Mind The Gap

Oops

2004-12-16T13:52:00.000-01:00

Well, I clearly didn't make it. I just noticed something I hadn't even realised which is that there was an incomplete draft of chapter 9 stored here on blogger, that I never posted, might as well post it I guess. I may continue this story, Mark seemed interested. I kind of want to finish it, so maybe I will keep trying never mind that I've completely missed the deadline.

Chapter 9 (incomplete)

2004-11-24T13:21:00.000-01:00

Joel figured he had visited a good proportion of the city's abandoned buildings in the last few hours, but he couldn't see that he had actually accomplished anything in his search. The only thing he had to show from his visits was a feeling of nausea from the overwhelming stench of the old slaughterhouse and something unmentionable that he had inadvertantly stepped in and had yet to succeed in removing from his shoe. All in all the exploration could have gone better. It was getting late, so he guessed he'd better get back to the warehouse, whatever they had been doing all day, chances were they had now stopped and returned to the base, unless he happened to have twigged that they were up to something on their day of action. He hoped and prayed that this wasn't the case.

Indeed, as he entered the warehouse everything looked much as it had done in previous nights, general activity was going on as if it had been all day, no signs of anything amiss.

Chapter 8

2004-11-23T13:56:00.000-01:00

He was a moron; that was the only explanation that made any sense. How could he have been so incredibly stupid? Was he blind? Did he have no brain at all? The hammering of the criticisms in his head beat rapidly; keeping pace with the pounding of his feet on the tarmac. He was too late, he knew it already, yet he quickened his steps anyway, trying to put the negative thoughts aside, to convince himself that he might get there in time. In time for what, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t going to be good. The realisation had only just hit him, he’d been so busy since his recovery, so many jobs to do, he’d been out of the warehouse all day every day, just returning to close his eyes for a few hours each night, barely seeing anyone else, or anything they were doing, he just hadn’t had time to think; which had been their plan all along, he was sure of it now. As soon as he’d realised and started to put the pieces together, everything had slotted together so obviously; they’d been throwing jobs at him, keeping him so occupied that he couldn’t ask questions. They were intentionally keeping him away from the headquarters, making sure he didn’t see the real plans that were being put into action. He could be wrong, he hoped desperately that he was wrong, that he was being paranoid; but in his heart he knew he was right. The hard-core members, they were staying at the warehouse each day, on the pretence of doing some menial, unimportant jobs while he was out doing the important things. Why didn’t he see it sooner, all of the truly crazed members who didn’t have qualms about hurting people, even innocent people, the ones who seemed to enjoy causing destruction, had been working close to Nathan. Of course, plans were being made, they were doing something major and people like him, people who did have morals, were being shut out of the loop; that was never a good sign.

Joel’s feet slowed as he neared the warehouse. He could hear nothing over his laboured breaths. He shouldn’t have pushed himself so hard, he was no good to anyone in this shape; he would have to rest for a minute or two before investigating further.

Joel couldn’t wait longer than absolutely necessary to see what was going on in the warehouse. His breathing was still heavy as he crept closer to the building to try to sneak in on them before they had a chance to hide whatever they were up to. Slowly he inched towards the window, stretching up onto his toes to see over the ledge. The inside of the building appeared empty; maybe they were all in the back room. There was no way of seeing into the back room from outside, the windows having had blackout blinds secured to them many years before, which meant Joel had to enter the building if he wanted to know what was going on. Cautiously, Joel eased the door open and edged towards the back room. The door to the back room was closed as he expected, he leaned against it, pressing his ear to the wood in an attempt to hear what was going on inside. He could hear nothing, no voices, no movement, almost as if the room was entirely empty. Perhaps it was, he was learning nothing from outside the door and peering through the lock proved fruitless. He would just have to take his chances and go in, maybe he could claim he’d forgotten something. Mustering his courage Joel reached for the door handle and pushed open the door. The room was totally empty, not just empty of people, but empty of any signs that anyone had ever worked out of this room. There were no papers on the desk; the bin was completely empty; Joel could see nothing that could give him any indication as to where they had gone.

Anger at himself, Nathan and the world coursed through Joel, he balled his hands into fists, screaming as he rammed them again and again into the wall, his foot lashed out, kicking the bin across the room. His knuckles began to bleed, but the sight of the blood just made him angrier, grabbing a clock from the desk, he hurled it with all his strength at the window, the clock hit the reinforced window and smashed, leaving the window completely unscathed. Joel made one last aggressive move, charging the desk and overturning it, leaving the room looking like it had had a run in with a tornado. Finally, Joel slumped to the floor, his anger spent, leaving him with a feeling of complete hopelessness. There was nothing he could do to stop whatever they were doing, he didn’t even know where they had gone, so how could he do anything. As he gave in to the feeling of desperation Joel’s eyes gazed at the destruction he’d wreaked. In the midst of his despair he began worrying about what people would think when they got back and saw what he’d done. The incongruity of his thoughts amused him and he began to laugh. Then he began questioning his sanity, had he gone mad? Was he hysterical now? He laughed again at himself, reasoning that if he was able to think these things, he couldn’t have completely lost his mind, as an insane person could surely not know it. This didn’t comfort him much, he began to think it might be nice to be mad, then he wouldn’t have to worry about stopping immoral schemes, he could just live happily talking to the walls and believing he was a boiled egg. It was as his eyes tracked over the mess that had once been an office that he noticed something on the floor, he turned back to examine what he had seen, it was paper, from its positioning it must have slid down behind the desk at some point, lost to sight until he’d ripped the desk from its position. It was probably nothing, he told himself, it could have been there for years, who knows when the desk was last moved, though the lack of other rubbish in the space made him suspect that someone had been clearing it out down there fairly regularly. He reached for the paper and opened it. It was a list of addresses. It could mean anything, for all he knew it was Nathan’s Christmas card list. It was just wishful thinking to believe it could be anything more than that. Joel considered putting the paper back where he found it, but decided against it, it might not be anything, it might be rubbish, but at the moment it was the only lead he had. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do than to visit the addresses, if he didn’t check them out now he would never know, would he. However, the firs thing he should do was restore some order to the room, he didn’t want them to realise he was on to them if they came back tonight, for all he knew they’d been disappearing like this every day and getting back before him, pretending to have been in the warehouse working all day.

It took longer to make the room resemble its previous state than it had done to create the mess in the first place. One of the desk drawers required some attention, thankfully it wasn’t smashed and just needed some reassembly work. There was nothing he could do about the clock, he’d have to just hope they put it down to a thief or something. Maybe they would just assume someone had moved it.

Once the room was back to normal, Joel headed off to examine the addresses on the note, perhaps they would give him some idea about whatever nefarious scheme Nathan had been concocting.

Not going to make it

2004-11-23T13:32:00.000-01:00

I think it's pretty obvious that there's no way I'm going to manage the 50 000 word target, I just seem to have been so busy, as well as not knowing what to write. I figured I'd keep going anyway, so I'm going to post some more that I've written today and we'll see how many words I do write.

Chapter 7

2004-11-09T17:00:00.000-01:00

The child barely stirred as she was passed from Cassandra’s arms to those of the Social Services representative. Cassandra prayed that the girl would find loving parents and that she would adjust, adapt to her new environment. Joel had left, returned to his room she presumed. It was only know that she wondered why he had left in the first place, drawn by the commotion she guessed. She must really have been drawn to him through his writing, to have allowed him such close proximity to this child, to her even. To not have moved him on, politely, but firmly reminding him that he should be in his own ward. Yet she hadn’t, she had allowed him to stay, she had shared with him her worries for the child.

It took every scrap of energy that Joel had to dress himself; as he reached down to pull on his shoes, the contents of his head seemed about to burst from his skull. He’d been accosted on his way back to his room by a member of staff who was all too happy to accept his request to be allowed to leave; she’d practically run to fetch his clothes for him before making him sign the mandatory forms. Now however, he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of trying to dress himself. Leaving in the pyjamas was looking steadily more appealing. That option wasn’t really open to him now though, he was already half dressed, so it would be almost as hard to get back into the pyjamas, he might as well go the whole way and at least look semi-presentable. He just needed to struggle a little longer to get the last things on. If only his feet weren’t quite so far away, he really didn’t appreciate having to bend quite so far to put on his shoes. He silently cursed whoever had untied his laces so that he couldn’t just force his feet into them as he usually did, if he left them as they were he’d be sure to trip over a trailing lace and aggravate an injury.

The working day was finally over and Cassandra was looking forward to heading home to collapse. First though, she found herself heading in the direction of Joel’s room, she wasn’t sure why, she just felt the need to see him again before he left. Entering the ward, she realised that she was too late; the bed was already being prepared for the next patient, they didn’t stay empty around here for long; Joel must be on his way home. A surprising sense of loss settled on Cassandra’s mind. She berated herself silently, she didn’t even know the man, how could she possibly be bothered that she hadn’t got to say goodbye, she was being ridiculous, turning sentimental even. He was just another patient; he didn’t even know her name, why should his leaving have any effect on her at all. If anything she should be pleased, it was a case where the hospital had done its job, he was leaving in a much better condition than when he’d entered, everything had gone smoothly; an injured man had lived to carry on another day, thanks to their work. She didn’t feel it as a success though, knowing where he’d probably gone back to. Knowing what she knew about the man he was following.

By the time Joel had reached headquarters he was physically exhausted, yet at the same time his mind felt over-stimulated. In an attempt to ignore the pain building in his muscles, his mind had begun thinking everything over. He was currently engrossed in his own fantasy world; imagining a world in which people truly did live in harmony; where everyone had food to eat, clothes to wear, and a healthy environment. He had got quite far into his fantasy, even picturing the family he would have, and the little house they would share. Realising he was at the place he shuddered to call home, he shut off his fantasy and limped through the back door. The building was deserted; no doubt everyone was out protesting or procuring supplies. Joel figured he might as well take advantage of the peace and quiet and get some rest before they all descended on the headquarters again. Within moments of lying down sleep had claimed him and within a short time of entering sleep the dreams that so often plagued his nights, had returned to haunt him. In Joel’s dreams he was happy, his family was alive, he and his brother were talking and laughing. The dreams hurt so much because when he awoke, there was a second or two where he forgot that they were only dreams, for those few moments everything was normal, before reality came crashing down on him. He found those dreams far harder than the nightmares that sometimes came. Somehow the nightmares hurt less because they didn’t rip everything from him so cruelly. Even waking in sheer terror from the enemies of the night was preferable to the feeling of being given his family back; only to have them pulled from his grip again.

Chapter 6

2004-11-06T19:05:00.000-01:00

In the privacy of his room, Nathan paced. With everyone tied up elsewhere he was able to let the anger he was feeling bubble to the surface. He only wished the room was sound-proofed so that he could vent his frustration verbally. Stupid, he’d been so stupid to try a raid so soon after the devastating protest. He had hoped that the raid would be such a success that the people would focus on what they had gained, pushing their worries from the protest out of their minds. Of course the raid had been disastrous from the word go. It was supposed to be a quick job, in and out, gathering supplies from a warehouse. Security was low and the rewards would be great, theoretically the unit’s food and clothing needs would be taken care of for the next three months. But in his haste, he hadn’t thought through every eventuality and in the end it was a child who brought their downfall. Why a man had brought his family on the raid with him Nathan didn’t know, possibly never would know, judging from the man’s condition when Nathan had seen him last, but he did know that the small girl’s actions had brought the security guards to them and caused the loss of several of his men. Nathan felt some small satisfaction that his side had had the upper hand numbers-wise and that therefore before retreating they had taken down the majority of the guards.

There was no doubt about it in Nathan’s mind that this was going to be a blow for morale. He had to work hard here, working out how to put the right spin on it so that people’s commitment to the unit and its goals, was strengthened instead of being knocked back. As Nathan began mulling over the stock phrases to feed to his people, his calm demeanour returned, he could do this, this wasn’t a problem, it wasn’t even a setback, if he turned the situation the right way it would even become an advantage, a way of boosting people’s dedication he should thank the girl and the security forces, they may have done him a huge favour. “Casualties of war” was probably the best way to play it. Don’t let their sacrifice be in vain. Yes, that was definitely the kind of phrasing to use. Those brave men and women who gave their lives in service to this noble cause. Giving up would be like spitting on their graves. Of course all of this was assuming some of them didn’t make, they had all still been alive when he’d left the scene, but judging from their injuries Nathan was convinced that a large percentage of the wounded would not survive, they had been barely hanging on to the last shreds of life when he’d seen them.

Grabbing a pen Nathan began scratching out a speech to unite his troops. A speech that would twist this into a tragedy caused by the commuters. After all, if they treated them like human beings and allowed them access to enough food and other necessities, then there would have been no need for them to try to steal. No, not steal, he must avoid that word, it had negative connotations. He must make sure that the members of his unit never see any of the unit’s actions as wrong. They weren’t stealing they had been trying to get what should rightfully have been provided to them. Did the commuters wish them to starve? They had been procuring what they needed in order to live, acting peacefully when they had been viciously attacked. Nathan’s confidence was completely restored, his anger had left and he felt renewed and ready for anything now that he had had time to compose himself, time to deal with the catastrophe and move on, turning it into a highpoint instead of a disaster. Now he felt ready to talk to his people, to convince them to see it as he did.

Cassandra couldn’t stop the tears from beginning to flow as her patient gave up on life. His breaths had been becoming gradually weaker and had finally ceased altogether. She had failed him, she gazed at the death around her, it was such a waste.

Why did they listen to him? Why did they follow a man who leads them to their deaths? What hope do they have with Nathan? Why can’t they see that his cause is him? That looking after himself is his point in life. Despair washed over Cassandra as she felt pain for the people who had died today. She tried to compose herself, to stop herself falling further into a state of depression. As she dried her eyes, she noticed someone watching her. A familiar presence was standing in the doorway. It took her a moment to clear the confusion from her mind and recognise him out of context, after all, she’d never actually seen him vertical before. It was him, the writer of the letter, the Outcast from ward 311. In his eyes she saw compassion and understanding. He too had seen too much death, too much suffering, but she knew that wasn’t necessarily going to change his actions. She realised that following Nathan wasn’t a whim, it wasn’t a hobby, something to do until something better came along, it was this man’s lifestyle. She racked her brains to think of his name, she couldn’t just think of him as the writer. She certainly couldn’t call him that to his face. Finally she remembered the name she’d read from his chart.

“It’s Joel isn’t it?” Cassandra gently asked him.

Joel just looked at her, he didn’t confirm or deny her question, though Cassandra became convinced that that was indeed his name. Joel just stood in silence for several moments. Finally he spoke.

“He’s dead.” The statement was spoken quietly, it was more of a statement than a question, although Cassandra caught a hint of questioning in his voice, as if he was hoping that despite the obvious the man lying in front of them was not in fact dead.

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry, did you know him?” She asked sympathetically.

“Not particularly, I’ve seen him at headquarters. He has a family.” Joel told her.

“Yes, the little girl is in another room. The wife, well, she didn’t make it.” Cassandra found herself revealing more details than was strictly allowed by protocol. She couldn’t hold anything back from Joel, she trusted him, even though she didn’t know him; even though he was potentially a terrorist.

Joel walked across to the door heading in the direction of the man’s daughter, Cassandra made no move to halt his progress, allowing him to find the girl, perhaps he would be of help to her in this time until social services arrived and found her a new family.

The girl had suffered so much, but at least Cassandra was confident that she would be re-homed quickly. The sad state of affairs meant that the child would probably be better off now that she had been orphaned. So many couples struggled to have children, she would probably be placed with a family outside of the city zones, she would get a good education and have a healthy upbringing. Cassandra knew though that nothing would make up for the loss of her parents. She might no longer be an Outcast, but that wouldn’t necessarily make her happy. In fact, many relocated outcast children felt guilt whenever they felt happy in their new homes, as if they were rejecting their parents by enjoying the new lifestyle. Cassandra had seen many unhappy cases where these relocated children had grown into bitter, cynical adults. Many of these turned to crime, perhaps in a subconscious attempt to be returned to their original home. Of course to many people, this reinforced the idea that Outcasts were criminal, but not to Cassandra, she saw the crimes as cries for help. This girl might do better than many, Cassandra reasoned, she was still young, the younger the child at the age of re-housing, the more likely the child is to acclimatise, adapting to the new environment with less feelings for guilt.

Joel paused in the doorway gazing at the small form curled up before him. He didn’t know how to deal with children at the best of times, what was he supposed to say to the girl now? Was she even old enough to understand what was going on? She was silent, Joel assumed she was asleep, after all she’d be screaming the place down for her parents otherwise, surely. He didn’t know much about kids, but he knew they made a noise when they didn’t get what they wanted. He moved towards the tiny body only to see it recoil from him. She wasn’t asleep at all.

”Hello.” He tried to look friendly, so as not to intimidate the girl. She backed further from him, leaving her position on the sofa and wedging herself between it and a large cupboard. This wasn’t going as well as he’d planned. He tried to think of what children liked, he didn’t even have his own clothes, which ruled out checking is pockets for chocolates. Joel was beginning to think that coming in here was a bad idea. He turned to leave and found the woman in white behind him.

“They left her alone.” Cassandra sighed at the carelessness of some of the other staff. She knew they were busy, but to leave such a small child so soon after she had been involved in such a terrifying incident, to abandon her as her parents were dying? Cassandra held her hands out towards the child and began whispering in calming tones. The girl looked unsure, but she didn’t attempt to distance herself any further. Cassandra crouched and then sat on the floor by the child, all the time holding her hands towards her, letting her know that she could get physical comfort if she wanted it, but not pushing it. The child shuffled closer to Cassandra, allowing herself to be lifted into the woman’s lap, she whimpered once and then feel silent. Cassandra rocked her for several minutes until her breathing became more regular and she was evidently asleep.

Cassandra turned to Joel, who’d been watching the situation play out. Joel felt out of place standing above them, he slowly lowered himself to their level.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked Cassandra, his voice little more than a whisper, to avoid disturbing the child.

“It’s hard to say.” Cassandra answered truthfully. She’s been through a lot, physically she’s unharmed, but she has experienced a serious trauma, losing her mother in front of her eyes, seeing her father so injured, knowing he’s probably gone too, it’s a lot for a small child to deal with. On the other hand, the very young are often resilient, if cared for properly and nurtured well, she could recover from this and grow up as a normal happy child.

“Where will she go?” Joel was pretty sure he knew the answer to this, but he just wanted to check.

“Social services are on their way. If they don’t trace any relatives willing to raise her then she’ll be given to a family, there’s a large waiting list out there of people who are willing to adopt in cases like these, so she’ll be placed in a matter of days.” Cassandra confirmed Joel’s thoughts. Joel nodded, he wasn’t really sure if this was good news or not. The child would be taken from everything she knew, but the child would get what he was campaigning for for them all, she would be free from Exile, she would have a chance at a decent life. He felt sad that it had taken such tragedy for this girl to get what she deserved; he wished she could be leaving exile in the arms of her parents, but that clearly wasn't to be.

Chapter 5

2004-11-05T23:14:00.000-01:00

It was only now that he was somewhat recovered, that Joel began to remember that he hated hospitals. The smells surrounding him began to make him feel sick. There was just something unnatural about the sterility of the place. He smiled as he realised the contradiction in his thoughts, one minute bemoaning the filth he is forced to live in, the next complaining that cleanliness is too unnatural.

Man he hated waiting. He felt so useless. He knew he was about ready to leave the hospital, was expecting them to come and sign him out a few minutes ago in fact, but then there’d been a cacophony of sirens and alerts, general mayhem had ensued as doctors and nurses had scrambled and suddenly his area of the hospital was devoid of all medical personnel. Presumably there was an emergency coming in and everyone had been needed in the crisis department of the hospital. Well, either that or there was some sort of threat and they were evacuating this area, ignoring the patients in their hurry to be safe. He pushed the paranoia aside though, it had certainly seemed as if they were running to, not from something. There wasn’t much he could do yet anyway, he could get up and hobble to the crisis centre, but what would be the point of that? He had no medical skills and would simply be in the way. He could leave the building in case there was a threat, but realistically if it was a bomb or something he probably wouldn’t have time to escape and in all likelihood any threat would have come from outcasts, so they would be targeting commuters, not injured outcasts. Any commuter staff had left the area, there weren’t any commuter patients here anyway; injured commuters didn’t stay in this hospital for any longer than was absolutely necessary, they may be treated in the crisis area, but as soon as they had been stabilised they were transported out to one of their own hospitals where they would receive the best care money could buy. Outcasts would no this, so there would be no point attacking this area if that had been their plan. They may have planned to push the commuters into a different area, but really it seemed to Joel that any scenario which had the commuters abandoning them to evacuate the area, seemed illogical. It seemed far more likely that there had been an incident. He would just have to wait and see, despite the urge to know, to see if it was his friends fighting for their lives.

Cassandra tuned out the noise around her as she worked on the man in front of her. So much blood, she was coated in this man’s blood. A screaming child clawed at the man’s body. Cassandra yelled and a porter dragged the child from the room. Cassandra desperately tried to shut the image of the distraught child out of her head. Focussing her mind on the task in front of her, Cassandra pressed on, ignoring the emotions battling for her attention, telling herself that this was not a person. She could not think of him as a person: a husband, a father. If she did she would make mistakes, she had to remain distanced. This was just another project which she had to finish. There was a pulse, it was weak, but it was there, she just had to make sure it didn’t stop. Cassandra ploughed all of her energy into her task. He was in a bad shape and she knew it, not many survived from the kind of injuries he’d sustained, but he had to, his wife lay on a slab in the other room, no one was even trying to save her, there was no point, one look at her and it was silently agreed that she was beyond help. Someone had to survive for that little girl in there or she’d have no-one.

It had been hours and still Cassandra was working on the man, she didn’t know his name, didn’t want to know it. If she found out his name she wanted it to be because he’d told her. She didn’t want to accept that he would never be able to, that he just wasn’t going to make it. She didn’t want to know his name just so that she could say goodbye. Every time she fixed one part of him another failed, he was battling, but his body was beginning to give up. She carried on working, he certainly wasn’t going to miss out on anything that might possibly have saved him.

Finally Cassandra stopped work. There was literally nothing more that she could do, it was now out of her hands, she just had to wait and see whether he would awaken and live, or give up and die. Cassandra looked around at the other staff, most of them had given up long ago, the room looked like a morgue, the people had just been too far gone. There was a heavy silence over the room, interrupted only by the irregular beeping of the monitor for her John Doe. Suddenly the beeping stopped. Cassandra stopped breathing at the same time, willing him to breath, to live. She began talking to him, begging him not to give up, telling him about his little girl in the next room.

Joel had tried to wait patiently, but he just really wasn’t that kind of guy, he needed to know what was going on. Pulling each of the sensors from his skin he ignored the wail of complaint that issued from the monitor. Slowly he levered himself up from the bed and began looking for his clothes. Typically, he couldn’t find them. This left him with two options. Number one, continue waiting, or number two wander around in the hospital pyjamas. Since by this point, walking naked through a large crowd of everyone he’d ever met would be preferable to waiting any longer, he chose to venture out in the clothes he was dressed in.

Aaargh I haven't had time to write today

2004-11-04T22:39:00.000-01:00

Nooo, now i'll have to write 4000 words tomorrow. I blame ebay with their free listings day. Why did that have to be this month? Honestly, evil people. Well apart from the fact that it allows me to at least try and offload some rubbish, er, I mean quality lovely goods, onto other people.

Will try to catch up tomorrow. Only I have to admit I was having a little writer's block and being sick of the story, which could be a problem this far in, unless someone wakes up and it was all a dream :-) don't worry, I won't do that to you.

Chapter 4

2004-11-03T10:14:00.000-01:00

Not many of the protestors had made it back to the headquarters; most of his followers had been either hospitalised or arrested. Nathan had to be careful with his approach. He couldn’t allow people to become disillusioned, or angered at him because he’d escaped without injury. As usual he had been fully prepared for the situation arising and had ready to hand all of the appropriate remarks to keep the men firmly on his side. The incarcerated ones might be a little harder to keep on track, but taking an interest in them while they are being held would do a lot to rectify their view of him. It had definitely been worth it. The waves made by this protest had headed in the right direction. Nathan was certain that phase two of his plan would commence smoothly.

Nathan’s first port of call was at the police station, he visited each of the protestors, showing sympathy and caring for their plight, he praised their bravery and promised to work on releasing them. Nathan spent much of the morning reassuring the prisoners and convincing them that it was for the best that he had escaped, because from outside he was more able to work to free them and bring about the change they all hoped for. He moved on from the police station to the neighbouring hospital where many of his supporters lay in varying states of weakness. Again he played the part of a caring leader troubled by his people’s pain, determined to have them back on their feet and fighting against those that had put them there.

Joel feigned sleep as he heard the familiar footsteps stride into the room. He didn’t think he’d be able to cope with Nathan right now, he didn’t want to hear his speeches, he’d heard them once too often. He felt Nathan’s presence looming above him, waiting, almost as if he knew that Joel was aware of him. Forcing his muscles not to give him away, Joel remained still, finding it almost impossible to remember to breath. After an eternity had passed Joel heard the footsteps leaving, he waited several moments more, before finally opening his eyes, this time to meet the sympathetic gaze of the woman in white.

“You don’t trust him either, do you?” She asked him, her eyes looking deep into him.

“I don’t know what you mean. He’s my leader, of course I trust him.” Joel’s voice was timid, almost as if he was afraid to speak the words aloud, knowing them for the lies they were. Even as he spoke he realised he was admitting that he’d been faking sleep; giving the nurse the truth despite his attempt to cover it.

Joel was feeling restless lying in the hospital bed, he knew he was still very ill, after all hospitals released you as soon as possible these days, beds were precious and retaining one was near to impossible. He knew, he’d seen his brother turned away many times because he wasn’t quite near enough to death.

There wasn’t a lot Joel could do in his position so he asked for a notebook and pen. As a child, writing had been his outlet, he never wrote for other people, it was just for him, a way to release everything pent up inside. He never had much time to write these days, but now it seemed time was all he had, so why not get it all out, everything that was bothering him, everything he wanted to express and release, starting at the beginning.

Dear Commuters,

My name’s Joel and I’m an Outcast. I don’t know what I did to deserve this life. Many say that us Outcasts are sub-human, is that how you can sleep at night, knowing the life we are stuck with? I don’t know if you believe we like it here, maybe you think we don’t know any better, you’re wrong though, we’re not blind, or stupid. We see you Commuters, we know you don’t get as sick as us, you live longer, you eat better, but most importantly, you don’t have to live here. I’d give anything to be able to transport away like you do, but we can’t afford that, that’s why we’re Outcasts. Some of you think we’re all criminals. I can see where you’re coming from, I know a lot of us are, but who’s fault is that? You cram us together in small spaces, give us the worst jobs and little pay, of course people are going to turn to crime. Anyway, there are members of every society who commit crimes, you think you’ve got rid of crime, you think you’re better than us because you don’t have criminals there. Except that’s not entirely true now is it? You still have crime, but what do you do with your criminals? Do you deal with them there? No, you realise an existence in Exile is the perfect punishment; you acknowledge how awful it is for us here and send your criminals to live with us. So we may have our share of criminals, but then we get stuck with yours too, after you’ve confiscated all their belongings, taken away their transporter passes and dumped them here, making them likely to become a worse criminal than they were before.

You wonder why we protest, why we feel so angry, some of you even argue that you come in here to work so it can’t be that bad, but you don’t really do you? Yes you enter the zones, you go to your little offices with fresh air pumped in from the “Outer zones” the zones where you’ve banned the use of fossil fuels, where pollutants are a thing of the past, but how much time do you spend among us? In the filth we live with every day? You use your enviro-clear cars to move around our zones, an ironic name they have isn’t it? The amount of pollutants they produce, they’re one of the worst things for the environment ever, of course enviro-clear refers to the atmosphere inside the car doesn’t it? Wouldn’t want you breathing nasty fumes like we have to would we? You leave the cars when you go of course, couldn’t have them polluting the air near your homes.

So, yes, I am angry, I am tired and I have had enough. I’ve lost too many people I care about through conditions that could have been avoided. I watch the television like you do, I see the reports that we’re such a developed world now, that we’re so forward-thinking and most of all happy. Funny how the cameras never come down here when depicting the world as a Utopia isn’t it? There’s an old man lying in the bed next to me, he’ll be dead soon, it’s to be expected, he is 48 after all. How long do you guys live in your zones?

Joel stopped writing, tearing the paper from the pad he screwed it into a ball and tossed it at the bin, it bounced off the rim and onto the floor. It wasn’t going to do any good. Writing and talking wouldn’t get them anywhere. Maybe Nathan was right, drastic measures were necessary if they were to have any hope of escape.

Joel was surprised at how much the act of writing had taken out of him. It had been both a physical and emotional drain even though he’d only covered one page. He hadn’t written everything that was in his mind down either, it had just been too overwhelming, too much to cope with. His body was demanding that he rest, his eyes began to close of his own accord and soon he was in a deep sleep.

Cassandra entered the room and saw the crumpled paper lying by the side of the bin, she picked it up, meaning to throw it in the bin but felt compelled to read it, knowing she shouldn’t really be doing it, still she pocketed the paper taking it with her to the break room.

Once in the deserted break room, Cassandra carefully smoothed out the paper and began reading. The emotion with which this was written was overwhelming, she felt so drawn to the young man who had written it. She could feel his pain poured into every word, tears pricked at her eyes as once again she felt pangs of guilt at how these people were treated by a supposedly enlightened society. How could people not see how wrong this all was? Yet, what could she do? Campaigning had fallen flat on its face, people were blinkered, they just didn’t want to listen. So she did what she could by working here, taking care of the sick and injured, doing her best to make sure they had the best care available. She knew it wasn’t enough though, they were short staffed, they lacked funding and vital equipment, they had to turn people away who were in dire need of medical attention. It just wasn’t fair, but no amount of whining was going to make it any fairer.

Cassandra pulled herself together and went to return the paper to the floor where she’d found it, she was fairly certain the young man wouldn’t want to know she had read it. She would get on with her work and she would do something, if only make sure that this guy Nathan wasn’t going to create an even worse situation for the Outcasts.

Upon finishing her shift Cassandra headed to the private room she kept at the hospital for when she pulled all-nighters. Grabbing a strong coffee she settled down at her state of the art computer and began accessing files that technically she shouldn’t be able to get into.

Finally, Cassandra let out the breath that she had inadvertently been holding. On the screen were all of the details for Nathaniel William Travers. Born thirty-four years ago in an affluent suburb he had trained as a geneticist. Rapidly, he had become one of the leading scientists in his field, eclipsing many others. Until three years ago when it came to light that Travers had been using genetic material obtained without consent. He had been performing experiments using human DNA that contravened the so-called “playing God” law passed in 2021. A lengthy trial followed and Travers was sentenced to exile. Most of his estate was liquidated leaving him with a small amount of cash.

So, Nathan had been in exile for a little over two years now and was effectively raising an army. With a background like his Cassandra was worried about what he could actually do given the right supplies. She was only sorry that her suspicions seemed to have been confirmed. This once it would have been preferable to be way off course in her assessment of someone.

Chapter 3

2004-11-02T18:10:00.000-01:00

The noise was overpowering; everything just seemed so chaotic. Joel felt like the world was ending, and he was terrified. He’d known this demonstration would end badly. Why, oh why hadn’t he spoken against it more forcefully? Why hadn’t he been more adamant that they should do something on a smaller scale? Why hadn't he just refused to go? They had some crazy people aligned with their group now and he had just known that they couldn’t remain peaceful, they had to go to far. The scariest thing was that Nathan didn’t seem bothered by it. It was as if Nathan had expected this, he was completely unflustered. Police were coming in violently now, clad in riot gear, some of them were going under, but mostly it was the protesters. Joel didn’t want to see anyone hurt, he went to the aid of a policeman that had been separated from his squad and was being attacked from behind by three of Nathan’s followers. Joel got a taste of the man’s taser for his trouble. Not that he could blame the guy, he wasn’t likely to realise one of the protestors was trying to help him. Joel felt himself falling under a sea of bodies and was pretty sure this was going to be the end of the line. He didn’t see his life flash before his eyes, probably for the best really; there were many things in Joel’s life that he’d rather never see again. He simply felt himself losing his grip on life, drifting off into a deep sleep.

There was a bright light in front of him. Had Joel been a man of faith he might have believed he was ascending to heaven. However, Joel didn’t have much of a belief in any higher being and if there was an afterlife then he was pretty sure that nothing he’d done would warrant him a place anywhere other than in the fiery pits. Left with the only logical option, that he was still alive and there was an actual light, he tried to concentrate. As the light moved away from his eye he saw the shape that was holding the light, it was human and it appeared to be examining him. Straining to focus his eyes he couldn’t make out any features, but his senses persuaded him that it was a female. Everything was blurred and confusing. All he could really see were white shapes moving around him.

It was a lot quieter than before, he didn’t think he was still at the protest, it was hard to think straight, it seemed like his brain was wrapped in cotton wool, everything was fuzzy. There was a smell, what was that? Some sort of familiar, slightly scary smell, gradually he began to realise, it was the smell of a hospital. The shape over him was in white because she was a Dr or Nurse. He should feel comforted by this, knowing he was being looked after, but somehow being in a hospital just made him more anxious.

The woman seemed to realise he was coming too; she began to speak to him. Her voice was low, calming; his cynical side told him that she had perfected it in order to manipulate others. However, it still had its intended effect, it managed to soothe him slightly, allaying some of his fears. He couldn’t make sense of what she was saying yet, but he tried to respond, muttering something that probably made very little sense. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say.

Turning, the woman adjusted some tubes, perhaps releasing more drugs into his bloodstream. Joel felt sleep coming over him like a heavy blanket. He tried to fight against it, not wanting to fall into that vulnerable state, but ultimately he lost the battle. His weariness combined with the injuries he’d sustained and the drugs they’d put in him combined to cause a very deep sleep.

Cassandra made a few final checks on the patient, relieved that he was sleeping now. He was in a bad state, but that didn’t guarantee her safety should he suddenly decide she was the enemy. She felt sympathy for his cause, but she couldn’t relate to the protestors. How could they expect people to treat them better when they did this? All the rally had achieved was to fuel the belief that down-towners are subhuman. Violence would only reap violence, she was sure of that.

Cassandra began to feel guilty for being so judgmental. Who was she to criticise the way these people acted? She had money, clothes, health, and a nice house. These people had practically nothing. They were forgotten, neglected, left to fester. So they resorted to drastic means. Who could blame them? They didn’t necessarily want to. They’d been kicked so much, was it that difficult to see why they had turned round and bitten back? It wouldn’t benefit them though. The only way to secure people’s help was to make them care about the plight of the non-transporters. People fighting and attacking the system would just confirm everyone’s worst fears, who would want to help then?

Continuing on, Cassandra checked the remaining patients in the room. Many had been trampled and crushed. She had seen all of the protestors that had been brought in now. One notable absence amongst them was Nathan. That was hardly surprising. Men like him weren’t the kind to sully their own hands. No doubt he had retreated to a nice safe vantage point once things had got ugly. He was the one that really angered her, using people like this. He played with people’s emotions, manipulating them like puppets in his show. Maybe she was wrong about him and he did care, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he would sell every last one of his followers out if it would benefit him.

It was then that Cassandra decided to really do something, as a start she would research Nathan. Find out every detail about him and how he came to end up in exile. It might take a while, but she was sure that her hacking skills would be up to the task and that it might provide some very interesting results.

Chapter 2

2004-11-02T08:07:00.000-01:00

Glancing around, Joel looked at where his distracted steps had brought him. It wasn’t surprising he guessed, never underestimate the power of habit. Well, since he was here, why not go and see Cal, he always provided an understanding ear.

“So, how’s it going, baby brother?” Joel used the term that never failed to get a rise out of him. Of course, as always recently, any response from Cal was muffled by six feet of densely packed earth, a fact which wasn’t to be taken for granted these days, it had cost Joel everything he had to ensure that his brother stayed out of the communal grave. Every last penny had gone on buying him his own plot and even a marker. He wouldn’t go as far as to call the marker a gravestone, that would imply stone for a start, this was simply a piece of hardboard with his name and dates written on. It’d be lucky to last the winter. As always, Joel traced his finger along the letters of Caleb’s name and the two dates, two dates that simply didn’t have enough years separating them. He had been little more than a kid and it was Joel’s job to look after him, to protect him, but how can you protect him from something choking him from the inside? How can you protect him when the poison is all around being breathed in every moment of the day? Still that didn’t stop the waves of guilt that washed over Joel, threatening to claim him completely.

Pulling himself together Joel rose from his position, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but the screams of protest from his muscles indicated that it had been too long. However bad he felt, he knew it would do Caleb no good to wallow in self pity and recriminations. The best thing he could do for Caleb was to help others like him, to ensure that no-one else lost their lives because of this poverty: To work to free his people. To that end, he should get back to headquarters and work with them. Nathan had power, influence, all the things Joel lacked. He could get things done; Joel had to help, for Caleb’s sake.

Nathan watched as Joel re-entered the building, he looked more confident than when he left. He’d tried to follow him once, to find out where he went when he disappeared like that, but Joel was born in this environment, he moved through it with an ease born of familiarity, weaving through back alleys and derelict buildings, he’d lost Nathan in seconds. Even other tails Nathan had sent after him had failed to keep him in their sights, so whatever Joel did remained private, a fact which bothered Nathan a lot more than he liked to let on. Knowledge was power, if he could just know a little more about Joel he would find it easier to control him. He suspected that on some level Joel realised this and was intentionally ditching any followers to maintain his secrecy. As usual Nathan questioned Joel as to where he’d been, trying to sound interested rather than interrogative, but Joel responded, as always with simply the word “Out” and retired to his bunk.

Taking a quick look at the time, Nathan decided he should get some sleep too and entered his room. He was of course the only member of the group to have a room to himself, the others bunked in cramped quarters which held as many bunks as was physically possible. No one challenged Nathan's need for his own room to give him a place for contemplation and planning, he had explained this to them in a way that had made them even feel guilty that he didn’t have more space.

As usual, waking in the group's headquarters wasn't exactly a pleasant experience. The whole structure was trembling from the proximity of the early morning lorries heading out on deliveries. People were shouting, dogs were barking and this morning, to make matters worse, there was torrential rain, which on the tin roof was horribly amplified and sounded like a bad steel band practising at full volume. Joel stumbled from his bed and dragged himself up to get ready for the day. As he passed Nathan he noted that as usual he looked immaculate and alert. No matter what time of the day, Nathan seemed ready for anything. A brief pang of jealousy tweaked at Joel, but he pushed it down. What good did envy do? It wasn't going to accomplish anything, in fact it would probably hinder the work of the group.

The next week passed fairly slowly, everything seemed pretty mundane, in fact many people were beginning to feel bored and restless, just wanting to do something, anything almost, just to have some activity and break from the tedium. As Nathan had anticipated he had swelled the ranks of the committed by a healthy number, they were getting to a point where they could really make people take notice of them. The problem with the increase in numbers was the increase in tension. These were not all the kind of people who played well with others and putting large numbers of people in small spaces like this was a sure-fire way to have conflict, add in a feeling of restlessness and chances are it will become violent. It was easy to see how wars started when you saw grown men brawling over something as simple as a nudged elbow.

Nathan was able to stop most of the fights with just a few words. He was fairly adept at turning their hostility towards each other outwards, deflecting it onto the commuters, increasing their level of hatred for them. So not only was it their fault that the conditions were bad, it became their fault that a roommate had stolen a blanket or that someone had eaten their piece of dessert.

Gradually the unit settled into a pattern where they lived and worked around each other without too much aggravation. Although it seemed likely that a lot of anger and aggression was being repressed, held onto until a time when it could be let free on the target of their hatred.

Chapter 1

2004-11-01T17:45:00.000-01:00

Approaching the climax, Nathan’s whole body buzzed. This was what life was about. It was why seemingly sane people wrestled alligators, or skyhopped. No manufactured chemical ever produced a feeling close to this. He, like so many others, was an adrenaline junkie.

For Nathan, it wasn’t physically living on the edge which brought the excitement, extreme sports did nothing for him. His fix came through the sight of a crowd hanging on every word he uttered. He felt so alive, so in control. Like he could do anything. Building up to the main crux of the speech, the energy within him seemed to have a life of its own, he felt like he wouldn't be able to contain it much longer, like he would simply erupt, he began gesticulating to emphasise his points and give the energy an outlet. Repressing the urge to pace around the room, he concentrated instead on delivering the speech as clearly as he had in his rehearsals. He had to have their backing, without their support he could accomplish nothing, they had to follow him unquestioningly.

Pulling himself back down, just barely reigning his emotions back in, Nathan returned the speech to autopilot, freeing his conscious mind to take on the task of crowd monitoring; searching for signs of dissent. As he scanned the crowd, his gaze lingered sympathetically on the face of a crippled man. He took in the rags and worn features of this man, old before his time, nodded his respect and moved on.

Locking eyes with each of the sorriest specimens, he related to every one. Showing them he understood, drawing the crowd to him by letting them know his compassion.

After a short while, Nathan found his eyes resting on a face that was completely out of place. Standing here amongst society’s dregs was a girl with no imperfections. His eyes paused, taking in the details of her face, noting her guarded body language. It seemed unfair that people like her were so well looked after, they had none of the worries of the exiled.

“Why should some have so much, when so many have nothing?” He directed this remark in the speech at her, commenting on the atrocious situation that existed now, the situation that he attributed to the invention of transport technology. It was this that allowed the rich to leave the cities at the end of the day, condemning those that couldn’t afford the rates, to a life trapped in the polluted cities; cities polluted by those very commuters. He compared the commuters with the slave traders of old, trampling the workers, breaking their backs and wills, before heading out to their mansions. He witnessed the desired reaction in her eyes, that acknowledgement of guilt, before he continued his visual sweep of the room, making each and every person feel that his remarks were directed at them individually. His mind making mental notes of potential agitators.

Finally, Nathan reached his concluding statements, ending amidst adulation. They were with him, there was nothing quite like this feeling, knowing that he’d got the support of these few hundred men and women. This meant that finally his plans could be set into motion. The thought of it made his stomach leap; externally he barely managed to maintain his poker face. He could soon be leading an uprising that would see the end of exile, no more living this squalid existence in conditions you wouldn’t inflict on a dog.

Nathan closed and handed the microphone over to one of his people so that they could give details of the next protests and meetings. Less people would come as the events became more intense, but he knew he could rely on the usual core and Nathan was feeling confident that tonight he’d hooked at least a handful more for his cause.

As the meeting wound down, Cassandra stopped listening to the announcements and returned to her thoughts. She couldn’t quite work out what she was doing here, she just knew that something had compelled her to come and listen to this man that she’d been hearing about, that seemed to be stirring something in the city. She could see nothing particularly wrong with his speech, he demonstrated all the right passion and interest, but she was sure he wasn’t entirely what he seemed.

Glancing at her watch, Cassandra realised she must return home. Turning, she walked briskly to her car and drove the short distance to the transporter station; parking the car in her designated bay she smiled at the attendant. He barely acknowledged her, choosing instead to keep his gaze fixed on a stain on the floor. Understandable she supposed, what must it feel like to spend each day transporting people away from the place you cannot leave no matter how desperate you might be to do so? Having your nose rubbed in the reality of your poverty could hardly be the most fulfilling and uplifting way of spending each day.

Scanning her pass, Cassandra keyed in her destination and was instantaneously transported the 287 miles to her local station. From there she walked along the deserted roads to the home she shared with her father. It was so different in the living zones now that cars and in fact all pollutants had been banned except for within the city limits. Even though Cassandra had spent her whole life in this dichotomy of existence she still felt like a time-traveller when she swapped between the two zones.

Himesh let out an involuntary sigh of relief, as he saw his daughter approaching the house. He knew she was an adult, but parental feelings don’t stop the moment your offspring reach eighteen, or even twenty-one. He didn't like the idea of her roaming around the city alone, so many things could happen.

“Where’ve you been Cass? I was worried.” Himesh quizzed her.

“Honestly Dad, I’m a big girl now, I can take care of myself.” Cassandra grinned to show she didn’t really mind his excessive parenting.

“Yeah, but who’s going to take care of me as I embark down the slippery slope of senility?” Her father gently ribbed her.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that all sorted. I picked up brochures for some lovely rest homes that’ll take care of your every need.” Chuckling and walking into the kitchen she began preparing some food, whilst her father returned to his study to work on some papers that he’d brought home from the hospital.

Back in the squalid Headquarters, the crowd had mainly dispersed. Only a few of the more fervent followers remained. Relishing in the attention, Nathan was talking again, not his speech now, just his "Spontaneous" and "Natural" conversation pieces, which he'd rehearsed for just as long as the speech. Seeing Nathan as some sort of saviour, all but Joel hung off his every word. Always leave them wanting more, that was the key, so Nathan finished what he was saying and strode purposefully into the back room. Everything Nathan did was purposeful. He understood the way people’s minds worked and one factor common to all people was that they want to follow someone who knows what they’re doing. The key to having loyal followers is to always have a plan. Or at least to always appear to have a plan. Never let anyone see you appearing unsure. Always look like whatever you are doing at that moment is vitally important. Never lose purpose, never look aimless. So regardless of how he felt, Nathan walked with poise, with bearing, he talked with confidence, he never allowed anything to surprise him and never looked out of place, he could walk into a women's changing room and have the other occupants apologise for disturbing him.

Once backstage, Nathan turned his attention towards Joel. As usual Joel had spent the duration of the meeting standing a little way off from the crowd, not quite involved. He was always watching, always processing; once again he appeared somewhat pensive. Nathan was intrigued by Joel, despite his ostensibly simple nature he was in truth more complex than most people. Nathan was blessed with an ability to be able to tell a lot from people's bodylanguage, actions and speech patterns, he could usually read people’s emotions and predict what they would do, with Joel there was a lot more guesswork. Sometimes it was hard to tell where Joel’s loyalties lay. He was dedicated to the cause; there was no denying that. However, he seemed a little less than happy about some of the groups’ policies and beliefs. Still, Nathan's logic told him that, when it came down to it, as long as Joel kept in mind that they were all after the same thing, then it should be okay. Nathan wasn’t about to divulge all his greatest secrets to Joel just yet though. Yes, he could be trusted with most plans, but Joel had yet to prove that he wasn’t going to bite the hand that fed him.

Joel stared at the wall and reflected on life, he wasn’t even sure what he was doing with this outfit, it wasn’t like he bought Nathan’s spiel. He’d been here since the beginning, he knew that the most important thing to that guy was taking care of number one. If it came down to principles, he’d seen hired killers with more well-rounded consciences. All Nathan desired was to return to his old life and as a bonus to see the rich pay for exiling him.

Joel followed because that’s all he knew. He wasn’t a leader; he lacked Nathan’s brains and charm. Admittedly their attitudes differed drastically, but currently their goals meshed; Nathan wanted out of Exile. Joel wanted everyone out of exile or better conditions for those in exile. This required a shake-up to the system and that was what Nathan could provide. Without a lead figure like Nathan to rally the troops, no changes would be likely to come about. What people needed was someone to guide them, someone persuasive to tell them what to do, which was someone Joel could never be.

The fact that Nathan’s methods were not quite as ethical as he’d like did concern Joel, but he just pushed it to the back of his mind, with the thought that the end justifies the means. After all, most people weren’t like Nathan; the only crime they’d committed was to be born poor. They had done nothing, but the cards they’d been dealt had condemned them to a lower class existence in smog-filled downtown, dubbed exile, destined to a meagre 50-year life expectancy. If some of Nathan’s schemes worked, then it might draw attention to their plight and force the authorities to take notice. That was what he tried to tell himself anyway, tried to convince himself that he wasn’t just too weak to stand up and defy Nathan, that there was a greater good being served through following a guy with borderline psychoses.

Sighing, Joel pondered over just where society had lost the plot. With his level of education it wasn’t particularly easy to do and he wasn’t exactly blessed with the greatest brain in the universe. Most of what he’d learnt had come through sheer stubbornness and refusal to accept defeat. When well-meaning carers and teachers had all assured him that the best he could hope for was some kind of menial work and that he should really leave school at 15, he had strengthened his resolve, becoming more determined to make a difference. He was sure that there had to be something better than this life and that there was a way to change things for everyone. It was because of that belief that he devoured information, though it took him an age to even read one article.

Gradually Joel became aware that Nathan was watching him, he was pretty sure that Nathan didn’t trust him. Not that Nathan ever said so, that wasn’t his style. He probably even had some theory about keeping enemies closer than friends. Joel had a feeling he’d read that somewhere and it sounded like a philosophy that Nathan might follow.

Determined that he wouldn’t allow Nathan to get to him, Joel considered trying to strike up a conversation. Then he realised that making small talk was likely to give away the fact that Nathan was having an adverse effect on him. So Joel simply ignored Nathan, blocking him out and trying to concentrate on other matters. Ignoring Nathan however, was no mean feat. Nathan had a “notice-me” presence. His eyes seemed to bore into Joel’s soul like white-hot metal. Even though he refused to look directly at Nathan and struggled not to react to the knowledge that he was being watched, Joel was sure that he was giving out anxious signals. His body language must be positively screaming discomfort. Giving up the pretence, he nodded at Nathan and walked outside into the dark alley. How strange that he could find a greater sanctuary, here amongst the shadows in a rough part of town, than in a room with the leader of a faction he was aligned with.