Dawnrunner

Chapter 12

The lights in the hallway are even brighter than I remember. Tanya and the soldiers are behind us, guarding the penthouse. Lazarus is beside me on the short walk back to the room where Rachel and Christy are waiting.
“How do I know we can trust you?” I ask. “We’re still your prisoners.”
“No, you’re not,” he replies, without hesitating. “We didn’t free you from the island just to lock you up here. It was necessary until now to prevent you from moving freely, for your own protection, but things are changing.”
Lazarus holds out his hand towards me. In his palm sits Rachel’s phone, with my profile still visible on the screen. The back has been removed and a few components I don’t recognise have been added. “It’s been altered,” he says, responding to the confusion on my face. “It will download data but not send it. You can’t communicate with the island, but you will have access to Valkyrie, for a short time at least. Not just the public servers you’re used to, the military files as well. In those files are the truth about the Sanctuary and the Global Effort. Use them to help convince your friends.”
“They won’t accept what you’ve told me, not easily.”
The shadow of a grin flicks across his face, and I think I catch the humour in his good eye. “Yes, I determined that from our last meeting. I’m counting on you to persuade them.”
Reaching up he pulls away the heavy bar sealing the door, and I picture Rachel wrecked with worry on the other side. I’ve been gone for far too long.
“I’d better get inside, my friends will be freaking out by now.” I turn on my heel but stop when his hand lands on my arm.
“You must be hungry,” he says quietly. “When you are ready, Tanya will bring you and your friends to the dining room.”
As I open the door, I realise I’m smiling a little.

Strong arms hold me around my neck, crushing me, cutting off my breath. Desperately I suck the air I need to plead for my release.
“Rachel, it’s ok! I’m fine… you’re choking me!” The arms release me and I take a grateful pull of oxygen.
“We were so worried!” she cries for the dozenth time. “You were gone for over an hour! And we heard screams…”
I cringe inwardly as I remember the conversation with Lazarus. How much like a brutal interrogation must that have sounded from this dark room?
“He didn’t hurt me,” I tell her. Physically, at least.
“Then what were you screaming about?” It’s a far question, but the answer makes me sick to think about.
“There’s something you guys need to see.” Cautiously I hold out the phone. At first Rachel is furious about the damage to her handset, but I somehow manage to refocus her attention to the content on the screen. Already loaded is a menu of GE files, detailing the operation of the Sanctuary, including the secret facility within the Alice Spring power plant: the source of the cloud.
“No!” she yells at me, shaking her head. “He’s lying, that’s what they do.”
Christy finishes reading and turns to face me. “She’s right Carliah. They’re rebels, you can’t trust them.”
I think about the man who stood before me and asked me to believe his story: Lazarus, the leader of a group of rebels, kidnappers and murderers, and now, if he is to be believed, my saviour. Christy’s right, I can’t trust him. A deep pain in the base of my stomach pulls my thoughts in another, more immediate, direction.
“We can argue about this later,” I say. “For now, we need to eat. Lazarus is waiting for us in the dining room.”
Rachel and Christy exchange shocked glances before simultaneously refusing; but I know they’re both starving so I volunteer to go out and bring something back. As promised, the door to the room is unlocked and I am once again greeted by a flood of light from the hallway. Outside, Tanya is waiting for me.
“Carliah, I am here to escort you to the dining room.” I cringe at the sound of my name in her strange accent. Somehow I am immediately aware that she is not making a request. “Do not worry about your friends, food and drink has been sent for them. It will be here shortly.”
“And a lamp, please. We’re sick of sitting in the dark all the time.”
Tanya nods automatically. “Of course. Now, come this way.”

The empty dining room looks like it has not been used in years. Dusty chairs are stacked on almost every table and none of the electric lights seem to be working. Deep shadows fill the corners where the light from the candles do not reach. On the table where Lazarus is waiting, a brilliant candelabrum illuminates small plates of bread, roast meats and fruit. A rebel’s feast, I muse hungrily. Tanya is silent as she seats me at the table, eventually taking her own chair opposite me.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he says in his carefully measured tone.
“If Rachel had had her way, I wouldn’t have.” It’s a poor joke, but the best I can manage under the circumstances. He smiles briefly anyway.
“She has been through much, you all have. In time you will come to know many here who have had similar difficult awakenings. I hope you will all learn to trust us.”
As he talks I become aware that Tanya is watching me intently, even suspiciously. “You must be hungry,” she says finally. “You must eat.”
The plate in front of me is lined with several slices of meat. With a care that defies my starved appetite, I cut of a piece of the nearest slice. My eyes go wide as I am overwhelmed by the barrage of flavour from my food.
“That’s… incredible!” The contrast between what I’m eating and the food from the Sanctuary is astonishing. Looking up I realise that Lazarus is grinning widely.
“One of the few perks of living out here: the food is real, free of the infinite processing of the GE.”
“You always eat like this?” I ask between bites. The grin is replaced by a more serious expression, and I immediately regret my question.
“Not always,” he replies. “But the times we do help remind us of what we’re fighting for.”
I realise this conversation is going to be difficult, and begin weighing each question in my mind before asking. Finally I come up with what seems like the most obvious choice.
“What is your real name?”
Tanya coughs suddenly, seeming for a moment to choke on her food.
“What did you say?”
“Your name… it wasn’t always ‘Lazarus,’ was it?”
Immediately I can feel the tension building, but it is a few moments before I realise the most uncomfortable person in the room is Tanya. Finally she stands and after a quick salute leaves through a small side door.
“Did… I say something wrong?”
“Please, forgive the lieutenant. She would prefer not to be here for this particular conversation you have started.”
“Why won’t you tell her your name?” I ask, genuinely intrigued.
“I would, in a heartbeat, but that is not the problem. In truth, she – like many of the others here – simply does not want to know.” On his face is an expression I can’t place: longing, perhaps? When he does speak the words come out heavy, pained. “Out here we struggle for survival every day, battling shortages of almost every supply as well as the GE troops. For many, our ideals are the only things that keep them going.”
“And your name is a part of that?”
“I never meant for it to be. I even refused to be called ‘Lazarus’ in the beginning. But as the resistance grew, it became clear that being their leader was going to be about more than giving orders or distributing food. It was about giving them hope. If pretending to be something I’m not helps me to do my job, then so be it.”
There are no thoughts, no reasons: rational, sane or otherwise. Unbidden, I stand from my chair and round the table until I’m standing in front of him. My mind is clear as I take his hands in mine and gently pull his arms towards me, until he rises to his feet. He’s taller than me, so much so that I have to look up to see into his face. This man is hope, for so many people, and yet not for me. I reach up and brush the fringe away from his good eye. Maybe, somehow…
“I haven’t had any hope since I met you,” I say quietly. My hand wraps behind his head, feeling the brush of his hair as it passes. With a confidence I don’t feel, I pull him towards me and lean into the kiss. Any pretence of resistance vanishes as strong hands pull me closer and I rest my head against his chest.
“Michael,” he whispers to me. “My name is Michael.”