Chapter 3.3

Our return journey was much quicker- they wanted to keep people from entering, they didn't care much about people trying to leave. We discarded our disguises and travelled as a four, our papers weren't even checked when we went through the borders. We cruised through confidently in our stolen car, without much complaint from the patrols, who unwittingly didn't know that they were letting go enemy assassins back into their homeland.

The events of that day were over so quickly, I wondered what actually happened as I dozed semi-comfortably in the passenger seat. I definitely slipped the correct amount of poison in the champagne glass. Why would the guard end up drinking it? Did he suspect me? Or was he ever going to drink it? I tried to think back to the guard that stood next to Jason Smart. I tried to concentrate on what he looked like, but I couldn't remember his face. I'm not even sure I looked at the man- I was concentrating so much on Jason Smart, I didn't see much else.

Somehow, I'd managed to fall asleep as the car cruised the monotonous countryside. My dreams were filled with faceless men; although their heights differed, they were all the same. Dark skin dressed in a dark suit, and where their features should have been were black gaping holes. At first, they just stood there, then as if being hit with something small, their entire bodies shuddered before slumping over to the ground. I watched, rooted to the spot, as their heads bent upwards at an unnatural angle and their bodies morphed into something that was no longer human. They clawed forwards, using their finger nails to hoist themselves across the dirt, their limbs bent as joints where there naturally shouldn't have been. They crawled towards me hands desperately reaching out, clasping for my ankles, but falling just short. I felt the tips of their fingers graze my skin, brushing against the fine hairs on my legs but never getting any further. Despite that I couldn't move, I was frozen in place as faceless body piled on faceless body until I was entirely smothered, my terror multiplying tenfold with each instance.

I jerked awake when the sun hung low in the sky, setting the planes of yellow grass ablaze in warm golden rays. We were travelling south, more south than Garlantia- we'd been travelling far too long to still be in Garlantia's borders, and the air was dry and hot. I wondered if we were traveling to the Waste Lands, the most southern region of our continent. As the name suggests it was a barren waste land, nothing grew, there was seldom water and it was full of sand dunes that heated up in the sun and half cooked anything that touched it. It was needless to say that no-one lived there, it belonged to no-one- no country or lord would take it. It simply had no worth or use.

There were stories of monsters- dragons- that lived there, consuming anything that dared to enter its clutches. They were just stories, but the inspiration had to come from somewhere.

Slowly, the yellow grass turned to yellow sand, and the road turned to dirt then disappeared completely. Rickon was using a tiny metal compass to navigate, controlling the car haphazardly with one hand. At one point I thought we would capsize as we drove over a particularly large dune of sand. By some miracle, we kept upright, spraying large amounts of sand over the bonnet as the tires struggled to maintain grip.

The heat of the sun warmed the metal plates on the car, roasting the air and making it difficult to breathe; sweat accumulated on my brow, dripping down the bridge of my nose. I try wiping it on my shirt, but that too is damp with sweat. It was too hot to sleep, instead I watched the flawless blue sky pass over the horizon as deep reds and oranges slowly replace it.

Once the sun had fully set, the temperature dropped rapidly, turning the sweat on my skin icy. It seemed quite sudden that the steaming temperature of the car turned to ice; pimples rose on my skin, and my clothes that had previously stuck to me with sweat, were now bitter like they'd been dipped in cold water.

By the time we slowed to a stop we were far into the Wastelands, sand was all that could be seen, as far as the eye could see: an endless blanket of white sand towards all the horizons, and above that an inky sky was so many stars that there were patches of pure light in places. In the dark, where everything white reflects the light, the white sand could have been mistaken for snow.

Rickon stretches and instructs me to get out. I timidly climb out, and gently close the door behind me, for a moment I thought he was going to leave me there at the mercy of the dessert and drive off, but instead, he also climbs out he side. He guides me firmly by the shoulder down to the bottom of the sand dune. I stumble and slip but with his hand firmly on my arm I manage to stay upright. I discover that my observation was wrong- it wasn't as desolate as I first thought. At the bottom of this particular dune the sand faded away to rock, and after a steep drop there was a series of caves which looked like they'd been adapted to living in. the openings that were large enough were fitted with door, while those few which were smaller were either bordered shut or fitted with shutters. We descended a set of rough natural stairs. In the crater, the temperatures dropped even further and I hugged my arms in an attempt to retain as much heat as possible.

On closer inspection the caves were fitted with high end Garlantian technology, there were motion sensors fitted in the cave walls, and hidden cameras disguised in the shadows. I followed Rickon through a series of small caves until we were met with a solid steel door. He stood still and gazed straight ahead. A series of clicking noises followed and the door swung inwards.

"Yammen!" He called in the darkness, navigating the passageway as if it was day, and dragging me awkwardly along with him. My eyes slowly adjusted to the dull light, and just ahead a weak artificial light leaked into the passage. The corridor widened into a circular caven with metal shelves filled with the strangest looking technology and gadgets. Bare light bulbs hung from the ceiling in random intervals, giving off uneven blue light. Wires and circuit boards were everywhere, woven within a labyrinth of papers and equipment, and at its epicentre was a scraggy middle-aged man with unruly curly hair, pulled back into a haphazard bun at the nape of his neck. He didn't acknowledge our arrival at first, he continued with his blow torch until he completed his task, and Rickon began getting restless, tapping his boot on the floor. Just when I think he's about to go over and finish it for him, he stops and unmasks himself to reveal a pale face with small beady eyes. "Just finished one job and you've got another. Don't give ya a break, do they?" is all he says.

He grunted, "Aint in the job description. Now, do you have what I asked for?" he asked roughly.

"Yeah. It's expensive so I hope this isn't a waste." He peered past Rickon to size me up. "Well, he aint dead yet so must be doing something right."

He takes out a little wooden box from the desk draw and hands it to Rickon. "Come here boy." He demanded. I obediently step forward; his iron grip takes hold of my shoulder and he steers me in front of him. Yammen seizes my shoulders, "what hand do you write with?" he asked.

"My left." I answer, confused.

He forces my right hand, and Rickon takes out a thick back band from the box he was given. It looked similar to a bangle, except if I looked closely there were tiny metal hairs gutting inwards so that if anyone wore it, the hairs would pierce the skin. With the band is getting closer to my wrist, I begin to pull away but the man called Yammen holds me steady. Rickon slips the open band over my wrist, then pressed down hard as he fastens it. I yelp in shock and blink away the tears forming in edges of my eyes. Many sharp pains blossom up my wrist, and small beads of blood escape from underneath the band. I glared at Rickon as I held my injured wrist tenderly with my other hand.

"Look at this, the little brat is glaring at you." Yammen chuckled.

He sneered, "Do you know what that is?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Speak when you answer me." he demanded.

"No." I growled.

"That is an experimental prisoners' bangle, it continually releases small amounts of poison into the bloodstream so that every twenty-four hours you will need me administer an antidote. With this, if you betray us, you die. Fail the task I give you, you die. Piss me off, you die. Do you understand?"

"Yes." I would let him see my fear, but in that moment, I had to truly accept that this was my life. I thought I had before, but I knew then that I never gave up hope that somehow one day I could get out of it or run away. I abandoned that hope.

"If the kid dies at least return his arm. Those things are expensive." He giggled evilly.

In turn Rickon nodded. "We're leaving." He stated.

I scurried after him, glad to leave behind the cold hole that man called home. My finger tips tingled as the feeling began to flood back into my hands. I struggled with the truck door and scrambled in as Rickon started the engine and the two stirred in the back seats. "We all done now?" Jays voice called from the back.

"All done."