Three days came and went, and they hadn’t stepped out of the hotel room.
Ivy, as if still mourning the loss of their unborn child, had spent her time sleeping the pain away. Ash remained patient, but he was ready to move forward.
Bringing her a second cup of tea that morning, Ivy propped herself upright and took the mug from Ash’s hands. He sat down in the bed beside her.
She seemed less anxious whenever he was near.
“Hey,” she said, blowing steam away from the mug. “Do we have any mangoes left? I could really go for one.”
As they had stayed longer in Coolgardie than expected, food supplies were running low. Money was getting tighter too. To humour Ivy, he checked the fruit basket for mangoes, but of course there were none. He offered her a pear instead, which she grudgingly accepted.
“Should we leave the hotel today?” asked Ivy, in between bites. “I’m starting to feel cooped up in this room.”
Ash began typing.
“Yes, if you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to continue driving. We could be in Perth by this afternoon if we leave soon.”
“Sounds like a plan. Let me have a rinse-off first, and then we’ll go.”
By the time she’d showered and dressed, Ash had already packed up the car. They checked out of their room just before eleven and hit the road.
They were only two kilometres out of Coolgardie when Ash remembered his mobile phone. He’d forgotten to destroy it.
No doubt his army had noticed he’d remained idle in the town for several days. He’d even missed the agreed drop-off day, which had probably raised suspicions about his loyalty. Ash could almost imagine Nigel Durham trying to contact him, demanding an explanation for his tardiness.
The British were watching his every movement like hawks, leaving Ash with little choice than to dispose of the mobile phone, along with his deployment chip.
He pulled down the driver’s side window and hurled it out of the moving car.
“Why do you have the window down?” asked Ivy, turning her head towards him. “It’s friggin’ hot out there.”
Ash pushed the button and let the glass slide back up into place. She would never know it, but he felt as though he’d just shifted a weight from his shoulders.
At last, he felt free.
***
He took a different route than originally planned.
Fearing the British would predict his movements; Ash consciously avoided certain roads, and in turn he ended up almost doubling the length of the journey.
It was a tiring precaution, but Ash didn’t want to risk the car being spotted. After all, many would know exactly what car to look for.
He would have to abandon it once they reached their destination.
On the final leg of the journey, Ash avoided Bayswater (and the neighbouring suburbs) as he carried on towards the city. Even though his army were hiding in the suburbs just outside of Perth, Ash wanted nothing to do with his former military.
In his mind, his service had ended long ago.
The rolling desert plains behind them, they were truly back in civilisation now. Buildings and homes lined the immaculately paved roads. After passing through so many war-ravaged towns, it was a refreshing change of scenery. Perth, being the most isolated city in the world, definitely had its benefits.
Just two kilometres from the central district, Ash spotted Australian soldiers standing behind barricades, blocking the road. They were also armed. The uniformed men and women were carrying what appeared to be long-barrelled guns.
Ash veered the car left and pulled over to the side of the road.
“Whoa,” said Ivy, grabbing the dashboard. “Why have we stopped?”
He gave a simple explanation.
“I see the Australian army. They’ve blocked the roads.”
“Ash? We’re on their side, remember?”
“What if they ask for our IDs? We will give ourselves away.”
“Oh, hold on, I can fix that,” said Ivy and she began emptying her pockets.
After a minute struggle, Ivy fished out two cards from her back pocket and tried to hand it to Ash. After a brief inspection, he soon realised they were Australian military badges – just names, no photos – but neither of them belonged to Ivy.
“Where did you get these?”
“I swiped them ages ago,” she said, simply. “Do you remember when we were at that refugee camp outside of Canberra? I heard two Riot Reapers bragging about how they’d taken military badges from fallen Australian soldiers. It enraged me, so I sparked up a casual conversation with them and pickpocketed the badges while they were distracted. I guess nobody ever suspects the blind girl...”
Ivy had a knack for stealing. He couldn’t help but wonder what else she’d stolen along the way.
“If we show those badges to the soldiers, they should let us through.”
Ash had his reservations, but he didn’t really have a choice. He put the car back into drive and cautiously drove towards the barriers. Just a metre away, he put on the brakes and watched as an armed officer strode towards the driver’s side door.
Ash opened the driver’s side window, coming face to face with an Australian soldier.
“I’ll need to see some identification, please,” she said. “Thank you.”
Ash handed the badges to her. The soldier then scanned them, using some kind of device attached to her wrist, and then handed the badges back to him.
“You’re good to go,” said the soldier. “Welcome home.”
No quicker had the soldier walked away before the barricades were removed in front of the car, revealing a clear route into the heart of the city.
Ash held up a hand, as if telling them thank you, and he continued down the road.
A sense of accomplishment washed over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly felt at ease, but at last, the light was visible at the end of the dark tunnel.
Perth was beautiful, but still under high alert. On almost every corner, he could see more soldiers looking to the skies as they carried their weapons.
At last, Ash spied a sign directing new war survivors to Kings Park. Figuring he and Ivy fit the bill, he drove towards the magnificent mound of land and parked the car just outside the reserve.
When the car engine finally died, Ivy reached out and caressed his face.
“I’m pretty sure we’ve travelled over six thousand kilometres from where we first started,” said Ivy. “And we’ve had more than our fair share of obstacles.”
Agreeing with her, Ash leaned over and kissed her tenderly. Her affection was even more rewarding after such an intense journey.
When they broke apart, Ivy leaned back in her seat and listened to the sound of cheerful birds starting up with a welcoming croon.
“Whereabouts are we by the way?” asked Ivy.
“Just outside Kings Park.”
“Perfect. I know somewhere safe we can go,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Where? Give me directions. I’ll drive us to it.”
She laughed, followed by an irresistible smile.
“We’re already there,” she replied. “It’s right beneath our feet.”
***
Arms linked, they walked down a road lined by towering trees on each side.
Bringing only the bare necessities with them, they had abandoned the car in the parking lot. They were thankful the vehicle had survived – still fully intact – against the harshest conditions, but it had served its sole purpose.
A cool breeze picked up. The branches hanging overhead gently rustled together.
“We need to find the wishing well,” said Ivy. “Keep an eye out for it.”
Without a map, Ash felt utterly lost. However, at the end of the street he spotted a clearing with a vibrant garden. In the centre of it all, stood a well.
Ash picked up the pace as he headed towards it.
“Do you see something?” she asked, hopefully.
Ash gave no response as he became mesmerised by the scenery. He stared beyond the garden, out to the horizon, as if admiring a masterpiece.
While the city skyline demanded attention, it was almost overlooked as the sun sank over the Swan River, gleaming under the light in all its glory.
He then turned back towards the well. It had been decorated with iron scrolls, all meeting in the middle, with a bell as the centrepiece. Ash peered over the top. The hole had been sealed, but he could still see a fair distance below.
“Ash? Do you see the well?” asked Ivy, pulling him from the daydream.
“Yes. It’s right in front of us.”
Ivy unlinked her arm and placed down her walking stick. Reaching both hands out in front, she crouched to the base of the well and placed her hands on the bricks.
“I need help,” said Ivy. “See if you can find an infinity symbol.”
Ash bent down and gave the bricks a closer inspection. Soon enough, he found what Ivy had been looking for. The symbol, engraved into the base, was clearly visible in the afternoon sunshine.
“It’s here. Third brick from the bottom.”
“Show me,” she said. “Guide my hand to it.”
Ash complied. Once Ivy finally had a finger over the symbol she pulled yet another card from her pocket and waved it in front of the brick.
The ground groaned beneath his feet. Ash stumbled backwards as the bricks surrounding the well shifted down and the seal over the top began to sink down, acting as a platform.
Ivy, edging her feet into the centre, stood on top of it.
“We’re going under the ground,” said Ivy, reaching out to him. “Take my hand.”
More than a million questions sprang to mind. Ash looked towards her, slowly scanning his eyes down towards the platform. He trusted her judgement, but still, the secret entry point left him with reservations.
“What’s underground? Is it safe?”
“It’ll be my first time going down to Kings Base, but it’s the best option we’ve got,” she said, beckoning. “Please, hurry. We’ve got to go.”
Letting go of his uncertainties, Ash took her hand and stood close to her. Soon enough, the platform began to lower, plunging into darkness.
Ash held his breath as they seemed to spiral down into the unknown, speeding up as they made the descent. He didn’t know how far they travelled, but there was a sudden burst of light as the wall pulled back in front of them, revealing a hidden utopia, buried deep under Australia’s most inconspicuous city.
Before his death, Brock M. Hoffman had urged Australians to head to Perth. Ash thought he finally understood why.
Manmade tunnels had been fused together underground and lit up with artificial blue lights. The walls were painted a light lavender colour, which had a calming effect on him, even though Ash was far from his comfort zone.
There were also people everywhere. The tunnel patrons were dressed in different coloured hues, coming from a range of different ethnic backgrounds. However, they all had one thing in common – they seemed relatively young. By best guess, Ash assumed the people were aged between twenty-five to mid-thirties. He also noted the people seemed positively jubilant. There was not a single frown amongst the crowd.
The tunnels seemed to stretch off in the distance too, so he couldn’t even pinpoint the exact size of the secret bunkers.
When the platform finally came to a complete halt, they stepped off the platform.
“Welcome to Kings Base,” said Ivy, squeezing his hand.
He let go, typing frantically.
“How did you know about this?”
“Well, there are some perks that come with having served in the RAAF,” she said. “This is perhaps the country’s best kept secret.”
“Is it just for military personnel?”
“No,” replied Ivy. “It’s for special people.”
“And we’re special?”
“Well, yeah, I guess we are now,” she said, grinning.
They’d only taken a mere few steps down the pathway when a blonde-haired man stopped them in their tracks. He shot out his hand towards them both.
“Hi, my name is Stewart,” said the man, shaking their hands. “I’ve been instructed to take newbies down to the gallery room. Please follow me.”
Running a hand over his forehead, Stewart then turned his back and began to walk away. Ash hadn’t moved an inch. He had no interest in obeying the demands of a stranger, but Ivy wasn’t at all fazed.
“We should follow,” she said, holding her arm out to Ash. “Let’s go.”
Hesitantly, he grabbed her hand and walked at a brisk pace to catch up. Passing through a swarm of people, they were led to a door at the end of a narrow tunnel. The lighting suddenly seemed a little dimmer.
Stewart scanned his thumbprint on the door and waited as it slid open. He stood back, bowed a little and gestured for them to go inside.
“After you,” he said, politely.
Seeing as he had little choice, Ash stepped inside, bringing Ivy along with him. The door was closed behind them.
There was also another man inside the gallery room, sitting in an armchair with his face buried in a book.
“They’re here for you now, Mr. President,” said Stewart, grabbing his attention.
The man in the chair then lifted his head towards them. Ash’s legs turned to dead weights. He stared, vacantly faced, trying to make sense of the impossibility.
Brock M. Hoffman snapped the book shut and stood from his chair. He looked towards Ivy, and then shifted his gaze towards Ash.
“Hi,” said Brock with a warm smile. “I believe we’ve met before.”
Ash barred an arm across Ivy’s chest, protecting her as he backed away towards the exit. However, they’d only taken two steps when she grabbed him in a headlock and pulled a blade to his throat. Lowering her lips to his ear she whispered,
“Gotcha.”
Brock, amused by the sheer look of terror in Ash’s eyes, began to laugh.
“Oh, if only you could see his face, Ivy,” he chortled.
“I can imagine,” she replied, keeping the knife in place. “It’s probably a mixture of fear and confusion.”
Ash’s body seemed to go limp under the panic. He lost the capacity to both fight and flee, rendering him no more than a dead man on his feet.
“Maybe we owe him an explanation,” said Brock, closing the gap between them.
“Cuff him first,” said Ivy. “We don’t want him getting clever.”
The moment she said it, Stewart swooped in front of Ash and grabbed his wrists. He pulled them behind Ash’s back and locked on a pair of handcuffs, setting them to powerless mode. Stewart then stood back, pointing a laser gun at him. At last, Ivy retracted her weapon and greeted the President with a firm handshake.
“I’m so glad we could meet at last,” said Brock. “Thank you for everything. We couldn’t have done this without you.”
“I did what I had to do,” she replied. “For my country.”
The walls spinning around him, Ash felt sick in the pit of his stomach. He started breathing hard. So damn close to passing out.
Ivy turned her head, hearing his distress. She lifted up her walking stick and tapped it against his paralysed body.
“So, here’s the thing, Ash,” she began, speaking softly. “I knew you were a Brit from the very start.”
The blood pounded in his ears.
“You never fooled me. I knew you were a fraud all along,” she continued. “You’re Ashley Griffin, a Royal Marines Commando. Do you remember the night we first met? I had only just lost my vision, but I could sense somebody was watching me. I was always on guard. In fact, I even pretended to be more hurt than I was to lull you into a false sense of security. I knew you were planning to kill me. I could hear you lurking closer and I was more than ready to defend myself.”
Ash closed his eyes, remembering when she pulled a knife from her boot.
“My attack took you by surprise and it left you scrambling, begging for your life. I truly did want to kill you that night. During our encounter I even grabbed your arm and felt the Union Jack patch on your jacket. British. I always knew it.”
She spoke more confidently than ever, but Ash swore the buzzing in his head made her voice sound like white noise – nothing more than deafening static.
Pushing through the disbelief, Ash tried to rewire his brain.
He had believed Ivy’s blindness had kept her naïve. Never. Ash had made a foolish assumption and she had played him. She had outsmarted Ash in his own damn game.
“Your story about being an Australian journalist held prisoner on a naval ship was complete bullshit. It was implausible. If you truly were a prisoner, we would have known about it. There was no record of any prisoners on any British vessels.”
Yet she had pretended to buy into it. Ash thought she was just gullible, but no, it was all a move of strategy.
“But hey, let’s just say I missed something,” she continued. “Let’s pretend I was ignorant to all of that; your biggest downfall came when we nearly kissed for the first time. Do you remember, on the island? I put my hand around your neck and I felt the deployment chip. I know for a fact only members of the British military get chipped. I suspect you got wise during our time together, and you removed your own chip at some stage, but it was already too late.”
His precautions had been all for nothing. The light was fading from his eyes.
“I’ve strung you along from day one,” she said, boasting. “As a Royal Marines Commando, you were always valuable to me. Not only were you an asset to my survival, but I knew if I worked hard to build a bond with you, you’d probably open up to me. And you did. Admittedly, I didn’t always have you under my control, but you’ve fallen straight into my trap.”
The irony was punishment enough, but Ash swore he could feel every vital organ in his body beginning to shut down. His intentions had been so damn similar, but clearly, she had executed it better. If not so disgusted, Ash would’ve almost praised her for it.
“The second you washed up on that island, you gave up. It became about seeing each day through, but it was never that way for me,” sneered Ivy. “My mind was focused. I had an objective to achieve, and I did it. I turned you into my weapon.”
Like a helpless fly caught in a spider web, Ivy had spun countless lies around him. Now she was moving in for the kill.
“Although we were stranded on the same island by pure coincidence, we always had conflicting agendas. You only cared about survival, but I always cared about winning,” she said, grinning ear to ear. “And I guess I’ve finally won.”
Ash looked to the ground, hoping the floor would give way beneath him.
“Have you got anything to say?” asked Brock, upturning his palms. “At all?”
“You won’t get a word out of him,” replied Ivy. “I’ve been trying for months.”
Adjusting his tie, Brock stepped a little closer to Ash. They locked eyes.
“You seem surprised to see me,” he said, mockingly. “I guess not many people have been brought back from a successful assassination, yet, here I stand.”
Ash’s hands trembled behind his back. He tugged at the handcuffs. No go. They didn’t budge in the slightest.
“I wasn’t dead for long. I was already halfway through my transition, so the nanobots in my system were quick to repair me,” explained Brock, but then he clicked his fingers. “Just so we’re clear, I am a subject of Operation Endurance. You’ve probably heard your army talking about it, right? It’s the code name we gave it, but I assure you it never had anything to do with nuclear weapons. This war is about fighting modern technology. The British didn’t like the fact we were investing in the future.”
A new wave of confusion washed over him. Ash shook his head.
“What’s more, nanobots aren’t anything new,” continued Brock. “We’ve been using them in medical science for decades, but now our scientists here in Australia have developed a new kind of nanobot. One that not only repairs human tissue and cells, but replaces them with something much more durable. In fact, our technology has become so advanced we can reverse the aging process. Our nanobots are the key to eternal youth.”
When it suddenly started to make sense again, Ash’s nostrils flared. Nanobots, he knew, were intricate microscopic robots. A person would ingest the tiny droids, often no bigger than a pencil eraser, and they’d maintain or repair the inside of the human body.
“Imagine it. Immortality,” he said, grinning. “We could live forever.”
Without warning, Brock loosened his tie and started undoing buttons on his collared shirt. He pulled it open, revealing his bare chest. He then closed a fist and pounded his sternum. An ominous turquoise glow began to radiate beneath his skin.
Ash remembered jabbing a knife right through Brock’s chest cavity, but there wasn’t even a scar left. Brock must’ve sensed he was reminiscing, so the President decided to shed some light on the matter.
“I remember our encounter in Tullamore, very clearly,” he began, smirking. “I’d never seen you before, but you managed to find me. You told me you wanted revenge, right before you threw a knife in my throat.”
“I only heard about what you did that night, more than a month later,” hissed Ivy, crossing her arms. “You slaughtered a bunch of military men – all pretending to be Riot Reapers in the Scythe Syndicate. They only posed as Reapers to elude others from the Scythe’s true agenda – keeping the President safe while in the process of transformation. But then you came into the picture and murdered our leader.”
“I was clinically dead for several minutes,” added Brock. “I was just lucky I had started my transition just two days earlier, and I’d already consumed enough nanobots to fix me up before the damage was irreversible. Now, thankfully, the process is complete.”
Lost in a moment of thought, a filthy smile spread across Brock’s face.
“Would you like to see a demonstration, Mr. Griffin?”
Brock called over Ivy and asked for her knife. She gladly surrendered it. Brock then rolled up his sleeve and put the blade in the centre of his wrist. He pushed through the skin and began to drag it down his forearm.
Ash squeezed his eyes shut as a natural reaction, but after a moment of curiosity he looked up to see scarlet red liquid ooze from the open wound, dripping to the ground below. The exposed flesh then morphed into a dull blue hue, before folding back together. Right before his eyes, the wound closed up in no time at all.
“I was born into this world as a man,” said Brock, spreading his arms out wide, “but now I am so much more than that.”
After handing the knife back to Ivy, Brock rolled his sleeve back down. He then turned his back momentarily and approached a small cabinet next to the armchair. He yanked a door open and pulled out a bottle, filled with an opaque blue-green liquid. Ash had seen it before. There had been several bottles of the fluid left around the silo in Tullamore. Ash had never given it much thought.
“This is what the British are looking to destroy,” said Brock, holding the bottle inches from Ash’s nose. “It might look like a strange coloured liquid to you, but it’s loaded with the world’s most sophisticated nanobots. Once consumed over several days, the nanobots replace organs, nerves, and muscles – everything with stronger, artificial ones. Even brain tissue. It morphs the subject into a remarkable being.”
It was wrong. So wrong. The Australians had invented a way of merging humans with micro machines. It defied nature. It defied life.
“I’m not the only one,” said Brock, beginning to circle Ash like prey. “Everyone in Kings Base, including Stewart here, have become transhuman.”
“But I’m not,” said Ivy. “But surely they’ll let me evolve too, right?”
“In time, I’m sure they will,” replied Brock. “But obviously, not everyone can become transhuman. Our subjects have to meet certain criteria and it’s partly the reason why the Brits came here to destroy Operation Endurance. When the British caught word we had started testing our nanobots on everyday human subjects, they threatened us with war. However, when we successfully morphed a regular person into an immortal being, well, then they suddenly sent an arsenal to fight us.”
Ash’s army, right from the very beginning, had lied to him.
“We’ve been experimenting with transhumanism for years,” continued Brock. “Truth be told, I didn’t know the full extent of the operation before I became President, but the research has always been there. We had several labs set up along the coast of Queensland, and heck, we even had a place for our subjects to live. All transhuman beings were taken to islands in the Whitsundays for extensive testing – it’s the reason the British picked that area to attack first – but knowing the secret was out, we moved the labs here, underground. They’ve been trying to find them ever since.”
“This is only the first step too,” said Stewart, still aiming the laser at Ash. “Our scientists have also found ways to download the human subconscious – with every trait of a human’s personality – onto hard drives. We can then upload the subconscious to the Skye. Not everyone can become transhuman, but they most certainly can live forever.”
“Precisely,” said Brock. “And so, our next focus is developing supreme intelligence within transhuman subjects. You see, a standard human can only know so much. Our brains don’t have the capacity to look at the bigger picture, but once we evolve with machines, we unlock unlimited possibilities.”
Ivy smiled smugly. Ash had opened his heart to her, but now he just wanted her dead. She had faked a passionate bond with him, simulating her emotions to get what she wanted. Ash had never questioned it either.
Ivy had outranked his duplicity. She was the mastermind of deception.
Footsteps echoing as he crossed the gallery, Brock put the turquoise bottle back in the cabinet and clapped his hands together.
“I understand there are so many moral questions here,” he said, “but our species is doomed. We have to embrace modern technology, otherwise, we’ll die out entirely.”
He was trying to justify it, but Ash could only see insanity.
“So even though you know the truth now, you’re probably still wondering why we brought you here,” began Brock. “In my eyes, you’re worthless. Completely disposable. However, your mobile phone, the ancient one you’ve been carrying around for months, is far more valuable to me than you are.”
Then Ash found himself smiling, beaming with raw hatred.
“Don’t look so happy, Mr. Griffin,” said Brock. “I’m aware you tossed the phone out of a moving car today, but we’ve already recovered it.”
Ash’s smile dropped.
“It’s been scratched and slightly dented, but it still works.”
Ivy, entertained by the revelation, began to laugh. Even Stewart couldn’t hold back traces of amusement. Brock clicked his fingers again and a door on the opposite side of the gallery opened up and six Australian soldiers – all armed – poured into the room. One of them had a clear bag in her hand. It had his mobile phone inside.
The soldier gave the bag to Brock. He delicately pulled the phone out and switched it on. Ash saw the screen light up. Already predicting Brock’s next move, Ash began squirming, fighting to break free but the handcuffs had him paralysed on the spot.
He truly was powerless.
“This phone,” said Brock, holding it up, “is probably the single most important piece of technology we’ve obtained this entire war. You see, every time we get a Brit mobile in our possession, it always gets encrypted. Yours is different though. It’s not synced to the database in the same way, and that’s probably because the phone never belonged to you in the first place.”
His sanity slipping away like a rug from under his feet, Ash felt his knees buckle forward. He only dropped a mere few inches, the cuffs keeping him locked in place.
“You know what we’re going to do, don’t you?” jeered Brock. “Not only do we suddenly have direct access to the Brit’s database, but we can also control Baibots from this device too.”
“Seriously?” asked Ivy, raising her eyebrows. “That’s news to me, how did you work that out?”
“Just today, as a matter of fact. We also learned how Baibots pick victims too. We always thought the machines found targets by tracking large areas of power and water consumption, but no, they track heartbeats. It’s quite ingenious, if you ask me. They’re also programmed to open fire when heart-rates rise above a certain level, and that’s usually when fear kicks in.”
“But I’ve heard Baibots also replicate themselves from whatever available materials they can find. Can you control those ones too?”
“Yes, they’re all connected under the one main server, even the poorly-built duplicates. The server is unstable at times though, which has made the Baibots rogue in places. There’s no doubt the machines were brought into this war well before they were thoroughly tested,” explained Brock. “Also, they’ve been programmed not to attack people with SIM card chips embedded under their necks, which of course, protects all the British from harm. We can reverse the program though and then we’ll lock it so no other changes can be made.”
Months ago, Ash had only wanted to aid his army so that he could see them claim a victory, yet now he was about to be solely responsible for their downfall.
He was more than a traitor. He was a villain.
“The British are awaiting your call, Ash,” said Brock. “We’ve read through your messages. We know you made plans to bring us down from the inside, but not only have you monumentally failed, but we’re going to use your own scheme against you.”
Ash closed his eyes, wishing he could scream.
“The British are waiting for you to pinpoint the exact location of Operation Endurance,” he continued. “Best of all, we can make that call on your behalf. Without a voice, they’ll just hear us communicating back in Morse code, and they’ll give us the benefit of the doubt. And then? Once we’ve rounded up a large number of British troops in the one area, we’ll strike. Lastly, we’ll program the Baibots to turn on them.”
Some of the soldiers cheered.
“We’ll call the British once we’re back on the surface. As Ivy knows Morse code, she’ll pretend to be you and give false information, luring them into a prime position,” boasted Brock. “Then we will attack. We will unleash anarchy on your army. The war will end today.”
“We’ve been setting this up for a long time too,” added Ivy, and she turned her body in Ash’s direction. “Ash, I gave you a bullshit story about some nuclear weapons hiding in a bunker of an abandoned uranium mine. You bought it. So, if I call your army and mimic you, they’ll believe me when I give them coordinates to an old secluded mine. Surely they’ll launch a full-scale recovery mission, and that’s when they’ll be most vulnerable for an attack. They’ll never see it coming.”
Lives would be lost. Hundreds, if not thousands. And it would be all Ash’s fault.
“I think we’re done here,” said Brock, picking up the book from his armchair. “I’d like Ashley escorted to a cell in the C-Zone. He will be held there until further notice.”
Two armed soldiers then grabbed Ash’s wrists. They switched the handcuffs back to the standard setting and began to take him away.
“Hold on,” said Ivy, putting a hand up.
Using her walking stick, she tapped the ground as she walked towards Ash. Stopping dead in front of him, Ivy rested a hand against his face. Her cold hands burned against his skin.
“You had this coming from the start,” she whispered, icily.
He stamped his foot on the ground, communicating in Morse. Brock, along with the soldiers began to laugh at the gesture, but Ivy did not. She understood what he was telling her.
You are a disgrace to your family name.
“Get him out of here,” she snapped. “Lock him up and let him rot.”
The soldiers began pulling him away. Ash caught a glimpse of Ivy whispering something in Stewart’s ear. He then nodded and then turned to follow Ash and the group of soldiers. Ivy and Brock remained behind in the gallery, talking amongst themselves, and then the doors closed once Ash had re-emerged into the main tunnel.
He’d only been dragged a further few feet before he was stopped again.
Stewart appeared in front of him. Ash looked him squarely in the eye, trying not to show fear, but all hope had withered away.
“Do you want to know what Ivy said to me before we left?” asked Stewart. “She asked me to deliver a token of her gratitude to you.”
Knowing what was coming next, Ash tried to prepare himself for the blow, but it made no difference. He punched Ash in the throat, making him buckle to his knees, gasping for air.
The armed soldiers forced him to stand again, but if he’d had the choice, he would’ve stayed down.
He had nothing more to lose.