Chapter 8 : A never-ending story
Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
4277 words.
TW : cold-blooded murder.
The sun was still down when the five acolytes woke up from a refreshing sleep. Judging by the noise surrounding the house, the city hadnât waited for sunrise to begin the day, but nobody felt brave enough to step outside, and they just stayed together as if they could now only move in a herd.
âWellâŚat least nobody stole my kidney in my sleep,â Vinny joked, although heâd just palpated his entire body like he didnât believe himself.
Look again, maybe they cut your balls, Ryan signed with a squint.
The youngest hit his arm, laughing, paused for a second, and still checked the state of his junk by pulling down his pants. Justin snorted, followed by Chris. A more than welcome moment of general hilarity, after weeks without a single day off - jumping from one dangerous mission to the next, working on what was supposed to be their last deal. In other circumstances, maybe they wouldnât have laughed so hard at something so silly. But it felt good.
However, Ricky was far from laughing himself. He was sitting off to the side, slouched in one of the armchairs, scribbling in his notebook without pause. Thinking about it, nothing indicated that he had even joined his friends during the night: his eyes were red and puffy, his face marked by fatigue and tightened by stress.
In fact, Ricky was scared shitless. The impromptu meeting with Paigeâs bodyguard had shaken him more than he cared to admit, and he felt incredibly vulnerable. He had pondered that interaction all night long. That man knew his name - maybe more than that. He hadnât hesitated to threaten him openly, knowing the dark-haired man wasnât armed. And that look⌠there had been no hesitation behind it. Just a tranquil confidence and a deep voice.
Ricky shuddered a little, pausing in his writing before going back to it. He was drawing now - trying to sketch that silhouette, to pull it out of his head. So focused on what he was doing, he didnât even realize Chris was now right beside him, trying to read whatever he had scribbled.
âAre you okay ?â he asked, and Ricky jumped.
âHmm.â
âWhen you're this quiet, it usually means something's bothering you.â
âMaybe.
âI know you, Rick.â
The dark-haired man sighed and put down his pen, raising a hand to massage his temple. And now, he had a headache. Maybe he was doing his own head in with that story.
âWeâre alone here,â Chris said in a detached tone. âYou can talk.â
Maybe his friend was trying to be comforting, but Ricky clenched his jaw when his gaze met that of his other companions. He didnât doubt Ryanâs reaction - he too was frustrated to be here - but he didnât know how to handle the others. Especially Justin, who had already shown a growing interest in this community. Worse than that: he actually looked happy at the idea of staying here longer than originally planned. They were close, though. Except for him. Ricky had been isolating himself for a while now, mortified by the signs he was picking up on. He didnât know how to communicate, as usual. It was his greatest weakness.
âNevermind,â he finally said, disappointed in himself.
âYouâreâŚokay,â Chris sighed. âBut I hate seeing you like that.â
âItâs alright.â
He stretched his lips in an attempt to smile and reassure his partner, but the âsmileâ turned into a wince and only fueled Chrisâs worry. They were at a dead end, both of them. And until Ricky agreed to talk, his friend couldnât help him out of it.
When Matt finally came back from his stroll, his face looked serious and tired. He glanced at each guest in turn, lingering a bit on Ricky as he frowned. Then he walked toward them like nothing had happened, his arms crossed over his chest.
âIâve talked to III,â he said. âHeâs found a room for you.â
âCool,â Vinny shouted, but Mattâs dirty look was enough to shut him up.
âItâs a bit far from here, so⌠Iâm going to lead you there myself. But youâre not supposed to go outside yet. Please. Be patient. Please.â
Mattâs tone was urgent, his voice dropping to a whisper at the end. Did he know something he couldnât talk about here? Ricky felt targeted by those words. He was the one who had defied the rules, after all, and run off into the night. But he showed no sign of discomfort, keeping a terribly neutral expression that contrasted with his earlier visible stress. He didnât know if he could trust Matt - didnât know who he really was in this strange organizational structure. So it was better not to trust him too much, even though his companions were already starting to think of him as an ally.
The small group followed their guide through the narrow streets of the Ark, under the fearful or annoyed gazes of the inhabitants. Around them, numerous handmade turrets were manned by masked soldiers who watched them silently as they moved deeper into the giant bunker. The cloudy sky above their heads was still desperately dark; somehow, the âsunâ refused to rise, which only heightened the general unease. Something wasnât right.
âThis⌠never-ending night is weird,â Chris mumbled to their guide. âIs that⌠normal?â
âNot here,â Matt snapped, glancing around before stepping in front of him. âKeep your questions for now. Too dangerous.â
Too dangerous?
Even Justin started to have doubts this time. He, who had been on cloud nine since seeing happy kids and their families - momentarily forgetting why they were down here in the first place - was slowly coming back to earth. He looked at the soldiers as if noticing them for the first time, eyes going wide as he realized how many there were. Silent. Almost invisible, yet there were turrets every ten to twenty feet. Finally, the uneasy feeling began to crawl under his skin, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the trembling.
After many long minutes of walking, the colorful surroundings grew dull, as if they were entering another city - an impoverished one. Like a shadow they hadnât seen coming, six soldiers suddenly appeared and began escorting them, weapons in hand.
âWow, thatâs not scary at all,â Vinny murmured.
It looks like a dodgy area, Ryan signed fast before he poked Chrisâs shoulder. Theyâre parking us in a ghetto.
So itâs the best place to ask some dangerous questions, Ricky thought. He then realized that Matt was looking at him. Again. Since his return, their temporary host had been acting strange around him - keeping an eye on him constantly, trying to stay as close as possible. So much so that the dark-haired man was beginning to feel both frustrated and irritated. He shot him a defiant look and walked over to Chris.
âWhat do you see ?â he asked, his voice low enough that only the sniper could hear it.
âA well-crafted network,â Chris replied. âThere are cameras at every angle. Soldiers hidden in some of these slums. And Iâm pretty sure our future neighbours already hate us.â
He was right. Hostile gazes followed their progress - though it was unclear whether it was because of them, or the soldiers. Either way, this wasnât a good place to be walking around.
They ended up in front of a very small structure, with rusty steel walls that looked like one of those cheap constructions from long ago. No lights, not even a few candles to brighten the place. In perfect sync, the six soldiers disappeared as quickly as they had come, and the pressure on their shoulders vanished with them. One by one, they entered the building and immediately shut the door behind them.
Inside, there was only one dark room with two small windows. In the back, five chairs were gathered around a small metallic table. No beds, but a few ripped pillows were thrown in a corner. It was a real downgrade from Mattâs place. Matt, who was still there by the way, walked to the table and picked something up from it. He raised his arm and showed it to the group: it was a simple round token, engraved, probably colourful - though they couldnât see much in such dim light.
âThis is your life guarantee,â he mumbled. âWith this, you can wander around the market and get whatever you need to live. If you do good deeds, you can move toward the city center. Here⌠people donât stay very long.â
âWeâre not staying either,â Ricky said abruptly. âWe donât want to stay. Weâre taking back our truck and getting out.â
âYou donât get it?â
Matt let out a long sigh and collapsed into one of the chairs. In the few rays of light coming through the nearby window, he suddenly looked much older. Tired, too. He looked at his guests and sighed again.
âYouâre not supposed to leave,â he said, raising a hand to stop any incoming protest. âNobody leaves this place. Ever.â
âBut⌠they told us weâd be here for three days?â Justin whispered, his face pale since they had left Mattâs place.
The British guy laughed. He shook his head and spoke again.
âThree days⌠means three sunrises,â he explained. âAnd here, the sun⌠only rises when the Leader decides it does. It can be once a day. Once every two weeks. He loves the night, soâŚâ
That simple revelation was like a bomb. Ricky was the only one who looked completely unfazed, clearly not surprised. He had known something was wrong with that never-ending night. But he couldnât say much - his friends wouldnât have listened anyway. Matt noticed his behaviour; he frowned and pointed an accusatory finger at him.
âYou,â he said harshly, but the dark-haired man wasnât particularly moved by his tone. âYouâve been noticed. Thatâs terrible. Really terrible. Theyâve been talking about you up there. III told me. Heâs worried.â
âIsnât III part of the leadership?â Ricky replied, arms crossed over his chest. âHeâs just worried Iâm going to find whatever they want to hide. Heâs not worried for me.â
âYouâre wrong.â
Matt was categorical - enough for Ricky to shut up for once and give him the space to explain what he meant.
âHeâs the only one whoâs⌠of sound mind. More or less. The others are⌠they areâŚâ
He shivered, and his voice quivered. The British guy obviously feared the other leaders. Did he also fear the Supreme Leader? It was hard to tell.
âTheyâre very proud of what theyâve accomplished,â he began again, his voice so low it was difficult to hear him even at this distance. âFor them, itâs a utopia. But the utopia is built on the white soldiers. And⌠on devotion to their Goddess.â
The Supreme Leader built this Ark in response to the outside world becoming more and more dangerous. He has withdrawn from society, however, and only comes out for religious services; his henchmen take care of everything.
I was there from the beginning. I saw the Ark rise from its own ashes, saw the man turn into a myth. And I saw the families settle here - protected by this utopia. The soldiersâ ranks grew steadily, and they became skilled at protecting people. Gathered by grief and loss⌠thatâs how it works here. And thatâs how everyone started living again - not just surviving.
Here, weâre in the lowest districts. The people around here are either newcomers like you or those who refuse to contribute to society. Thereâs a small economy here. With your token, you can buy all the essentials. To move closer to the center - into the real town - you need to work.
In the back, on the right, is the medical center. The sick and wounded are gathered there. Itâs⌠very rare to come out of it alive. But they do their best.
On the left are the fields - for those who canât grow their own food, and for the few animals we manage to keep alive here. Itâs not open to the general public, unless you work there.
The only people who can leave the Ark are the white soldiers. They organize expeditions outside the Dome to protect the Ark, find survivors, or bring back anything that could help the community. Theyâre divided into small battalions, led by II - you must have met him already.
A lot of soldiers also stay in the Dome permanently. These are led by⌠IV. Heâs very impulsive. The most dangerous of them all. Iâd even argue heâs the most dangerous person living here. If youâre spotted by IV, thatâs your first warning. Youâve got a target on your back. And thatâs exactly whatâs happening to⌠one of you.
III is the one who keeps him from pulling the trigger. Heâs the only one who stays close to the people. Heâs friendly - and he likes you. Maybe because⌠you kind of look like him. I guess.
âAnd thatâs all I know,â Matt finished. âMaybe if you fit in and contribute⌠theyâll let you leave. But Iâve never seen a stranger leave the Ark so soon. Most of the time, they just settle here. Build a family. Make friends.â
The silence was deafening. Sitting on the bare ground, his eyes fixed on the British manâs face, Ryan finally understood why his friend was so eager to find a way out of here. They were in a prison. Not a common one, with bars and bread and water for their only meal. It was far worse than that. In this prison, every prisoner was a potential threat. The bars were made of gold - and far too thick to tear apart. But most of all, Ryan felt doubt crushing his soul.
He too would have loved to live here. He wasnât very fond of their semi-nomadic life anyway.Â
But he still had a promise to keep.
Would that promise be enough to stand against the appeal of this new life?
Ricky was leaning against the wall, far from his friends, and felt his heart pounding in his chest. He had known he was right from the beginning. But knowing it was one thing - having confirmation was something else entirely. And that so-called target on his back⌠Yes, he had noticed that the soldiersâ gazes - however hidden by their helmets - were on him. But he had hoped things would sort themselves out with time, that heâd have more freedom to move around without feeling like a bullet might land in his head just for stepping somewhere he shouldnât have. He was wrong.
Still, Mattâs story had revealed an opportunity.
Here, turrets were almost non-existent and had been replaced by slums scattered around street corners. The soldiers were more accessible - but perhaps a bit more alert as well.
So he could just⌠join them. Without them realizing he was there.
No - in fact, they could all wear those full-body uniforms.
Ryanâs piercing gaze brought Ricky back to earth. He gave him an inquiring look.
I know what you want to do, Ryan signed.
Itâs my duty, Ricky signed back. He didnât want anyone to notice their conversation.
Chris will be insufferable.
He knows we donât have a choice.
Let him go with you then.
Nope. Itâs too dangerous.
And yet youâre going.
Fuck you.
Ryan was right, of course. But Ricky didnât want to admit it. It was like he had something to prove. Like⌠deep down, he wanted to be the only one risking his life every day. Like he, too, felt responsible for what happened the last time they went through hell.
Chris wasnât the only one carrying a burden too heavy for him.
He was walking through the dimly lit streets, avoiding nosy looks - or maybe just the cameras, whose blind spots he had learned after a week here. Oh, he could have talked to the locals. Shown some interest in life here to better prepare for his departure.
But in truth, he didnât want to get used to it.
His obsession with the city center and his fear of being locked away pushed him to take risks he shouldnât have, just to get closer to the militia. He didnât trust these strangers - not even Matt, who had helped them so much. No. His trust was withering away. The trust he had in his friends, but also his self-confidence. The pain in his chest reminded him of that recent time he had almost died during a mission. The growing headache heâd been feeling since they arrived here had become a sort of Damoclesâ sword hanging over his head. The loss of his bearings, of his weapons, of his jacket, in a hostile environment where all eyes were on him - it was all too much and only added to his constant stress.
So Ricky rushed forward. Did everything not to think. Kept his mind busy with the tailing, so his subconscious would stop fearing those uniforms⌠and the shadow behind them.
The group he was following stopped at a crossroads and stayed there for a while, exchanging silent hand signs he had learned to recognize - though he still struggled to decipher them. Whatever. The four of them then split up, two by two. They were more vulnerable that way, as if the universe was handing him another opportunity.
He had to get one of those uniforms.
Ricky lightened his footsteps on the bare earth, still avoiding anything that could give him away - whether it be cameras or a nosy neighbour. He was on edge: stress, adrenaline, and several days of poor sleep were getting the better of him, and he was on the verge of collapsing right then and there. Only a maddening focus on his mission kept him upright, even though his hands trembled on and off.
The two soldiers entered a structure Ricky knew to be one of their so-called âpolice stationsâ - a place he had already observed, where he had spotted every flaw he now planned to exploit.
He carefully avoided the camera aimed at the entrance and slipped into the parallel street. His gaze drifted upward; he found a handhold, tested its strength, and began to climb. A few seconds later, he lay flat on a holed roof, ears pricked.
âIâm so tired of being here,â a woman mumbled. âItâs been ages since Iâve been to the center!â
âThey always have a reason for what they do,â a man replied, his voice weary.
âYeah, I know. S-2 made that pretty clear.â
Ricky held his breath and peered through the small cracks. There really were only two of them. This was his chance.
One of the silhouettes began to walk away, and he slowly followed, crawling over the steel blades that cut into his limbs. His heart was pounding so loudly he thought the entire district could hear it. Still, no one stopped him when he left his platform and slipped through a narrow hole in the roof. He could almost hear Chrisâs voice in his head:Â âStop going solo, Rick! You chase danger like youâre invincible!â
But he knew what he was doing. He pressed himself flat against the wall near an unhinged door and counted.
As fast as lightning, the dark-haired man elbowed the white-clad soldier in the neck. The soldier staggered, and Ricky caught him, not wanting the second one to hear a sudden fall. The thought of facing two opponents without a real weapon was terrifying. His fingers groped beneath the collar, pressing against the enemyâs throat as they began to struggle weakly.
âShh⌠itâll be over soon,â he whispered, eyes fixed on her youthful face.
She couldnât be older than twenty. Probably hoped for a better future, even though she knew nothing of the world before - all sheâd ever known was this post-apocalyptic mess. She had that restless spark of youth.
And here he was, cutting off the blood flow to her brain, hoping to kill her quickly enough that she wouldnât get up and alert her partner.
He was turning into a monster.
His hand only loosened its grip when she stopped resisting. Deep down, Ricky hoped she would survive - but he doubted it. And as he began to strip her uniform and collect her weapons, the fact that he didnât care whether she lived or died began to unsettle him.
But not enough to stop.
Not enough to keep him from drawing one of the blades and, with a determined look, stepping into the room she had just left - where another enemy was waiting for him.
Vinny was focused on his task, a screwdriver in hand, made of flesh and bones, trying to fix the one that had just broken. The main drawback of losing their truck was that he could no longer perform the necessary maintenance on their prosthetics, and some - like his robotic arm or Ryanâs mechanical jaw - were seriously starting to suffer from it. He finally let out a sigh, set down his tool, wiped his sweaty forehead with his metallic hand, and grinned at the computer genius.
âThere we go!â he shouted. âThat was shitty, but it should do the job. Temporarily. I think. Maybe.â
Nice. So my life depends on a âmaybeâ.
âRAH! But Iâm doing my best here!â
The two engineers bantered back and forth for a while. Meanwhile, Chris and Justin were slouched in a corner, sitting on the bare floor, their backs against a wall. In front of them lay a small black notebook, open in the middle, its pages scribbled all over.
âI should have known,â Chris whispered.
âItâs not your fault,â Justin replied, his arm wrapping around his friendâs shoulders. âHeâs all grown up. You canât always be on his back.â
âIf something happens to him, IâŚâ
âWeâll all be responsible. But at the same time⌠not. The only way to protect him would be to tie him up and throw him in a corner.â
Chris let out a bitter laugh, not really amused by the image. Justin was right, of course, but the guilt still gnawed at him. He had known that Ricky wasnât feeling right - yes; he had seen him grow more and more secretive, almost paranoid over the last few days. He also knew about his new obsession with those âwhite soldiers.â But he had underestimated how much this obsession was overriding any sense of rationality.
And now that he had read his notes - seen his drawings, so aggressively drawn that some had pierced through the page - he finally understood how blind he had been.
And that was maybe the worst feeling ever.
âIâve talked to F-14,â Justin said with a soft smile. âYou know, our neighbor from the end of the street. He says he can get us something close to the center. It would bring us closer to our target.â
âF-14⌠the mad old man?â
ââŚYes, maybe. But sometimes, heâs coherent.â
Chris sighed heavily. Nothing they were telling him made the guilt leave his mind, and he couldnât even stay focused on the present. Justin was trying to be helpful in his own way - even getting close to the strangest of the locals, as if that could help them escape this hell. Maybe he felt guilty too; but he never showed any signs. He was just solid as a rock, like that moment of weakness from when they had first stepped into the Ark was now part of the past.
âListen,â Justin resumed with a softer tone. âWe have to play their game. Prove weâre not a threat to this society and that weâll keep their little secret, or whatever. Rick⌠we have to reason with him, and maybe weâll really have to tie him up in here.â
âIf he comes back,â Chris noted.
His eyes wandered to the front door, as if their teammate might suddenly burst it open.
âHeâs gonna come back. He always does.â
Ryan and Vinny had stopped bantering and were watching their elder with a mix of curiosity and worry. Nobody here really knew how to escape. In fact, they had only one hope: to wait for the three sunrises Matt had talked about. But the duration of their stay was completely unpredictable, and even though they had a roof over their heads and some edible food on the table, no one could enjoy the moment.
We canât stay here doing nothing while waiting for them to decide what to do with us, Ryan signed, looking at Chris. We have to act too.
âAnd what do you propose we do, genius?â Vinny mocked, but he received an elbow in the ribs as retaliation.
âHeâs right,â Chris said.
He looked one last time at the notebook and closed it carefully. Seeing Rickyâs drawings disturbed him far too much.
âMaybe itâs comfortable to live here, but we have a mission to accomplish outside.â
And I remind you that thatâs why we left Seattle to begin with.
âThatâs also why I left,â Justin added. âTo offer my family a better life than this. Thatâs why we all moved our asses here. Itâs just a setback, but weâre gonna make it out of here.â
They all had a good reason to leave. However, when the silence came back, every single one of them felt defeated instead of motivated. They knew they couldnât beat whoever had decided to lock them in here. They wouldnât be able to brute-force their way to the truck and escape this giant bunker.
âItâs gonna take ages,â Vinny let out, sinking into his seat. âAnd we-â
Three little knocks on the door immediately cut the engineer off mid-complaint. He was the first to stand up from his chair and approached the panel with apprehension. The area was so dodgy - even if they hadnât had any bad encounters so far - that he hoped nobody was trying to attack them right in âtheirâ house. He pulled the door open abruptly, the hinges squeakedâŚand Mattâs pale, horrified face appeared. He looked like heâd been through hell, with his dishevelled hair and messy clothes that had seen better days. However, his voice was still clear when he spoke:
âTheyâre waiting for you. Please⌠come with me.â
