Hunted Season 1 Episode 4: Hunted Cyberpunk Serial, #4

Chapter 1

Dana

I wake to a shudder. A soft shudder, however, not a harsh one. The shudder feels far away yet close at the same time. And that is for a reason that I cannot fathom. The dirt under me digs into my spine. I feel almost immobilised as the air courses over me. It is rough air, coarse air, and yet in this prison-like tunnel my brother, Mason Sharp, and I have built, it is the only air we have access to.

I roll over and glance at my brother. The lighting is dark here, with that darkness almost taking on a sentience. It is like the electric gates, in that it can sense our presence. It responds to us, shifting over us, masking the world from us. Hopefully, it masks us from the world.

I do not know what to think, nor what to feel. I gaze into the darkness above, and find rocks staring at me. Strangely, I sense that the rocks have sentience too. In their stony glares and dusty scents I find no sympathy, only questions that shoot at me with the ferocity and charge of an electric bolt from the gun beside me.

The gun was used by me to kill my own brother. I shot the bolt without hesitation. And it is only a miracle that Mason made it out alive. After that, it was only a miracle that we both made it here. We built this tunnel, though small as it is, high into the wall of the already dug mines underneath the Enclave Prison, a high security facility where we are kept as slaves on leashes not fit for animals.

I hear that shudder again. The shudder is a little louder this time, though it is not within the mines. That much I can tell. I wish to leave this little alcove and find where the source of those shudders are, but it is too far a risk. If we leave, then the guards will catch us for one little mistake. And the Enclave, when it comes to those that try to run away, are anything but lenient.

Mason and I—we are the hunted. And the Enclave are the ones seeking us.

If caught, we will have our heads chopped off. In front of the other prisoners. And we will likely be tortured for hours before that. Skins peeled, eyes gouged out, all our senses taken away before life itself.

I have seen prisoners being tortured like that throughout my life. I grew up in the prison system, after all, and the unspoken rules fuse into your psyche like electricity along veins. And that is an unpleasant experience.

Again, those shudders roar in the distance, and a thin sliver of alarm dresses over me. I sit up, hands scrambling in the dirt for balance. I look over to Mason. He does not seem to be affected by the shudders. I have spent my entire life in the prison system, so the slightest noise wakes me.

That is the case even though I can sleep in rooms filled with noises and screams. The Enclave are a dichotomy, and so are their subjects.

The shudders subside for a moment, and little shards of dust fall from the ceiling of our tunnel. They hit the dirt, smack it loud enough to echo in my mind. I lean over and grab the small green gem I mined a day earlier—the same day I attempted to kill my brother.

This green gem, though I didn’t know it a day earlier, is the secret to tempus. Tempus being the element that can repel the Enclave’s hyper-electricity. The element that serves as our only hope in winning this battle and restoring justice once more.

Besides those gems is the sheet of tempus that Mason created yesterday. In a test tube, he fused a strange brown liquid and the green gem together. What formed was a ball of tempus he stretched into a sheet. That sheet saved his life when I shot the bolt at him, and then we both made a run for it.

The prison had issued a lockdown a day prior, which confined all prisoners to their cells until those that had attempted to escape were detained. Typically, the detainees were then killed. In front of everyone, of course, as a message of what could happen to those that overstepped the boundaries.

I crawl over to Mason and tap his shoulder. I don’t know why. Perhaps I need someone to speak to, even if someone that does not trust me at present. I have been lonely my entire life, in different prisons. My life dictated by the Enclave, of course.

And now, even in this little tunnel, a shard of freedom enters me with the glow of those green gems. And that shard of freedom tells me I must take this blessing I do not deserve and use it to the fullest.

Mason wakes with a gasp, then shoves himself away from me. He almost reaches the other side of the tunnel. His eyes clear the darkness and find me staring at him. I search his eyes from this distance.

He still distrusts me, that much is clear to see. But the murk reaches through to his eyes and brings his vision into the dim light.

How do you feel? I ask, the nurturing aspect foreign to me. I have not spoken with Mason properly ever. The first time was with the rest of the Brotherhood, and we were discussing plans to overthrow the Enclave. The second time had been in the throes of battle yesterday with Colonel Raze, the head of the entire prison. Raze was the man who forced me into killing Mason, and then attempted to kill us himself.

I feel fine, Mason said, shoving himself against the wall and digging his back into it. "Not that you should care. I’m the one you tried to kill, if you’ve forgotten that already."

The guilt spikes within me again. I feel its edges and tips rip into my heart and pull out a level of desperation I have not felt in long. But the feeling subsides, and I return to my emotionless self. I edge forwards on knees that scrape the dirt. I smell blood, a thick and tingling scent, though I do not know who it belongs to.

I am sorry for that, I say, referencing the attempt at his life. But the apology feels plastic, feels metallic and bland and void, even to my own ears. Let alone what Mason must feel. I realise there is no use attempting to soothe him, so I shift to my butt. My back hits the wall, and rock digs into my spine again. The scent of blood does not subside for a second.

I heard something a little while ago, I say, and Mason’s eyes shoot to me. That certainly got his attention.

What did you hear? Mason says, voice gruff, grave, as if he is deliberately hardening it. I would not blame him if that is the case.

There are tremors, I say, and wave my hands around the tunnel.

Close to here or far? Mason asks.

I look at the dirt, dig my gaze into it because I cannot bring myself to look at my brother. Far from here. The lockdown might not be ongoing.

Mason leans against the wall with his ear and listens closely. A silence descends over us, since I am still and listening now, too. The silence is deafening, however, since nothing meets my ears.

And it appears Mason has the same impression.

I don’t hear a thing, Mason says. He shifts over to the edge of the tunnel, where we started digging. On that edge, there are tiny holes that allow light in. In an instant, those holes grow dimmer, and I realise what has happened.

They’re closing the mines, Mason says, realising before I do. They’re trapping us in here, aren’t they? But for what?

I glance at him now, and he looks back. And I see fear in his eyes. That fear is in me, too, though in my heart. My face and eyes betray nothing in relation to emotion.

Perhaps they are trapping us here, I say. I do not know more than that.

Raze was only knocked out, Mason says, and he levels a glare at me. If only you managed to shoot him and kill him, then we’d get the hell out of there. But you couldn’t do it, could you? You just had to—

You did not kill straight away, I say, interrupting his volley of words. When you killed Zambol, you had minutes to do so. I only had seconds. Please, do not—

You’re the one who tried to kill me, in case you’ve already forgotten again. Don’t try and play the victim card with me.

Mason sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. I cannot see clearly because of the blackness, only silhouettes and murky shapes, then the light outside turns back on again. Those holes are lit. I see Mason once more, and the anger in his eyes does not faze me.

The situation is as he said before we both slept last night. We share the same goal. We both wish to defeat the Enclave, and that first involves escaping this prison. Once we do that, we will go our separate ways.

My own brother never wants to see me again after that. I lean back, head against the wall. My mind whirs with possibilities, and none of them fill me with motivation. My heart pulses with guilt and beats with fear.

And fear, after all, is the greatest weapon of the Enclave.

Chapter 2

Mason

Much of the day passes in that state