Chapter Four

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Fifteen hours we spent in that bunker.

The safe house was an abandoned home at the north edge of the town a few miles from the main centre. Jack led the group down the inclined hill, away from the safe house, their shoes scuffing through the gravel road.

I watched them go, wrapping my arms around my body. Beyond the group, the township was curtained in thick smoke. Everything was still. Lifeless. Our home had been tortured, and destroyed.

The town reeked of a raid: belongings strung across the streets, houses abandoned, masses of the population gone, set to return when they knew the coast was clear.

People feared raids, we’d become a sentimental race – the little belongings we had left were the only reminders we had of our old lives, and families. We would risk anything to hold onto the memories of the past. Without them, it was as if that time had never existed.

The Collective itself was a disaster zone, the injured lined the halls and tunnels, and the once organized spaces were destroyed. It rattled me, to see such reckless desperation. It made me feel sick to think it had all been for us. We didn’t intend to inflict this kind of violence.

Come that evening, things seemed to quieten down, people settling back into routine, and rebuilding from destruction. This was not the first time, and certainly not the last. The night had been forgotten, filed away with traumatic experiences we’d rather not relive.

I seemed to just slide into the Collective, no one really welcoming me, and no one really objecting. I remembered only a few faces, and even fewer remembered mine.

The military order that functioned around me was both unsettling, and oddly comforting. I remembered this part of Collective life. The manufactured procedure that ran from the kitchen, through to the laundry, was like clockwork. The shower allocations, the curfews – no one did OCD like Jack. He was an ex-Army officer and his Collective was a factory of discipline.

Elek wasn’t happy. We didn’t see eye to eye on the decision to stay, or my decision to stay.

It was midnight, pitch black, on our first night in the Collective when he’d voiced his opinion, both of us in bed, and both aware that the other was awake

“We need to leave tomorrow,” he already sounded stoic and defensive.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “this might be the safest place for now.”

“They were looking for us, they know we are here.”

“No, they know we were here. They would expect us to be on the run, they’ll be searching all the neighbouring towns. They won’t expect us to still be here, let alone in the midst of our enemy.”

I heard Elek bring his palms down on his face, “Fine,” he murmured, huffing, “but don’t pretend this is about anything other than the fact that you are too attached to this place to leave.”

I ignored his comment, flipping over on my mattress to face the wall.

The following morning, Elek and I were allowed a charming awakening from Jo-Jo. He slammed our door open, the echo of noise rolling through the tunnels and into our quarters. He tapped his foot, “Anyone would think you two are on holiday,” he conceded, flicking on our light.

Elek didn’t move from his bed. I buried myself under the covers.

“Jack wants you to go see Reaves, Elek. He wants you on the team,” Jo-Jo instructed, before he marched for my bed and threw back the covers, I scrambled to pull them back up. It was too cold, “And you, my darling, are to go straight to Jack.”

“What for?” I grumbled.

“To collect your bucket and mop, I hope.”

I threw my pillow at him as he waltzed away.

I knew Jo-Jo would hate me for what I did to Jack. I didn’t blame him, I deserved it.  But once upon a time, he’d been slightly less hostile, and slightly more affectionate. Maybe he’d even cared for us.

“You can’t throw them out!” the grey-haired one screamed. He doesn’t know I can hear him, and he doesn’t know I’m special. I sit in the corridor, listening.

Elek and Rory are eating still. I am glad they found me here, we are safe together.

“This is no place for children,” Jack says, calmly.

“And where on this earth is?!”

“Somewhere with a woman, a home. Someplace safe where they can learn and be sheltered.”

I like what Jack describes, but I don’t smile, because I don’t want to leave here.

“LOOK OUTSIDE you fool! That doesn’t exist anymore Jack,” Jo-Jo shouts, “don’t tell me you haven’t grown fond of them, they boys could be great fighters in a few years. And the girl, I see you’re affection for her.”

“You see my pity, not my affection.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you cynical bastard,” says Jo-Jo.

***

I found Jack in his office at mid-day.

 “Come,” he called, motioning me to him.

“What happened to the dress?” he asked. I had borrowed some jeans and a t-shirt from the laundry before I came. I needed clothing that covered my wound-less shoulder, and a little more thigh.

“I save that showstopper for special occasions only.”

“Such as?”

“You know posing as a hooker, sneaking into a Collective, the odd Raid,” I joked.

A smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he pulled a crumpled piece of dirtied paper from a draw in his chipped desk. He unfolded it across the table top as I realised it to be a map. Using his finger to trace along a waved black line, “You see this?” he asked, his hands dirtied with muck from the tunnels and pipes.

I nodded.

“This is a train line, about three hours’ drive from here, we’ve been receiving medicines, vaccines, and ammunition along this track for nearly four years. About two months ago we stopped receiving shipments. It’s not unusual for our carriages to get hijacked, but this time, the trains have stopped coming entirely,” he told me, his brow furrowed, “We haven’t been able to get a message to the Collective on the other side of the border responsible for shipping, so I sent someone to scout the line and see what the problem was.”

He lent over his desk, “Seems someone, most likely an outside gang, has set up a blockade. Stripped cars line the track for a mile, and before that there are guard towers, and defences warning the trains to come to a stop. They’ve been taking our supplies and sending the trains back on their way.”

“Okay,” I paused, “that’s inconvenient and all, but what’s this got to do with me?” I questioned, starting to feel there was more to this impromptu meeting than I had thought.

“You’d remember a time when we had access to a helicopter and more vehicles, we could have done a fly over and taken out main defences before hitting them on the ground. But -- we don’t have that anymore. The blockade is set up in a clearing, heavily guarded. If my men come out from the brush they’ll be taken down by snipers before they’ve moved two feet. And, we just don’t have the man power or the resources to do a solo ground hit,” he continued, with intensity, “even if we did, we’d lose too many men, waste to much of our weaponry for it to be viable. It be suicide for many.”

“Jack, what’s your point?” My voice blunt.

“Like I said, they’d kill any man that stepped an inch within their ground. But I think they’d be more…curious, with a child or a women.”

The look of infuriation and shock that was clearly written all over my face, launched him into an explanation.

“We’d just need you to get close enough to get their attention. Most of the ground troops would move to investigate. They’ve been out there for months without a sight of bother, they wouldn’t be expecting trouble and they’d be eager for a little excitement.”

Excitement.  

“And what then?”

“We’re going to stock you with a few explosives, you chuck them and then dive for cover. Most of the men close to you will be killed, unconscious, or too shocked to stand as much of a threat. Then we move in, and take down the whole show. We’re going to post our own men there and make sure this sort of thing doesn’t happen again.”

“And what if this goes wrong? What if I don’t clear the explosion? Or I don’t manage to get them out at all? What if they capture me? I think we both know the fate I’d meet as a prisoner would be far worse than any death,” I cautioned, at a volume close to shouting.

The truth was I knew I could clear the explosions, I knew I’d heal from any superficial injury, and even if I had been detained, I could escape, I was a weapon in myself. But I wanted to know what Jack was willing to sacrifice.

“This is going to work, and you’re going to be fine. We have a whole team behind you,” Jack assured, anger leaking in.

I scoffed, shaking my head.

“If we don’t do this, we have no medicines for the sick, no insulin for the diabetics, no Ventolin for the asthmatics. Would you like to go down to the dorms and explain to families that their children are going to die? Explain to the entire town that we have no ammunition to protect ourselves,” he shouted, “or perhaps you’d like to volunteer someone else? You’re the only one who can do this and pull it off. So, unless you want to send someone to their death, you’re going to do this, and you’re going to be damn happy about it.”

I fell back in my chair. Things were about to get very interesting, and I didn’t know if it was adrenaline or anxiety pumping through my blood.

Jack made for the door, pausing before he exited, “If you can’t do this for us, then you can’t stay.”

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