Hermits, recluses, spiritual gurus – many have left civilisation in search of enlightenment by communing with nature. Leaving behind the constructs of society, they find their true place among the tree of life: just one living part of the many, all channels of pure cosmic energy. But the rest of us, we’re too busy getting to work, watching TV or thinking about what we’ll have for dinner to wonder about the energy eddying around us, calling us home.
Brock Williams, Working Notes.
“It comes down to energy,” Vulcan said, rapping his cane against the floor. Catherine jumped in her chair, her wrist cuffs rattling with the movement. Today’s outing was an anomaly; she only ever left her cell to visit the shock chamber. Compared to the stark white chamber and her cell, she found Vulcan’s office overwhelming. Catherine breathed in the scent of the leather furniture and the cool fresh air that trickled through the window. For a moment she didn’t care what Vulcan wanted; she just wanted to feel the wind on her face, to press her toes into the snow.
“I’m not a spiritual man,” Vulcan continued, moving to look out the window at the convergers running drills. “Miranda believed in beings beyond our comprehension; gods, almost. I think she went a little loopy before her unfortunate death.”
Catherine focused on the notes of pine in the air, sensing Vulcan didn’t want to be interrupted. What could she say, anyway? She’d never known the previous Chief Director. Since she’d been held prisoner, her old supervisor, Deckker, had visited her once and only then to deliver a spiel about complying with Vulcan’s wishes. It still amazed her to think she had been part of the MRI’s web for years without ever realising it. Deckker hadn’t really been her supervisor; he was an MRI agent assigned to monitor her and her work. It made her skin crawl, but months in solitary had dulled every urge except the instinct to survive.
“The ones you call walkers are different, yes, but the principle is the same in the convergers. The bond generates a significant amount of energy. Power that can be harnessed.” Vulcan turned away from the window and faced Catherine. “We’ve improved the blaster design but Dr Fisher assures me there is room for more progress. I want you to work on the project.”
The memory of Mikey aiming his blaster, the unbelievable pain as the electroshock zinged through her neurons, came back to her. It made her sick to her stomach. Rot in hell.
Someone rapped on the door and Vulcan replied by jabbing his cane against the floor. “Dr Fisher will give you a tour of the facility,” he said, waving his cane at Fang, who now stood in the open doorway. She nodded at Catherine. “Shall we?”
It felt like a trap. Why would Vulcan want her to work on the project? He must realise she’d do everything she could to sabotage his efforts. Vulcan rapped his cane again in irritation. Catherine stood, her cuffed hands in front of her and, swallowing a retort, followed Fang into the hallway. Two soldiers detached themselves from the wall to follow at a discreet distance. Why now? Why not leave me in my cell? The soldiers’ boots clicked against the concrete. Because the stick didn’t work. Now they’re trying the carrot.
They entered another wing with one wall made entirely of glass. Catherine stopped in her tracks. Snowy mountains beckoned over an emerald-green forest dusted with white. She edged forward and pressed her hands against the glass, the restraints biting into her wrists. She wanted to drink it all in. The gentle cascades of snowfall as the trees swayed, the glittering motes of light. Condensation formed on her palms and she pulled them away, relishing the icy cold, dreaming of the wind dancing around her, ruffling her hair, carrying her far away from here.
Fang stood by Catherine’s side and pretended to admire the view. “I apologise for your treatment thus far, Catherine. Vulcan can be … harsh,” she murmured.
Catherine flinched, wary of these overtures of friendship. She opted for a neutral response. “I’m not sure harsh covers it.”
Fang clicked her fingers at the soldiers. “Please remove her restraints – she’s not going anywhere.”
A soldier ran a metal wand over Catherine’s wrists and the cuffs clicked open. Catherine rubbed her wrists and flexed her fingers, relishing the sudden taste of freedom. What the hell was Fang playing at? She’d basically handed Catherine to Vulcan. Because of Fang, she was being held prisoner, tortured, isolated. Another voice niggled at the back of her mind: Then why did Fang save me when Vulcan had a gun pressed to my head? Catherine risked looking at Fang. Her face was a calm mask but the dark circles under her eyes made Catherine wonder what kind of pressure to succeed Vulcan placed on Fang.
Fang kept her gaze locked on the view. “I’m sorry for my part in all this. These last few months …” Fang turned, just enough to meet Catherine’s eyes. Self- conscious, Catherine pulled the collar of her crumpled fatigues up over the scars and bruises, but not before Fang had a chance to see the damage. Fang looked momentarily stunned then recovered and went on. “We should be working together. We’re running out of time.”
“For what? For the MRI to take over the world?” Catherine spat. She didn’t want Fang’s pity, but she was right. Time was one thing they didn’t have.
Fang pressed a hand to the window with a frown. “Dr Smith and I convinced Vulcan that you would be an asset to our research team.” Fang broke off and glanced at the soldiers. But she needn’t have worried, the men were distracted by a passing colleague and the three were staring at a screen. Fang lowered her voice. “The Chief Director underestimates the power of the solar storm, and doesn’t believe in Nyx. But I do. The solstice will magnify the intense power of the solar storm allowing Nyx to break free. We can’t let that happen, but we only have a limited window of opportunity.”
Catherine stared at Fang in disbelief. “To do what? For you to have another attempt at overthrowing Vulcan and wresting control of the MRI?”
Fang abruptly turned on her heel and started off down the hall. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder. “Lots to see.”
The soldiers stopped gossiping and glanced between the two women. Catherine had no idea what game Fang was playing, but if the choice was between following her or being stuck with the soldiers, it was no choice at all. She hurried to catch up.
“The cafeteria,” Fang announced, opening a door to reveal a huge room filled with long tables and a servery. Scientists sat nursing coffee and biscuits. The smell of hot toast, eggs and bacon wafted over from the bains-marie. It made Catherine’s mouth water. Fang beckoned her closer. “Keep your voice down. Vulcan’s lackeys may not be the brightest, but they tend to remember anything yelled in their general direction.”
“What did you mean about the potential of the solar storm?” Catherine hissed.
Fang glanced at the soldiers. “The convergers’ gym and quarters are directly below us,” she said, then set off again. She reminded Catherine of a guide on one of those cheap holiday tours. They went down another corridor and almost bumped into a group of convergers. The teenagers gave Fang a quick salute then disappeared into the heavy-duty lift, their animals placid by their sides. Catherine stared at them in shock. They didn’t look like teenagers – they looked like hardened soldiers. Is this where her research had led? It felt like a kick in the guts.
Fang lowered her voice. “Dr Smith and I have reconstructed some of Miranda’s and Brock’s research. It seems Brock has left us some breadcrumbs to follow.”
“Dr Smith? You mean … Derek.” Catherine stopped in the middle of the corridor, stunned. “Derek never believed in any of it.”
“The breadcrumbs have proven rather convincing,” Fang continued, ignoring Catherine’s comment. They turned into another hallway. “This is the scientific staff wing. Your room – contingent on accepting Vulcan’s offer – is here.” She motioned to the scanner inset into the wall, saying, “It’s already coded to your DNA signature.”
Catherine pressed her palm against the silicon screen and the panel lit up. The door retracted, sliding into the wall cavity with a hiss of air. Inside reminded her of a hotel room; a comfortable bed, soft light, a desk, with one major exception. An enormous window framed that incredible view of snow and conifers. Catherine broke into a smile.
“You’ll find civilian clothing in the wardrobe. There is a tablet in the desk drawer, access code to the internal network, everything you need.” Fang returned her smile. If it weren’t for the white lab coat, she looked every inch the hotel concierge.
Catherine sank onto the bed. It was so soft she could lie down right now and sleep for a million years. In truth, there was only so long she could survive alone in her cell. And what good was she to anyone rotting away down there? Catherine looked at Fang, all poised and confident to the point of arrogance. Saying yes to Vulcan’s poisonous offer might mean she could figure out what Fang and Derek were up to. More to the point, she might find a way to either stop them or help Robyn and the walkers.
Fang moved to leave then hesitated, lingering on the threshold. She turned to face Catherine. “You know, it was pure chance that I ended up on this side of the war and you on the other.” She went to step forward, corrected herself, all poise momentarily lost. “Maybe in another life, we might have been friends …”
Catherine leapt to her feet. In two strides she was across the room and standing toe to toe with Fang. “Friends don’t hold guns to each other’s backs,” she said, and pushed past Fang out into the hallway.
Fang followed, the door hissing shut behind her. Maybe she’d never be able to bridge the abyss of anger and fear that separated her and Catherine. “I guess not,” she said quietly. With a small shake, her poise returned. She gestured down the hall. “This way.”
The gym, the library, the recreation room; Catherine took it all in. Finally, Fang paused by a reinforced steel door. “This is where you’ll be working with either Derek or myself.” She palmed the scanner and the door slid open.
Catherine was speechless. The laboratory seemed to go on forever, filled with a legion of scientists. Catherine scanned the room until she found the one person she was looking for. He stood by the sequencer talking to a group of scientists who seemed to be writing down every word he said like devout followers. As if he felt her gaze searing his skin, Derek looked over his shoulder. Catherine swallowed. She’d dreamed of the day she’d make him pay for what he did; for abandoning them, stealing their research, and torturing Ariana.
Derek left the group, their pens hovering over their tablets, and strode toward her. He stopped several paces short. “Catherine. It’s … good to see you.”
You could have seen me any time; you knew where I was. Trapped in a cell while above me, you lived in comfort working as Vulcan’s protégée. Steeling herself, Catherine managed a curt, “Derek.”
“Have you considered Vulcan’s offer?” Derek asked.
Catherine hated the eagerness on Derek’s face, but she hated herself more. If she went back to that cell, she’d go insane. She was about to make the same choice Derek had all those months ago. She turned to Fang. “Are we allowed outside?”
“We’re allowed anywhere within the compound boundaries.”
Catherine imagined the cool mountain air on her face, the wide open landscape; a place she could breathe. “Then I accept.”
Catherine woke in a tangle of warm blankets. Sensor lights flicked on and the room gradually brightened. She sat up in a rush. This was definitely not her cell. The events of yesterday flashed through her memory. She’d accepted Vulcan’s offer to join the research team. This was now her room. Catherine fumbled for the remote and, at the touch of a button, the blinds rose to reveal the snow-covered forest. Tugging a blanket around her shoulders, she stumbled over to the window. Outside was an unblemished world, bathed in the rosy glow of dawn. A momentary sense of peace washed over her.
Catherine shook herself free of the blanket. She might not have had much choice, but she had every intention of turning this situation to her advantage. Opening the wardrobe, she examined the rack of clothes. After months in dark fatigues, they looked garish. Had Fang picked them? Catherine pushed aside the thought. It was best not to trust Fang. This charade was simply an attempt to gain her co-operation. Catherine pulled out a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. She added sturdy boots, thick wool socks and a long, warm cardigan.
She paused in the doorway of the bathroom, fearful of what the round vanity mirror might reflect back. Her cell hadn’t run to such luxuries; only bright white walls and the abyss of her mind. Tentatively, she stepped toward the mirror and raised her eyes. She barely recognised the woman staring back. Her hair was now a mess of blonde waves. It softened the hardness of her hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. Catherine examined her bare arms, the way the scar tissue along her wrists and forearms glistened under the light when she moved her arms. The sight tugged at her, remembered pain snaking through the scars. With a gasp, she gripped the edges of the sink. I’m going to make them pay for this.
Once showered and dressed, Catherine palmed opened the door. She peered up and down the hallway. It was empty. No soldiers lurked outside her door, waiting to trail her around the compound. It made her feel nervous.
Her heart thudding in her ears, she forced herself to step out into the corridor. Catherine drew herself tall and walked with a confidence she did not feel – out of the staff dorm wing and past the gym and cafeteria. Freedom fluttered in her chest like a bird eager to leave its cage. She relaxed into her stride, but when a heavyset door in the next hallway hissed open, she squeaked in alarm. Out stepped Derek, and with head bowed over his screen, he ran straight into her.
“Shit! Sorry,” he said, stumbling backwards in surprise. The door slid closed behind him, but not before Catherine glimpsed a bank of computers and an enormous screen filled with video feeds.
“You’re up early,” Derek said, swiping his tablet off and shoving it in his pocket. “Breakfast?”
His affable manner did nothing to conceal the dark circles under his eyes, his crumpled shirt. Had he been working all night? Catherine’s gaze flitted to the enormous door. What did it hide?
“The food’s not as bad as you’d expect,” Derek said, starting off down the hallway. He paused and stared at Catherine until she gave in and followed him.
The clock on the cafeteria wall read 5.30 am. The place was empty except for the man at the servery who yawned continuously as he filled their trays with scrambled eggs, sautéed greens and thick slabs of sourdough.
Catherine’s stomach rumbled.
Derek chose a table with a view over the forest. As she sat down, Catherine realised this was also the furthest possible point from anyone wishing to overhear their conversation.
Derek started apologising as soon as they sat down. “I’m sorry. I never wanted any of this to happen.”
Catherine ignored him and instead concentrated on savouring her first forkful of proper nourishment in months. Derek watched her, his meal untouched. “They fed Ariana well … but I guess they needed to keep her strong.”
Catherine swallowed, registering the truth of his words. She was only useful if she co-operated and supplied the MRI with information or research. Neither of which required her to be healthy or strong. To date she’d been fed enough to keep her alive, nothing more.
“I don’t know how you resisted so long. I don’t think I could have,” Derek said, rubbing his chin.
Catherine studied the thin ridge of stubble across his chin. Whatever Derek had been doing in that sealed room, he’d pulled an all-nighter.
After she’d mopped her plate clean, Derek pushed his untouched tray across the table. She mumbled her thanks and made short work of his breakfast too. Only then was she prepared to talk. “How long do we have until the solstice?”
Derek stacked their plates on the tray and pushed it aside. “A few weeks.”
Alarm rippled through her mind. I’ve missed so much. Trapped, useless, no good to anyone. “So soon?”
Her shock must have shown because Derek grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
She lifted a hand to stop him. “Don’t apologise again.”
Was Derek telling the truth? If so, time was a luxury they didn’t have. Somehow, she had to figure out a way to stop Vulcan and to help Robyn, and fast. She looked at Derek, sitting there with that earnest look on his face. Assuming it was true that between them Fang and Derek had orchestrated her release, then maybe they’d already figured it out. She leaned her elbows on the table. “You have a plan?”
Derek sighed and slumped in his chair. “I have hope.”