Chapter 22 – The Best Laid Plans
I can feel the tension pour off Dylan like mist as we take the lift back to the cells level. I know he wants to call me an idiot for not escaping when I’d had the chance, but he just can’t take the risk. I really want him to call me an idiot. At least then I’d know it was my brother talking and not just the persona he puts on when pretending to be Brother Pine.
As I contemplate what my options of escape are, I have a brief vision of Tornado smashing into the complex and rescuing me for some reason. As Brother Pine closes the doors to the elevator, I suddenly realize something; my fear of this enclosed space is gone.
I wonder what Kar’s doing? He’s probably back with his tribe, thinking I’m dead. He had been different. Or had he? I don’t really know what the Felum are like so they could all be like that. Then again, Brother Willow had thought I was joking when I’d told him I’d spoken with a Felum. Kar can talk, quite well as it happens. Maybe he’s a mutant. I’d heard of mutants.
“Does this lift go up or down?” I ask.
“Only the temple is on the surface,” Brother Pine/Dylan explains. “The rest of the complex, including the cave gardens, lies underground.”
“So the cells are underground then?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I think that’s obvious, don’t you?”
I sigh. “So it’s harder for people to escape.”
“It’s virtually impossible for people to escape.”
I latch on to his virtually. “Has somebody escaped before?”
“Yes, but they didn’t get very far before being recaptured.”
“I’m hardly likely to escape, am I? I’m just a child.”
My brother refuses to answer me, which makes me furious. I begin to reflect on this new information a bit more. Escaping from an aboveground complex would have been a whole lot easier. But there is this lift, and I’m sure there are many more that lead to the surface. If only there was some way for us to use the lifts without anyone knowing. The two of us could escape with ease then.
“Could you take me for a walk on the surface?” I ask sweetly.
“Why?” Brother Pine wonders.
“I want to see the sky before I’m repurposed,” I say, realizing that I actually mean it, even though I am fishing for information. “That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to die without seeing the sky one last time.”
“I don’t have clearance to leave the underground complex,” says Brother Pine, cutting me off before I can say anything further. “If I tried to use my hand print to take the lift up to the surface, the lift would simply refuse to take me and my actions would be reported to the Grand Father.”
“Who’s the Grand Father?”
“He is the representative of the gods, the best of us all. He would not take it too kindly if I tried to take you to the surface.”
I was sure I was on to something there. Then again, if Dylan could just whisk me away from here any time he wanted, he would’ve done it already. How stupid of me for not thinking of that! The reveal of an entity named the Grand Father discourages me, though it should have been obvious that there were people higher up in the Order of Power's hierarchy.
“Now stop asking impertinent questions,” he snaps.
That was the exact same thing Dylan had said to me before going off on his Journey. I’d been quizzing him about what he was going to do, and how long he’d be gone, and if he could bring me back something when he returned. I remember because, before, I’d thought them to be his very last words before his supposed death. He’d said it jokingly, though, and gave me a hug afterwards. I miss my brother. We have to get out of here.
The lift door disappears, and the seemingly endless stretch of cells is revealed once again. I’m starting to get sick of my cell. I know its four walls intimately, like I’ve lived here for an eternity. Still, there isn’t long to go. After tomorrow, I’ll be gone and some Order of Power stooge would be occupying my body.
I stop short of exiting the lift. The corridor isn’t empty. Brother Willow is waiting a few feet down the corridor with another Brother whose hands are encased in a white material. They are chattering among themselves. When they see us they stop. Dylan gasps beside me.
“Who is it?” I whisper conspiratorially.
“Brother Nectar,” says Dylan. His words are seething with rage, but for what reason I can’t work out. It isn’t anything that will benefit me, I know that much.
Do they know that Dylan has somehow broken his repurposing? Are they here to take him away and perform experiments on him?
Brother Nectar smiles benignly at my brother and strides forward. He is a small man in his late twenties with a pudgy face and a belly like a pregnant woman. He seems quite jolly, even giving me a cheerful smile when he sees I’m gawping at him. I can’t help but smile back, even though I know he might mean my brother and I harm.
“How are you, Brother?” Dylan asks.
“My arms are healing quite nicely, though the pain is indescribable!” Brother Nectar chatters, still smiling away. “Hopefully I shall be back to work properly within a week or two.”
“It’s good to hear,” says Dylan. I notice he looks a little guilty and is trying desperately to hide it. I wonder why.
“I’m still not sure what happened,” Brother Nectar goes on. “One minute I was at the top of the gantry stairs in the computer room, thinking about how to fix that broken processor that went down last night, and then I was on the floor, at the bottom of the stairs, screaming in agony!”
“What do you think happened?” Dylan asks with genuine concern.
“I think I was pushed!” Brother Nectar declares loudly. “In fact I’m almost certain of it, even though the thought of it scares me to death!”
“Who’d want to push you?” Dylan poses.
Brother Nectar shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I thought everyone liked me. Yes, I know there was that time when Sister Cosmos accused me of pouring water on her bed and she vowed vengeance, but that wasn’t my fault. It was a burst pipe in her quarters. She’s jealous that I can reprogram a hard drive quicker than she can.
“Maybe I just passed out. I have been working a lot lately. All these new acquisitions they’ve been bringing in have trebled my workload. Where we’re going to put all these new Brothers and Sisters is beyond me.”
As my brother explains about the several new complexes being built around the globe, I have a sudden revelation. Brother Nectar is the person who my brother had arranged to have an “accident” and pushed him down the stairs. I can’t believe Dylan would do this for me. It’s one thing to be told about it but another to see the effects. Brother Nectar is such a joyful person too, even though he does belong to an evil group like the Order of Power.
“You need to rest more,” my brother tells him. There is genuine sympathy there.
“You’re right, I suppose,” groans Brother Nectar. “I suppose I could go and visit the cave garden or something.”
“Try sleeping instead,” Dylan suggests.
Brother Willow is observing our exchange with studious concern. I only notice now that he has the same shaved head as all the other Brothers and Sisters. It doesn’t suit him. He has that hideous tattoo on his scalp as well, and it looks old and faded. It must have been there the entire time, but we never noticed it since Father always grew his hair long.
“Have you told them the good news?” says Brother Willow greasily.
“I was just getting to that!” says Brother Nectar. “I got one of the junior technicians to finish the repurposing machine! All he had to do was follow my instructions and it was very simple!”
Brother Willow smiles his sinister smile at me and says, “It seems you will be joining us sooner than we imagined.”
“I will kill you,” I promise him. “This time I mean it.”
&n
bsp; He considers me for a moment like I’m a particularly troublesome insect before punching me in the face. The pain shoots through my jaw. He continues punching me in the face again and again. Blood sprays onto the floor, onto my clothes, and onto his clothes. I feel my lips being mangled, my teeth coming loose, my nose gush blood, and all I can do is stand there and take the punishment.
Please, Dylan, do something.
“Now then, Brother Willow, there’s no need for that,” says Brother Nectar calmly, putting his hand on my abuser’s arm. “After being repurposed you’ll just confuse the new personality. He’ll wonder why his face got beaten up and that’ll just create more problems.”
Brother Willow’s savage face turns to Nectar with fury, and the smaller man cowers back in fright. Dylan steps forward, putting himself between the two of them.
“Calm down, Brothers,” says Dylan. “Please, calm down.”
“It feels so good to lash out, to hurt things,” mumbles Brother Willow. He’s breathing heavily and his bloodied fists hang at his sides.
Dylan looks at Nectar with concern and says, “I’ve seen this before. The Brother personality lay dormant inside another head for a long time. Now that Willow has total control, his bottled up or hidden emotions keep bubbling to the surface.”
“Fascinating,” sighs Brother Nectar, now less frightened and more intrigued.
My face, an explosion of agony and blood, finds Brother Willow’s condition less than fascinating. My father isn’t in there at all now. There’s not a single trace left.
I know now I can kill him.
Brother Willow wipes his bloody hands down his chest and declares, “There will be no more outbursts. I can assure you of that.”
“Perhaps we should delay the repurposing until the subject has healed,” Brother Pine suggests.
“No, we won’t be doing that,” says Brother Willow.
“It’ll be better for the repurposing.”
Brother Willow cuts him off. “Take him to the repurposing room now, Brother Pine. I trust you can accomplish this small task?”
Brother Pine nods.
“I just need to wash my hands first in my quarters,” says Brother Willow, walking away in the opposite direction.
Brother Nectar looks on with a worried sigh and says, “I bet his emotions have spilled out in ways other than anger. I heard one Brother cried for three days and tried to kill himself.”
“Brother Willow was hiding inside Zachary Casper’s head for many years,” says Brother Pine. “Could it get worse?”
Brother Nectar shrugs. “I don’t really know. I’m not a doctor.”
The portly Brother wanders off, mumbling something about how he is sick of the pain in his hands. I don’t know what to say. There’s no time left to formulate another escape plan.
“What do we do now?” I ask Dylan, who is remarkably still.
“I tried,” he snaps, refusing to look at me. “There’s nothing else I can do now but take you to be repurposed.”
“Maybe there’s time now to do something!”
I feel something pierce my neck. Another one of those damn needles! I stare at Dylan, who is holding a syringe in his hand, and I seethe with betrayal.
“We could go now,” I mumble, feeling faint.
“There’s no time,” he says, propping me up as the light fades from my eyes. “You should’ve done as you were told earlier. I’m sorry.”
“You’re not taking me,” I mumble.
Dylan is crying as he says, “You know I love you. I’m sorry.”
“NO!” I scream.
I push him away and make a run for it down the corridor. I ignore Dylan’s cries for me to halt but he doesn’t come after me. He knows my flight is futile. There is nowhere for me to go.
There is no hope.