Crimson (6 page)

I can feel something resembling a ball sitting in my hand. It’s soft and fluffy, and while it also feels dense, it sits lightly in the palm of my hand. In my head, the despite in being pitch black, the orb is glowing with fluorescence. It’s a surreal vision.

“Ok, this is too amazing,” Theo says. “I want you to keep concentrating on that image in your head, but you can open your eyes when you’re ready.”

I slowly open up my eyes. In my upturned palm is a sphere matching the vision in my head. Dark, too black though slightly transparent, it fills my hand completely. The smoky surface ebbs and flows while black tendrils bleed off it, obscuring the spherical shape somewhat. My hand is also leaking the same soft smoky substance. It makes my hand look like it is on fire, were it not for the fact that somebody forgot to tell it that fire isn’t black. I’ve never seen anything like it. The sphere starts to grow less dense.

“Hold it. Keep concentrating.”

Melita is shaking her head. “I’ve never seen a visible construct.”

“The next step is to do all that, eyes open. It’s not particularly useful if we’d have to close our eyes and sit and concentrate all the time, is it?”

“From this point forward, you’re only limited by your imagination. While this silly sphere seems useless in itself, anything you might build uses the same simple process.”

Somebody knocks heavily on the door. The unwelcome distraction steals my focus completely; the sphere in my hand dissipates quickly.

Erik walks into the room.

“We’re leaving in ten,” he says.  “Given that none of us are going to remain here, I’d really recommend not hanging around. This place won’t be safe and you especially,” he looks directly at me, “shouldn’t risk it alone here.”

“Can we go with you?” Cara asks Erik.

“You want to go back?” I say surprised.

“I have to know if people are ok. Maybe grab a few personal things.”

“There’s no room in any of the vehicles,” Erik says.

“I’ll be able drive them,” Theo says.

“But we walked here,” Melita says.

Theo raises an eyebrow, to suggest that that isn’t an issue.

Erik thinks for a moment. Eventually he nods. “Ok. I don’t think it’s a good idea but I can’t really stop you. Make sure you stay out of the way of my team.”

“Thank you,” Cara says.

He turns and disappears back down the hallway.

Melita turns to me. “Right well, quick lesson in telepathy then. Start off by thinking of the person you want to connect with. Kind of like the constructs lesson, to connect with another person you need to imagine a link forming between you and them. Then add that little bit extra, that extra push like what you did with the orb. It’s a little hard for me to describe since it happens so effortlessly for us. I’m not sure how it’s going to work for you.

“It’s up to you as to how you chose to imagine the link. People use all sorts of personal metaphors. It also helps a lot if you know where the person is. Since the link still traverses physical space, it helps to be able to push it in the right direction. Once you have the connection, it simply a matter of pushing things onto it or pulling things from it. If you’re communicating politely, it’s best to picture putting what it is you want to send about here. In the less polite cases you need to be a little more forceful and there’s a lot more that hasn’t been covered, like shielding, but that’s the gist of it.”

She waves her hand closely in front of her forehead. “A person communicating politely with you will do the same, so that thoughts and words will sit just in front of your eyes. It’s why we go all, blank stare into the distance, when communicating with each other. Like pretty much any other ability, intent helps shape in your mind what you want to communicate, all it takes then is a little more omph and you make it happen. Get it?”

I’m not sure I truly understand, but perhaps it’ll come with time. I’m distracted by other thoughts. Whether heading back to the bar is really a good idea, whether Cara notices the way her body is touching mine. I nod my head anyway; it seems like the appropriate thing to do.

“Time to go,” Erik yells down the hallway.

Melita gives me an unexpected kiss goodbye on the cheek. “Stay safe cutie. You’ll get it,” she says overly friendly. “Find me again soon because there’s a lot more I teach you.”

“Stay safe cutie,” Cara jibes with a poke to the shoulder. She grins at me.

“What? Jealous?”

The three parked vans sit open, as they are packed with gear by the twelve from the safe-house. Split evenly around each van, they work quickly to load what appears to be an excessive amount of gear. Still despite their well-rehearsed manner, the automatic weapons hanging on their shoulders are checked and double-checked and triple-checked. Everyone appears anxious.

“Keep close behind,” Erik says to Theo. “We’ll let you know when it’s safe to enter the building. Once you’re inside, we’ll give you a few minutes to grab whatever you can carry. There’ll be no going back after that.”

“Follow me,” Theo says to Cara and me.

Still within sight of the car park entrance, Theo walks us down the street a little way, sliding his hand along each of the cars we walk pass. He stops us next to a dark coupe.

“You think they would have learned after war,” he says, checking up and down the street. “With these electronic locks, it makes it simple.”

He presses his hand flat against the coupe’s door, his eyes glazing over for a moment. Smiling broadly he rotates his hand and with a click the door opens. He waves for us to get in.

“This isn’t your car, is it?” I ask Theo as Cara climbs in next to me.

He just grins as the car comes to life, the soft whir of its electric motor the only sound in the cabin. Car tyres squeal as Theo floors it to catch up with the vans as they go speeding down the road. The unfamiliar city streaks by, uninteresting. Daydreams allure. A dull palette of grey and brown; her electric touch so intense. The way her lips slip against mine…

Cara screams.

“Oh no,” she mutters to herself. The colour drains from her face, her gaze distant terror. She curls up, a quivering ball of fear on the seat beside me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask Cara, afraid of what it might be.

All she can do is shake her head. The convoy comes to a halt outside the front of the building encompassing the bar. The place appears to be devoid of any soldiers. The twelve pour from the vans with weapons raised and storm into the bar in groups of four.

“Stay in the car.” Theo yells to us, jumping out. He takes up watch at the building entrance.

I slide next to Cara and wrap her up in my arms and enfold her against me. My attempt at comfort unsure; something I’ve never been terribly good at it. Left behind, we wait in silence broken only by the crying of Cara cradled softly against my shoulder. Nothing can be heard from what is happening inside the building.

 Out the car window I notice a flock of crows occupying a brick wall half a block down the street. I count eight, eight dark omens waiting patiently.

One in particular sits and watches back and I swear it’s that same one as earlier, following me around. What a curious thought. What are you foreshadowing little bird?

Erik and the three others of his team solemnly step out from the building. All are shaking their heads. They wait by the entrance while Erik walks across to us.

“We were too late…” he says, letting the sentence trail off. “We did capture two soldiers who’d remained behind to search for intel but the rest had already left.” He pauses to collect himself. “It’s, ah, it’s not good in there. You really don’t want to go inside. I can have people bring stuff out, name it. It’s just, there are things in there you don’t want to see.”

“There’s nothing in there for me,” I say.

Cara lets go of me and pushes herself out of the car. Her face a blank mask showing none of the emotion of half a minute ago.

“I’ve seen it, I know I go in. There is no avoiding it.”

I can’t read her face. What is she thinking?

“It’s not that I want to,” she says, her voice quivering. “I really don’t.”

She looks at me, her glance a question in hope that I’ll join her. Erik’s downward gaze suggests something else entirely. I nod, taking her arm. Whatever it is that she’s seen, I’ll follow. We step down the stairs in tandem.

The room is dark. Erik guides us quickly but firmly towards the stairway at the rear of the room. Beyond the directive shoulder in front of me are the rest of the twelve, standing closely together across the room with their backs to us. Before them are two government soldiers on their knees; both easily identified by the distinguishing white arm bands. They seem calm despite their situation. Two men stand over of them, guns pointed at their heads. One is yelling, a lot. Something about where the others are. Neither captive speaks. Given the level of frustration showing on the face of the yelling man, it appears that neither captive will cooperate.

Beside me Cara folds, falling to her knees. A sob slips from her. My heart drops, the cause of her reaction now apparent. To the right of the captive solders are a number of bodies lying on the ground. From where I stand, it’s too dark to see who it might be. Before I can help Cara up, she’s on her feet again. She shoves Erik out of the way, running towards them. I follow her before I realise. I wish I hadn’t.

Before her lie five bodies. All have had their throats slit, blood still slick in a large pool around them. Shit. Alex is the first person I identify. Simon lies beside him. The next two I never met, though I remember them being at the bar last night. The last body is Uri. His face is heavily swollen, as if he was beaten before he was killed. The only connection I had with my parents, my sister, whatever life I had before the streets, gone. The loss sinks in.

Hah, here five people lie dead and yet all I can think of is how it affects me. I feel strangely calm about that. Cara is hysterical, held back by Erik. She struggles. I wrap my arms tenderly around her and cradle her head against my body. She hits me, screaming. Her fists beat against my shoulder. And I let her, let her get it out. The adrenaline shows it in slow motion.

Eventually she breaks down, sobbing into my neck.

Erik meets my eyes. He understands.

“You’ve got 5 minutes upstairs before we have to leave this place. We can’t hang around here. Take what you can. Be quick,” he says.

With one arm around her waist to support her, I lead Cara upstairs. She just shuffles blankly along with me. The door to her room is open. Inside, the place looks ransacked.

“Come on, you must have stuff here you want to take?”

Instead, she sits on the edge of the bed and stares blankly out the door. Ok. I wander around the room looking for anything that seems like it might be important to her. I don’t do well, a few trinkets, a book. Mostly it’s the furniture she spent so much time collecting that strikes me as most important to her. Hopefully one day she’ll be able to start again.

In my final pass around the room I come across the soldier’s knife I’d left lying on the table. Isn’t it amazing how the span of a single day can feel like a lifetime? With no place to put the knife, I can only carry it in hand. That’s going to make for some interesting conversation.

With nothing obvious left to collect I sit down next to Cara. I’ve nothing to say. I’m terrible with situations like this. In the end we just stay like this for a minute in silence. She looks at me and nods. Grief gives way to solemnity. She takes from me what I collected and leaves them on the bed. She doesn’t look back as we step out the room, perhaps for the final time.

It’s difficult to stop myself from looking towards the bodies as we walk towards the door. Did they blame me for their deaths? Were their last thoughts of hatred towards me? What have I done to cause this?

“You cannot run forever, little one. We will find you,” the captive on the left yells at me, staring directly at me. He makes an attempt to stand up. The man standing over him reaches a hand out, palm forward. I feel as much as see the concussive force hit the captive in the chest. He falls backwards. With a foot planted firmly on his chest, the captor leans over the soldier and draws a gun. It fires, the sound echoing around the room. And he dies. Nothing dramatic. It’s over faster than my mind can comprehend.

The other prisoner reacts instantly. Too quick for his own captor, the prisoner pushes past the team surrounding them. He’s almost at me before I realise he’s moved. They all react far too slowly. In other circumstances I might consider it comical how easily they let it happen. In other circumstances. With only a few metres between us, none of them will stop him reaching me.

A stride away from me he stops. A rivulet of blood follows the knife as I pull it out of his neck. Moments before my mind was filled with images of blood flowing from him, abstract in their hyperrealism. With just that thought in my mind it was easy to work out what was going to happen next. I knew. Yet knowing what was going to happen I still felt powerless to deviate from the path fate laid out for me. I didn’t want this. Or did I? Correction; I shouldn’t want this. And yet consider those with throats slashed. Did they deserve their fate? This man surely deserves his. It’s easy to justify what I’ve done.

Blood flows from the gaping wound I opened in his neck. He stands frozen before me, his face one of confusion. The room dims. Before I can stop myself, I’m burying the knife in him again. Again and again, I can’t stop myself. Arms reach under my armpits and pull me back. A firm hand holds my wrist. I fight the restraint; still I try to continue stabbing the man. At some point the knife is forced from me.

“It’s enough. You did well,” Erik says.

The faces around me turn from shock to celebratory smiles. That doesn’t seem right. What’s to celebrate?

Erik shrugs. “We were hoping to get a bit more information from them before that, but…” I tune out of anything else he says, my thoughts lost to the chaotic violence. I have to get out of here. This room is stifling, walls crushing me, the light dims. I run outside and straight into Theo.

“Hey, are you ok?” he asks.

“What now?” I shake my head.

“If Erik and his team are heading back to the safe house then you should probably go back with them, at least for now. Work out what you want to do from there where it’s safe. We’ll head back once everything is wrapped up inside.”

That wasn’t the question I asked. I go and lean against the car and wait. Wait for Erik’s team to wrap up. Wait to face Cara. Wait for the world to stop spinning. Waiting isn’t such a fantastic idea, with hindsight.

Ten long minutes it takes them to come out. Plenty of time to think about what I’ve done. It bothers me I couldn’t stop myself. It should bother me more than it does.

Erik leads Cara from the building and over to me.

“You don’t want to hang around for this next bit,” he says. “Oh and this belongs to you.”

The Templar’s knife slides out of the sheath he hands me, its handle sitting familiar in my grip. Its blade mirror polished once again. I don’t want to know where it came from. The sheath fastens to my belt as if it belongs there.

Theo takes Cara by the shoulders and guides her into the back of the car. I slide in beside her once she’s settled and sit there uncertain, torn between emotions, second guessing everything.

My corvine watcher sits perched on the distant wall the only bird remaining. I guess their job is done. We watch each other, he on his seat and me on mine. Does he know what I’ve done? Does he sit there judging me? Hurry and play your part.

The car starts and we drive away. My stalker recedes and with him the last memory of innocence.