Extract:
Chad left the hospital after putting on a woollen hat and gloves, then breathed the clean air deeply into his lungs. Piped air always made him feel stuffy and congested. His sister lived just a short walk away
and he had not seen her for almost a week now. If he left a visit much longer, she would turn up at his flat, towing policemen in her wake, and fuss over him. That was a risk he would have to take, he
decided. Hospital appointments were too tiring and he needed to get home to rest. A light breeze made him shiver and the weak sun gave no warmth. The heavy coat, an early Christmas present from his
sister, would keep a healthy person hot, but not him. His blood was too thin, hardly more than water in his veins. That was the impression he received when looking at the blue lips in a white face reflected
in the mirror each morning.
"Hi."
He turned to face the owner of the nasal voice. The sunken face with a crooked nose seemed familiar, but he could not place where they might have met before. "Sorry, you must have the wrong
person."
"Nope. You have the same appointment days as me. Ned's my name, dying's my game."
"Chad. I'm tired and want to get home."
"Right. Get to bed, dream a little."
"What do you mean?"
"They're not real, you know. Die and you're dead. Nothing."
Chad frowned, wondering what this horrible little person wanted. "We all die sometime. Goodbye." He turned away and started walking, now searching every corner of his mind for the memory cell
which would explain Ned's familiarity.
Ned's voice followed him. "Well, see you next week."
He walked slowly to conserve his strength and to give his mind the time to correct any staggering. Because he was a stocky twenty-year-old, people automatically assumed he was drunk if his course
seemed erratic. Even at ten-thirty in the morning. His feet stopped moving obediently at the next curb, giving his mind time to coordinate sight and limbs. Falling off curbs was also embarrassing but more
painful than simply staggering. No cars were in sight when he started to cross but one quickly appeared, sounding the horn while he unhurriedly climbed the opposite curb.
The flat, which he preferred to call an apartment, was cold when he finally managed to push open the damp-swollen door. Condensation had replaced the ice on the windows and his rapid breathing
caused a faint mist around his head. Although he craved a hot drink, he was too exhausted to wait for the kettle to boil. Instead, he filled a glass with cold water from the tap and drank that. He looked
through the window while hunched over the sink, wondering how it felt to know only health. Housewives stood in the freezing cold and chatted about nothing while their young children pranced around
their legs. Delivery people roared up to the curb in their brightly-painted vans, leapt from their warm cabs and carried heavy parcels to front doors. Joking workmen waved on traffic while another
languidly shovelled sandy-looking earth from the hole that yet another had earlier dug in the road. They all looked healthy. Yet Chad had one thing in common with these people. They were all going about
their daily routine. Routine and dreams were all he had left. One young sage had said that they all had something else in common. They would all die. He never counted that commonality because some
died sooner than others. Also, some had lives during the time they had on this planet. Not him, though. Chad existed. That was not life or living.
Apparently, his stomach had accepted the water so he pushed away from the sink and staggered to his small bedroom. He collapsed onto the bed, still wearing the coat, gloves and hat, and had no
energy left to remove his boots or pull a blanket over him. Normal sounds entered from outside, like the heavy thump of an overactive bass from his neighbour's hi-fi. That was one sound that always
annoyed him, feeling it hammering through his body rather than hearing it. Outside, raised voices called greetings and a baby screamed as the pram passed his window. A car accelerated from a side
turning and then he heard the heavier growl of a bus. A tinkling bicycle bell was the last thing he remembered before drifting into the black space between full sleep and wakefulness. Although not awake,
he could still hear muffled movement from outside. Then nothing. No sound. Just the feeling of chill air and darkness.
His eyes seemed to grow accustomed to the darkness until he recognised a low stone wall next to him. Water lapped at his feet and he turned to see moonlight reflecting off a sluggish stream. The
stones supported an arched bridge. Instinctively, he crawled quickly and silently towards the nearest building. Although he had heard nothing, he somehow knew that armed sentries would guard this
man-made obstacle. If so, they would remain hidden close to the bridge. Fear rather than cold made him tremble. Chad darted around the building and entered a dark alley. One bark from a dog would
quickly bring those armed men to him, but he knew these people allowed no dogs into their lives. Life was hard enough. Bending low, he moved carefully along the alley in short swift spurts of speed. The
alley led into another cobbled street with low houses on each side. Further down the street was an inn with stables, so he headed towards the security offered by the wooden-walled walkway between the
two buildings. Cobbles, an inn and the alleyways meant this was more a town than the usual small village. Few towns existed, but he could not identify this one yet. Hunger gnawed at his stomach but
finding food was difficult, even if this was a town. Another dark figure darted between two buildings opposite, so Chad sank into the shadows behind a row of barrels. Straw rustled beneath his feet,
making his body stiffen. When he dared to peek above the barrels, the street was empty and quiet. No one should be out after dark, so all strangers were suspect. Only a fool would risk curfew rather
than face an irate husband or parent. He sat again, knowing the wooden walls and barrels protected him.
I should have stayed outside the town until daylight, he thought. So, what happened? Did I fall into the stream or did someone toss me from the bridge earlier?
No recent memories appeared in his mind. Only that he still searched for a young woman, probably only a year younger than him. He frowned, trying to recall her name. Then he realised that he had
never discovered her name. Yet he knew what she looked like. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe her. Short brown hair, usually covered by a scarf, and brown eyes in an oval face. A serious
face with thin lips, as though she had struggled through each day in her short life. Yet when she smiled, her whole face transformed into a light breeze on a summer's day. No matter what the weather or
countryside was like, that smile changed everything. That smile held your eyes until nothing else existed and, despite how you felt, your face would transform too. When she smiled, everyone and the world
around her smiled. Unfortunately, he had seen her smile only once. Yet he could not recall when. Perhaps during another lifetime because this world allowed no smiles. Some people might say she was
thin, but he thought of her as athletic. She allowed no excess fat on her lithe body yet she was not skinny. He didn't like skinny. Skinny seemed to reflect illness or a lack of proper care.
A shoe scuffed against stone and stopped his reflections. Rising slowly, he peered between the boards of the wooden wall. Although oil lamps only lit each street corner, he now realised why the
buildings seemed so bright. The air was clean and he wondered whether he had noticed this before. Also, why would he now think the air was clean if he had never seen dirty air? Stars and moonlight
were all the illumination the town needed, and that was too bright if he was to remain hidden from watchful eyes. Then he saw the dark figure again. A man, bigger than him. Taller and more heavily built,
wearing a heavy dark linen cloak. The man reached the corner and stood pressed against the wall as though catching his breath and restoring his nerve. Before the man could peek round the corner, three
armed figures leapt out of the shadows. All wore the dark-blue uniforms that he recognised as belonging to the Legal Curfew Sentries.
"Pass," demanded one, proving to Chad this was a town. No villagers carried passes.
The man mumbled something but the sentries stiffened and aimed their weapons. As though losing his nerve, the man turned and ran directly towards Chad. Three explosions sounded and the man
dropped to the cobbles, his body sliding until his head hit the boards inches from Chad's nose. Smoke rose from the man's charred back and he could smell something like rotten meat burning. At first, he
had believed that the weapons fired an energy charge, but these wounds showed that something more solid had struck the man's back. Something like a large fiery projectile. The sentries looked around,
their weapon's muzzles following the direction of their eyes, before moving towards the body. Chad shuffled backwards on hands and knees then stood when he passed the barn. Breathing heavily and
trying not to gag, he walked more quickly towards the barn doors that opened onto a dark yard. Across the yard was a low brick wall so he trotted towards it while glancing behind him. His breathing
eased as safety approached. Trying not to let the top stones scrape against each other, he clambered over the wall and searched for any sign of the sentries. Hands grabbed him from behind and dragged
him to the ground. Another smaller hand clamped over his mouth. Something that felt like the end of a pipe jabbed into his stomach. Only this pipe was the muzzle of a gun, like those held by the sentries.
The hand moved slowly from his mouth and he forced his eyes to look away from the weapon. Instead, he looked straight into the young woman's eyes. She had found him rather than the other way
around. Yet she did not seem pleased to see him. He opened his mouth to speak, knowing his grin was too wide, but those finely-boned rough-skinned fingers stopped him.
The tiny shake of that serious-looking face was enough to stop a charging rhino at two hundred paces. A hand lightly touched her shoulder and he noticed other figures behind her. About a dozen
rebels. They climbed over the wall and her beautiful thin lips mimed the words: "Stay here."
He watched as she followed the others into the shadows around the barn. They split into two groups and headed towards where he had last seen the sentries. When he could see her no more, he
crouched lower while wishing he had a weapon. Having a weapon meant walking towards those sentries and risk getting blasted. No, he decided. I'll stay here and guard their backs.
Three loud bangs sounded, then silence. He began to rise, hoping she would return quickly. Towns were not safe, especially after dark. Another bang. He dropped to the ground and pressed his back
hard against the wall as though trying to force a way into a tiny gap. The fighting grew fiercer until the explosions merged into one long cacophony of sound. More law enforcement officers must have
arrived. Soon, they would surround the town and use torches to search out anyone breaking the curfew.
Using the wall as cover, he began crawling away from the battle. If the woman survived, then he would find her in the forests soon enough. A metallic click made him freeze while his eyes searched
ahead. A uniformed figure was crouching behind the wall and aiming his weapon towards the barn. Chad glanced all around but he had nowhere else to hide. The officer was between him and freedom.
Although his whole body shook, he carefully lifted the top stone from the wall next to him and crept closer. His eyes stared at the officer, willing him not to turn, while he kept glancing at the ground so he
would not accidentally tread on a twig. Closer. The man stiffened and aimed. Daring a quick look, he saw the woman crouching next to the barn while giving covering fire to the other rebels. Time had run
out and he ran forwards. The officer looked up in fear, then Chad brought the heavy stone down onto the upturned face. He spun round to run for the trees but stopped inches from another officer's
muzzle. This man's face reminded him of evil. The thin face wore a crooked grin beneath a crooked nose, while the eyes showed enjoyment at killing. Fire exploded in his chest and his body seemed to fly
through the air. He landed next to the man with the crushed face. Chad smiled against the pain when the woman shot his evil attacker. |
