately, yes, and it’s been getting worse recently. Platoons of Con-Cops often come here to mop up some of the Disposables, take them away to their secret facilities for reconditioning.”

  “To be made into more Con-Cops?” I ask. “Are they building an army or something?”

  “We don’t know for sure,” answers Zander. “But it’s been more regular, and it’s forced us to act. This is just the beginning…”

  We continue on, and my mind now begins to flood with more questions. Questions about the Nameless, about what they’re looking to achieve. I think back to the ceremony, and try to think of the words the man used.

  He’d said a reckoning was coming. He’s said the Fanatics were not who we thought they were.

  “Who are they,” I find myself asking out loud, my thoughts becoming vocal.

  “Who?” asks Zander.

  “The Fanatics. Something doesn’t add up…the explosion the other day at the warehouse. What’s really happening, Zander?”

  With his hand on my arm, he stops dead in the quiet passage. I feel the urge to remove my goggles, and so reach up to pull them up onto my forehead. He doesn’t object as I do so, my eyes first spying his, typically intense, and then the long passage stretching both ways into the darkness.

  “You have a keen mind, Brie,” he says, raising a little smile. “And it’s only going to get keener. Tell me, what do your instincts say?”

  I think for a moment, looking into the depths of his irises as if mining for information. And then the thought comes to me.

  “They’re being supported by the Court,” I say. “They’re people they’ve reconditioned. They’re slaves.”

  He nods slowly.

  “Yes,” he says. “The Fanatics aren’t just normal Unenhanced. They’re not just zealots and radicals who believe that emotion is evil. They’re people who have been conditioned to think that way, to act under the orders of the Savants. Most likely, they’re Disposables who have been taken to their facilities and then sent back out to perform these atrocities…”

  “But why? I don’t understand. What are they looking to achieve?”

  “Fear,” answers Zander immediately. “It’s a tool of suppression, a tool of control. We believe that the Savants have it in mind to spread their therapies, limit our liberties even further. Their experiments with Con-Cops and the Fanatics and their other slaves have proven to them that they can take a firmer grip on us. In time, we believe that they will remove emotion completely, suck the life right out of Outer Haven, and all those Enhanced living in Inner Haven too.”

  “So they’ve been behind it all along…” I say, shaking my head. “I guess, in a way, I’m not surprised. I mean, seeing Inner Haven for what it was, seeing all these people live without colour and art and culture. I suppose it was only a matter of time before they spread that thinking to us.”

  “Exactly. They’ve been doing it for years, trying different things, moving the chess pieces into place one by one. In the end, they want the people to volunteer for this, to make them more compliant. But if they don’t manage that…they’ll just force it on the people anyway.”

  “And who’s behind all of this?” I ask. “Why now?”

  “The Consortium determines this policy, as you know. But it’s only grown worse in recent years since they elected their new leader.”

  “Director Cromwell?”

  He nods.

  “Director Cromwell is as callous a Savant as you’ll find. His mission is simple: create a society of sheep, rebuild this world under his watchful eye. In the end, only those with something to offer will remain, with all those considered useless phased out or reconditioned to perform the tasks he deems important. With him at the helm, the human side of the city will gradually be lost. In the end, an entirely new species will emerge…”

  I can hear the rising passion in his voice, see it in his eyes. This is clearly a fight he’s been waging for many years, ever since he was a boy.

  But for me…for me it’s all new. Despite my curiosities and doubts, I never considered that such a plot was being perpetrated from within. Living in my blissful ignorance, I’ve spent my entire life in Outer Haven, knowing nothing of the truth.

  Until now.

  And tentatively, my voice rises into the cold, dark passage with another question. Yet another part of this puzzle that I need to solve.

  “And…why am I here?” comes my whisper.

  Zander spreads his eyes down the passage again, right towards the deep blackness. Then he reaches forwards once more, and pulls the goggles back over my eyes.

  “You’re here, Brie, because you have a part to play in this,” he says. He takes my arm again, and continues to lead me on. “Now come…she’s waiting for us.”

  26

  Our path continues for quite some time. My knowledge of this area is so lacking that I have no idea how far away the boundary of the city truly is. And hidden behind these goggles, my perception of distance is most certainly hampered.

  Eventually, the air begins to grow less stale, and the earth appears to rise a little. I consider that we must be nearing the end of our path, rising back up to the city streets and a new secret hideout.

  When Zander stops me and removes my goggles, my suspicions are confirmed.

  “Are we here?” I ask.

  He nods, placing the goggles in his jacket pocket and drawing out what appears to be two gas masks. I frown as he passes me one, before drawing his own over his face. It’s small and practical, covering only his nose and mouth and, presumably, allowing him to breathe in toxic environments.

  “What’s this for?” I ask.

  His eyes dart towards a ladder next to us, leading up towards a little trap door.

  “You’ll see,” he tells me. “Now put it on. It’s more precautionary than anything.”

  I do as I’m told, hooking the mask to my nose and mouth and taking a breath. Then he moves straight for the ladder and climbs to the summit, disappearing through the trapdoor as I follow.

  Emerging from the top, I look to see that I’m in what seems to be an old, wooden barn of some kind. The walls are broken down and cracked, the air carrying a light tinge of green to suggest its toxicity.

  We move towards the barn door, and Zander pushes it open. As I follow him out my heart almost bursts from my chest, my eyes popping wide and stinging a little from the air. I tighten them up, but still look upon my surroundings with a gormless, slack jawed gape.

  I’m outside the city.

  In the distance, I can see it, shining like a beacon, the High Tower visible above it all and stretching skyward to the heavens. Around me are old derelict buildings, simple structures: little houses and barns and, ahead, an old church that looks to be more sturdily constructed.

  It’s towards the church that Zander leads me, my eyes now narrow to prevent the air from stinging too much. I suppose it can’t be too damaging, otherwise we’d be wearing goggles. More dangerous to our respiratory systems, I guess, than anything else.

  I continue to stare in all manner of directi
ons as we press on, the moonlight casting down its glow upon this strange, ancient world. A village where people once lived, so long ago, before the world crumbled into the ash. Before vast swathes of it became uninhabitable.

  Here, people must have lived simple lives, the world open for exploration, for travel. I often think of such times with no small amount of envy, when people could visit far flung lands and explore wild, untamed environments.

  No longer.

  Now, the only people who move beyond the boundaries of the city are those tasked with clearing the air of its toxicity, of making other lands safe for habitation.

  I’ve heard many stories of workers dying from the toxic fog. Even their protective suits can fail to offer full protection from the mist.

  Naturally, the concern boils up in me as we approach the church.

  “Are we safe here?” I ask. “In this toxic air?”

  “Perfectly,” replies Zander casually. “This particular area is largely cleared.”

  His confidence settles my concerns as we reach the church door. He knocks loudly and with a distinctive pattern, the banging sound echoing out into the misty night. Then, moments later, the door creaks open and a man appears, dressed in lightweight armour and carrying a pulse rifle.

  Stepping back, he opens the door wider, revealing the reinforced interior of the church, its windows barred and any old cracks and fissures in its façade sealed. Inside, various other guards sit or stand around, a force of hybrids most likely with all manner of special gifts. None wear gas masks, suggesting the church itself is fully sealed from outside.

  As we enter, Zander pulls away his own mask, and I do the same, noting the many eyes watching me curiously as I advance.

  “We heard the market was attacked,” says the guard who gave us entry. “Did we lose many?”

  “I don’t know,” answers Zander. “But it seemed to be worse than more recent attacks. I need to see her immediately.”