8

CALI AND THE MIRROR

I can see how it breaks Diesel down. Every step he takes approaching us is a mountain he climbs.

Like Diesel, Torsten doesn’t have a thread of clothes on. Across his chest and stomach lie the knife wounds. The dry blood stains his skin like tattoos. His head is bent backwards. His mouth is slightly open. Dry clots of blood encrust the empty eye sockets.

When Diesel reaches us, his head turned away, Zenzele kicks him in the back. He nearly topples forward.

“Get yourself in the water,” Verdoorn orders.

The fear grabbing hold of Diesel is like a black curtain descending over him. We were taught not to get scared, but sometimes you are more man than monster.

With Torsten’s body in his arms, Diesel makes his way to the Lake of Tears. I suddenly realise that I’ve been holding my breath this whole time. It makes me lightheaded. I breathe out slowly. Wait until Diesel enters the water before I take another breath.

Slowly but surely, Diesel proceeds deeper into the lake. The water folds like tar around his ankles, around his strong calves. It washes over his knees.

He comes to a standstill.

“You stop when I say you stop!” Verdoorn cries.

Diesel marches further. The water reaches his thighs, his bottom. Pushes up over his waist. Like a darkness swallowing him, it shifts up over his back.

“Haul your dead sergeant higher,” Verdoorn orders.

Diesel raises Torsten’s body above the water. Again, he hesitates.

“In you go!” Verdoorn’s voice echoes across the lake.

Another step. The water shifts over Diesel’s shoulder blades. He raises Torsten even higher.

“Deeper!”

Another step. The water closes around Diesel’s neck. He staggers around with the corpse above his head, his arms straight, as if he’s sacrificing Torsten to the clouded sky.

“Stop!”

In the distance, the fires on the battlefront keep burning. Rifle shots crackle. Bombs crash down.

And I hear the drums.

It comes rolling across the battlefield, across the dark water. It’s like thunder, but it isn’t. It is like the cracking of weapons and the roaring of bombs, but it isn’t.

Cypher turns his head towards me. His Force number shines in his eyes. “If you could, would you take Diesel’s place?” he asks. “Would you go and stand there, maybe die for him?”

His words jolt me back to Cali.

Each part of the Programme focuses on a new skill. Handling of weapons, using explosives, navigation, night marches over barely passable terrain.

But this was something totally new to us. Our training entered a new stage after it had been continuing for months already. Eighteen of us had been kicked out by that time. There were twelve left in our section.

One of them was the girl I wasn’t allowed to love.

Cali.

Black hair and olive-coloured skin. Big dark eyes that could soften my insides without me even trying. It simply happened. All the time, I wanted to touch her, but even that wasn’t allowed, except when it formed part of our training. I tried to stay as close to her as I possibly could, touching her secretively when I thought nobody was watching. It became a game. Something to look forward to with each coming day.

She didn’t say it, but I knew she felt that way too.

Merely thinking about her made my breath catch in my throat. My stomach churned. Strange warm feelings grabbed hold of me, kept me awake at night.

Twelve were left – Cali was one of them on that day when we stood before the new challenge: an assault course inspired by pure evil. All the regular stuff you’d expect was there: balancing beams, high walls to scramble over, ropes to climb, cargo nets. But this time, it was different.

When Torsten drove us out of the RegiMog, we laid our eyes on it for the first time. We didn’t know where we were but it looked like Armageddon. The ruins of an old city – not Colonia – covered in dust. Burning tyres all around. Clouds of gas bubbled from manholes. Stuttering machinery rattled on and on. A constant hum also filling the air.

We were dressed in dark uniforms, our faces smeared black behind gas masks. Weapon in hand, but no ammunition. Our orders: Follow the drones. Assemble at the rendezvous point at the other end of the track.

Three other instructors joined Torsten that day. I’d seen them before in the Training Camp, strolling around with him. Tough guys who took no prisoners.

Above our heads hovered nine, ten drones. One of them dashed forward suddenly. It cast a laser image of the three-headed dog against a building. Our first station.

A shock grenade exploded behind us. The signal to run. We raged forward. Vaulted over blocks of granite. Evaded steel cables protruding dangerously from crumbling concrete structures.

Cali was right by my side. I could hear her breathing. Sense the mysterious attraction between us. It brought me an inner peace, even though the tension was on the increase, for suddenly a countdown commenced on the laser sign. We had thirty seconds left to reach the station.

We lengthened our strides. Out of nowhere, the instructors’ bullets came raining down on all of us. Concrete shattered, spraying violently around us. Our target was on a balcony, two floors above the ground. There was no way we would make it.

But we tried.

There! A rope. It dangled from a fire escape.

Fifteen seconds.

Victor grabbed the rope. Scrambled up. The rest of us followed. Hand over hand, higher. No legs necessary. It wasn’t our first rope climb.

Victor reached the top first. He hoisted Victoria up to the platform. Then me. I helped Cali and Cypher. Victor helped Diesel and the other guys. I grabbed Jethro’s outstretched hand, but Jethro hadn’t reached the top yet when the canine insignia glowed red above our heads.

“Back to where you started!” Torsten called out from the wrecked building across the road. “Back! You make me sick!”

I glanced over my shoulder at the path we had travelled, right into the distance where the RegiMog stood waiting. It was quite a long way. Victor slid down the rope without questioning the order. Victoria was right behind him.

The rest of us followed. Tired, we reached the starting point again. I gave Cali’s shoulder a quick squeeze. Felt her arm brush against mine.

The shock grenade came before we could catch our breath properly. The ground shuddered beneath our feet. A new target stood illuminated in the distance. The terrain was even rougher on the way there.

“Move!” Torsten cried above the clatter. From the corner of my eye, I saw him and the other instructors shooting at us.

The bullets from the machine guns riddled the building we were passing. A track of bullet holes exploded, showering us with concrete. Some of the projectiles struck metal, sending a ricochet of silver flares flying.

We pushed onward.

Past live power cables twisting with surging sparks.

Over rolls of razor wire, slicing, sinking its hooks into our skin.

Safely across thin tripwires threatening to activate mines.

The time ticked on.

“Come on, guys, come!” Cali encouraged us.

“Who-har!” we roared, motivating each other in unison.

Suddenly the earth tore open before our feet. Victor jumped across, then his sister, Cali, the rest of us. I reached the other side by a hair’s breadth, noticing for a split second the worry in Cali’s eyes. There wasn’t much time to think about what might have happened had I fallen. How far down would you tumble? Would Torsten rush to your aid, or would he leave you there to die? Automatically disqualified. Out of the Programme.

Again, we found ourselves at a rope we had to clamber up. I was confident that this time around, we would be victorious.

But I was way ahead of myself. The rope’s anchoring place – a rusty old pipe, high up against the building – was pulling loose. The pipe bent, giving way. The rope jolted. I almost lost my grip. Quickly, I tried getting a better grasp. But it was too late. There was a loud bang. The pipe snapped in two. The rope slipped free.

“We’re falling!” Jethro cried.

The blood rushed through my veins.

We tumbled to the ground like a sack of bones.

High above our heads, the target glowed red again.

Cali leaned her head against mine while we caught our breath. For just a moment. It was enough; we had to continue.

“Starting position! Now!” Torsten cried. “You don’t deserve to be here. I swear, Priest would have been able to get up that rope.”

Victor cursed and cursed and cursed behind his gas mask.

I gazed at him. Thunder and brimstone in his eyes. He didn’t like losing.

Again, we took our position at the start.

The drones kept us in their sights. One of them fired off a laser to the ground. It swept across the concrete rubble to a building that went up in flames all of sudden. Our target was right on top.

There was no way we were going to reach any of these targets. We were doomed to fail again and again. Then back to the starting point. The disappointment drove through us like poison.

Eventually, we couldn’t put one foot in front of the other any more. We ripped the gas masks off and collapsed in a heap between the rubble, bent metal, wooden splinters, burning rocks. That’s where we lay until Torsten came for us.

One comfort I found in that moment: Cali wrapped her little finger around mine below the gas mask in her hand. I closed my eyes and savoured the moment. Heard her softly whispering a word.

“Eliam.”

It was beautiful, my name on her lips.

Suddenly, Torsten reached us. Infuriated. He stared down at us, the gas mask still on his face.

The pistol in his hand moved dangerously from one person to the other.

“Get up. We’re doing it again,” he ordered.

We didn’t move. We had sacrificed our bodies. What more could we give?

“On your feet!”

He fired a warning shot into the ground next to us.

We didn’t move.

“Last chance, troops!”

Gasping for air, I rolled my head from side to side.

Suddenly, Torsten swung the pistol in my direction. I stared up into the black barrel. “You won’t dare.” I didn’t recognise my own voice, scraping past my dry throat. It sounded provoking, otherworldly.

But nobody tells Torsten what to do. Nobody entertains him with their opinions. I could see the hate burning in his eyes. How his finger slowly curled up. Fearlessly, I waited for the shot, wondering if he’d really go through with it.

Then it came. At the exact same moment when Cali, my dearest Cali, threw her body over mine, taking the bullet in her back.

The echo of the shot lingered between the buildings and died away in the crackling of the fires, the rattling of the machinery, the hollow sweeping sound of the industrial fans.

I stared at Cali. “What did you do?” I asked.

Her face grew still.

“Cali?”

In her eyes flickered her Force number. “There’s a mirror,” she said, choking.

“What mirror?” I asked. She struggled to get the words out. Her eyes grew heavy. “Cali? Talk to me.”

“Between here ... and the other side. Shiny glass.”

Blood poured out over her lips. I wiped it off with my hand.

“You have to see the mirror, Eliam. It is so ... beautiful.”

I could feel the life slipping from her, her body softening as it went limp in my arms.

Cali.

I’ll never forget her.

I’ll never forgive Torsten.

That one single day will remain etched in the dark side of my mind forever.

Did I await my chance at retaliation, and on the way here find the opportunity to punish Torsten? Did I murder our section leader?

It might be easy to think so. Understandable too. Revenge is an excellent motive for murder. The simplest explanation for a chain of events is usually the best explanation.

No doubt, I have it in me to do something like that.

Cypher isn’t the only one walking around with a serpent’s nest in his head.

I can’t remember very much else of that day on the assault course. It’s as if that part of my memory is drawn less sharply. But I remember which one of us was first on his feet. It was Diesel. He bent over Cali, rolled her over onto her back, and picked her up. When I rose to my feet, he lay her in my arms. I carried her away to the waiting military ambulance.

Before the medical orderlies could zip her up in the body bag, I took her hand. It was still warm. In my mind, I again heard her saying my name: Eliam.

I choked back the tears, leaned over, and kissed her tenderly, tenderly.

Sometimes, I still taste her blood on my lips. In my mouth.

Cali. I still carry her name on the chain around my neck, beside my own name tag.