Freedom Incorporated (40 page)

Earlier he’d
cooked a glorious meal of baked vegetables and succulent roast
lamb, which everyone except Samantha had thoroughly enjoyed.
How was I supposed to know she’s a
vegetarian?
He mentally kicked
himself.
A good host would have
asked!
She’d accepted the baked potato and
sacrificed pumpkin but politely avoided the lamb and gravy. He’d
apologised, profusely. He had nothing else to offer save for a new
species of fungus growing on a tomato in his fridge and he didn’t
think that would tempt her. So he’d gone to his customary
supermarket in Adelaide for supplies, alone. The others couldn’t
risk using a portal for the time being. He’d purchased a choice
selection of fruits and upon his return whipped up a delectable
fruit salad. Samantha, utterly embarrassed, had flushed bright
red.

After dinner
he’d flaked on the couch next to Jen where they’d chatted for
nearly an hour before she fell asleep on his shoulder. He watched
her sleep, hypnotised by the rhythm of her breath. The fact that
his shoulder had cramped seemed a small price to pay. Even though
he knew he had to rouse her, he delayed and procrastinated as the
minutes fleeted past. She was so fragile. She reminded him of a
delicate flower and he wanted to protect her from the scorching sun
lest she shrivel and succumb to the thriving weeds like the ones on
his property. An apparition wafted briefly to the edge of his mind,
bringing the suggestion that she wasn’t as fragile as he imagined.
And the ghostly thought made him draw another parallel between Jen
and his deceased wife.
Katherine was
strong.
Healing, it seemed, was a myth. Time
had only augmented the hurt.

He
tense
d
his shoulder
and the rocking action woke Jen with a start.

“
What?” She
sounded groggy.

“
You fell
asleep.” Dan’s fatigue splintered his voice into a fractal of bass
and baritone.

“
Oh.” She
struggled to sit straight and shielded her eyes from the light.
“What time is it?”

Dan smiled
again, as warmly as before. “Past your bedtime I think, come on.”
He offered a hand, helped her up, and guided her to her bedroom –
but refrained from helping any further. “I put a towel on your
pillow
.
Y
ou probably remember where the
bathroom is.”

She nodded, still a bit
dazed. “Thanks.”

“
Goodnight
Jen.”

“
Night,” she
said, smiling sincerely in reply.

He pulled the
door shut and drifted to his own bedroom, croaking a laugh when he
heard the rattle of Cookie’s keyboard drifting from the
study.
Doesn’t that man ever
rest?
He wondered what could possess someone
so completely that he or she would pass through all the barriers a
human body naturally threw against such a foolhardy
marathon.

Then he
remembered.

And his spine
stiffened.

*

The silence
was eerie. It slithered through the trees and Dan tuned to listen
for the ghosts he knew were hunting him.
They’re out there… in the darkness.
He
couldn’t see anything; his night vision was destroyed. But he could
feel them watching him, waiting for the right moment. He shook the
feeling away, shivered, and began to march, obsessed with reaching
his goal.
It’s not far.
But what lay between him and his destination
terrified him. Whatever it was, lurking in the dark. It wasn’t
human. But it wasn’t beast either. Dan knew it wanted to drink his
liver juices, feast on his flesh, and cast him into the abyss for
eternal torture.

He swallowed his fear and
stumbled forward, the undergrowth clawing at his boots and whipping
his face. Razor-like thorns tore his clothes and shredded his skin.
They gouged deep, broke from the vine, and remained fixed in his
bloodied tissue for him to dig out later with his knife.

A twig snapped
to his right, perhaps 50 metres into the gloom, and he reworked his
grip on his knife and steadied himself for the imminent attack.
Fear clutched his windpipe and stole his breath while tensing his
muscles to breaking point.
Not like
this.
He gritted his teeth for the third and
final assault on his mental reserves and commanded himself to keep
moving – his only chance for survival.
Run.
His body obeyed. He sprinted, the
blood deafening in his ears as he crashed through the bush. He
waved his useless knife in front of his blind
eyes
, eyes that opened
wide
at
a
terrifying thought:
I’m going the wrong
way.
He spun fast, but not fast enough, and
he shattered his nose to a bloody pulp by crashing against a tree
that he hadn’t seen until it was too late.

He clutched at the
stinging mass of pain in the middle of his face and spat at the
taste of blood, not surprised when three teeth failed to report to
his tongue. They lay like tokens of the horror to follow, gleaming
white enamel in the surrounding dark.

It’s not a
tree.
It had bark-like skin and was solid
enough to knock him over, but it was no tree. It was the epicentre
of his fear. He slashed wildly with his knife, surprised when it
plunged deep into soft flesh and a woman gasped. He looked more
closely.
Katherine?

Dan woke with a racing
pulse to find himself soaked in sweat.

He’d entwined his fingers
around his sheets and drawn blood by biting the inside of his
cheek. He willed himself to relax and, in time, his breathing
returned to normal.

Three
AM.
Dan moaned, disgusted to realise he’d
probably had as much sleep as he could get. The pattern was
familiar, the nightmares the same. And he was thoroughly sick of
it.

Instead of
lying uncomfortably on his sweaty sheets, he rose and ambled to the
kitchen in the dark. He had no need of light to find his way, not
with such an accurate mental map of his underground abode. No
sounds came from the study; Samantha had finally coaxed Cookie to
bed.
Good,
Dan
approved.
They need the rest.

A glass of
water numbed his lips and caused his teeth to ache, but it quickly
eased his sweat-induced dehydration.
So
now what should I do?
His question had
nothing to do with the remainder of the night. He was pondering
long-term options and wondering where his twisted life would turn
next.

He had his
evidence.
Why am I not in America now?
Handing it over and demanding retribution?
It didn’t make sense. But very little made sense at three in
the morning. Dan gingerly ran a pair of fingers across his bruised
back, then twisted left and right until his spine cracked in
protest. It still hurt on the apex of random breaths. The injury
made him think about the Raven, and where he might be. A splatter
of doubt was raining in his mind.
Would he
do it? Would he kill the CEO?
It depended on
how insane he really was.
Nah,
the sensible part of Dan’s mind
reasoned.
Nobody’s that crazy.

He looked long
and hard at the bottle of sleeping pills he’d stashed in the
kitchen, wondering whether they were worth taking. Last time they’d
knocked him unconscious for 20 hours and left him with a splitting
headache. The pimply doctor at one of Xantex’s prescription houses
had assessed Dan’s insomnia as chronic and severe, denoted him as a
potential candidate for their new sleeplessness cure. When the
memory flooded back, Dan wondered why he’d never flushed the pills
into the sewer. The experience had numbed his nervous system and
his 20 hours of dreamless sleep – unconsciousness – hadn’t left him
feeling refreshed. If anything, it had agitated him further. Xantex
had a solution for that too, a never-ending cycle of drugs to
combat side effect after side effect.
No
thanks.

He spent the
remainder of
the
night gazing at his favourite photograph. It was faded at the
edges from excessive handling and a crease ran down the middle, but
Katherine was as beautiful as ever in Dan’s eyes.

I’m
sorry.

*

Saturday, September 18,
2066

04:25 Tweed Heads,
Australia

It was colder than two
nights ago.

The Raven
attacked a crack that had developed in his index finger’s
nail.
Where did you go?
The trail was cold
and
that made them difficult to track, especially
since Sutherland knew all the tricks to avoid detection. The Raven
had scanned nearby portals for suspicious activity.
Nothing.
He’d accessed the
public transport department’s database for clues.
Nothing.
A lock of black
hair wisped in front of his eyes, carried by a sea
breeze.

The crack
widened and split his flesh, tearing a seam wide enough for a
trickle of blood to ooze free and run
o
nto his palm. He looked at the single
drop diffusing across his skin. The sting was easy to block, he’d
long since learned how to filter pain through his processor. While
he still registered it
,
pain never controlled him.

Frustrated, he
kicked a rock with his black boot and sent it scuttling across the
bitumen.
Where the fuck are
you?
He was tired again
– more tired
than a quick nap could
fix. A bitter laugh escaped his thin lips, carrying the irritation
of a dangerous man.
Just wait until I find
you, Dan Sutherland.
He stretched to his
full height and spat at the moon before heading toward the nearest
portal.
You won’t have need of a microchip
when I’m finished with you. And as for you, Miss Cameron… the
chipping squads won’t find enough of your body to work
with.

Chapter
6

If you take
the sacred things

The things
that we hold dear

Empty promise
is all you’ll find

So give me
something

Something to
believe in

The Offspring – Something
to believe in

Saturday, September 18,
2066

08:23 Andamooka, South
Australia

“
Good
morning.”

Dan grunted.
“Is it?” Then he mentally slapped himself. He didn’t need to
inflict his tainted mood on the others.
Snap out of it Danny-boy, she doesn’t deserve
that.
“Sorry,” he apologised. “I had a rough
night.”

Jen raised a regal
eyebrow. “That’s okay.” She was wearing a white robe that she’d
found in Dan’s cupboard. “I’m sorry you had a bad
night.”

Dan absently gestured,
attempting to look relaxed but coming across distracted and
disinterested. “It’s funny how you take sleep for granted until you
can’t have it anymore.”

Samantha and
Cookie were yet to rise. They were languishing in the comfort of
Dan’s vibrating
guest
bed. Jen could hear her friend giggling and wondered when
she’d get out of bed and brave the world. She was uncomfortable
being alone with their host. Dan was radiating… something. She
couldn’t put her finger on exactly what.

“
You want to
talk about it?” She knew she had to offer. How could she not?
Something was obviously tormenting him.

Dan shook his head,
unable to meet her gaze. “Thank you, but I’d rather not.” He pushed
away from the bench. “How about some breakfast?”

“
I’d love
some,” she welcomed the change in topic. “What’re you
offering?”

“
Muesli, eggs
and toast. Take your pick.”

Jen sat on a breakfast
stool and tightened the cord around her waist, making sure the robe
adequately covered her chest. “I’ve never been fond of hot food for
breakfast. Muesli sounds good though.”

Dan laid two bowls on the
bench and fished clean spoons from the dishwasher and muesli from a
jar in the pantry. He filled both bowls and drowned the muesli in
soymilk. “It’s all I have.”

“
Good, because
that’s all I drink.”

“
Ah,” he said,
placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. “A fellow dairy
deserter.”

“
My mother
wouldn’t keep cow’s milk in the house, so I got used to soy when I
was a girl,” Jen explained. “I remember the last time I had cow’s
milk.” She shuddered through a sour expression. “But I shouldn’t
talk about that over breakfast.”

Dan smiled but
it looked strained, as though he was putting on a brave show to
shield her from…
What?
From something lingering beneath the surface. “Where did you
grow up?”

“
Coffs
Harbour,” Jen replied. “Not the most savoury place, I know. Hell,
it’s not a good place to visit let alone spend a childhood. But
that’s where my parents settled, so that’s where I was
stuck.”