Aura, p.6
Aura, page 6
We go outside the same way we came in, and hover in the yard until Caleb reappears in a cloud of cigarette smoke to lead us to the van. He opens the back door of the van, which is already packed with people: men and women, young and old.
They look at us warily.
“Don’t be shy – jump in,” Caleb says, slapping me on the back.
People shuffle out of our way and we climb in, squeezing ourselves into the cramped space. He slams the door behind us.
The van roars to life and suddenly we're moving, swaying in the vehicle over an uneven road.
“You okay?” I whisper to Selena.
“Yeah, you?”
I nod and lean my head against hers, wishing Mum were with us.
“I can't stop thinking about Mum,” Selena says.
“Me either.”
“I hope she's okay.”
I squeeze her hand. “Me too.”
Who am I kidding? How can Mum possibly be okay?
We're one step closer to freedom, and she's a prisoner.
Across from us, there’s a couple in their thirties having a hushed conversation. I hear them mention a ‘camp’ – maybe it's the same one Seb mentioned earlier. Maybe Reece will be there. Maybe we won't have to figure this all out alone.
It's a glimmer of hope. I hold onto it tight.
We travel in silence for the better part of an hour on rough-graveled back roads before Caleb turns off the headlights. Twenty minutes later, the van begins to slow down.
“Here we are,” Caleb mutters from the driver's seat. He pauses. “Wait, somethin' ain't right.”
He puts the van into reverse, backs into a space in the trees at the side of the road, and kills the engine.
I move to the front of the van to see what's going on.
The security lights surrounding the area move constantly, illuminating different sections of the barren expanse before us.
Caleb is watching a camera crew film a cluster of huge derelict warehouses up ahead.
I frown. Why are they filming a bunch of old warehouses?
To the right of the warehouses, two Society vans and a long black limousine are parked up. Just beyond the vehicles, I can see the silver mesh of the border fence that separates The Society from the wilderness.
We're so close...
BOOM!
There's a sudden shock of sound and light as an explosion rocks the vehicle.
“Jesus!” Caleb shouts in surprise and I jerk back, my ears ringing.
Seconds later, the warehouse closest to us – all 25,000 square feet of it – crumbles to the ground, a heap of flaming rubble and ash.
The woman next to me starts screaming.
“For the love of – will you shut up?” Caleb shouts.
As the dust starts to settle, I notice an open back door on one of the Society vans. Two men in black overcoats carry a body out and throw it down on top of the debris. They stand back, surveying the scene before one returns and rolls the body into a different position. He steps back again.
“What’s going on?” the guy in the passenger seat whispers.
“If I was a betting man, I’d say it’s the Terror Bureau,” Caleb says.
I’ve heard that term before. It's what Dad used to call the PR team at The Telepathe – the people who create the propaganda for The Society.
“Who?” the man asks.
“The people who control us,” Caleb mutters, as if it's obvious.
Outside, a cameraman is gesticulating. One of the men who carried the body partially covers it with rubble. The cameraman moves in for a close-up.
“I’m turning back,” Caleb announces. He's panicking. “If anyone wants to get out here and risk getting caught, that’s up to you.”
“What?"
“No!”
“We paid you to get us across!”
Everybody starts protesting.
Caleb shakes his head. “I usually only have to deal with one of the bastards on these runs. Whatever this is, it’s too many bad guys, and I'm not getting involved!”
“We can’t go back,” I say, desperate.
“Sorry, love. Not what I signed up for.”
He's about to turn the key in the ignition when the man in the passenger seat pulls a gun from somewhere and pushes it into Caleb’s temple. “I’m with the girl,” he says. “We wait until they’re finished.”
Caleb holds up his hands. “Fine,” he says through gritted teeth, cursing under his breath. “But get that gun out of my face.”
Passenger Seat Man does as he’s told, resting the weapon on his lap.
“Cut!” We hear someone from the film crew shout. There’s a smattering of applause and some hand-shaking, and then they start to move out, moving the body back into the truck and packing camera equipment away. Finally, they all shake hands with the Cog-on-duty before getting into their respective vehicles and driving out of view by way of the main road.
What have we just seen?
“You’re up,” says Passenger Seat Man, raising his gun again.
Caleb sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “You lot wait here.”
Passenger Seat Man rolls his window down, and we watch in silence as Caleb walks toward the border fence, hands in the air.
“I've got payment,” he shouts, and the Cog walks toward him, gun raised.
Caleb says something else, and I see the Cog lower his weapon.
Caleb hands him an envelope. The Cog inspects whatever’s inside, nods, and tucks it into a pocket in his uniform. Then Caleb hands him what I think is the bottle of DN8. They briefly exchange words that we can't hear, and the Cog starts walking toward the van.
Passenger Seat Man puts his gun back in his jacket and I sink back into the shadows, out of sight.
The Cog peers in through the open window for a good look at us.
“Are we good?” Caleb asks.
“We’re good, we’re good,” the Cog nods. “I’ve got a quota to meet, that’s all.”
“What?” asks Caleb.
The Cog raises his gun and looks at Caleb. “I’d get out of here if I were you.”
The atmosphere in the back of the van changes. Something is very wrong.
“Everybody out,” the Cog barks. “Now!”
Nobody wants to move.
“I said, out!”
The little boy next to me screams as the Cog pulls the trigger and shoots Passenger Seat Man in the head. The body falls forward into the dashboard like a sack of potatoes.
Bile rises in my throat.
This is it.
We’re going to die.
“I’ll give you all a ten-second head start,” the Cog smirks.
Everything happens at once.
Caleb slams back into the truck. The back doors open and the rest of us pour out, running for the fence.
“Whatever happens, don’t stop until we’re through that fence,” I tell Selena.
We're running at the back of the group, but I'm banking on the fact that the Cog can't shoot everyone at once.
“Michael!” one of the women screams as someone fires a gun at the Cog. It’s a terrible shot. The bullet ricochets off his armor.
The van starts up behind us, the tires squealing as Caleb reverses, hurrying to get away.
Selena's hand slips out of mine, but we keep running. The Cog fires back at Michael – one, two shots. The bullets hit him in the chest and wound another one of the group.
My ears are full of the passengers’ wails and the Cog's continued gunshots, but my own heart is still pumping in my chest and my lungs are still sucking in air, so I keep running.
I’m at the fence when I realize that Selena isn’t behind me.
Chapter 8
“Tonight must be my lucky night,” the Cog sneers as I turn around, clearly enjoying the look of shock on my face.
He's behind Selena; one arm clamped around her so that she can't move. She has a gash in her knee and there's a trickle of blood running down her leg into her shoe. Her dress is torn and muddied.
“Get away from her!” I choke through my horror.
He lifts his gun to her temple and whispers something into her ear.
Selena gets down on her hands and knees and leans back into a sitting position. The lifeless bodies of the other passengers lie at odd angles around her.
“There are other ways to pay your way across the border.” The Cog holsters his gun, takes off his helmet, and throws it down.
My stomach drops.
His scarlet eyes look me over like a predator eyeing prey – and his face…
His face is like something from a nightmare.
The pale skin on the right side is almost translucent; the left side is an open wound.
As he approaches, I see maggots crawling in the rancid flesh where his cheek should be.
He grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me into the border fence with such force it knocks the wind out of me.
“Don’t fight me, and I won’t kill you or your sister.” His face is so close to mine, I can feel his breath on my skin, in my nose, in my mouth. I see the maggots wriggling and squirming. I try to move, to kick out with my legs, but he’s too big and too strong.
I can hear him in my head. His thoughts buzz through my mind like flies over a garbage heap. I can’t think straight.
I turn my face away as he tries to kiss me. He laughs, sending a line of his saliva running down my cheek. “Play nice now. I wouldn't want to have to hand you over to the authorities,” he says, wiping my face with his hand. “You are beautiful.”
He grunts and reaches to undo his belt, so lost in the moment that he loosens his grip on me. One hand is on the fence and the other is fighting with his belt. I react like a coiled spring.
I turn my head to the hand on the fence and bite down on his wrist as hard as I can until I taste his blood. He howls and staggers backward. I dive away from him, grabbing handfuls of dirt from the ground.
He’s coming at me again. He shoves me back against the fence. “You little WITCH!” he spits. I fling the dirt into his face, blinding him. He lets go of me, clawing at his eyes.
I see stars as I try to push his thoughts out of my head. They're overpowering now — thick, unstoppable black fury.
Aura, aura, aura, aura.
I need to move, get Selena, get out of his way, but I’m not fast enough. Blindly, he punches out with his arm and his fist connects with my stomach, winding me and sending me flying to the ground.
He stands over me, his eyes streaming. “I’m going to make you watch while I have some fun with your sister, and then I’m going to kill you both,” he says through gritted teeth.
He unholsters his gun and turns towards Selena.
Time seems to slow. I wonder if I'm dying, if he's already shot me and I'm bleeding out on the ground.
My vision blurs, and I no longer see the Cog in front of me. Instead, I see a mass of electromagnetic pulses that seem to make up his central nervous system, glowing like a galaxy of stars.
Selena is screaming a million miles away.
The sound of my breathing fills my head. Everything seems clear and still. A memory stirs inside me; something buried, something I've misplaced.
“No one can know what you are, Aurora.”
“AURA!” Selena screams, and for a second, I jolt back. His hands are all over her, tearing at her clothes.
I feel as if I’m on fire. As if I am fire itself.
“You’re stronger than you know.”
I pick myself up off the ground, a kind of electricity pulsing through my body. My thoughts are suddenly tangible, a weapon I think I can wield.
“Oh, I like a fighter,” the Cog laughs at Selena's struggle, and the sound swirls around in my head.
I am not powerless anymore.
Some instinct takes me over and I know what to do.
NO!
I form the thought in my mind, strong and clear, and I hurl it toward the Cog like a stone from a slingshot. The red hot pulse arcs from my mind to the Cog's body of electricity in front of me. I see it hit him square in the solar plexus.
The Cog roars in shock as he is flung backward. The vial of DN8 flies out of his pocket and shatters, scattering hundreds of tiny blue pills across the ground where they shine like sapphires under the lights. He lands with a thump 100 feet away from us. There's a crack as his head hits the ground, and then silence.
As the silence falls, I feel the electricity leave my body, emptying me. My legs go weak, and I feel ice cold. I'm going to be sick.
“Aura, what did you do?” Selena is looking at me with a mixture of wonder and terror.
I retch into the dirt. My head is pounding. My skin feels clammy. What is happening to me?
“I think he’s dead,” Selena says. I look up and see her standing over his body. A flashing green light in the rubble behind her catches my eye.
I wipe the vomit from my mouth. “Get his CASS monitor.”
She tosses it to me and I stamp down hard, grinding it into the ground.
Chapter 9
I’m depleted.
I feel old. Or at least what I imagine old will feel like.
Our progress away from the border is slow. There are miles and miles of dense forest beyond the fence. The camp we’re trying to find could be anywhere.
I haven’t actually thought about what happens next – I don’t think I believed we’d make it this far.
I'm chilled to the bone. There's a roaring in my ears and my vision is blurred. Still, I keep walking, deliberately setting one foot in front of the other, putting distance between us and The Society.
We’ve been picking our way through gnarled old trees and knotted foliage for an hour before Selena breaks the silence.
“What happened back there?”
I have no clue how to answer, and I don’t want to stop and think about it. None of it makes any sense anyway.
“Aura?” she presses.
“I don’t know.”
She grabs me by the shoulder. “You can talk to me,” she says, searching my face. “Can we stop for a bit?”
I shake her off. “We need to keep going. We need to find the camp.”
The truth is, I’m afraid if I stop, I’ll never start again. I’ll fall asleep and never wake up.
“I’ll catch up to you,” she says, dropping her rucksack onto the ground in front of her.
Selena is too much like me. Neither of us takes “no” for an answer.
“Ten minutes,” I sigh. “It’s not safe out here.”
I take the knife out of my rucksack and half-sit, half-collapse onto the muddy forest floor. The smell of damp, rotting leaves fills my nostrils.
I feel relief in my legs and my lungs as soon as I sit. All I want to do is lie down and close my eyes.
“What you did to the Cog – have you ever done that before?” she asks.
“What do you think?”
“Do you think you can do it again?”
“I don’t know how I did it in the first place.”
I feel like I’m in some kind of alternate reality where my body and my mind are two completely separate entities, each doing their own thing.
And there's something else in the mix now too, a third entity that isn't my body and isn't my mind. I felt it grip me, and I felt it let me go. How do I explain that?
Selena tucks her legs underneath her. “What did it feel like?”
I close my eyes and everything comes back to me in a rush.
It felt like time stood still.
It felt like I was more powerful than anything in the world.
And afterward, it felt like I was dying.
“I don’t know, Selena. It happened so quickly.”
She gives up on her questioning, passing me a bottle of water. I drink it down gratefully.
“Hey, look what I found when I was packing my stuff,” she says, rooting around in her bag. She pulls out a notebook. I instantly recognize the black and white polka-dot design.
“Is that your memory book?”
A couple of months after my 11+, Dad gave each of us notebooks. He told us that at the end of each day, we were to write down something good that had happened. Then, if we’d had a bad day, we could read back through all of the good things and make ourselves feel better.
I thought it was a stupid idea.
I filled mine with angry words. I was frustrated and confused about who I was. Upset that I wouldn’t get to stay on at school and go to the Inner Sanctum like Seb. I didn’t even try to find anything good to write.
My feelings only changed when my Dad – a good man whose only crime was to question the government – was arrested. It was only then that I understood that Mum and Dad were trying to protect me, that there was something wrong with The Society.
Selena turns on her flashlight, which has all the power of a dying glowworm, and sits down next to me, flipping through the pages. “Aura told me my hair looked pretty,” she reads, digging me in the side with her elbow. “Thanks, Sis.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What about this one? Dad brought a puppy home and it’s sleeping next to my bed.”
I laugh in spite of myself. “I remember that. We had a barbeque didn’t we? You kept giving the puppy food off your plate.” I shake my head. “The next morning it had left a mess all over the floor and gone. You were devastated.”
To this day, I think Mum let it out because we couldn’t afford to keep it. I keep that thought to myself.
“I’m glad you still have that,” I tell her instead.
“Yeah, me too.”
The roaring in my ears from my encounter with the Cog is finally fading. I’m starting to hear the sounds around me: the wind blowing through the trees, owls hooting in the distance.
“Unless you’ve also developed special night vision superpowers, I think we should stay here tonight,” Selena says.
I give the bottle back to her. She’s right. I can barely see an arm’s length in front of me.
I set about making a fire, but it’s hopeless in the damp. We huddle together and decide to take turns keeping watch, using the knife I brought with us as protection. I’m so exhausted that even fear has left me.
