The Coils

Rotting grime caught my leg in its grasp, threatening to halt my already sluggish progress. Wrenching my ankle free, I continued my laboured wading through the murky liquid. I focussed my thoughts on what I came here to do, rather than what might be lurking beneath the surface. It was not far now.

Eight months beneath the surface of the province, or what was left of a province after the Fourth War, had taught me to fear the light. Darkness had become my sanctuary. The tunnels they had carved when they first appeared had served only as their access points; they abandoned them as quickly as they had come. The Coils. They worked fast, decimating city after city, twinning when they grew closer. Lightning circles that performed a choreographed dance, a melodic swirl of chaos; they craved destruction. The world never saw them coming.

Someone did. Someone created them. When the first provinces fell, all eyes were clouded by the fight to survive, to attempt to protect homes, families, friends. The settling dust in their wake cleared enough for questions, hypothetical scenarios, and, often blindly, pointed fingers. The government, the military, the Dimir Province – blame was tossed through the air as quickly as the Coils hungrily ravaged the world. But we knew; we knew what they were, how they came to be, why they came into existence. It was sickening.

After the Fourth, the world tried to resume, to get back on course. But it couldn’t. Resources were depleting, there was little fertile land to farm and the survivors’ faith in their leaders, those who had taken reign post-war, was wavering. What had persisted was science, and greed. An enduring, consuming battle that stole the nature from ‘human nature’ and never paused to reflect. The Third had destroyed faith; the Fourth followed hastily after. Humanity had lost, and artificial had taken its place. Knowledge was power, technological skill was worshipped, and, together, they ruled. The Coils were born. They tore through the provinces, guided by those who had built them – the Scientists, governed by the provincial leaders. It was all a twisted game of control.

The Servers, once known as Police before the Third, maintained law and order, though it was a difficult task when each day dawned on fresh blood. Most Servers spent their time sweeping the streets clear of flesh that remained after the animals ravaged the night. Underground resistant factions had naturally spawned and rumour was some Servers were working with the resistors, fighting against the scientists who controlled the Coils.

I tripped. Dank water splashed my face as I stumbled forward, my arms outstretched, hoping to brace my fall. My palms slid across the surface before plunging beneath. Slime licked my fingers as they brought me to a stop. With my mouth and eyes clenched tightly, my feet found purchase and I shot upright. My hands were covered in a thick ooze and I shook them furiously, small whimpers escaping my nose. I dared not open my mouth, to gasp and gulp and let the cries escape. I wiped my shirt, trying to find a place that was not already damp from sweat, water and whatever other foreign liquids that may have clung to me along the way. My breath became frantic, a staccato beat that forced my nostrils to flair and my shoulders to shake.

I screamed inside my head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. It worked. My shoulders slowly abated their shuddering. My hands felt less contaminated and I patted my face, ensuring there was little liquid around my mouth and eyes. I allowed my lids to open slightly, testing. Nothing dripped in so I batted my lashes. Safe. My lips parted and I took in a deep, slow breath.

My head whipped around as a scream penetrated the silence, ricocheting off the tunnel walls. I did not have much time. Turning forward, my eyes readjusted to the darkness, seeking the miniscule light sources that filtered through from above. I moved slowly, then increased my pace. Soon, my gait was back to its sluggish full stride and I pulled each leg through the water, my arms splayed in an attempt to maintain balance. Another scream rent the air. This time its echo didn’t last.

“Damnit,’ I muttered. They were closer. I forced my tiring legs to wade faster, unconcerned about the sound I was creating as my panting increased in volume.

An excited gasp escaped my lips; I almost sank to my knees in ebullient exhaustion. There it was. A beam of light trickled from the grate in the surface and rested on the object. Particles of dust danced in the light’s gaze; an incongruous waltz in these depths of despair.

I reached upward and my fingertips grazed the object. It jostled and bumped against the metal clip from which it clung. A soft, metallic sound tinkled. I laughed; the sound seemed alien. My fingers grasped and pulled. I almost heard the chain sigh as it was released. I closed my hand around it, too scared to believe what I had been looking for was within my clasp. Inching closer to the light, I opened my fingers. Overwhelmed, I silently wept.

A warm sensation around my ankles caused my tears to halt. My gaze turned to the water. Its hue had changed. I could vaguely decipher the shape of my shoes. They were coming. My eyes travelled along the snaking trench from the direction I had come. Tiny bubbles were breaking the surface. Fingers of electricity raked the walls; the crackling hissed in my ears. Run. Syncopated whispers accompanied the strikes.

Shoving the object into my pocket, I jumped. The lever that the chain had previously gripped slipped through my slimy fingers. I jumped again, to no avail.

‘Nooooo,” I hissed through gritted teeth. ‘Not now.’

Wiping my hands furiously over my shirt, through my hair and over the skin of my stomach, I braced myself, bending my knees. I lurched upwards and my fingers yearned for the lever. They found purchase. As I landed in the rapidly bubbling water, an entrance yawned in the wall and a phosphorescent purple light illuminated the tunnel. I fell backwards, unaccustomed to the bright sensation and covered my eyes, forgetting they were now covered in the putrid liquid of the sewer from bracing my fall. I did not care. The water surrounding me was heating and I knew time would run out if I did not move.

I scrambled out of the trench and launched myself into the opening. I tumbled a short distance before my shoulder struck something hard. A soft thud behind me signalled the closed opening.

I rolled onto all fours and shook my head like a wet dog drying itself. Wiping my eyes and mouth, I leaned back against the wall, waiting for my heart to stop pounding out of my chest. I fumbled into my pocket and brought out the metal object. In the glowing light, I could see it clearer. The tarnished silver no longer sparkled and the delicate etchings were almost indecipherable through the time thieves of wear and rust. Its heart shape curved into the palm of my hand like it belonged there. I prised the clasp and the heart popped open. Its treasure rested inside, held covertly in the embrace of two guardians. I removed it, placed it in my pocket and looked at the photographs. Their faces were worn, but my own eyes reflected in both of them.

‘Mum,’ I whispered, running my thumb over the familiar face. My mind flashed through time, that painful wormhole of memory…

‘Kyan, you have to go,’ she urged.

‘Mum, no. I can help you. I know Dad didn’t mean to do it,’ I whimpered. ‘He was just doing his job, doing what he was told to do.’ My eyes implored her.

‘Your dad can’t help now. He went too far. The science…’ she whipped her head around. The door to the lab had opened down the hall. ‘GO!’ she yelled.

I snapped out of my memory as a droplet of liquid landed lightly on my thumb. Whether it was sweat, a remnant of the sewer water or something else I did not know, but I knew that if I kept looking, more drops would follow. I could not afford emotion to take over.

I looked into the new space I had entered. It appeared cramped and there was a cloying scent in the air; one I knew well. I stumbled further into the area. Purple light emitted from a small screen that faintly buzzed like a swarm of bees.

‘Hello,’ I softly called. ‘Are you here?’

A huddled shape in the corner caught my eye. As I moved closer, the scent became an invader, penetrating the defences of my nose.

‘Hello?’ I repeated, my voice wavering. I wanted to ignore what I could smell. The shape did not move. Dropping to my knees, I inched forward, shuffling. Sobs threatened to wrack my body. Reaching out one arm, I turned my head away, not wanting to see. I nudged the shape. Nothing. I turned my head back and pushed harder. The figure slid to the side and the shroud jostled free, revealing what was underneath.

‘Noooo!’ The face that stared lifelessly at me I knew well. I had only just seen it in the locket. I sank onto the floor of the small space, curling into a ball, sobs overtaking my body. Hugging my knees, I cried, defeated. All of the desperate searching, all of the senseless death, all of the lingering hope…all for nothing.

I was not sure how long I laid there, staring at the ceiling, counting the bricks, following the trickling water as it sluiced down and disappeared between the crevices. The buzzing sound eventually pulled me out of my stricken state. I rolled over and gazed at the screen. Waves of static shivered down the glass face. I forced myself to move, to crawl closer to the irritating noise. Perched on top of the device was a silver star, encircled by a braided rope - the symbol of the Edy Province. It was a badge, marking those who had chosen to protect the citizens of the province; the Servers. I picked it up, and a piece of paper fluttered forward. Not letting go of the badge, I opened the paper. In familiar handwriting that clutched my throat, I read the short sentence: Take it to Elvis.

I pulled the chip from my pocket that the locket had so carefully guarded. Holding it up between my thumb and index finger, I rotated it in the light. Veins of blue shimmered against the clear plastic. The gold panel of circuitry was tiny. This was the answer to destroying the Coils. One small item, no bigger than my thumbnail. This is what this Server laying crumpled in front of me had risked their life for…what they had died for.

Elvis was code for the resistant force base on the edge of the provincial borders of Edy and Xon. It was led by a former Server called Grace; a militant woman who believed with every fibre of her being that we could overcome the Coils. She had insiders working within the Servers and the Scientists. The base was quickly called Grace’s, or Grace’s land, but she didn’t like her name being mentioned in case it rolled off the tongue too easily in a desperate situation. Elvis it became. Apparently, it was joke of some kind, that he was a singer long before the Third.

I needed to deliver this chip to Elvis. I knew the Server before me had betrayed the person they had loved the most in order to save me, the province, then perhaps, the world.

I leant back over the figure in front of me and pinned the badge to the ragged coat. Holding back tears, I hugged the shape.

‘Thank you, Dad,’ I whispered.