END OF PRIDE (The Soteria Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  More questions.

  Francis opened his mouth wide, displaying to Brie an empty gaping hole where both his tongue and his teeth should be.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  “Yeah, the Union held Francis captive for about three years. They hammered out his teeth and cut out his damn tongue. Bloody maniacs those creeps are. He’s been hanging out with me and the fellas up here in the jungle for almost a year now.”

  Brie nodded. “Look, I know you don’t seem to like questions,” she said, looking around hesitantly. “But I have many… What exactly are you doing up here in the jungle?”

  Bruce looked into Brie’s frightened eyes. He paused, inhaled then smiled an authentic, warm grin. “We’re digging a tunnel,” he said, pointing to the ground. “We’re digging an escape tunnel under the bloody wall. There are thirty-seven of us all together living in our little community under the trees. We call the place Tunnel Town. Or just T-Town for short.”

  Hope returned to her weakened soul, energising her like a shot of Fosform Five. Escape might be possible.

  “Oh wow… Is it finished yet?”

  “Well think about that, sweetheart. If we finished it, we wouldn’t be standing here talking to you, would we? We’d be free men on the other side, away from this godforsaken Empire.”

  Overwhelmed with the possibility of freedom, so many thoughts rushed through her frenzied mind. She paused and took a much-needed breath.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Are you getting close?”

  “We’ve been digging for about sixteen months and from what we reckon we gotta be pretty much under the wall right about now, so really we’re only about halfway. The soldiers do random security checks about once a fortnight either from the top of the wall or along its base. They don’t seem to venture into the jungle too far ’cause there’s never anyone around here. The soldiers are bloody predictable. There’re pretty much ten to fifteen days between their sweeps. They came past four days ago, which means we should be right for a week. Other than their fortnightly checks, they don’t come up this way too much. The jungle’s a dead zone. Anything north of Georgetown is left to the elements. Because the soldiers check the base of the wall, we started the tunnel about eight hundred metres back so the tunnel is almost a kilometre long and it’s only halfway. Crazy, huh?”

  “It sure is,” said Brie. “Well I guess I’m lucky that you were on patrol when you were. Otherwise I might be splattered up against the wall right now.”

  She forced a smile.

  These two deserters were complete strangers. Even so, Brie felt the safest she had since leaving Indonesia. Happy to find others with similar ideals and the same hostile distaste towards the Union, she sensed warm and alluring acceptance. Bruce was a little rough around the edges. That didn’t matter. He seemed like a genuine and friendly guy. She felt refreshed and revitalised by conversation and hope. Still a little intimidated by Francis, Brie smiled at him and tried to swallow her uncertainty.

  “So Bruce, how come you and Francis aren’t wearing oxygen conditioners? Don’t you get sick?”

  “I used to wear one but some locals would go months without wearing them and they seemed fine. It seems the syndrome isn’t as severe this far north. There’re no bloody factories or power plants or sub-plazas round here. That’s not to say that the syndrome won’t get ya. If you spend over two months on the surface up this way your lungs and liver will bleed. It’s happened to a few of me mates. Fortunately for us, we have a few pallets of Fosform Five we got from a supply train down in KL nearly a year ago.”

  Brie’s eyes lit up. “No way. That must be worth millions of credits?”

  “Yeah, well, it was. Ain’t much left now. I’m sure it probably cost a few people their jobs, probably their lives too.” Bruce sniggered. “It wasn’t easy to get. Because the air’s cleaner up here, we only need a dose every two to three weeks and we seem to be fine. At this rate the supply we have will only last us another month, then we’re gonna head back down and try to get more.

  “They bring the shipments up to KL from Darwin, across the train bridges, through the Central Sector. We’ve got an inside contact in Bali so he can give us a week’s notice to gather our shit and head down there. Last time was tricky. We lost eight good friends, but like I always tell ‘em, freedom isn’t free, right? It comes at a price, if you know what I mean?”

  Brie nodded. She knew that more than anyone.

  “So how far is T-Town from here and is it all right if I come with you guys?”

  “Well, sweetheart, it’s not like me and Francis are gonna leave you in the bloody jungle! It’s about three k’s away. If we stick to the boundary clearing, it should take us about an hour. If you want anything to eat or drink, you’ll have to wait ‘til we get there. We travel light on patrol, just in case we come across any Union scum.”

  “No that’s fine. I have water in my pack but my oxygen conditioner is on reserve supply. Is it even worth wearing?”

  “Chuck that useless piece of shit in the bushes,” Bruce said, smiling. “It’ll do you more harm than good. Once we get back to T-Town, I’ll give you a jab of Fosform and you’ll feel the best you have in weeks.”

  Following Bruce’s suggestion, Brie tossed the mask in the thick undergrowth then set off with her newfound accomplices through the jungle.

  FIVE

  The line before me finally disappeared.

  There were now only a handful of citizens between my much-needed dosage and me. I shuffled forward and took my place in a small, glass cubicle. When instructed, I stepped over the thick red line printed on the rubber floor beneath me. A middle-aged Injection Administrator looked up at me from his desk. He seemed as enthusiastic about the day as I did. There weren’t many jobs more monotonous than being a Fosform Five Injection Administrator. It was a mind-numbingly repetitive task, but it had its merits. If you worked as an Injection Administrator you got a great sub-plaza apartment and an annually increasing credit ration.

  My Injection Administrator was slim, pale and balding. He looked gaunt, almost unhealthy. He spoke to me with monotone indifference.

  “Name?”

  “Tyson Anderson,” I replied, coughing to loosen the phlegm from my throat.

  “Membership number?”

  “636-124.”

  He typed my number into his touch-screen device and used a hand-held scanner to read the chip inserted into my flesh at the top of my spine.

  “Okay, Mr Anderson, please step around the desk, sit down inside the yellow square and tilt your head to the left.”

  I followed his command. I knew what I needed to do. Each week they said the same shit, year in and year out. They had to. It was part of their job. Stick to the script, he would’ve been told. The Union was turning freethinking human beings into programmed machines.

  I sat on the cold steel and tilted my head to the left, exposing the skin on the right side of my neck. The balding Injection Administrator inserted a pod capsule of the aqua-blue serum into an automatic injector gun and put it to my neck. The first few times getting the injection was uncomfortable, frightening even, but naturally after years of it, it became barely noticeable. Hearing the trigger press, I felt the cool liquid enter my vein. The Injection Administrator removed the injector from my neck and pressed a button on the gun, ejecting both the needle and the empty capsule into a large box-like bin on a conveyer-belt beside his desk. He typed something on his screen.

  “Thank you, citizen. You’re free to go. We will see you again next week.” Not even a smile or any real sign that he acknowledged me as an actual person. “May the Lord Almighty be with you,” he added as I departed. I clenched my teeth and walked away.

  The Lord Almighty angered me almost as much as the Union did. I was told that you were as free as you allowed yourself to be yet you were forbidden to find faith in Allah or Buddha or the Hindu deities without facing surface exposure torture. Catholicism was the only accepted religion within the Empir
e and all its landmasses, even places that prior to the Union were predominantly Muslim. Even speaking about other religions in public was blasphemous. I only knew who Allah and Buddha were because of the modern-day Crusades, or what the Union referred to as The Conversion.

  Towards the end of 2046, not even two years into its rule of the land, the Union wanted to show its unforgiving power and devotion to the Catholic Church. Funded with dirty money, it launched The Conversion. They considered this the pivotal point in history that triggered the start of the third world war and the true isolation of Soteria. The Union trained a ruthless Catholic Army and let them loose on a mission to convert or kill. The Conversion saw the largest mass genocide in documented human history.

  By the start of 2047, the Union hunted down, tortured and killed over thirty-one million Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists and Atheists. Age and social stature were unimportant. A non-believer was a non-believer. In two shorts years the Humanist Union eradicated Islam from all cities within the boundaries of Soteria.

  Within the Empire, Catholic propaganda was part of daily life. Every registered citizen with a membership number needed to attend Church every Sunday for Mass, zero exceptions. In Block 7 alone there were 23 churches, on Tier Three, 118 churches and in the whole of 3rd Sydney West sub-plaza, there were close to 1000 churches all built in honour of the Almighty Father in heaven. All built with dirty blood money.

  It sickened me.

  God sickened me.

  The whole distorted view of the Union sickened me.

  With my dosage injection complete, I walked down the exit corridor and out into the foyer of Block 7’s medical sector. I made my way to the internal transporter tunnels taking me back to my apartment cell. I typed my apartment zone into the touch pad beside the navy-blue metal doors and felt the cell move gently beneath me. Eight seconds later and the door of the cell slid open. I was in my apartment zone.

  Stepping from the cell, I turned the corner. The corridor was busy with Block 7 residents. I ignored them all and instead looked at the wall beside me, avoiding eye contact with my fellow residents. An attractive scene of a South-Pacific sunset covered the wall from navy-blue floor to navy-blue ceiling. The water rippled against the sand; the sunlight flickered off the moving waves. With three-dimensional light display technology, the images in the sub-plazas were surprisingly realistic. It appeared to be like looking out of a window, although Tier Three was sixty metres underground and a long damn way from the South Pacific. I strolled past the setting sun and made my way to my front door.

  I placed my thumb to the sensor pad beside the door handle. After two seconds the sensor pad flashed green and beeped a long, low-pitch beep.

  “Security code… step one… complete,” spoke an automated female voice from a speaker built into the sensor pad. I then leaned forward and stared into a microscopic camera lens the size of a pinhead. A small globe above the camera flashed green and beeped a long, low-pitch beep.

  “Security code… step two… complete,” spoke the voice again as my automatic lock system on my aluminium front door disengaged. The retina scan was the latest in purchasable security systems. In such a controlled environment I found it pointless, but I purchased it anyway. Even in a sub-plaza they had citizens spending their hard-earned credits on products they didn’t really need. Consumer culture still existed just as it always had. I couldn’t talk, though. I was the same as every other sucker.

  Upon entering my small room, motion-sensor down-lights came on and illuminated the main living area with the warmth of sunlight. I removed my boots and slid them into the shoe storage beside my front door. With bare feet on my alpaca-wool carpet, I walked over to my inbuilt media control system named Laura and switched her on, watching my wall screen awaken. Laura welcomed me home and told me the time and the following day’s list of pre-programmed errands. As usual, I thanked her. At first I found it odd talking to artificial intelligence but like most things, conditioning made it seem normal after a short time.

  I turned on the hologram remote control for Laura’s hard drive installed in the ceiling beside the sofa and began searching through film titles. I slouched on the alpaca-wool recliner in front of my wall screen and stared at the wall beside me, lost in bleak hopelessness.

  Was I a coward? Was I just behaving like a B-Gen brat?

  I couldn’t focus on anything for more than a few seconds. I kept thinking about the fact that in less than two weeks someone else would sit here on my alpaca-wool sofa set beside me.

  What if she’s ugly?

  What if she’s rude, obnoxious?

  But wait…

  What if she’s unbelievably beautiful?

  SIX

  Brie kept pace with Bruce and Francis.

  After forty-five minutes of consistent walking, Brie and her two new guides headed south through the thick woodland. “Make sure you walk a different path to me and Francis all right, missy? We don’t wanna wear tracks into the forest floor.”

  Brie followed Bruce’s request, walking to the right of her guides.

  Thick, overgrown and intimidating, the jungle at that exact point along the wall had certain energy, a dark aura that Brie found frightening. It was mid-morning. The sun hung high but only small fragmented rays of sunlight filtered through the dense canopy above. After ten minutes of negotiating their way through thick bush, the three of them came to a clearing at the base of a tall tree. Thick buttress roots surrounded its trunk. Brie thought she could make out the smell of food cooking. Somehow, through the strange smells of the jungle she could smell fire and warmth and safety. After a month on the run, Brie learnt that safety had an aroma as distinct as the smell of death.

  “Hey, guys. You seem to have increased in numbers. Where did you find her?”

  Brie looked up. The voice came from somewhere above them. She saw a small Asian man perched high in the tree holding what appeared to be a Union-issue taser cannon.

  “You still up there, Evan?” Bruce called out. “Don’t you ever bloody sleep?”

  “Just coming down now. It’s time I head inside for a feed.”

  “Well, come on down then, mate. This is Brie, Brie Kallas. We found her up by the wall wandering around with a bloody oxygen conditioner strapped to her face, about to get herself blown up. She’s come up from the Eastern Sector, trying to find freedom just the same as us stupid bastards…”

  Evan climbed down the tree with the agility of a primate. He leapt from a tree branch at least three metres from the ground and landed with gymnastic precision. Looking at Brie, he smiled and held out his hand to greet her. “Hey, Brie. It’s nice to meet you. Welcome to what we call home.”

  “Thanks. I can’t wait to see it.”

  Brie shook Evan’s hand and introduced herself with a smile. She began a brief narrative of her story. Apparently it wasn’t brief enough. Bruce interrupted her, cutting short her story. “Righto. You two can babble later. We gotta get underground. Follow me.”

  Evan rolled his eyes and smiled at Brie. “It’s okay,” he said with a welcoming chuckle. “You’ll get used to Bruce’s inviting personality.”

  Bruce entered between two shoulder high buttress roots and foraged through the leaf litter to produce a small cord. Pulling on the cord, he revealed the metal handle of a crude timber trapdoor under the leaves and dirt. Bruce lifted up the door and exposed a dirt and timber stairwell descending into the darkness.

  Francis closed the trapdoor behind them. Brie could make out a dim light coming from the bottom of the stairs. Bruce was just a faint silhouette before her. She hesitated, and then followed the faint silhouette until she found flat ground. Needing to crouch to fit inside the entrance tunnel, Brie squatted down inside the darkness. Crudely made timber slats held up the ceiling along the length of the tunnel. On every fifth timber support a dated oil lantern hung to the side, producing a dull orange glow. “This is one of the entrance tunnels to T-Town,” Bruce said to Brie. “We’ve got three other entrance points, j
ust in case one is breached or collapses. Bloody cool, hey?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” said Brie. If she thought the oxygen-conditioning mask made her feel claustrophobic, then the tunnel was a whole new level. She felt trapped, uneasy. She felt nauseous. The tunnel began shrinking around her. She started sweating. Her breathing became short and erratic. Feeling light-headed, the tunnel began to close in around her. “I need to get out of here,” she mumbled between erratic breaths. The dull orange glow began to swirl around her like a carnival ride. She panicked. Reaching out to Bruce for support, she fell forward.

  Hitting the compacted dirt of the corridor, T-Town’s newest arrival lay motionless. Bruce came to her aid, pulling her up to her feet and supporting her with an arm around her waist. “What’s wrong with you then? Just relax, missy. Everything’s all bloody right.”

  Between panicky gasps of air, Brie spat out broken words about claustrophobia and tight spaces. Francis, lacking sympathy, snickered at her response, cackling like a high school bully.

  “Well,” said Bruce as reassuringly as he could. “You’re gonna have to get used to it ’cause T-Town is a maze of tunnels and caves built into the dirt. Now, take a few deep breaths, chill out and let’s get you to the main quarters and get you something to drink.”

  Brie and her three guides stayed in the entrance tunnel for a few minutes while she lowered her heart rate and composed herself. Before long they continued along the tunnel, step by nervous step. The deeper they got, the wider the tunnel became. With each widening metre, despite the stale taste in the air, Brie found it easier to breathe.

  The tunnel opened to a large cavern-like room lit up with electric lanterns hanging from eyebolts in the rock. The room had the homely aroma of boiled vegetables and spices and the warmth of quiet and friendly chatter. People gathered around the tables, men and women of varying age and race. Some were preparing vegetables and fruits around an old cast-iron stove, some were studying a map and others were casually playing cards.