Edward rapped on the door sharply, almost urgently. Rocking between his toes and heels, he tapped his right hand against his leg while he waited for a response. Inside the office, Exterminator Korse was frowning deeply. The news he had just received went against everything he had planned and now here was Edward at his door, fidgeting and clearly anxious. Eyeing the doctor sitting opposite, he narrowed his eyes; suspicious of what he was certain had happened, and in particular how it had happened.

“Well, well,” he grumbled. “News travels fast here, doesn’t it?”
“Sir?” Dr Barton queried with an innocent tilt of his head.
“Of course, you had nothing to do with this?” He growled with an unpleasant sneer pulling at his lips.
“To do with what, sir?” Barton pressed.

Pulling his lips into a thin, angry line, Korse pressed a button on his desk and the door to his office slid aside allowing the security officer into the room.

“Exterminator Korse, sir...” Edward began, only to be interrupted.
“You seem agitated, Edward,” he began smoothly. “You know Dr Barton, of course?”

Edward halted briefly as he walked towards the desk. The question had thrown him and it was hardly what he had expected the exterminator to say. Continuing forward after the briefest of pauses, Edward replied, first with a polite nod toward the doctor.

“Dr Barton, pleased to meet you.”
“You’ve never met? Spoken on the phone? Some other communication, perhaps?” Korse almost spat the words.
“No... sir,” Edward’s brow crumpled in confusion as he looked from one to the other. “I’m aware of Dr Barton by his reputation, of course, but we’ve never met, spoken or otherwise. Why do you believe we have?”
“I assume you’re here because you heard that Gerard is back?”

Edward straightened up, standing stiffly; it appeared that Korse was now not only suspicious of him, but it seemed everyone was now under his watchful and critical eye.

“Yes, sir, I did hear that Gerard was back, but unexpectedly, not from you,” he replied in a clipped tone.
“Unexpectedly?” Korse raised an eyebrow and with it a slight smirk settled on his lips.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the safety and protection of the Way brothers is still my responsibility.”
“Well now,” Korse began as he leaned forward on the desk and placed his fingertips together as he rested his hands on the glass top. “Perhaps that is something we should review? Given that Gerard has been abducted twice in the last seven months, I am concerned about the level of security that you can offer.”

Edward stared in return. There were so many responses he could have given, not least of which was that Gerard’s first abduction had been arranged by the exterminator himself. But everything he knew, he had to keep to himself or risk his own murder. He could see Korse examining his tight-lipped response, almost waiting for him to crack and give himself away, but he was determined not to give the man what he wanted. It became increasingly difficult as Korse continued to goad him.

“And now Gerard has returned from the desert, brainwashed by rebels and struggling to cope. I’ve ordered another series of re-indoctrination treatments for him. So you see, it was not necessary to let you know as he won’t be returning to City Tower for some time yet.”

Edward clamped his jaws together in an effort to say nothing and show nothing of his anger. He knew the rebels in question. He knew they had done nothing but help him. Gerard was not brainwashed, he was merely free of the drugs that Korse had been pumping him with.

“Nothing to say, Edward?” Korse pressed.
“If you’re not satisfied with my services, I’m sure there are other companies that can offer the kind of security that you need, but I doubt any of them will be as knowledgeable on all aspects of BLI, its needs and, of course, its agents.”

Korse frowned and stared with narrowing eyes at the security guard. Was he threatening him?

“Exterminator Korse,” Barton interrupted. “I just told you that I don’t believe Gerard to be brainwashed. Nor, as we discussed, that he has been somehow blackmailed into helping the rebels. He gave no indication...”
“Dr Barton,” Edward cut in without taking his eyes off the exterminator. “Please don’t underestimate Exterminator Korse. He has a lot of experience and is very knowledgeable on both brainwashing and blackmail. I’d go so far as to suggest he’s an expert.”

Korse trained piercing eyes on Edward as he considered his words. Yes, he was threatening him.

“Well,” Barton sighed. “I’ll certainly interview him again if you insist, but...”
“No,” Korse snapped. “No more interviews. I want him in the memory chamber first thing tomorrow morning. I want this whole episode erased and the indoctrination process initiated.”

Edward continued only to stare. He knew that Korse was trying to raise a response from him. Anything that would give him away as a rebel sympathiser or, if not that, merely defying the exterminator would be enough to arrest him. Edward refused to be drawn, but he knew his hand was forced. If he was going to help Gerard, it had to be that night. The worst of it was knowing that Korse would almost certainly be waiting for him. Undoubtedly it was a trap, but one he had to enter to free Gerard and with him, Mikey, Frankie and very possibly the future of the Zones. He didn’t know how he knew they were special, but he was now absolutely certain. Somehow, he had to get them all out that night; it was imperative.

*

Doctor Death Defying and Jet Star had gathered what few possessions they had and swiftly vacated the old pawn broker’s store that they had been using as a base for almost ten months. It had been the longest the Rebel Stars had stayed anywhere and now it was all over. His two most trusted lieutenants cut down in their prime and a third cashing in his principles for a life of comfort in Battery City. He vowed revenge on the deaths of Leech and Flex, both good men, good friends. His anger was violent and visceral, demanding to be screamed from the highest mountains, countered only by the depth of his pain at the loss. Yes he had lost soldiers before but these were not just members of a battalion - cannon fodder as they would once have been known. No, these were his friends, his brothers and his loss was cutting deep swathes in his psyche. His mood swung violently between fierce rage and agonising heartache, leaving him exhausted and dazed. All he knew at that moment was that his survival instincts had taken over and he had taken the second jeep and bundling the deeply traumatised Jet into the seat alongside him, had headed out along Route Guano, travelling deeper into the Zones and as far from Battery City as they could get.

The sun was beginning to set as they reached what appeared to be an abandoned church as they crossed the border into Zone 4.

“We’ll stop here for the night,” Death spoke in a gruff tone, clearly exhausted.

Jet looked up, not even trying to hide his tear stained cheeks. To him the church was a large gothic monstrosity with terrifying gargoyles peering at him from their high perches. The stonework had blackened, not just from the effects of time, but also from the war. It was damaged in parts, but seemed as though it might still be habitable. Certainly more so than the rest of the town and its deserted, ramshackle buildings. It appeared as if, at one point in time, this may have been a thriving town, but something - perhaps the war - had caused it to be abandoned. Well, he frowned, he certainly hoped it was abandoned. As they had approached the town, Jet had noticed a sign that had clearly once proclaimed ‘Odeby Welcomes Careful Drivers’ but now it was barely discernible and with it, barely welcoming of anyone.

It was almost as if at that moment Death Defying read his thoughts as he spoke again.

“Make sure you have your gun charged, Jet. Remember the pawn broker’s looked deserted from the outside too.”

Jet nodded, still saying nothing, drawing a deep frown from the doctor. The last time Jet had suffered a traumatic incident he had not spoken for a long time. Not, in fact, until Gerard had come to their camp. He was concerned; if the boy were to respond in the same way, who would pull him out of it?

“Sir?” Jet almost whispered. “I’m scared.”

Doctor Death Defying took a deep breath as he took in the words, bravely spoken by the young boy. He considered his response. He didn’t want to either shame or frighten the boy. If he told him not to be scared, he was dismissing his feelings. If he said he wasn’t scared, he’d be lying. If he admitted it, he might terrify the already scared boy. There really was only one option.

“Jet, it’s okay to be scared.”

Jet looked up, surprised by the acknowledgment and in admiration as the man continued.

“It’s okay to be scared, hurt, angry or whatever else you feel. Don’t feel you have to pretend to impress me or anyone. Always be who you are and never be ashamed of that. The moment you lie or pretend to make someone else like you is the day you become a ghost.”

Jet watched as Death sighed and nodded to himself; he had the feeling they were someone else’s words repeated at a time when they were sorely needed. Reaching across, Jet took hold of Death’s hand, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from the older man.

“We’re here for each other though?” Jet asked, almost in a way that suggested it was a statement.
“Yeah,” Death’s voice cracked as he looked down at the innocent eyes of the curly-haired boy, his vision blurred by the heavy tears clinging to his lashes. “Always,” he added, giving Jet’s hand a light squeeze before clearing his throat. “Now, come on, let’s hide the jeep and get inside.”

*

Frankie opened the door to Mikey’s bedroom and stood wide-eyed in the doorway, shocked by the mess of clothes and possessions scattered around the room. At his feet stood two backpacks. One was his own that he had brought with him all those months ago when he had escaped from his so-called guardian’s cruel treatment. Inside the contents were largely unchanged, except he had the foresight to add some of Gerard’s clothes in readiness for when he and Mikey got older. The other backpack was full of as much of Gerard’s essentials as he could carry, including clothes, toiletries, a couple of knives from the kitchen, a bottle of water each and of course his art equipment. Thankfully, he knew where Gerard kept it hidden, away from the prying eyes of their P.A.s, Korse and anyone else who would have confiscated such heinous items of self-expression. Strangely it had only just occurred to him that he had no clue as to how someone in Gerard’s position, as the face of BLI, had managed to lay hands on such controversial items. Not that it mattered now they were heading into the unknown - at least he hoped they were. If Edward couldn’t rescue Gerard, none of them were going anywhere.

“Do you need any help?” He asked still in awe of Mikey’s insistence on trying to fit so much into so little.

Mikey glanced over, exasperated and frantic.

“He said pack light,” he flapped his arms at his side. “I don’t know how to pack light!”
“I see that,” Frankie replied with a chuckle.

Mikey’s face crumpled as he noticed the two backpacks at the boy’s feet.

“How do you do it?” He asked. “How do you decide what to leave behind?”

It was then that Frankie began to understand his friend’s dilemma. When packing Gerard’s backpack it was easy for him to be practical, pragmatic and quick. The only thing he knew that Gerard cared about was his pencils and paper, everything else was his choice and he had no idea what Gerard would think of his choices but there was no element of sentiment in them. Mikey, alone in his room, surrounded by his life so far, or at least the last three and a half years was finding it hard to decide. When it came to his own backpack, there were no choices.

“This is all I have,” he shrugged.

Mikey’s shoulders dropped and he stared sadly at the younger boy.

“When you packed to come here, you took everything? That’s your entire life?”
“No,” Frankie shook his head. “This is just stuff. You and Gee are my life.”
“I... I feel...” Mikey sighed.
“What?” Frankie encouraged as he stepped inside the room, leaving the bags in the doorway.

Mikey flopped down on the edge of the bed and hung his head. At the sight, Frankie frowned with concern and took a seat next to him.

“What’s wrong?”

Mikey turned his head away, as if ashamed to look at him, sighing heavily once more.

“You must be thinking, ‘Poor little rich kid, can’t decide what to pack. He probably doesn’t even want to leave’.”
“You probably don’t,” Frankie replied quietly.

Mikey’s head spun sharply to look at his friend, his mouth agape at what he believed an accusation. In response, Frankie’s wide and unassuming expression gave the impression that he was doing anything but judging him.

“I never had anything,” the younger boy started to explain. “I had nothing to give up. It’s easier for me but I’m still scared. You must be terrified!”
“I want to keep Gee safe,” Mikey countered, trying to convince himself as much as Frankie that he was okay with everything that was happening.
“I know,” Frankie nodded. “You’re the bravest of us all.”
“What?” Mikey frowned deeply. Was he serious? Was he mocking him?
“I gave up nothing, Gee has to leave simply to stay alive. You’re doing this for Gee, so you can be with him. That takes guts.”
“It’s selfish too,” Mikey grumbled.
“How?”
“Well,” Mikey looked at the young boy, eyeing him with what seemed deep sincerity. Somehow the expression calmed him. “I don’t want to be left on my own and if I am, I’ll probably be next on Korse’s list.”
“And that makes you selfish?” Frankie asked gently.
“Yeah... well, maybe... I don’t know. I’m scared Frankie, I don’t want to be.”
“Me too,” he nodded. “But we’ll be okay.”
“How do you know?” Mikey asked, drawing a thoughtful smile from his friend.
“Because it’s us,” Frankie finally replied. “Because being scared is normal. Because we care enough about each other to be honest. We’ll be okay. Trust me.”

Mikey laughed. This tiny eight year-old boy was so certain and believed so much in his friends, he made it seem as though they could do anything as long as they were together.

“Okay,” he replied, leaning over to hug his friend. “Can you help me pack?”
“Sure, but be prepared to get ruthless,” Frankie warned.

Mikey nodded; it seemed to him that that one simple statement might apply to them all in a multitude of different ways over the coming months and years.

Notes

Hello lovely readers!

Sorry for the massive delay. I hope you’re still with me! I finished uni, got my degree and pretty much crashed physically and emotionally. Graduation was fantastic, but I’m terrible with endings and not seeing the rest of my year every week is horrible. So, I took some time to gather myself and now I’m back writing again. I’m also trying to reduce/get off antidepressants so that’s a challenge. Don’t worry though, I’m doing it carefully, slowly and under my doctor’s supervision. Wish me luck!

Anyway, enough of me rambling on! I hope you’re all well and you like this chapter. I feel like the reduction in the dosage of tablets may even have helped my writing. Who knows? Let me know if you see a difference.

Take care and thanks for reading!
Sas xx