Origins Unknown Page 4

  Back at the prison, Number 9 releases an added asset to the hunt and formulates an additional plan. He sends out a worldwide message to all civilised Red areas, an all-points bulletin to be alert and notify any military personnel if any means of contact with any prisoners is initiated before continuing his work at the Commander’s beck and call…

  ***

  I am still running as fast as my legs can take me. I’m not stopping either to catch my breath. Looking back for a second, I notice that I am able to cover great distances in a short space of time, even through normal running. The dust in my wake has left the surrounding areas behind me with a massive cloud, sweeping into the air. The environment I am immersed in is a cold, dry desert, heaving with dry slopes of huge, orangey sandy dunes interspersed with red, wavy plants. One of the plants cuts at me as I pass it, tearing into a part of my lower clothing. I glance back at the plant and notice that it has suddenly developed razor-sharp leaves. I continue speeding along, hoping to avoid any more contact with those leaves further down the road.

  Again, I look back and notice that no one is following me at this particular moment. I stop and double over onto the sandy ground, just now realising that I’ve got a muscle cramp in my abdomen. I struggle briefly to catch my breath while looking into the direction I am headed in.

  Maybe if I keep running, I can find some sort of cover, a place where I can lay low and rest a while, just until I get my bearings together long enough to work out a plan on how to survive the next few days without dying.

  Still no one following me.

  Good.

  I sit on the ground with my head buzzing and my heart racing. I close my eyes and start breathing through my nose to calm myself down. Out of the blue, I begin feeling a new sensation that I haven’t quite felt before. I… feel the presence of others around me even if they are not physically next to me. Whether they are guards or prisoners or whoever, it doesn’t matter, but they are here somewhere. I open my eyes now, breathing deeper. I look around again. Still just me and the sandy dunes.

  Maybe it lessens if I open my eyes…

  I close my eyes again, slightly frustrated at this new-found ability. I concentrate further on this feeling. The longer I concentrate, the clearer the sensation becomes within me. Soon, I start to picture the individuals within this mysterious ethereal space around me. An image begins to form, first blurry, then crystal clear. I can… see a guard on top of a hollow square yet two-pronged fork-looking hover racer while another guard is on the ground, analysing the dry, sandy landscape with a tripod of some sort. The second guard stops and peers into the distance, a gaze that seems to be… in my direction! He motions to the first guard and then detaches his tripod from the ground. He jumps on a hover racer that he splits off from the first guard’s vehicle and speeds away somewhere on it with his colleague in tow close behind him on another hover racer.

  I open my eyes as I hear a distant whirring and racing sound. I peer into the distance behind me, through the clouds of dust in front me now and see the same two guards pursuing me, approximately 8,000 yards away. I stand on my feet once more and run as fast as I can ahead towards a group of big, brown, rock-like structures, possibly faded monuments of an ancient time or just stones in the ground.

  If only I can get to those rocks, I can maybe hurl loose ones at the guards; stop their momentum for the time being.

  “STOP! We will not shoot if you surrender by the order of the High Commander of the Raethian Army!” a guard bellows at me over a radio speaker positioned upon his square-looking hover racer. “If you continue this course of action, we will be forced to fire!”

  Being captured is not an option for me anymore. I will be killed if I stop and surrender myself to these guards, knowing the Commander is wanting me alive so he can exact some sort of punishment on me, revenge if you like, for catching him unawares at the prison, potentially embarrassing him in front of his platoon.

  But… I’ll be killed if I don’t stop.

  The guards have had enough of me ignoring their advice. They open fire at me. Golden Omon-sourced lasers whizz past me and hit the face of a large rock embedded in the sand, as my feet rush past the rock on the ground. Oddly, and for the second, perhaps third time today, I’m not hit in the crossfire.

  Ducking and diving usually can work well in these situations but not like what I’ve encountered thus far.

  I lose track of my momentum and trip over my two left feet it seems. I fly through the air, banging my left knee hard onto a rock, falling face-first into the sand.

  This is the end.

  I shake my head to brush off the sand in my face, hair and eyes, as I turn to face the approaching hover racers and endless barrage of lasers, about near enough now to pierce my flesh. On my knees, a sudden urge within me makes me want to outstretch my hands; hoping that the same higher power I felt protect me in the prison will be able to somehow stop this from happening to me.

  Suddenly, two prisoners approach from behind me. Looking around, I see a man and a woman with their hands outstretched as if controlling a power each. Out of nowhere, a fault begins to develop within the guards’ hover racers, causing sparks to turn into a fire within both, crashing them onto the ground and hurtling the guards high and forward into the air. Then two large vines from the surrounding red plants spurt out and entwine each guard around the waist and force them both to smash into each other, head first. The guards fall to the ground in a heap of bodies. They are out cold.

  Just then, the crashed hover racers explode not far from me and the knocked-out guards. This time, I instinctively outstretch my hands again, trying desperately to keep the residual flaming debris, not to mention the fire from the explosion, from engulfing myself, the prisoners stood behind me, and the guards. Suddenly, a force field of some nature ebbs out from my hands and surrounds us all, acting as a protective shield. The debris hits this force field, preventing us from any harm.

  How… could this happen? I didn’t…

  Standing up, I look at myself first then them, my saviours. With a huge sigh of relief but with a sceptical nature, I engage them both. The man outstretches one of his hands to shake one of mine, as does the woman. “My name is William and this is Rebecca.”

  “I’m Max.”

  All of a sudden, we all hear oncoming sounds of even more hover racers.

  “No time for pleasantries,” says William gruffly. “We’ve got to get out of here…”

  5

  BRUTE FORCE

  The prison. A dark cell in one of the many vast corners of this horrid building. A prisoner stirs as he is awakened by alarms blaring consistently around the complex. Many of the cells are being emptied around him as he begins to get shoved out of his cell by heavily armed guards. Nuslight, strange in its appearance yet refreshingly new to his sight falls across his face as he is led outside.

  Chained and stood in line with the rest of his kin, the explanation of what comes next is given by a supposed member of royalty, high and mighty in the kys. Suddenly, there is chaos. All around him, madness descends as the prisoners escape in huge masses. Out of the blue, a thought crosses his mind. He rushes around the prison, collecting weaponry dropped to the ground by beaten guards as he makes his way to the rear of the building, hoping to escape this way. While he does so, he notices that many of the other prisoners have the same idea so he changes tactic. He runs directly into the prison this time, thinking he can use the prison’s safeguards and inner vehicular transportation to hide himself or escape as the battle rages on the outside.

  However, another prisoner follows him in the distance, thinking in a similar way. He runs through the prison stealthily from shadow to shadow, whereas the prisoner behind him jerks to and fro as he follows in uneven movements, often in front of cameras. During the ensuing chase, he hears another alarm starting to blare so he speeds up his pace…

  ***

  Number 9 sets about judging how to handle the situation outside in his overall capacity; trying
to get ahead of it all before it gets more out of hand. Being one of the Commander’s specialists in his field has taught him many times before to seek his approval and fear the opposite reaction. Luckily for him, he knows what he is doing. Out of the corner of his eye on one of the many cameras in front of him, he notices unusual movement within the prison.

  “Calling defensive perimeter C. Potential prisoner sighting in Sector 13 of the prison. Any guards nearby, intercept and apprehend.”

  “Roger that. This is Number 84. Target is in my line of sight. Intercept is in due progress.”

  “Very well. Remainder of defensive perimeter C, fall back. Check the outer rims of block C1 to C5.”

  Number 84 glides his hover racer to the sector in question, pulling out his standard grade armoured heavy artillery rifle from the cache of weapons on his belt as he rushes towards the prisoner escaping in the distance…

  ***

  He believes he is alone now… that is until a shot is fired from behind him, missing his head by a few inches. Wasting no more time, he runs into a cell until he realises that he has stupidly got himself cornered like a caged animal. He turns to face his combatant. The guard gets down mid-air and steadily walks into the cell, his assault rifle aimed directly at his chest.

  “Put your hands in the air and place your back against the wall.”

  The guard’s gun and tone of voice suggests he is ruthless and not about to waste much time on a single, solitary prisoner. Just then, a figure looms silently behind the guard. The prisoner behind the guard, the prisoner that had been following him for a while, looks panicked as he realises he doesn’t have a clue what to do next.

  “Number 84, do you copy? Have you made contact with the assailant?”

  “Yes – required action?”

  “Don’t waste time then. Finish it.”

  “Agreed.”

  The prisoner who is cornered suddenly yells, “No, wait!” as he then outstretches his hands in the direction of the guard and the prisoner who had followed him. Out of nowhere, the second prisoner becomes sharply focused, grabbing a knife out of Number 84’s belt and stabbing him repeatedly and quickly – so quickly that Number 84 doesn’t have enough time to get a single round off.

  The guard drops his gun and falls to the ground, lying motionless and forever still. The first prisoner stands above the lifeless guard, amazed at what has transpired just now, patting his own body and looking at his hands. The second prisoner suddenly breaks out of his trance and also falls to the ground, shocked at his actions as he hugs and rocks himself gently, calming himself and telling himself that it was an accident and that he didn’t mean it.

  He notices the knife in his hand and tosses it aside, horrified. The prisoner standing above the lifeless guard smiles. The single most important and eclipsing thought of his supposedly short life has crossed his mind now.

  The first prisoner kneels down to the second prisoner on the ground and outstretches his hand once more towards him. The second prisoner, still in his trance, focuses his attention on the prisoner in front of him.

  “What is your name, inmate?”

  “G… George, sire. And may I d…dare, what do I call you?”

  “Brutus or as I prefer… Master! Yes, I quite like the sound of that!”

  “Yes, Master…”

  6

  SILENT AWAKENING

  Neil awakens. His eyes flutter as he does so. He sits up straight and checks out his new surroundings. He is in a wood, surrounded by blossoming silvery trees with shimmering huge gold leaves, as thin as a peacock’s feather. He gets to his feet, uncertain of how he got there and of himself. He places his hands on his seemingly tingly body and checks if he is harmed in any way.

  He remembers something about waking up once before, in a prison then running for his life then nothing… and how he got here, not a clue. As he feels his own body, making sure that he is not injured anywhere again; his own touch on his face reveals a most unpleasant truth.

  Oh, no. No, no, no, no. How could this be?

  Neil lets out an internal scream. He hasn’t got a mouth at all and his scream comes out muffled. He quickly looks up and down his body and realises that other than his deformed mouth, he seems to be fit and healthy. He cannot speak, just mumble.

  How is it possible? I… I’m NOT supposed to be this way, I know it, and there must be a cure…

  His thoughts turn to anguish and resentment, a multitude of feelings rush to his heart and mind. Finally, anger sets in. He gently touches the space once again, the opening where his mouth ought to be, except for there being an actual wad of skin which neatly balances into the rest of his face. Knowing his body and face feels wrong, he kneels down onto the ground, hands covering his face, disheartened at his new-found life, his newly acquired freedom. Suddenly, a new feeling rises deep within…

  Before him, a rustle in the nearby bushes. He stands upon the same spot, at attention, fearing the movement but weirdly ready for it as well. A slippery, gigantic black snake slithers through the bush towards him. It had been watching him closely since before he awoke and could have devoured him whole then, but being a creature of mischief and mayhem, it had wanted Neil to awaken.

  Getting all the juices flowing within the body always made for the tastiest and freshest food, it thinks to itself. The snake then gives Neil a preview of what he will be dealing with momentarily as it exposes its venom-covered fangs to him.

  Neil, not sure what to do, relies on the same feeling he had experienced earlier – instinct – to decide what he does next. As adrenaline rushes to his heart, he silently expresses this desire to himself.

  Survive. You can do this.

  The animal in front of him, quite huge in stature, regurgitates an acid-like spit that it rapidly directs at him. He darts to one side at the last second, amazed at the speed of his reflexes. Neil squints as he makes out something mixed in with the spit. He quickly moves to pick it up, as does the snake. He gets to the object first.

  “Aargh!!!”

  The acid around the object burns his hand slightly as he picks it up from the ground quickly, before the snake gets to him. Silently, the serpent pounces at him. Meanwhile, Neil stares at the object as he wipes the acid off it with a golden leaf.

  It is a curved sword! How did it manage to swallow this?

  As the shadow of the snake encompasses his own, Neil uses his quick instincts to slash wildly with the sword in a backhanded motion. The sword slices through part of the snake’s lower jaw, chopping off two of its fangs. It backs off quickly.

  Now’s my chance…

  Neil advances, tearing away at the snake, the sword now breaking away some of the hard, outer shell of its skin to reveal the smooth, soft, inner body. Neil’s hand continues to burn badly as he thrusts this way and that way. The snake feigns a movement as it pretends to retract back in fear but rapidly turns back to its unsuspecting prey, swatting Neil with its massive tail. The impact throws Neil high into the kys but deeper into the woods onto a red, grassy, clear field.

  Neil, body aching with the blow given to him moments ago, gets to his feet awkwardly. He looks down at his burning hand and notices something missing.

  Great! Now the sword’s gone. Where did it go?

  The snake, angered by his new foe, which it had thought was an easy prey for consumption, slithers forwards rapidly towards Neil, chomping at the bit ferociously.

  Scared, but surprised at having lasted this long against such a huge enemy, Neil stands once again in the path of the oncoming snake. Looking around at his surroundings gives him an idea. Neil sees a thick, bendy branch attached to a silvery tree above his head. When he had patted his body down earlier to get a sense of anything else wrong with him apart from his mouth, he had noticed a belt around his waist. The snake still charges at him, trying desperately to cover the great distance between them in order to devour the tasty morsel.

  Neil breaks off the branch and bends it into an arch-like shape before tying off eac
h end using the golden leaves. He attaches his belt to either side before grabbing for another rough-looking branch, this one covered in huge thorns. As he breaks it off the tree, he notices that the end split off from the tree itself is quite sharp as it has a thorn sticking out of it.

  A glint of light crosses Neil’s eye.

  The sword!

  It had landed in one of the trees, affixed heavily within a stump. Neil grabs for the sword, wrenches it out and throws it at the advancing snake, taking out one of its eyes. The snake drags the sword out of its eye with its tail before turning its attention back to Neil. But by then, it is too late.

  Neil uses the sword throwing as practice to test his own mark of accuracy, also allowing him a moment to pull back the rough-looking branch to form an arrow upon the bow consisting of the belt, branch and leaf combo.

  The snake, sensing danger, decides to act first as it coils its body to jump at Neil with direct force. At the same time, Neil fires his makeshift arrow at the snake. The arrow flies rapidly through the air in a swerving fashion, tearing through the damaged eye and mouth of the snake, through its soft, squishy brain and through the extension of its body. The huge thorns tear apart the snake’s insides as they pass through them with great speed.

  The impact of the arrow pushes the snake’s body back forcefully as it gets to the rear of the animal. Finally, the arrow pushes through the tail and lands in a far-off tree, as the snake’s body falls down onto the ground with a resounding thud. The snake’s internal organs spew out of it in a ghastly manner; it is now dead as a doornail.

  Gasping for breath, Neil calmly collects the sword from where it had fallen, holding it as a sign of triumph as he fixes his gaze upon the snake for the last time. He now looks at the bow in his hand, his weapon of choice as a single thought crosses his mind.