Dawnrunner

Chapter 15

I wake to the sensation of the jeep slowing to a crawl over rough ground. The plan was to avoid the main road and follow the rivers west before heading north towards the city. From what I can hear over the sound of the engines, we’re right on track. In the seat in front of me, Mattielli is resting with his chin against his chest, while the lieutenant is driving. I wonder if she ever actually sleeps.
“We’re here,” Tanya says suddenly, startling me. The car pulls to a stop next to a cabin that looks out of place on the hill side. As I climb out and start to stretch out my limbs I see the other jeeps pulling up behind up behind us. The engines die away but the headlights stay on, providing the dark landscape with the only source of illumination.
The first thing I notice is the air. It’s fresher than at Sofia, but still not as easy to breath as the filtered air of the Sanctuary. I cough once but quickly get used to it. Tanya is organising the crew as they unpack some heavy-looking bags from the jeeps.
“Carli! Look!” Something has Rachel instantly excited, and she’s practically pulling off my shoulder trying to turn me around.
There’s a light to the north, a few hours away by jeep. At first it reminds of me of Melbourne at a distance during the night, when the dome lights are down and the street-level lamps take over. I stare for a few minutes trying to see what has got Rachel so worked up, and then my heart skips a beat.
It’s sunlight! Real, actual sunlight, breaking down through the cloud on the out-skirts of Amsterdam. It’s too far away to make out the point where the cloud ends and the sky-clear section begins, but it’s real, shining like a beacon, calling to me, to all of us.
“I don’t believe it,” Rachel yells. Unlike me she still remembers how to talk. “It’s right there, we’re so close!”
Tanya appears behind me out of nowhere, shattering the moment. “You need to put these on,” she says, “we don’t have much time.” In her hands she’s holding two pairs of handcuffs, like the ones we wore when we first arrived in Sofia. Instinctively I rub my wrists, though the memory of the night at the bonfire hurts more than the raw skin. The image of Lazarus shooting Commander Rayne flashes through my mind, causing my chest to constrict across my heart. How much everything has changed since then: Michael and Lazarus, two men in one body. One is my ally, the other...
Rachel is arguing with Tanya as the cuffs come down. They were a part of the plan from the beginning, a vital step in making sure the Global Effort believed we were prisoners and nothing more. But there really is no stopping Rachel getting in one last protest, especially when it’s Lieutenant Romanova holding the keys. For a smile catches the corner of the lieutenant’s mouth as she closes the rings on Rachel’s wrists, but to my relief I’m the only one who notices.
The last of the passengers-slash-prisoners puts on their cuffs when a loud rumbling from the direction of the light causes the group to turn almost simultaneously.

A pair of trucks with a canvas backs pull up to our convoy, stopping a few dozen meters ahead of the lead jeep. From the front seats jump two GE soldiers. Both are wearing heavy-looking helmets that finish in gas-masks and are carrying over-sized assault rifles. The one on the right makes to raise his rifle, but the other, the driver of the second truck, waves him down.
“Let’s try this easy…” comes the gruff, muffled voice from behind the mask. The first man mumbles something incoherent ending in the words ‘blond-haired bitch’. Tanya stiffens visibly but says nothing. From the corner of my eye I see her hand inch towards the gun at her belt.
The second driver calls out in a voice that drips with a sarcastic pride, as though somehow he’s untouchable despite being outnumbered. “The med-tech’s in the truck,” he yells. “Hurry up ‘nd get it out so we can get outta here!”
Mattielli and the other guards exchange a quick glance in Tanya’s direction, who nods without taking her eyes off the driver. She stands perfectly still staring at the men in the masks as her crew moves towards the canvas-covered truck and begins unloading a dozen large crates.
When the last of the supplies are moved back past the line of jeeps, the driver yells out again. “Alright you people, get in line and start moving toward the trucks!”
With a sick twist I realise that somehow, without my knowledge, I had been promoted to the leader of our group of virtual refugees. Everyone is standing on the spot, hands locked in front of them, and they’re staring at me.
“Let’s go!” yells the driver. “We ain’t waiting!”
I swallow once and force my feet forward, listening to the sounds of Rachel’s steps behind me and then the shuffle of the whole group moving into line behind us. I try to stop my hands shaking as I pass the masked soldiers and make my way to the back of the first truck.
A single lamp built into the roof lights up a pair of benches on either side. Getting up the step into the back is a challenge with my hands locked, but somehow I manage and turn to pull up Rachel. Christy is as white a sheet as she climbs in with Rachel’s help, and the three of us move to the spaces nearest to the front. When all of us are onboard, the driver appears at the entrance.
“Alright folks, the Amsterdam gate is an hour away, so make yourselves comfortable.” I’m grateful I can’t see his face – somehow I get the feeling he’s jeering at us.
The truck pulls out and I glimpse the silhouettes of Tanya and Mattielli in the headlights of the jeep. For some reason I don’t quite understand I make a silent promise to myself, saying that I’ll see them again before long.

The trucks stop about halfway to the city walls. Over the stir of the passengers I can hear the sound of one of the doors opening and heavy footsteps walking towards the rear entrance.
“New orders…” says one of masked men, I can’t tell which. He reaches up and pulls on the cord holding the canvas door in place. “For security.” The cover comes down and we’re plunged into shadow, kept at bay by the small lamp in the ceiling. I reach down for my small phone, wanting the screen to light up just a small part more of the cabin, until I remember it’s gone, back on the seat in the jeep. The modifications the rebels made to it would have made it impossible pretend we are who we say we are.
There’s tightness in my stomach that I know comes from the fact we are now embracing as our saviours the same people who have lied to us our entire lives. In a few hours we will be looking at the faces of GE soldiers and thanking them for saving us from the evil rebels. Looking around at the other passengers, I don’t even know how many of them know the truth, or how many more refused to believe it.
Rachel nudges me with her elbow and smiles as if tell me not to worry. It doesn’t quite work but it does encourage me to put my head down on her shoulder for a while.

My eyes burst open at the sound of heavy gates being drawn outside. Light is filtering in through the holes in the canvas and there are military voices yelling to each other. My truck continues slowly along a winding path. Outside the voices are getting louder, not just military anymore but civilians too from the sound of them. There are a lot of people yelling about the ‘rescued prisoners of the Dawnrunner.’ When we finally come to a stop the voice seem somehow distant. My guess is no one is being let near us. I can hear the sound of boots as the two men get out and walk along the sides of the truck.
When the canvas entrance is opened, a rush of light the likes of which I’ve never seen threatens to blind me. I’m blinking so hard I can’t make out anything clearly. There’s a man at the entrance, a thin man, with wire glasses and short hair. His hands are behind his back as he examines us, giving away nothing. When he speaks he has an accent I can’t quite place, and a theatrical tone that sounds well-rehearsed. It is clearly meant to sound sincere, but I shiver regardless.
“I know you’ve all had a harrowing ordeal,” he says loudly, “but that is all over. You are now under the protection of the Global Effort!”