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Skin Deep

Sally Mitchell

    A curious ball of glowing light darted across the room, offering a welcome reprieve from the seemingly infinite darkness. A neon yellow Rat who had made his home down here beneath the surface of the world.
    Its squeaks echoed off the high walls, and the pitter patter of its tiny feet could be heard, clearly, through the silence. It rustled through plastic bags, gnawing effortlessly from one to the next. The contents spilled out over the debris ridden earth; fragments of smashed glass under paw, the splintered remnants of a table and its chair. The padding of which had provided it with a welcome nest. There really was nothing left now, though, and it was hungry. The rat paused, defeated. It stiffened as a familiar thundering sound resonated through its underworld.
    It turned quickly, darting for the exit, but it was too late. They were too close now. It ran to the opposite wall and jumped onto a shelf, frantically gnawing and scratching through the dirt and rock on the wall, searching for escape.
    The rat turned as the darkness became a blinding light. The thundering footsteps ceased and were replaced by a gentle hum. There stood the angels. A group of bodies surrounded by a translucent glow. Their features perfect, skin smooth and subtle, eyes bright, bodies strong, their hair shiny, not a tendril out of place. It returned to its escape, the scratching, drawing the attention of its un-welcome visitors. A grunt from their leader, and the crowd descended on it. Each desperately hungry face, eyed the competition; suspicion etched in their features. A step faster than a neighbour. A subtle elbow in the ribs. Hearts racing, as the group struggled with their restraint.
    The leader grabbed for the rat, which leapt into the air. All restraint was gone now. The hundred or so bodies dived for it. Hands grabbed and ripped into the animal’s warm flesh. It shrieked its last, as its tiny head was ripped from his body. They licked its luminous blood from their hands, seeking any source of nutrition.
    Their leader roared. That was the first they had found in weeks now. He was supposed to be their leader. He should have had the first bite. The hunger would not kill them, but it sure as hell hurt and was sending the group crazy. He watched the starving faces of the men, women and children, all watching him now and realising that they had lost control. He turned from the group, leaning on the rat’s ledge. 10 years in this hell. 10 years. His anger exploded through his fist. The impact on the wall stronger than it ever had been, 10 years ago.
    A single stone dropped.
    What the fuck is that? He leant into the curious white spot on the wall. His long, dirt filled, nails scratching away more debris. A bigger rock pulled away, leaving an open hole of natural light. He blinked, trying to adjust, but having to turn away. Was it? Could it really be? He returned his attention to his group, all standing with hands over eyes, shielding from the light. Each pair of eyes gazed at another, and then to their leader. Was this what they thought it was? A simple nod. The group clamoured for the exit. Hundreds of fists pounding on the walls.

    And 5.... 4.... 3.... She raised her fingers to signal the final countdown 2.... 1.
    ‘Good Afternoon, Veneni.’ The speaker stood behind a marble podium in a grand hall. Next to him stood a solid gold monument, A reminder of all those lost. Rows upon rows of cedar wood benches faced him, filled with a sea of golden manes. Their youthful, perfectly symmetrical faces and matching smiles directed towards their speaker. The two balconies’ either side of the podium were crammed with polished reporters, Camera’s and notepads at the ready. The ladies golden hair gleamed in the sunlight from the magnificent windows surrounding the room. Their black skirt suits revealed the tops of black lace stockings, and their blue, mascara rimmed, eyes wide with anticipation. The gentlemen sported well-oiled hair, which perfectly offset their crisp white shirts with black jackets and royal blue ties. All of them the same.
    ‘It is with great pleasure I address you all today,’ the mayor, Reginald Cooper said. He ran his hand through his auburn hair. ‘I thank all the voters out there who have made it possible for me to complete my work here in this wonderful city. Without you all and your loyalty, we couldn’t have made such a brilliant community. My only goal is to make sure that I continue to work hard for you all and prove myself worthy of your unyielding faith. To Veneni I serve!’
    He saluted and a wave of corresponding nods swept through the hall.
    ‘Now it has not come without pain that we all stand here united! I know that we have all lost someone dear to our hearts and I pledge that we never allow there memories to dwindle. Venini has seen many a good man and woman lost; hardworking friends and neighbours, sons daughters and loved ones, but let us send our thanks right now. Let us show them our gratitude and our love and let them know they are still, and will always be treasured within our hearts and within the community.’ He raised his own manicured fist back to his chest, as his eyes began to well, ‘Let us spend a minute of silence to recall their lives and bring their spirits back to us through our memories. Please put your hands together and remember the good each of them brought to us.
    A minute passed with barely a cough or a sniffle throughout the grand hall until Reg brought the room back with a gentle cough. ‘but, despite the sadness of our losses, we can’t avoid the perfection that now lies before each and every one of us.’ Saddened faces checked each other, passing sad and supportive half smiles between them. ‘As we gaze out of our windows or walk our dogs in the dead of night, without worrying if we locked the door,’ he chuckled. ‘We know we have made it. As our bodies become stronger, our medicine cupboards lay empty and our grandparents are confused with our siblings, we know we are invincible!’ He brought a clenched fist down onto the podium as a huge applause erupted. ‘Let us continue working together, and let us show our lost ones that their deaths were not in vain. Thank you for coming here today, and thank you for your continued loyalty to our city. I am incredibly proud of each and every one of you. Now, Go and enjoy the festivities.’
    The crowd erupted once more and Reg smiled his winning smile for his disciples. Right now, in this moment, he knew he was like a god to these people. He would stand there, as he always did, watching until every last person had left. There was a certain power to that, he thought. He was like a living monument to this town. Gradually, the applause dwindled, the waxy sea of perfection departed and only Reg and the hills remained. A beautiful view from here, the sun setting above them casting a warm glow through the giant, arched windows of the town hall.
    He sighed contently and stepped from the podium, stopping briefly for one last look. He stopped. His plastic perfect smile twitched, barely noticably at the translucent glow surrounding their hillside. No, it couldn’t be. He shook the ridiculous notion from his head. You’re just being paranoid, Reg.
    Reg walked up his steps, past the marble columns and across his porch, where a string of plastic bunting hung, tastelessly boasting their flag. They fluttered in the breeze, and Reg grabbed it, pulling the entire length down with irritation. Classy, he had told them. He pushed through his double mahogany doors and into his grand kitchen; a smooth marble floor that lead to a huge cherry wood island in the centre. Groups of people stood around it, the after party crew, mixing their drinks and laughing jovially. Well, it was a celebration. One more win for team Cooper, not that there was anyone to oppose him. Who would? He’d given the city everything they could ever dream of. He watched men and women flirting together and wondered, briefly, how they could tell one another apart. A town of Barbie and Ken dolls with their perfect blonde hair, smiling faces and perfect bodies. Perhaps they couldn’t? Maybe the mystery was part of the fun. It brought a whole new meaning to a blind date at any rate.
    Those at the higher end of society, however, had a little more control over the outcome of their procedures. Money could buy anything after all. Reg had opted for auburn hair, defined muscles, including bicep implants, of course, and even added a couple of inches to his height and the stem cell implants. There was also his impenetrable flesh, completely bulletproof, although he had neglected to share that piece of information with anyone. Some things should be reserved for those of true importance, he couldn’t have everyone sharing. Nope, Reg Cooper was not planning on dying for a good few lifetimes yet. He tensed a bicep, discreetly, beneath his shirt. That still felt great, he doubted he’d ever tire of looking this good. Well, he’d earned it. The long hours he’d put in, the protests and, as with all controversial interventions, there had been some sacrifices along the way.
    He stared around the room now though and realised with peace of mind, everything had been worth it in the end. Veneni would be the last city on the map. Hell, he could even sell the technology, he’d be a million, no, billionaire. In fact, scratch that, he’d be the richest man alive.
     He scrunched his face at the thumping music, although his body was strong and youthful, his mind was anything but, and he longed to lock himself in his study with only Sinatra for company. He crossed his marble floor and took a drink from a handsome chiselled waiter. At one time, he would have envied the son of a bitch, but now he was his equal. He shook the chap’s hand and watched his startled face as he blushed and scurried off. Fucking homos.
    Reg dragged his feet along the hall towards his study. It had been a long, tiresome day. He pushed open the door and was taken back for a moment by his Visitor. He groaned inwardly.
    ‘Amy,’ he sighed, as she swivelled his leather chair to face him.
    ‘Hi Dad,’ she said.
    Her tear stained face came as no surprise to Reg. He walked over to her and cautiously wrapped his arms around his 29 year old daughter, checking the window behind her, for a glow on the hillside. All Clear, Just your imagination, silly old fool.
     Amy was one of only a few in the city who had opted out of perfection. She was still beautiful, with long auburn hair and a curvaceous figure, but had decided to remain natural. She squeezed his muscular bicep with suspicion.
    ‘I preferred them a bit softer. Much more huggable!,’ she said. A half smile in his direction. ‘It feels like I’m being hugged by a stone.’
    ‘Now,’ he said firmly, ‘we’ve spoken about this. You know it’s better this way. It saddens me that you won’t conform. I’ll have to watch you die one day you know.’ He turned, removing his contacts. The only thing about achieving physical perfection was the effect the meds had on the eyes. The entire city was near blind.
    ‘But why would I want that?’ she said. ‘It’s not only the way you look which has changed. It’s all you care about these days.’
    ‘Enough,’ Reg said. ‘I get it. Ten years today! you’re upset. That’s fine, but you can’t blame me for everything you know. It’s been 10 years of the same shit Amy. Everyone was affected by that day. You have to get on with it.’ He sighed, frustrated with the conversation. Why couldn’t she just drop it?
    ‘No, Dad,’ Amy said. ‘You don’t get it, and that’s the problem.’
    ‘So enlighten me,’ he said, glancing lovingly at his record player. Some things just couldn’t be replaced.
    ‘It just doesn’t make any sense. How could the bodies just vanish?’
    ‘It was a huge explosion Amy,’ he said.
    ‘But surely there should have been something. There were so many people there. Not all the prison cells were within the blast radius dad. The temperatures in the outer cells wouldn’t have destroyed everything. A stray bone, a piece of jewellery, an item of stray clothing? There should have been something, anything to indicate human presence. But they found nothing? It just doesn’t add up. And that’s not all –’ she began to say.
    ‘Amy!’ her father shouted. ‘I said enough. Let. It. Lie.’
    She was suddenly taken back, shocked by his outrage.
    ‘We live in the perfect world, do we not? You have everything at your fingertips. Immortality, beauty, strength, wealth. Everything, Amy! What else could you possibly need?’
    ‘The truth!’ she said, turning out of the door.

    She headed through the streets, towards the hills, the only one place she wanted to be right now. She brought a bottle to her lips and slugged a mouthful of water. The tap stuff tasted like shit. She watched her town in pity and disgust. The women like Stepford wives; hair tied back, not a tendril escaping, as they tended to their hedges with their dainty shears. Trays of freshly baked brownies were being shared with a neighbour, even at this time of night. False chuckles were being carried in her direction by the gentle breeze. Even the fucking weather is perfect. The men all spoke to one another in clipped, faux British accents, discussing the latest game, even those who she remembered brawling, beer bottles flying around the bar, because one man’s team had been defeated by the others. But now they all sat together, laughing good humouredly ‘It will be your teams turn next, old bean.’ Jeez. She longed for someone to sling a punch, to fall over drunk, swear if they stubbed their toe. It was all a sham. It had to be.
    She remembered all of their transformations. Following the accident, she was left unemployed, her father had persuaded her to work for him at the lab preparing the meds and helping with research, much to her disdain, but everyone needed to pay the bills. She’d seen them all come in, ordinary folk, and walk out the same day, unrecognisable. What on earth could possess a whole city to act so crazy?
    Amy stood on the hillside, pleased for the peace and quiet the place afforded her. An occasional artefact caught beneath her foot, seeming to haunt the site with their memories. She slumped down on the neglected grass, in front of a small pile of neatly stacked stones that was her own, personal, memorial site. The only place in the whole city that no one dared tread. Their dirty little secret! The long grasses and their hidden debris were the only hint that not everything gleamed perfect in Veneni. In some ways her father was right. Everyone had suffered because of that day, and she must get on with it. But her father didn’t know the full truth either. Whilst she had been allowed to wear her sadness on her sleeve for her mother, she could never utter his name. Only one other person knew that she had lost someone else that day.
    Someone whom she had seen, only hours before the blast. She had been a guard at the prison; a huge building which had appeared, more or less, out of nowhere. Crime rates in the city had soared and a facility was needed to house this new brand of criminals. Amy had been one of the first guards hired there, anxious about their nature, but eager to do a good job protecting the streets. Only things hadn’t worked like that. The supposed criminals cried and constantly declared their innocence. Many had, and genuinely so (she had checked), lost all of their memories prior to their imprisonment. And those who hadn’t? They were, well, just there. They sat in their cells, rocking back and forth, to some invisible rhythm, their saliva dripping from their chins. She didn’t have much to compare it to, but, in her opinion, these were not criminals.
    Over the months she built up strange friendships with the folks on B-Wing (she could never bring herself to call them criminals). She would turn the radio up on her shifts and they would all sing and dance, even those with their lost mental capabilities joined in with their happy smiles and humming voices. It was on one such day that he had arrived, Diego. A newcomer in town, she’d noticed his strength, a kindness beneath his current anger, gentleness. She had stopped her dancing, the escorting guard giving her a warning glare. This was not supposed to be a fun place. The guard had shoved him towards his cell.

    Amy felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘Hey, Tia,’ she said.
    ‘You ok, peaches?’ her friend said in her rusty voice, taking a slug of her own water. Tia, too, had decided to opt out of perfection. Her dark skin glowed in the moonlight, her braided hair falling right down to her waist. She was wearing a vest and combat shorts, seemingly oblivious to the chill that had set in, and, of course, her sheriff’s badge.
    ‘Yeah,’ Amy replied. ’10 years just seems like such a long time.’
    ‘Mmm,’ Tia agreed, allowing them to fall into silence, knowing how Amy liked to ponder in quietness.
    ‘Dad went ballistic,’ Amy said suddenly.
    ‘What about?’ said Tia, her stony tone, adding a silent ‘this time’ to the words.
    ‘I mentioned about the blast. The bones and stuff.’
    Tia whistled. ‘I’m surprised you’re still here to tell the tale.’
    They forced a laugh.
    ‘Did you ever go down to the site Tia?’
    ‘Uh uh,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Only 3 men ever allowed down there. 2 men from outta town and our majestic mayor.’
    ‘He’s still my dad, Tia,’ Amy scolded.
    Tia looked suitably apologetic.
     ‘The whole thing is too weird though,’ Amy continued, ‘I’ve been reading up, y’know. There are usually teams of people investigating something like that. Father says it’s because the explosion was so bad, there was nothing to find, but wouldn’t that cause more of an investigation?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Tia. ‘I’ve had some ideas myself though. Between you and me.’
    ‘You know I can keep a secret,’ said Amy
    ‘The whole place was bricked up,’ she gestured to the ground below them. ‘They wouldn’t let any investigation team down there and you said yourself, the folk down there weren’t criminal material in the first place. Me and a couple of officers think they’re hiding something.’ She paused, taking a deep breath as if what she was about to say was insanity. ‘We’re gunna do our own investigation. Been planning it for months.’
    Amy pulled up, wide eyed. ‘But, how?’
    ‘There’s an old wall,’ she began, ‘it was damaged by the explosion, should be easy enough to break through.’
    ‘Do you think –’ Amy paused, taking her own deep breath. She just had to know. ‘Do you think I could come?’
    Tia looked up at her and smiled. ‘That was sort of the plan, peaches. We’ll need someone who knows the place.’
    Tia’s radio beeped, then crackled into life. ‘There’s been reports of a fire at the old Riley farm,’ a voice said, ‘can you take a look?’
    ‘Sure thing,’ Tia answered. She looked at Amy, ‘You coming? It’ll have been put out anyway by the time we get there.’
    They took the hour long trek across the grassy landscape to arrive at the old, dilapidated, farm. ‘See,’ Tia said. ‘What did I tell ya? It’s already out, No harm done.’
    Amy narrowed her eyes, there was no fire. That was for sure. It didn’t look like there ever had been. No ash, No smoke, No charred marks. ‘Who reported it?’ she said. ‘It doesn’t look like there’s ever been one.’
    Tia shook her head becoming suspicious. She lifted her radio ‘Andy!’
    ‘Yes,’ replied her radio.
    ‘It’s Tia, there’s nothing here.’
    A silence echoed down the line. ‘There have been reports of five more. Southwest of your location.’
    The pair turned in the direction. A strange translucent glow rose from the horizon. Another hour’s walk? ‘Seen it. I’m on my way.’
    ‘Don’t you have cars for this sort of thing?’ Amy asked.
    Tia laughed. ‘You ever tried driving a ford focus over this terrain?’ she kicked a sod of grass to prove her point.
    ‘Ok,’ said Amy looking around the rocky scape. ‘Point taken.’

    They scaled the hills, climbing over rocks and through bunkers until the light seemed to appear before them. Their direct route was blocked by an overhanging rock, which, they believed would lead to another bunker. The bowl emitted a translucent light, but up this close, they could tell it was not the light of a fire. Tia raised her hand, silently indicating for Amy to stay put. She reached down to her shorts for her gun, and, arms extended, she tiptoed to the edge of the rock. She felt her heart leap in her mouth as she stared down on the sight, a child, encased in a neon light; she seemed so small, so sad. She squatted over, shaking from the chill, grunting her desperate sobs.
    ‘It – It’s ok,’ Tia said, forcing her best supportive voice. ‘We – are here to help. You’re safe now.’ She scanned the area, looking for a way down into the crevice, or something, maybe a branch, to help pull her out.
    The child turned to the noise, and Tia saw with horror, she wasn’t crying at all. She was - she was feeding. Black goo stuck to her face and hands, tainting the angelic glow. Her eyes were wide and deranged and a stag lay dead at her feet. She growled, exposing a set of blood stained teeth and she pulled herself on all fours, snarling at Tia.
    ‘What the –’ Tia whispered as she began to pant with panicked breaths. What could she do? She couldn’t shoot a child. She turned, slowly at first, and then began to sprint, dragging Amy with her.
    The child leapt from the deep bunker and began to scale the rocks as it chased them on all fours. Amy and Tia scrambled back the way they came, their goal, the grasslands above, and then down the city. They scrambled up a steep rock, Tia scaled it, but Amy struggled. Her foot slipped on a stone and then she screamed, feeling a hand clutching her ankle.
    ‘Fuck it,’ Tia said, wide eyed, firing a round into the child’s small skull. ‘That ain’t no Kid.’ The blast disoriented the girl for a moment, the bullets simply rebounding of her shell and pinging to the rocks below. It was just enough time for Amy to scramble up the rock. They sprinted off, trying not to look behind them, but with the constant, crippling, fear that any moment it could grab them. Amy couldn’t resist. As she turned, the thing was on her, the force as it leapt, knocking her back so she was pressed onto a rock. The child seemed to calm slightly, now it had its feast in its grasp, its snarls turning to a low rumble. The smell of the stag’s blood shot up her nostrils.
    The child’s lips curled up at her and it moved closer, sniffing her like an animal. Amy glanced in its eyes. They were human; bright and vivacious but with an underlying suspicion. Could it just be afraid? ‘We – we don’t want to hurt you,’ she stumbled. ‘We were afraid, and you chased us.’
    Its eyes narrowed, head cocked as it moved closer to her face. Amy could hear a strange humming noise from somewhere and realised it was her own frightened moan. Her heart pounded and skin felt electric, alive, by the proximity of death. It looked deep into her eyes, curiously, and seemed to release its grip. Then it glanced towards Tia, instantly beginning to snarl again.
    ‘The gun,’ Amy shouted desperately. ‘It’s scared of the gun. Put it down Tia. Quickly!’
    ‘Are you crazy?’ Tia said, pointing it at the child’s head.
    ‘The bullets are useless anyway. JUST PUT IT DOWN.’
    Tia dropped it to the floor, her eyes trained on the things own. ‘Happy now? Psycho kid!’ she said.
    The child released Amy who fell to the floor, winded. It ran into Tia, whose cockiness abated as it came face to face with her, growling, before spinning around and running back the way it had come.
    Tia collapsed on the ground. ‘What was that?’ she said through panted breaths.

    It was a week after their encounter, when Tia and Amy were standing outside the wall of the prison. The wall had already fallen by the time they got there. ‘What do you think, Boss?’ one of the officers, Jenkins, asked Tia. ‘Is it safe?’ Jenkins and Noble had been keen to search out some answers themselves. Tia called them ‘the twins’, in secret, both having succumbed to the offer of perfection. Tia just thought they looked stupid and often told them they belonged in a wax work museum. But, despite her feelings towards them, they were here, helping. She had to give them that.
    ‘None of its safe,’ said Tia. ‘But we knew that already. This isn’t a rules and regs job. We’re just going to have to be careful.’ She pushed a hard hat at Amy and began her descent into the abyss.
    The room they entered was a crumbling wreck. Debris littered the floor, along with plastic bags, and odd bits of abandoned furniture; a desk, a computer chair. The first thing Amy noticed though was the cold. She found herself wrapping her arms around herself with a shiver, although, she’d couldn’t necessarily attribute that to the cold. The memories it held for her, what was once her norm, now just a crumbling blackness. All the lives lost here. She had never really believed in the afterlife, but right now, she felt it. Hundreds of eyes seeming to bear down on her from the wall. She imagined their empty screams as the blast hit. Inmates and staff clamouring pointlessly for escape. There was an overwhelming sadness which filled her insides to bursting. She felt a tear escape from her eye.
    Tia flicked on her torch and Amy noticed the black streaks up the walls, scorch marks, she assumed. Beneath her feet lay cracked debris, bits of melted plastic, charred wood and stone. He said there was nothing left, she thought, staring at the green fabric of an old computer chair. Something caught her eye, a light. She was just about to call out, wondering if one of them had dropped their torch, when she realised.
    ‘Tia!’ Amy warned, as the sheriff’s foot landed in a pile of the same translucent stuff they’d seen on the hills last week. After their attack, Tia had been too shaken to investigate the rest, and by morning everything had calmed. There had been no more reports since, much to Tia’s relief.
    The look on Tia’s face was one of panic as she shook her leg to remove the substance. She looked down. ‘A rat,’ she said, passing a worried look to Amy, and then, in a hushed tone, ‘I was kinda hoping it was all just some fucked up crazy dream.’
    Amy nodded. ‘Yeah, me too.’
    Tia sniffed the air around her. ‘What is that?’
    ‘Sorry boss,’ said Officer Jenkins, blushing.
    ‘No, Doofus,’ she replied. ‘Aside from you.’
    Amy sniffed the air too. ‘It’s smells like garlic,’ she said.
    ‘That’s it.’ Tia said. ‘At least someone here has brains.’ She shot her officers a glare.
    ‘Maybe they were running a pizza factory,’ Officer noble said, laughing at his own jest.
    ‘Douche,’ said Tia, secretly wishing they could have invented a humour transplant instead. Now that, she could have got on board with. ‘Where should we go Amy? You know the place better than anyone.’
    ‘Well, this looks like the office. Where was the explosion?’
    ‘B-wing.’

    Every inmate was periodically removed from their cell. Venini, although now requiring a prison, was not going down the same route as others. Her father had assured her they would receive the utmost medical care, so once a week every inmate had their appointment with the prison doctor; a highly specialised practitioner from a nearby town. The City worshipped Reg for this, such a kind soul trying to protect the people who were committing their felonies in his very city. The inmates often came back from their appointments, withdrawn and foggy. It was after one of these appointments when Diego had collapsed in his cell. Instinctively she had run to him, opening his cell and assessing him. His eyes rolled back in his head, foam bubbling at the sides of his mouth while his huge veins seemed to bulge, more than usual. She checked his surface to find two small pricks in the curve of his elbow. She hadn’t realised he’d needed any treatment. She had called the nurses who came to take him to the infirmary. Three weeks he was in there, and Amy realised she was missing him. He’s an inmate, in your care she reminded herself, time and time again.
    Still, his empty cell seemed bigger somehow. She would find herself staring at it, imagining he was there. He had become her favourite by far. She knew she shouldn’t have favourites, but Diego was just one of those people. He always had a kind word for everyone yet was no pushover. Even the other guards were wary, something in his eyes, saying ‘Don’t push me.’ She’d never had any trouble with him though. He would talk to her for hours on shift and she’d find her stacks of paperwork mounting up on her desk, completely engrossed in his stories.
    Born on a farm, he had cared for his parents before they passed. He had then travelled the world and regaled Amy with stories of far off lands. He had come to Veneni only to pass through and decided to rest up, spend a year or two here maybe. She was secretly glad he had. There was something about his eyes, the way they seemed to make you feel exposed, devoured. They made Amy feel like the only person in the world, and he had listened to her, too. The little she could tell him at least. She had cracked feeble jokes, and he had laughed, so naturally she had begun to believe that maybe she was funny. He had gotten under her skin.
    By the end of the first week, she found herself sneaking off to visit him in the infirmary. He sat up in bed, beaming when she walked in.
     ‘Guard Amy,’ he said.
    ‘Diego.’ She felt her cheeks flush. ‘How are you feeling?’
    ‘Great,’ he said. ‘Thanks to you.’
    ‘What was wrong with you?’ she asked. ‘They never told me. There was nothing in your notes about you being ill.’ She flipped through her clipboard, just to make sure but her eyes narrowed with confusion. The communication in this place truly was appalling.
    He scratched his head. ‘Yeah,’ he said, eyes scrunched up. ‘I’m not sure. It’s all a bit hazy.’ He looked at her curiously, his eyes resting on her own. ‘It’s been strange not seeing you every day.’
    She blushed, looking at the floor. Be careful, Amy.
    ‘I’ve missed your jokes,’ he said, ‘and your singing. You make a real difference to the block you know. I’m not the only one who thinks so.’
    She smiled at him. ‘Well, I like it. I like all of you. I know there’s a reason you’re all in here, but, I dunno,’ she paused, taking in his dark eyes, they seemed to be gleaming today, ‘none of you seem capable of committing any crimes.’
    Diego’s eyes locked onto hers at this, lingering there a few moments. Amy found herself losing her breath, her heart beginning to beat rapidly.
     ‘You’re not like the others,’ he said eventually, an intense look on his face. ‘If I wasn’t in here,’ he paused. ‘Maybe things could be different?’
    She stuttered, taken off guard. ‘B-But you are,’ she said. ‘It’s my duty to care for you.’ She stopped; just letting herself sink into his eyes, for a moment, wondering what it would be like if he wasn’t here. ‘Why are you here?’ she asked him, eventually, another fine example of Venini Prisons poor communication. She hadn’t a clue what any of the inmates had done to be imprisoned.
    His eyes crinkled once more. ‘I-I,’ he paused, as if searching the very depths of his soul. ‘I really don’t know,’ he said, finally.

    ‘They all had amnesia,’ Amy said, suddenly, as they climbed over the debris of B-Wing. ‘Every one of them. None of them remembered committing any crime.’ She stood, rooted to the spot as she took in the devastation. Her heart stopped. She remembered the olive coloured polished floors, the busy cells, a strangely jovial wing with constant laughter and banter, on her shifts at least. She remembered the warm glow which had shone through the window in the afternoon, lifting the inmates’ spirits. All gone. The only light shone from the small bulbs in their torches, highlighting the blackened room. The floor now crunching beneath her feet with debris from god knows what. Could she even be standing on fragments of bone? Diego, she thought, glancing over towards his scorched cell. She felt her chest begin to constrict. What if their bodies really were still here? Buried beneath a decade of ash and rubble? She didn’t know if she could cope with that. The conversation continued around her, although it all fell on deaf ears.
    ‘Weird,’ said Jenkins, kicking around in the debris. He stopped, picking up something from the floor.
    ‘I had a thought last night,’ said Tia, ‘what is the one thing all the prisoners had in common?’
    The others shrugged. ‘They were all against the Mayor’s plans for the city. Each one of them citing his ideal of perfection, as the reason they didn’t vote for him.’
    ‘Shiite,’ Jenkins said. ‘You think the mayor set all this up?’
    ‘Well,’ said Tia. ‘I’m sorry for Amy, but yeah. It doesn’t look like it was as big an explosion as he made out, does it?’
    She cautiously approached a cell gate which screeched on its hinges as she stepped inside. She kicked the rubble and dust, shining her torch all around her. Nothing. No evidence of human life here. Seeming to sense her friend’s angst, she soothed her, ‘It’s alright Amy,’ she said, ‘there’s nothing here.’
    Amy visibly relaxed.
    Tia went to walk out, only she stopped by the gate, something catching her eye. There was one bar missing. She scrambled around on the floor and found it. It was dented perfectly in the middle to form a hand print. ‘Shit. Amy, whose cell was this?’
    ‘Diego’s,’ she said. ‘Why?’

    The day of the explosion, the medic day, Amy had the morning shift. She had gone in to find Diego collapsed, once more. This time, though, as she had approached him, he had sat, bolt upright, taking a huge gulp of air. ‘You alright Diego?’ she asked.
    He had grinned at her. ‘I feel better than ever.’ He said. ‘I could take on the world.’ Just for a moment, a dark look clouded his vision.
    Amy was amazed by how his eyes sparkled, like she’d never seen. His skin seemed to glow with radiance, looking almost waxy it was so clear. She found herself laughing, the redness creeping up her cheeks.
    His face turned intense then, staring at her. ‘When I get out of here,’ he said. He paused, words meaningless as he looked down into her eyes. He felt his head moving closer to her. She watched him, knowing that what was about to happen, and that it was so wrong, but her heart was dancing in her chest, and his gaze made her skin tingle. She felt his lips land urgently on hers, and moaned, feeling for the first time she had come home.

    The group studied the bar closely, Amy raised a hand to her mouth. ‘That’s insane,’ she said.
    Jenkins was still twirling his find between finger and thumb, examining it with the torch. ‘Dimsul,’ he read carefully. ‘What’s that?’
    Tia rolled her eyes, snatching a fragment of a glass bottle from him. ‘Blind as a bat! I’ve told you, both,’ she sent a warning glance to Noble, ‘when you’re out in the field, wear your sodding lenses.’
    ‘Yes boss,’ they said.
     ‘Dimethyl Sulfoxide,’ she read, shrugging. ‘Some chemical?’
    ‘It’s a solvent,’ Amy said, distractedly, inspecting the cell bar. ‘Well its a few things really, they use it in medicine too, and to preserve organs.’ Her head shot up, a thought occurring to her. The garlic smell.
    ‘Hmm,’ Jenkins said. ‘Maybe the last one, in this case.’
    The group turned to him, his face pulled back in disgust; arm extended, to offer another glowing gift, a finger, if Amy could tell, still in perfect form.
    ‘There are hundreds of them Oxi-ideal things,’ Jenkins said, taking another cracking step in the glass covered floor. ‘What the hell would they be doing here?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ Amy said.

     ‘There’s one last place I want to check,’ Amy said, as they trampled their way out. They turned into what was the medics’ office.
    ‘What are you looking for?’ Tia asked.
    ‘Something which could wipe memories,’ she said, ‘an anaesthetic. But I have a few other suspicions too. See what you can find, anything that looks like medicines.’ Amy cautiously stepped through the rubble, heading towards a cabinet which looked relatively unscathed. Her foot kicked something which rattled against her. Her eyes glanced down and then she screamed at the sight of a human skeleton lying abandoned on the floor. But something sat atop it, wrapped around a wrist. Even in the darkness, it gleamed. She felt the tears prick her eyes as she remembered the very mother’s day she had presented the gift. Her mother had been so touched by the locket, a single picture of the two of them together; she had never taken it off. Tia rushed to her side and followed her gaze.
    ‘Shit,’ she said, simply. Well, what else was there? Amy collapsed on Tia’s shoulder, sobbing her tears into her tank top.

    Between the four of them they had managed to grab a few bottles, the majority had been smashed beyond recognition but at least these few could be deciphered. They would be enough, Amy had decided.
    ‘So what did you mean you had some suspicions?’ Tia asked when they were back in what was the office.
    ‘I’m not sure yet,’ said Amy. ‘I’m just thinking about the memories, mainly. Dad had arranged the best medical care, but, and I’m probably just being suspicious, what if, that was a way to wipe their memories? What if they never had committed crimes? Just moved somewhere where they couldn’t affect his position?’
    ‘It would make sense,’ Noble said. ‘But it’s only half of the story. What of all those bottles, what of the bodies? The bar? No one I know could rip off a solid iron bar. There are too many questions.’
    ‘I think we go to the lab,’ Tia said, climbing back out of the hole they came in, ‘we might find some answers there.’
    Jenkins followed her exit and then there was a scream.

    ‘I told you,’ Reg said to Amy. He had Tia by the hair, a knife against her throat. ‘I told you to let it lie. Now, I have no choice.’
    ‘Dad, don’t,’ she said. ‘They had their own investigation to run, that’s all. Police work. You know how it is. I just offered to help, we wore hard hats, we were careful. No harm done.’
    ‘I’ll get to you, Amy, don’t you worry. This is no man’s land. Whatever she was doing down there is not within her jurisdiction.’
    ‘That’s no reason to hold a knife to her throat.’
    Tia’s face was one of fury. ‘What’s the big deal anyway Reg?’ she spat, the cold steel of the knife grazing her skin. She raised a hand to try and free her hair. ‘What have you got to hide?’
    ‘Don’t push me, woman,’ he said. He glanced at the other two, perfectly formed officers. ‘Nice work you two. I’ll see you’re rewarded by this month’s pay cheque.’
    They nodded at the mayor and backed up, avoiding their sheriff’s gaze.
    ‘You pieces of shit,’ Tia spat at them. ‘Traitors!’ Her teeth were bared in the officers’ direction, a low rumble escaping her throat.
    They took the bag of samples they had collected, pouring the contents onto the rocky earth, stamping their heavy boots on top of them, just for good measure. Their lips twisted into cunning smiles.
     ‘We still know,’ Amy glared at the officers. ‘We saw what was down there. Samples or no samples, we know all we need to. A few clicks of the mouse and everything’s going to make sense.’
    Reg laughed. ‘That my dear,’ he said, ‘is assuming I let you leave here.’
    Amy felt the officers vice like grip sliding around her throat, then, she coughed. Her eyes widened in fright at her father. ‘You’re going to kill us?’
    Reg just smiled and chuckled.
    ‘You sick son of a bitch,’ Tia said. ‘Me? Ok, I get it, but Amy? She’s your daughter!’
    ‘Please,’ he said. ‘You don’t get where I am today without a few sacrifices. If she hadn’t of gotten off shift early that day, she’d have died down there with them. It would have made it much easier without her constant nagging about morals and rights.’
    Amy’s mouth fell open. ‘So it was you? And mother too?’ she asked him. ‘I found her body just now. Abandoned amongst the debris. How could you do that to her? You’re sick!’
    He nodded, unaffected by her harsh words. He felt a sense of relief. For 10 years he had kept the whole thing locked tightly away in his mind, screaming to be realised. Such a marvellously executed plan dying to be shared, so everyone could realise his brilliance. Now, finally it could all be free. ‘Too many activists. Why could none of you accept the gift I was giving you? Your mother was the worst. “Natural beauty is perfection on its own.” Not that she was a suitable promotion for that ideal!’ He paused, looking pained for a moment. ‘I have worked so hard though, Amy. For you, your mother, the city. So many people threw it back in my face. You’ve hurt me Amy. Can’t you see? Everything I have created here, I have done it all for you and all you do it belittle my work.’
    Amy’s face turned to one of disgust. ‘And yet, you’d have happily killed me?’
    ‘You would never have converted,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t have bared throwing you down there with them. The experiments -’ his memories caused his features to scrunch up, ‘well, let’s just say, perfection needed many sacrifices. Death was the kindest choice.’
    ‘So they weren’t criminals?’ Tia asked. ‘They were subjects? Trials for your sick ideas? What about freedom? Choice?’
    ‘Now that’s not fair,’ he said. ‘It was a gift. If I could just show them. Show them what perfection really meant, they would believe. They would convert,’ His eyes smiled with the memory of optimism. ‘I gave everyone a choice. Each person in this city. Including you two, surely you must remember? “How would you like to live in a perfect city?” I asked you. I did.’
    They both remembered their strange conversation with him years before. It had been a strange question, but then Reg could be a strange man. ‘But we both said no?’ said Tia.
    ‘And you’re both still here, untouched aren’t you?’
    ‘We can’t have been the only ones to say no though.’
    ‘Well, you weren’t.’ He smiled, looking down towards the prison, fondly. ‘The others were my trials. If I could convince them, I could convince anyone. I could hardly trial my daughter and her best friend though. No, that wouldn’t have done at all.’
    Tia and Amy looked at one another, gobsmacked by his twisted morals.
    ‘Of course, it was early days. Even though I had the best scientists working on it, there was a long way to go. Dose inaccuracies caused brain damage, a few fatalities. These things happen, I suppose,’ he said nonchalantly. ‘But then they got really good. Too good. The subjects became too strong, too clever, the anaesthetics not working. They could feel the pain. The children were the first ones to start rioting.’
    ‘The children?’ Tia and Amy said in unison.
    ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘Orphans. They were fed and watered. They should have seen it as a blessing. The children needed different doses you see. We needed to get it right, before we released it to the public.’ He laughed at this, as though such a thing was normal, an obvious, rational solution to a problem. ‘They never appreciated the perfection I had given to them,’ his face turned dark then. ‘They – They blamed me. All of them!’ His head began to tremble with rage and Tia felt a tear of blood trickling down her throat.
    ‘And you,’ he glared at Amy. ‘You sided with them; Dancing, singing and being their friend. You are my daughter. You should have been on my side!’ His face had turned purple, his veins becoming visible beneath his waxy flesh.
    Amy watched the barely visible trail of blood trickle down Tia’s throat. Her friend’s eyes were wide.
    ‘I know father,’ she said. ‘You’re right. I – I did side with you. I really did. I thought it would keep them calm, happy, if I befriended them. I thought they’d be easier for you to convince that way.’
    Reg’s eye’s wandered for a moment a look of confusion in his face. Was it true? He wanted to believe it so.
    Amy engaged Tia’s eye’s willing her to understand. She glanced down at her gun, back into her eyes again, and then over her shoulder.
    Tia was confused. If she shot him he would slice her throat as she fell. She narrowed her eyes at Amy and screwed her mouth.
    Amy rolled her eyes, and carefully shook her head, glancing once more over her shoulder. She spoke slowly and deliberately, ‘All those CHILDREN, who roamed free as the HILLS,’ she glanced over Tia’s shoulder once more, ‘should have been grateful you took them in your care. They should have been shot for their lack of respect. By GUNS. BANG!’ She added. She let her body wobble for a moment, feigning dizziness.
    Tia glanced across at her, confused for a moment, and then the penny dropped. She looked across at the officers’ blind eyes, thankful that they hadn’t heeded her warnings about the lenses. She reached down cautiously for her weapon.
    Reg looked at his daughter, strangely; perhaps there was something wrong with her. Such a bizarre speech, and now she was acting drunk. All the chemicals down there, he’d seen these sorts of effects many times. She seemed to regain her balance and Reg was keen to have a good brag. ‘Yes,’ he said cautiously. ‘They were! The ones who became deranged at least. The whole wing was terrified of even the sight of a gun.’
    Amy began to sway in the officer’s arms. ‘I think – I think I must have inhaled something down there. I feel woozy.’ With that she let her body fall limp, the officer having to lay her on the floor.
    ‘Should I kill her now boss?’ Jenkins said to Reg.
    Reg hesitated as Jenkins brought out his gun. He turned it in her blurry direction.
    ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand,’ Tia said, an idea crossing her mind. A group of prisoners + various trial drugs designed for immortality and perfection + a shit load of strong organ preservatives + a bomb, who knew what that could equal. A race of glowing, super-fast, super strong individuals who had found a weakness in a wall and escaped from their tomb? Well, sure, it sounded crazy, but then again, she was living in crazy.
    Reg glanced at her impatiently, ‘what?’ he said, curiosity getting the better of him.
    ‘What did you do with the bodies?’
    He looked confused. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘They will stay there, perfectly beautiful, perfectly still, until I need to examine them. You should never dispose of your early work Tia,’ he bragged. ‘I had certain tricks up my sleeve to make sure they stayed there, waiting for me.’
    ‘Dimethyl Sulfoxide?’ she said, smiling.
    He looked perplexed. ‘Y- Yes.’
    ‘We found that,’ she said. ‘Loads of the stuff, but, no bodies. Isn’t that right Amy?’
    ‘Yup.’
    The officer jumped hearing Amy talk and pulled the trigger on his gun. 3 shots fired, his aim missing her by a long shot, just as they had expected. The sound of the gun caused Reg to jump, dropping his weapon. Tia took her own and fired it into his leg. He went down like a lead balloon, yelping with the pain. ‘I think we know where they are,’ she winked at him, glancing to the side.
    He followed her gaze. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No. Please.’
    3 of the Ferrell children, sat like animals, ready to pounce. Their teeth were bared, dried blood cracking around their translucent mouths, wolf growls causing the officers to turn in blind circles. The children had heard everything. Two of them, the girl which Tia and Amy had encountered, plus a little boy, stalked, 4 legged towards Reg. The other, another little girl, raised her head towards the sky and howled. The officers spun around, firing blind shots, missing everybody, but enraging the children. They began to sprint on all fours towards them, each pinning one to the wall. They continued to take their blind shots, One of Jenkins bullets ricocheting off a wall and resting firmly in Nobles skull. Blood began to trickle down his forehead, his eyes staring blankly ahead, as his body went limp and slipped down the rock to the ground.
    Reg panicked, seeing the officer down. He tried pulling himself to his feet, but despite the skin being bullet-proof, Reg hadn’t reckoned on the shaking muscles that such an impact had caused. His face was set in fear, then, watching the small child stalk towards him. They were animals, he should have put the lot of them down when he’d had the chance. He shuffled across the rocky earth, a fruitless bid for freedom, and the child pounced, pinning his body to the floor.
    Amy could still hear the howls of the third child, hollow wails that echoed off the rocks. She turned to it, and watched as it lowered its head, sitting back, as if waiting for something. The ground began to tremble, debris and loose stones showering them. Amy and Tia darted, arms raised to protect themselves, away from the danger zone. They stopped behind the child, Tia, looking towards the little girls glow with uncertainty.
    ‘They’re just kids, Tia,’ said Amy. ‘Frightened, abused kids.’
    ‘Well, one of your frightened, abused kids just ripped the throat out of Jenkins. Excuse me if I’m a little cautious.’
     Amy glanced towards the officer’s direction, seeing his slumped and bloody body lying on the ground. She hesitated, but then approached, regardless, squatting beside the girl. ‘Hey,’ she said.
    The girl turned to her, baring her teeth with a cautious growl.
    ‘I’m Amy.’ She continued. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now.’ With that, a gun fired in their direction, pinging off the girl’s impenetrable core. The girl turned, growling in the direction of the bullets and shot off towards her father. Amy sprang up, about to run to him.
    ‘Amy,’ Tia warned. ‘Don’t! You don’t know what they’re capable of.’
    ‘He’s my father!’ shouted Amy, the sound of the falling debris becoming deafening.
    Tia looked on. What could she say? She’d do the same for her parents, even if they were as evil as the mayor. She nodded sadly as Amy turned, darting this way and that through the stones. Tia looked up, her breath catching in her throat at the mass glow above the hillside. They were coming. Countless adult bodies were strolling towards them, as if they were possessed. Eyes blank as they marched in unison, their footsteps disrupting the land. She tried to yell to Amy but she couldn’t hear her.
    ‘Stop!’ Amy was screaming, as the 3 small bodies pinned him to the ground, snarling in his face. His head swung all over, his arms grabbing rocks and dust, pointlessly slamming them against the translucent bodies.
    ‘I should have killed you,’ he was screaming at them. ‘I should have killed you all. You. You. Freaks.’ His words only enraged them further and they began to claw at the flesh of his arms and face.
    ‘Stop it!’ Amy cried, tears blurring her vision. ‘Please. He’s my father!’
    One of the children, the boy, turned then, eyeing its prey. Anybody trying to save this man, had to be bad. It scaled the rocks towards her. She stopped; a rabbit in the headlights as she watched the child leap through the air, arms extended for her and fury in his eyes. She felt the impact, the two tiny hands on her shoulders as her body fell backwards. As her back hit the earth she felt the air forced from her lungs. Everything seemed to still then, the eye of the storm. Tia’s panicked cries drifting around her, the rocky earth seeming comfortable, and the fury in the child’s eyes a shadow of a dream. She saw the boy’s face pull back. He opened his mouth, wide, bared for attack. She watched Tia’s arms extend, seeming to dance across the ground towards her, the child’s head moving closer and then the sting of flesh being ripped from her face. They eye of the storm passed in a blink and she heard herself scream. She watched Tia trying to pull the body off her, crying and screaming at him to stop. Then she stopped, the child too, both of them staring behind her. Tia gasped for breath.
    ‘No. No. No. No,’ she said, her head shaking wildly. ‘Amy, get up. Now!’
    Amy struggled, but couldn’t move, the child, like a lead weight on her chest. And then she saw it. A huge translucent hand entering her vision. She struggled, her own teeth bared now, fighting and clawing the boy for her freedom. ‘Get off me,’ she screamed, the huge hand coming closer now. She prepared for impact. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the commotion around her. Live her last second in peace. She waited.... And waited.... The seconds ticking by. Shouldn’t it have happened by now? Then the weight on her chest was being lifted. What the?
    She carefully peeked through one eye and sat bolt upright. It hadn’t even crossed her mind. ‘Diego?’ she said.

    Diego had been called into the medic’s room.
    ‘Sit,’ the doctor had told him, not removing his eyes from the paper on his desk.
    Diego did as asked, sitting on the blue fabric chair, the padding emitting a ‘whoosh’ of air as it took his weight. He looked around the clinic room, white walls, stainless steel sink and the desk. With a snap, the doctor pulled on his latex gloves and held up a syringe to the fluorescent lights. He flicked it to remove some invisible bubble. He placed the needle in a tray, beside himself and Diego, and rummaged around in a drawer, looking for something, ‘Incompetent fools,’ he muttered. ‘Must I do everything myself.’ He looked at Diego, hesitating for a moment. He shouldn’t leave him, but Reg would be furious if he didn’t complete therapy. It’s not like Diego was trouble, not like some of them. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ he said, turning quickly out of the room.
    Diego took the opportunity for a nosey. He picked up the syringe, rolling it between his fingers ‘Thiopental Sodium’ it read. Wait! He was sure he’d read something about that. Wasn’t it another name for Sodium Pethonol? The truth serum? Slowly everything began to fall into place. The memory loss, he’d read about it. Patients and inmates waking up, confused, disoriented, without a clue what had happened to them, much like, well, here. But why would they be using it on them? They were already here, arrested and captured, they had no trials to attend, no confessions to make. Even that first day, though. He tried to recall a trial. Recall the crime itself, being arrested, anything. The past 6 months of his life feeling like a foggy dream. It was hopeless. Maybe there was a way he could find out though.
    He squeezed its contents out, watching the liquid fire across the room and trickling down the white tiles of the sink. He saw a figure in the doorway, and, remembering what effects the drug was supposed to have, he put on his best performance. He slung his head back on the chair, rolling it slightly as he let his eyes go drowsy, he quietly giggled.
    ‘Wait,’ the doctor said, striding up to him. ‘How are you – Who’s injected you?’
    ‘Nurse,’ Diego said.
    The doctor growled, pinging a rubber tourniquet across the room. ‘Never mind. So how are you?’ He paused, looking at his notes. ‘Diego.’
    ‘Fine,’ slurred Diego.
    ‘What is today’s date?’
    ‘4^th August, 2050.’
    ‘And who’s the Mayor?’
    ‘Reginald Cooper.’
    ‘Mmmhmm.’ He put down his clipboard now coming closer to Diego. ‘And what do you know of Reg’s plans.’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Good.’ He said. He took out a Dictaphone. ‘Fourth of august twenty fifty,’ he spoke into it. ‘Subject 123. Session 20. Subject appears compos mentis, aware of the date and hierarchy of Veneni. Still no knowledge of plans.’ He clicked it off.
    ‘Can you remember why you are here Diego?’
    ‘No.’
    Click, ‘Amnesic stimulators still effective.’ Click. ‘Have you noticed anything about yourself, changing, lately?’
    ‘Stronger,’ he said. ‘Feel younger. Skin softer.’
    Click, ‘Trial steroids, good. Rejuvenators’, good, also reports softer skin.’ Click.
    ‘Are you still angry?’
    ‘No.’
    Click, ‘Benzo’s sedated anger.’ Click. ‘One last question, what is your opinion of the mayor now?’ he spoke with the impatience of someone forced to go through the same answers time and time again. He sighed.
    ‘Good.’
    The doctor stuttered. ‘Good?’ he repeated.
    ‘Yes.’
    Click, ‘Perhaps I was wrong. Subject reports favourable opinions of the mayor. Reg, it worked, you’ve converted him!’ Click. He laughed. ‘Ok Diego, thank you. It seems this will be your last visit to us. Just one last injection and then you can be gone. Reg will be along later to sign your release forms.’
    Diego felt the sting, his arm, turning to ice. It began to twitch violently.
    ‘It will calm down soon enough. After this though,’ the doctor said, excitedly. ‘You’ll be truly perfect, Diego.’

    Diego watched Amy leave, the feel of her lips lingered on his own. Whatever happened in this place, at least he would always have that sweet memory. He placed a finger there, sealing her touch, permanently. So many questions whirred around his mind. What were they doing to them? He had gathered it was some sort of experiment, but what? And what the hell did the Mayor have to do with it. He was going to be released now, all because he said he liked the mayor? It was strange. How could he walk out of here now knowing what they were doing? He felt his new found strength coursing through his veins. It wasn’t his. That much he knew. All the injections, the medication, the memory loss. It was all connected. He had to find out what was happening. He watched another ‘subject’, a woman, Marianne, being dragged back into the cells. Gasping for breath, her mouth foaming as his had done so many times before. Her body shook uncontrollably and she began to vomit.
    ‘Just throw her in,’ the guard said. ‘She’ll come to on her own,’ they slammed the door on her, turning calmly away.
    Diego clung to the bars, gripping them tightly, as he watched the scene unfold. Her body stiffened, eyes rolling back in her head. ‘She’s having a seizure,’ he called to the guards, they briefly glanced in his direction. ‘Help her.’ They sneered in his direction, turning away and walking to the entrance. Diego felt a snap, something breaking, his hand fell off the gate. But wait. He looked down, amazed, as he saw the iron bar in his hand. He studied it for a moment. It was still solid. He squeezed his fingers around it, watching the metal crumple beneath his touch, leaving a perfect set of fingerprints embedded in the iron. He threw it to the floor with a clatter. That got the guards’ attention. They looked at him curiously.
    ‘What you gone and done there?’ One asked, strolling over to his cell.
    Diego waited. He glanced at the woman, still twitching, but less so now, her body giving up its fight.
    The guard raised his baton, ringing between the missing bars. He turned, just for a second. ‘Gunna need this repaired,’ he said to his colleague. And then he screamed. His face smashed up against the bars, one eye staring, frightened, into Diego’s own.
    ‘I said, help her!’ Diego snarled. ‘Now!’
    The other guard watched in fright, a newbie to the team, unprepared. Diego pushed the guard from his cell bars, watching him skittering across the polished olive floor and fumbling for his keys. He left them in the woman’s cell door, as he darted in to her aid. Diego screamed as he pushed his, now, invincible body against the remaining bars, the metal groaned, and then, with a snap, the lock gave way, throwing Diego out into the hall. The newbie dared not move. His breaths panting, skin turning pale.
    ‘Shoot him,’ the other guard yelled from the cell. Diego paused, watching for the newbies reaction. He hadn’t even heard the plea, fear, being all that he could comprehend. Diego turned from him, he knew he was no threat, and headed for the other guard. The guard fumbled for his gun, the sweat of panic causing it to slip in his hands and clatter to the floor. He scrambled for it, eyes trained firmly on Diego’s mass. He got it and with shaking hands began to fire. Diego ducked his head, raising an arm in front of it. They were hitting him, but, they were pinging off him, rattling as they fell to the floor.
    ‘What the?’ the guard said. ‘Jaye, go call someone.’ He shouted to the motionless guard. ‘Move!’ This seemed to wake him up and the newbie scattered, slipping left and right as he fled from the wing.
    Diego walked up to the cell, taking the keys from the lock. The guard backed up, slowly, as his breath became short. Diego could see a tremble in the guard’s hands and smell the fear all around him. He stopped by the wall, pushing his body so tightly against it, wishing it would swallow him completely. Diego checked the woman’s pulse. ‘She’s dead,’ he said. ‘I told you to help her.’
    The guard just stuttered, staring at Diegeo. All Diego knew was that; He. Just. Felt. So. Angry. It felt like a dream as he watched his own fist begin to pound the guard’s head, his helmet shattering on the first blow. He could see the guard’s mouth moving, saying something, maybe begging him for mercy. But Diego couldn’t stop. Everything came crashing back to him, his meeting with the mayor. Thump. He’d offered him a soda. Thump. Smiled at Diego. Thump. And then asked him the question. Thump. The question. Thump. He should have known something was wrong. Thump. It was too strange. Thump.
     ‘How would you feel about living in a world of ultimate perfection, Diego. Isn’t it what we all dream of?’ Diego had paused. He looked uncomfortable by the question, but from the mayors lips it had seemed so casual. Normal even; just two kids chatting about superheroes.
    ‘Yeah,’ he’d replied. ‘I suppose most people do. But me? Nah, I’m rough around the edges. Always have been, always will. It’s the way I like it.’ He had laughed then.
    The mayor had joined in. ‘Yes, yes. I had thought as much.’ He took a swift glance over Diego’s shoulder. ‘I’ll be back in a minute, with your soda.’ He turned and was gone.
    He never had gotten that soda. All he remembered was a sharp prick from behind, and then he’d woken up here.
    Diego snapped out of his trance, his fists still pounding in front of him, only the guard wasn’t there anymore, and a red shadow was all which remained. The bricks had begun to crack, dust and rubble forming a pile around his feet, a huge hollow now in the wall. He pulled back his fists, shaking. His knuckles bloodied but there was no pain. He realised it was the guard’s blood. Not even a scratch on his own hands. He looked down at what he’d done and collapsed, head in hands as he cried.

    The metal cells clunked as he turned their locks, groaning as they swung open. He was surprised by the cautiousness of the inmates, expecting a riot on his hands. Instead, they remained seated, standing, lying down, and just watching him, with suspicion and curiosity. ‘Don’t you want your freedom?’ Silence. ‘We have been held here for our crimes,’ he said, ‘and yet, up until just now, I had no memory of why I even ended up here.’ He pointed to one of the women in her cell. ‘Why are you here?’ she shrugged. ‘Any of you? Is there even one person here who can remember anything?’ He turned round to see blank faces. He pointed at the woman who had the seizure. ‘They left her to die!’ A quiet, consenting, groan rumbled around him. ‘Each one of us has had a seizure of our own.’ They nodded. ‘There is something wrong about this place. I’m going to find out what it is.’
    ‘I’m coming with you,’ the woman said, stepping out of her cell. One by one each of the others followed, ready for war.
    Reg was speaking with the newbie in the office. ‘Just calm down. You’re alright now,’ he said. Reg wasn’t though. An escapee? They were getting stronger by the minute. His babies. The first hint of perfection. He had known, though, for weeks, this day was going to come. The riots in the children’s wing for a start. C and D were getting rowdy too. But they really were everything to him. His own creation. He glanced over to a supply of preservatives, and tapped his lips in thought. Well, his wife and kid were both here now, and they had become a nuisance lately with their questions and protests against his plans, ‘It’s time to blow it,’ he said, almost to himself.
    Diego and the others were turning out of the wing when they heard raised voices and heavy footsteps coming towards them, and then ten armoured officers came running down the hall. The others screamed and fled back the way they had come. Diego felt himself being lifted off the floor as four of them dragged him along, barely breaking formation. They threw his body inside the wing, followed by crates of small bottles. They turned, swiftly, releasing the heavy iron security door. It slammed to the floor. Their footsteps evaporated into the distance. The inmates remained where they had fallen, nobody speaking a word as they all watched the door, longing for someone to raise it. They watched the light from the windows, turn to darkness and realised this was it. Nobody was coming back now. A heavy silence had descended over the prison. No footsteps, or beeping pagers, ringing phones. No clunking of iron doors. There was just their breath in the dark room. He thought of Amy. The way she had lightened the inmates’ days, and later, his own; her shy smile when she looked at him, the compassion she felt for everyone. Whatever was going on out there, he knew he would never get to kiss her again.
    He raised a finger to his lips, touching the sealed kiss, when he felt the first explosion. They all screamed with the noise, the ground shaking beneath them. But that wasn’t it. Another blast rang out in the darkness, then another. Finally, they felt their own bodies being slammed back against the cells, engulfed by angry flames. Their wilting bodies fell to the shining floor, where they lay, undisturbed, for days, maybe weeks. Until...

    A single splutter travelled through the haunted hallways with a blinding silver light.

    ‘I’m sorry about your father,’ Diego said to Amy when they were back at the lab, It was 2 weeks after he had returned to her. A life changing week for them both. With the separate knowledge each possessed, they hadn’t needed any samples to figure everything out. Reg using any citizen, who was against his plans, as trial subjects, injecting them with various medicines, putting them under the knife for trial surgeries, and watching them grow and evolve, believing that one day they would thank him.
    There was only one thing Amy didn’t understand. He had been experimenting with immortality and strength. Surely, with all his research he should have known a mere explosion wouldn’t have been sufficient to kill them. Perhaps he had underestimated their abilities. It didn’t matter now, though. She had him back. Her beautiful, if not slightly creepy, picture perfect man. She would continue her work, at his request, to try and reverse the effects that Reg had implanted in them, the town too.
    Thanks to Diego, they had realised what had happened to them. It was the taste of it that had alerted him. The water. A strange after taste which took him back to the medic’s room. Amy had got it tested and found it was tainted. After a few days, the city folks, they seemed to come round, although, for their sake this wasn’t great. Many had become severely depressed by what had happened to their bodies. Amy and Tia were doing what they could, but they weren’t surgeons. He knew she’d find a way though. Amy always did.
    ‘He was a bad man, but I know what it’s like to lose the last of your family.’
    She nodded up at him, amazed that he was really here. She wondered if she’d ever get used to it. He’d literally come back from the dead. ‘I just can’t believe what he did.’ She turned around to a scuffling and laughed. A box of pizza lay open on the floor, the 3 children, having been bathed and dressed by Diego, sat around it, prowling. They sniffed it, nudging the box cautiously. ‘I don’t understand why they are so wild.’ She said. ‘You and the others seem fine.’
    ‘They were just too young,’ he said. ‘Some of them were three or four when your father imprisoned them. They never really experienced life outside. Theirs was a life of darkness, of the hunt. They adapted. It will be difficult for them out here.’
    She smiled sadly, taking in the translucent faces atop their tatty, hand me down clothing. What had he done?
    123 bodies trapped down there for ten whole years. A terrifying thought. It was a relief really that her mother had not endured the same fate.
    Tia pushed open the glass door with her foot, manoeuvring to the side as it slammed shut, just missing her. Her eyes peeked over the top of a stack of boxes. The children left their pizza box and prowled towards her, snarling. Her eyes widened for a moment, but then narrowed as the turned her head and squatted in their direction. ‘Grrrrrrrrr! Yourself,’ she yelled, as three frightened faces slunk off to the corner. She laughed. ‘Psycho kids, not so psycho now, are ya?’ they yelped their response. She turned to Amy and Diego. ‘You seriously need to sort out some kind of obedience training if they’re gunna be staying around here.’ She shook her head, depositing the boxes on the desk.
    Amy passed her a look. ‘Tia!’ she scolded.
    ‘Yeah, I know, they’re just abused and frightened.’ She sighed. ‘Just take a look in the boxes.’
    Amy pulled out a small glass bottle, some kind of medicine. ‘What is it?’
    ‘It should hopefully give some sort of reversal to their, erm, symptoms. Not a complete cure, but enough to at least get rid of that creepy glow. How do you even sleep with that in your bed?’ she asked Amy.
    Amy laughed, ‘who said anything about sleeping?’
    ‘Ewwww,’ said Tia. ‘Too much information.’
    Diego laughed, squeezing Amy’s hand. ‘How did you find a cure so quickly?’ he asked Tia. ‘It’s only been a week.’
    ‘Yeah, but I hunted down the mad scientist. The doc from the prison. I got him tied up, at gunpoint, working day and night.’
    They laughed.
    ‘Laugh all you want. Ain’t nobody joking. They have to be first though,’ she said, pointing at the trio huddled in the corner. She shivered.
    Amy pulled something else out of one of the boxes and Tia blushed. ‘I knew it was all bravado,’ she said, flicking through the pages of the book. ‘I am assuming you’re not a big “Mr Men” fan?’
    ‘Well, I just thought, you know? If they were hanging round.’ She turned back to them with a hint of a smile. ‘Stops ‘em growling at me at least. Where they gunna go?’
    ‘They’re staying with us for now,’ said Diego.
    ‘It’s just so small in my flat though. They’re bored.’ said Amy.
    ‘Fine,’ Tia said with a huff. ‘I can take a hint you know.’
    They looked at her confused.
    ‘There’s plenty of space in my condo and it does –’
    They were both looking at her grinning.
    ‘Fine, ok.’ She said, palms out in front of her. ‘I think the little psychos are cute, alright? And. Well, they’re so sad. Little lost souls.’
    Amy smiled, she pulled Diego closer. It always comes right in the end.

    Beneath 6 feet of fresh soil, two superhuman hands pushed against the satin lining of his coffin lid. He growled with effort as the lid gave way, causing a landslide inside the tomb. Thank god he’d had the stem cells replaced, his body now strong and youthful once more. He climbed up through the soil, sitting on the mound of Earth panting for breath. It had worked. Reg felt relieved. Phase one complete, now, on to phase two. Oh yes, the world was going to bow to Reg Coopers brilliance, and his glowing creations were going to help him.

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