Category: English

6

  By

Kepa stood at the crossroads and looked out over the canopy. The sun was high, the sky was clear. Shadows darted across the canopy as a hawk glided lazily overhead, finding warm currents to lift it towards the scrublands. Kepa shook the knapsack off his shoulder and took out a canister. He gave it an experimental shake, and frowned. The news he had heard about the city had distracted him for most of the journey and he had forgotten to refill the water when he passed the river earlier that morning. Distraction was a dangerous preoccupation in this part of the world; he had to focus.

Turning his back to the forest, he moved towards the Burnt City.

The Burnt City, that’s what it was known as now. Nobody questioned it, not really, that’s what it was; a city that had burned. That fact had meant many things, including emptying the road he now walked on of its daily thoroughfare of people traveling to and from the Capital. It had provided a handy income for wandering musicians or traders, and once in the forest section, Kepa thought momentarily wistful, there was plenty of opportunity for young lovers to have some time alone, away from the crowds.

But even now, so far after the event, there was no proper explanation as to how it had actually happened. Of the people who had escaped, no two had the same story to tell – some say it was bandits, others that it was rebels purging the city, a revolt of the lower classes, an enemy invasion, the end of days…Nobody knew for certain and the tales kept twisting and turning, changing with each new teller.

There was only one thing everyone could agree on: nobody who stayed behind had survived.

What most also knew but didn’t say aloud was that nobody was allowed to return. Although nobody knew why or by whose orders.

Digging in his trouser pocket, Kepa took out a crumpled piece of paper. He carefully unraveled it. Although old, crumpled and smudged there were still some legible words:

****************** disaster ****************** the fire from the ground **********captured, **************** ***********   flames

It was the only piece of paperwork to escape the city, an official document by the texture of the paper. It was enough to finally spur him on towards the charred remains of the Burnt City.

 

5

  By

Subject:  500AC

Location: Zone 56

Gender: Female

Height: 5 foot 6 inches

Weight: 6 stone 10

Hair: black

Eyes: green

Abnormalities:

  1. Wrist stamp, left arm.
  2. Several burn marks evident on upper and lower torso.
  3. Cominnuted fracture of the left tibia.

Conclusion: No major defects evident that could negatively impact study.

Approval for case file number: 79:20:NZ

Approval granted by Agent Francesc

Medic Report for case file 79:20:NZ

Initial report: Subject responded well to procedure. Visible burns and minor lacerations noted in pre-op were superficial and had no impact on surgery

Operation proceeded as expected and complied with the guidelines submitted to and approved by the supervisory committee.

Subject 500AC is the first person to undergo treatment using Substance Q. As such, detailed analysis of the treatment has been recorded and collected by the supervisory committee.

This medic report is for general personnel with appropriate clearance. It is to be used for training and quality control purposes.

Week One (after the initial operation): Subject 500AC has responded well to the augmentations. No visible rejection has occurred. Subject is still under complete sedation, as per supervisory committee order #17. All life signs are normal.

Week Two: Sedation has been alleviated and subject 500AC has begun to respond to stimulus. Eye movement, blinking and facial twitches have been witnessed in response to auditory and visual stimuli.

Week Three: Subject has begun to communicate. No prior knowledge to her entry to the facility has been displayed. Further testing is needed to verify whether this is the result of Substance Q or due to the accident that caused the previous injuries (see Abnormalities).

There is a progressive development of sensation from the head to the upper torso. The lower torso is still paralyzed.

Week 4: Full movement has been regained in the upper body. The lower body shows signs of sensation. Blood and urine tests have returned with expected results. The program is moving along as planned. Complete recovery due within original timeframe.

Month 3: Pain killers were administered when subject displayed discomfort in areas localized around the augmentations. The amount and frequency of the extra medication affected data collection and had to be reduced.

Subject became aggressive and appropriate sedatives were administered. Subject was then restrained in accordance with supervisory committee order #74 in order to evaluate project status.

A second operation was required to examine the full extent of damage. Erosion had occurred between the connective tissues, presumably due to underdeveloped Substance Q.

Case file 79:20:NZ has been delayed until further notice.

4

  By

–          Another?

–          Another.

–          How old?

–          Late teens.

 

–          Conditi#*?

 

–          ##**@####*#

 

–          #@#*ght?

–          Five foot six, #**###**

–          **####?

–          brow#

–          ######

–          ######

White noise fades in and out until the silence of darkness finally falls.

Everyone is marked somewhere.

A banjo plays.

Blinking, she opens her eyes. The room is blindingly white.  In front of her there is a short, old woman sitting on a crisp white bed. Everything is white: the room, the bed, the walls. Everything is pristine and blank.

From the old woman’s chin a long, grey beard grows, curling at the end where it sweeps between a pair of bare feet.  Her teeth grip a pipe, and a ruffled pink blouse explodes from beneath a drab pair of blue dungarees. The face of a grandfather clock swings from her neck by thick, frayed rope.

“Well hello, dearie. It’s a long way from home you are.”

Stepping down from the bed, the old woman edges closer, wearing a disconcerting smile.

“What is gone may never leave. Everyone is marked somewhere. And you’ve been marked. Oh yes, you mark my words.”

The white of the room flares brightly, blinding her again.

–          ####

–          ###.

–          **##?

–          **## increased to **##.

 

–          Conditi#*?

 

–          #tabilizin#

 

–          Can you **##?

–          No response. Wa##

–          Can you **##me?

–          Pupils responding. Pressure back to normal.

–          Do we proceed?

–          Hmm. Muscle is still good. Not too much nerve damage.

–          I would prefer a more suitable candidate.

–          Her city burned. You know what that means.

–          Hmm. And what she carried? Has it been identified?

–          There has been no reclamation. She is nobody.

Do we proceed?

–          …Begin

Darkness closes in again.

The last thing she hears is the whine of an electric saw.

Everyone is marked somewhere.

3

  By

An old violin case lay yawning at the feet of a tall, scrawny youth.  Eyes closed, the bow in his hand lightly touching the strings, he coaxed a serenade from the worn violin out into the soft evening.

The musician’s sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, a threadbare jacket draped on a nearby bough. There were buttons missing from his crumpled shirt and the tattered ends of his trousers were tucked inside a pair of scuffed boots.

Releasing the final note, he finished the performance with an unnecessary flourish of his bow. Somewhere, a cricket chirped in appreciation.

Looking into the empty case, Kepa frowned, tipped out the debris of leaves that had collected during his performance and carefully packed his violin away. Never trust a poet, especially one that owes you money. Lars had waxed lyrical about the volumes of people he had seen on this road. Oh, he had gone on and on. Surely, he had insisted, Kepa could make some cash by serenading the masses.

Why not? It was usually a busy enough spot. It was not on the route he had planned to take but if what Lars had said was true, well, he could do with the money. Besides, where there were people there was information.

Retrieving his jacket and shouldering the case, Kepa looked up and down the road. Not a sinner in either direction. The only thing that populated that part of the road was the lengthening shadows of the trees, and the faint sound of birdsong. Lying little shit. Funny though, Lars had never been that good a liar. But where was everyone?

It would be getting dark soon; he would have to find somewhere to stay for the night. Glancing up and down the road again, he slipped from the road into the forest, pine needles scrunching beneath his feet.  The temperature dropped marginally in the full shade of the canopy. Picking his way lightly but surely through the forest, he headed to the Three Sisters. If anyone knew what was going on, one of the sisters would.

2

  By

The wind rushed past, branches whipping at her legs and arms. The foliage was dense and abundant quickly entangling her falling body in vines, though they did little to slow her descent. Suddenly, the foliage cleared and she could see the forest floor hurtling towards her but before she could think, she bounced to a rough halt several feet above the ground.

Thick, course fibres dug into her face as the net closed in. Momentarily stunned, she tried to steady her nerves and find out where she was. With the net swinging gently, she manoeuvred herself around and onto her back and looked up. The net had been designed to close from the top, she was trapped. Who sets a trap this close to the cliff? And why? Of more immediate concern, however, was how she was going to get out of this trap before whoever owned it was alerted.

Turning back around she looked down to see that the tree trunks on either side had been shorn of branches. The floor below looked too far to simply drop. Perhaps she could climb upwards. There was foliage overhead, which meant that there had to be branches. It may be her only option.

Tucked inside her boot was a knife she had grabbed before escaping the city. She slipped it out and inspected it. The blade was old and worn but it was better than nothing. It just needed to be sharp enough to cut through the rope. Pushing one foot between a gap in the net to secure her weight, she chose an area of frayed rope and started to saw.

Eventually, the rope began to give way. She took the package and stuffed it inside her shirt, grasped the net with one hand and with the other cut the last strand. Pushing part of the net to one side, she reached up towards the canopy. The package suddenly shifted beneath her shirt and just before it fell, before her foot found a proper hold again, her hand shot out to catch it. There was no net this time, just a sudden stop and the sound of snapping bone. She clenched her teeth trying not to make a sound but the pain in her left leg was incredible. Darkness crept in from the edges of her vision. Just then, there was a crashing noise in front of her.  With great effort, she brought her face up and just before she blacked out, came face to face with a giant dog, a human body hanging limply from its jaws.

1

  By

The city burned. Everything she had or was; gone. But then, she thought, that hadn’t been much anyway. Tucking the package under her arm, she turned her back to the flames and made her way north, towards the crossroads.

Once there, she would have to decide; west to the coast or east to the capital. The choice was hers to make, the first in a long time, the first that she could remember, and the giddy anticipation was only just tempered by the knowledge that she would have to make it there unseen. The path she had to take, however, was the only one between the city and the crossroads and It usually it boasted a steady traffic of tourists, traders, political representatives and the military. Today was not a usual day though, and the road was graciously quiet. Most people had already fled, taken the southern route or been killed. Others hurried towards the crumbling city to try to help, salvage or steal whatever was left. She knew had to stay out of sight. Her clothes would mark her out to any traveller, and she could not be caught now.

After an hour of nervous but uneventful travel, she came to the crossroads. To her right lay scrubland. To her left and straight ahead, a steep cliff that descended into dense forest. Looking out, the sun was slowly climbing, gently spilling light onto the canopy. A cacophony of rousing creatures responded. Even from this vantage point at the top of the cliff you couldn’t see down past the first branches of trees. It was perfect.

Without warning, voices drifted up from the left where. There was a stairway on this side, steps that had been carved into the cliff face generations ago. There was also nowhere to hide on that part of the path. Glancing back to her right she quickly discarded the exposed scrubland as an option. She would be easy pickings. The voices grew louder, climbing steadily toward her. She looked around; no way down, no way across the open land to her right.  Someone grunted. Whoever it was, they were getting close.

She took out the package, gripped it to her chest and dipped her head. Turning on her heel, she headed back the way she had come. She had to think. There was nowhere to go. All paths were exposed. She could not be caught. Just as it seemed the voices would appear over the lip of the ledge, she stopped, spun around, and ran, fast and hard, straight ahead and into the arms of the forest.