Project LOSS

Chapter 17

Onaiah woke in the barn, bleary-eyed and covered in hay. She was simultaneously hit by the realisation that she had full control of her faculties—and the fact that moments ago, she had murdered a boy in his sleep. She knew, and told herself repeatedly, that she hadn't been in control of her body at the time, but this truth did nothing to ease her guilt and self-loathing. It had been her choice to give up control of her body all those years ago.

Oh, why didn't I take the little miracle pill sooner?

She sighed. It was pointless thinking in terms of ‘what if’. There was only what was, and what was to be done about it. Remembering what her brother had whispered to her before scarpering, she decided that returning to PAVE was the best course of action. If she didn’t, they would surely realise she was no longer their puppet.

By the time she arrived back at headquarters, Onaiah managed to build up just enough composure to act like the numb, mind-controlled drone who’d left. Her priority was to locate her brother, and she hoped he’d had a plan in mind when giving her the means to restore her mind to its former state.

“Great, they already know,” Onaiah murmured under her breath. A horde of guards lined up to apprehend her upon her entry to the citadel. The sleek robotic army surrounded her wordlessly and ushered her through unfamiliar tunnels toward a room she did not recognise. That alone didn't surprise her, considering the sheer scale of the structure; however, the floating disk in the centre of the dome-shaped room did concern her. The slim metallic form sat a few inches off the floor giving off both a low, quiet hum and a high-pitched squeal that cut through Onaiah like a knife. The terrible noise seemed to swell and pulse about the room as Onaiah and her captors approached the disk. It was as though that sound reverberated off the curved walls to assault her ears, again and again.

I‘d forgotten what a headache feels like, Onaiah thought, doing her best to hide her discomfort.

The army of guards stood at the edge of the floating circle, gesturing for her to step on to it. She did so, sensing no alternative options. It was a struggle to keep her balance as the disk rose with exponentially increasing speed toward a hole in the high ceiling of the vast room. It slowed to a stop inside a small room containing only one exit, which led into a curved corridor lined with more guards. The guards stood, lifeless, and observed her slow descent in eerie silence. She felt one guard move out of line and whisper, “Kill me,” but when she turned back, it stood lifeless, the visor covering its eyes pointing straight ahead.

Onaiah paused, staring at the lights reflected in the visor, searching for the eyes beneath.

“Did you say something?” Onaiah asked the metal giant before tentatively moving on, deciding she must have imagined the exchange.

The long corridor terminated at a room that was as enormous as it was breath-taking. Onaiah stood at the entrance to a circular balcony that acted as a viewing platform from which one beheld the spectacle floating above; an enormous, translucent representation of the earth shone and shimmered overhead, lit by thousands of twinkling white lights.

Onaiah stared up, transfixed by the beauty of the giant globe. She did not notice the young man until he was at her side, looking up in kind. When Onaiah saw him, he smiled widely at her.

“The red lights used to represent the infected. Now it’s easier to indicate those who are still human,” he explained.

“Sad, isn’t it?” he turned to her with a broad smile lacking any hint of sadness.

Onaiah nodded, unable to conjure a response that wouldn’t sound trite. “I think there’s something wrong with one of your guards,” she reported instead.

“There’s something wrong with all of them!” he declared and laughed.

“Are you going to take me to the elders?”

“Not exactly.” He grinned. “There are no elders—plural—just me.”

Onaiah stared blankly at the boy, attempting to decipher whether he was lying or joking. His casual attire, composed of faded jeans and a yellow cap, coupled with a permanent goofy smile, was hardly indicative of the vast well of power and intelligence that PAVE had at its disposal. The idea that everything and everyone within those walls was controlled by that single boy was incredulous at best. Every system that had once been held in place by manpower, from the power grid to the water board, was now upheld by the psychic energy that governed PAVE; a power that also controlled the will of thousands of beings simultaneously. Onaiah could not comprehend one single mind being capable of such a feat.

“Are you serious?” she whispered before she could stop herself.

“Funnily enough, I didn’t summon you here to answer your questions. I have encountered a problem with your brother, and I need to know whether it’s localised or if it extends to you. However, your innate ability to block psychic attack means I must use alternative methods to reveal the truth.” The boy continued to grin.

Onaiah remembered the words her brother whispered to her. He had expected this turn of events and had warned her so ardently to remain silent at all costs.

“I need you to kill your brother.”

Onaiah’s heart stopped beating. She had killed before, always under the orders of PAVE. Of that boy; if she were to believe his story. She couldn’t commit murder with her free will intact, as the boy surely knew. If it was a test of loyalty she was doomed to fail, and in doing so, she would also fail her brother. Her face crumpled and threaten to crack beneath the weight of the raw emotion that burst from her chest.

“Come,” said the boy before leading Onaiah to what she could only describe as a pit of despair; a location all too fitting for the occasion. Braydon stood shackled at the centre of an Olympic swimming pool-sized pit of green-brown mould and slime. He was held by a series of heavy chains that tethered his wrists and ankles and threaded through loops bolted to the floor, allowing for very little movement.

Onaiah felt a wave of Déjà Vu as she scanned the room and almost recalled a dream that featured a similarly horrible pit, slick with fresh blood rather than slime.

Onaiah turned to the boy, intent on spilling the truth and begging for mercy, but she was harshly shoved into the pit by one of the robot guards before she formed the words. A blade hurtled toward her head as she landed but Onaiah skilfully plucked from the air before it made contact. The bejewelled handle of the golden blade glinted and shone in her hand, reflecting light from three huge flood lamps that illuminated but did not brighten the dank area below.

Her eyes slowly raised and met Brayden’s, conveying silent despair and something deeper.

“Remember what I said.” He whispered, barely audible.

“I just can’t…” Onaiah started before her brother rushed her, falling upon the blade. His hands covered hers in a gentle but firm grip and thrust the sword deeper into his chest. Onaiah could do nothing but watch in horror as blood pooled around the puncture site, saturating his PAVE-issued shirt and dripping down the blade onto their entangled hands.

“It’s Okay,” he sputtered through blood-stained teeth. “It will be… you have to survive… be the last one… still…”

Braydon cleared his throat, coughing up a mass of blood.

“Remember that day?” he whispered calmly, eyes a glaze. Onaiah used her telepathy and sibling bond to search his mind for the memory. A memory so real she could feel the sun on her cheeks and smell the freshy cut grass. Their family had all been together that day, playing cricket and drinking cocktails on the last official day of summer.

Onaiah shook in grief as Braydon slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor.

The boy appeared at her side. “Well that was heroic,” he sighed, “albeit pointless. I shall have to devise a further test.”

Onaiah wanted to wipe the creepy grin from his smug face. She wished she could cave his skull in and pound him into dust until nothing remained but could only stand and do nothing as she died inside, knowing that lifting a finger against him would result in her death and fly in the face of her brother’s dying wish. She doubted there was anything more he could do to her; no fresh way to break her already shattered spirit.

Unfortunately, she was wrong.