Ahead of me is a sea of broken glass and crumbling concrete. Abandoned cars line up at the shoulder of the street. I pull out a flashlight from my inside pocket and shine it down the sidewalk, but it's so wide that the cone of light can't illuminate it completely.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It's surreal how oppressively quiet it is. I am on high alert as I walk for quite a while, accompanied by the humming sound of a drone scanning the winding alleys near me.
I stop at the third fork. One thing is clear: the town has not been quietly evacuated. I stumble across personal items that have become dirty over the years or broken due to the hustle and bustle.
I bend down and pick up a small stuffed teddy bear. This one is pretty flattened and his face is missing a button eye.
The longer I look at it, the more it reminds me of a time I wanted to burry inside me a long time ago. But my foolish heart doesn't get the memo and clings to the memories. It just doesn't understand the meaning of letting go. Yet for me, there is no turning back.
I look up, up at the pitch black clouds hoping to find a small body of light between them, but my eyes meet a drone. Its red visor catches me and seems to be waiting for something.
I scratch the back of my head in embarrassment. Why am I so easily distracted? I have to stay focused!
Carelessly, I let the stuffed bear slip from my hands and start moving. I know I have to hurry if I want to catch up with the Subject. As fast as I can, I continue my search. But except for empty alleys and abandoned buildings, nothing falls into my field of vision.
It really is as if I am completely alone. Surrounded by a gaping darkness that threatens to swallow me.
Suddenly, something crashes to the ground. It is tinny, resounding through the walls. Immediately I am wide awake. My feet lead me to a graffitied building and just in time I notice someone on the fire escape who flees inside. I quickly climb the dumpster and hoist myself onto the metal scaffolding.
Once at the top, I climb through the same window and shine the flashlight into the room. A spacious room with a double bed, built-in wardrobes, TV and a Wi-Fi repeater.
A hotel is my first thought and I cautiously walk to the door. I take a look at the escape plan for a rough overview before I enter the hallway. The rooms are arranged in a U-shape and according to the green escape route, the fastest way out of the building is to keep to the right.
There is nothing special about the hotel. Red carpet, beige painted walls, framed nature paintings in acrylic colors. Every now and then, the doors to the hotel rooms are open, giving the impression that this building was left in a hurry.
I stop at a glass facade which leads directly into the stairwell. My flashlight is shining downwards. Irritated I lean back. The subject must be still here - there is no doubt about that.
I want to turn around and start examining the rooms on this floor when I suddenly feel a powerful pressure on my wrist. After just one breath, a feeling of weakness overcomes me. My vision distorts and my ears roar. I squint my eyes and stagger sideways against the railing. As I do so, the flashlight slips from my hand, revealing my attacker's face for a split second. I scramble to my feet and lunge with all my might. His fingers let go off me and the room starts tilting and swaying beneath my feet. My throat is dry as dust. Several seconds pass before I regain my balance - a mistake that would probably have cost me my life in another situation.
Surprisingly the subject doesn't move. His face is wet, his nose bloody. The frightened boy takes a few steps back. I find it hard to reach for my gun because in front of me is not just a renegade that killed four people. No. In front of me stands a scrawny body in soaked and bloodstained clothes that are too thin to protect him from the cold. Before me stands a body, which is smaller and lankier and much younger than I had assumed. In front of me stands a damn child!
"Listen," I bring out in a raspy voice. "I want to -"
A crackle in my waist bag interrupts me.
"Ty? Did you find the subject?" Isaac asks over the radio.
Bad timing.
The boy's - no, the kid's - face changes. Pure horror and panic define him. My attempt to calm him falls on deaf ears. His small hands push me aside. Still completely speechless, I let him escape.
"What's wrong?" Isaac asks urgently.
"He's a child," I mutter. "A fucking child, Isaac!" I repeat harshly.
"That doesn't change our mission."
Does he even realize how stupid he sounds? So fucking cold, uncaring, fucking monotone.
"You knew," I accuse him.
He doesn't say anything in response and I realize why he's silent. Only orders from NOS matter for my team leader. Personal interests or conflicts of conscience do not come first, it's success that counts.
Gritting my teeth, I run after the boy. However, I underestimated the impact of his ability. After only a few steps I feel dizzy and my legs fail. My fingers clutch at the railing.
Damn.
How careless of me.
The human body consists of seventy percent of water. No wonder the two cops in the SUV looked so dehydrated and died from it.
After taking a deep breath, I shake off the feeling of weakness and slam the heavy iron door behind me.
Over the radio I hear that Mason has taken up the pursuit and is cornering the subject, closely followed by Liam, who gives his status. I follow their directions which lead me to a huge complex of buildings. Several police cars line up in front of me. Armed officers stand behind them at a safe distance. Their guns are pointed at the boy. He seems petrified with fear. His lips tremble as he looks frantically in all directions.
"The hide-and-seek game is over," Reed says, the edges of his mouth twisting into a smarmy grin. "You either surrender or you die."
"That's not a choice if both end in death," the kid spits back at him.
"You -"
Before Reed can get further riled up, Isaac cuts him off. "Let us handle this."
"This thing has killed four of my best men!" Reed raises his pistol. The anger in his voice frightens me and I wonder how many colleagues and friends he's already lost. "My patience has run out. It had a chance to cooperate."
Tobias.
A voice. I hear a male voice. Demanding. Clear. Confidential.
You must capture the boy.
The command echoes through my head, drilling through to the deepest part of my skull, and I look to the other side. Glowing green eyes attach themselves to mine.
If you want to prevent the boy from being shot you must act.
I remain rooted to the spot, stunned by his words and by the sheer intention behind them. I see no waver in Isaac's attitude. He means it. He really wants me to use my ability in front of all those people.
I'm in charge, he insists. Just take care of the subject.
All right. I take a step back, careful not to draw attention to myself - as I do, I notice a young man standing behind Reed. With both hands he points his gun at the boy. His fingers tremble making me a little nervous.
I barely have time to wonder if he would really shoot before he actually pulls the trigger. I scream and then four things happen.
First: A loud bang from the firearm.
Second: The cartridge remains suspended in mid-air.
Third: Small, blue-colored sparks crackle in front of the boy, protecting him like a shield.
Fourth: The boy runs towards me.
Instinctively, I pull my pistol out of the holster but I pause as soon as his childlike eyes catch mine.
I know exactly what is expected of me in this moment and I also know what consequence it can have for me, should this very moment of weakness be used against me. But those eyes. Those doe-colored, innocent eyes ...
The policeman who just shot, maltreats the boy and brutally pushes his head to the ground. Numerous kicks against his chest make him whimper loudly.
"Please ... let me go ... I didn't do anything," the little boy sobs brokenly. Countless tears run down the much too young face. But no one present stops the rage-eating man. They allow it out of their own satisfaction.
My heart begins to race. Unintentionally, memories come flooding back, memories that I have banished to the farthest corner of my mind.
A child, dragged into the dark basement by his own mother ....
Scum. Monster.
... ostracized and beaten by his peers ...
Useless. Stupid.
... falls down a flight of stairs on Christmas Eve.
Someone touches my upper arm, though I don't manage to avert my eyes. So I watch as Liam injects something into the back of the boy's neck. Within seconds he is lying motionless on the asphalt.
"Are we really doing the right thing?", I whisper.
Mason's blond hair moves into my field of vision. He looks at me worriedly but he doesn't say anything and I know why. He can't find an answer himself.
It sounds illogical. We live to capture other subjects, to hand them over to NOS. If we refuse, we die. We do it to ensure national security. But for what reason?
"Don't think."
I could answer him and say how ridiculous his words are. Don’t think, don’t question, don’t decide by free will and certainly don’t judge and act according to your own feelings. I could tell him that for months I’ve been nervously wondering what NOS' goals are, why we are being hunted down and locked away for our very existence, only to be trained to carry out orders for the very people who despise and want to kill us. Instead, I smile and say, "I know."
Mason smiles as well. "Okay, let's go then."
We're about halfway to our car when I hear Reed's loud voice. He quickly catches up to us.
"What was that about?" he spits angrily. His fingers claw into the fabric of my jacket, pulling and tugging. "Why did you hesitate?!"
"I had no choice."
"You would have let that monster escape."
"Our orders are to take the boy alive," I remind him calmly. "If I had fired, I would have caused far more problems."
"Problems?" he bellows. The vein on his neck throbs strongly. "Don't bullshit me. You hesitated for a whole other reason, didn't you? I can see it in the look in your eyes. You felt sorry for it."
Of course he thinks that. I loathe his unconscionable ways. Reed was a wannabe cop to begin with, who would rather shoot subjects all in person. He's naive, impulsive, and way too impatient for someone in his position. But NOS is happy with his work. So much so that a year ago they promoted him to group leader of the Protection Guard.
"Answer me!"
I clench my hands. "You're wrong."
At that moment I see Isaac and Liam running towards us.
"What's wrong?" Isaac asks.
Indifferently, I shrug my shoulders. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Reed finally let’s go of me. "Your colleague hesitated. Behavior that, at worst, could have gotten more of my men killed."
"May I remind you, Officer Reed, that it was one of your men who fired, deliberately endangering our mission?" counters Isaac.
I didn't expect that. Normally Isaac does everything he can to avoid inciting unnecessary stress with the Protection Guard. After all, they write the official reports and submit them to the authority.
Reed curls his lips. "No." Then he leans forward to whisper in my ear. "Remember, kid. Creatures like this don't deserve pity." It sounds sickeningly hollow.
I would have loved to fire a sarcastic reply back at him but I know I have to behave properly so as not to cause unnecessary trouble for my team. So I put on a fake smile and force myself to say "I won't."
Because how could I forget something that is modeled for me on a daily basis.
We are abominations. Evil in the world. Horrific monsters and the shadows in people's nightmares. We are puppets. Pawns on the government's game board that they can use and replace at will.
Yes.
I know.
We are not human beings.
We are perfect tools.
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