Chasing Imagination

Amy

‘Wait there,’ Imogen said. We both stood, pressed into the corner just round from the door leading into the database room where the redhead woman was. I barely dared to breathe.

‘What do we do?’ I asked, only really mouthing the words. I wanted to be able to ask ‘what are we waiting for?’ but the courageous sounding words simply wouldn’t form on my tongue. I wished I could be self-assured like Imogen; like all the Dreamers. I wished I wasn’t always so scared. But I was. That was who I was. And now was really not the moment for a self-esteem crisis.

‘Isn’t she going to get the information?’ I asked, the pitch of my voice rising in panic as we waited longer and longer.

‘Not if we don’t let her out alive, she won’t,’ Imogen said in a low monotone. I had scarcely ever seen her without a smile on her face. Now though, staring down the eyes of war, I could see within her the same demonic hunger that had possessed Casper earlier this afternoon. It was the same hunger that had made me fear him; fear what he and the rest of us could become; and now I was beginning to fear Imogen too.

Why did I have to fear everything?

Imogen took a silent step closer to the door, her gun expertly held close to her, but ready to fire all the same. She was thin and barely any taller than me, but she looked so powerful standing there, her eyes dark and her expression dangerous. I wished I could look the same, but I knew how I really looked: the pathetic, confused coward.

I wasn’t going to let fear control me.

‘Come on,’ I said. I knew I was inexperienced, but it felt as if I had something to prove right now. ‘We have to get her.’

Imogen nodded very slightly. ‘If you think it’s best.’

Like a flash, she whipped round the corner and practically leapt through the door, her gun out ready. I followed, probably less gracefully, and shaking so much that I almost dropped my stun gun, but I was doing it. I was ready to fight.

‘Drop your gun, Dana!’ she yelled, fiercer than I had ever seen her.

The Marauder, who was obviously called Dana, froze, her bright blue eyes looking up and making contact with mine. A smile crept across her face, but surely that was fear hidden behind it. Her long, vibrantly red hair hung like a fiery curtain across her as she was bent over the desk, holding papers and folders and files of such important Dreamer information in her long nails.

But her gun wasn’t ready to fire.

And Imogen’s was.

‘You’d best think before you shoot me, girl,’ Dana said, her gaze now resting on Imogen. Maybe she knew I had a stun gun, or maybe she just didn’t think me capable of firing at her. Either way, her main threat was Imogen, standing next to me, tall and athletic and powerful.

Imogen narrowed her eyes. ‘Why should I?’ she challenged. ‘Why should I not just kill you now?’

I was scared of her; of what she was saying. But there was no other way. We were as good as at war now. It wasn’t a time for cowardice and mercy.

Dana took a step forward. Imogen readied herself.

‘Stay where you are,’ she warned.

‘Tell me though, dear,’ Dana said maliciously, ‘have you ever killed before? Have you pulled the trigger and fired the bullet, and then watched as the life dissipated from your enemy’s eyes; watched as their blood stained the ground red; watched as they collapsed, so eerily still, like only the dead really can be—‘

‘Shut up!’ I screamed, completely unprecedentedly. Imogen and Dana both turned to me in shock.

‘Amy,’ Imogen said quietly.

‘Amy?’ Dana picked up on the name. ‘Amy is it?’

‘Don’t talk to her,’ threatened Imogen to her.

‘I haven’t seen you before,’ Dana continued, ignoring Imogen’s warning. My heart doubled in speed every time the Marauder’s eyes rested on me; those eyes that were so bright and vivid and full of life; blue like Casper’s, but full not of ice, but of a sort of cold fire. Could I ever fire a gun into those eyes when they reminded me so much of those of the man I loved?

‘Tell me, Amy, have you killed yet?’ Dana asked. ‘Have they already brought you down so low? Have they told you that it would be glorious and brave, and have you learned the truth?’

I shook my head slightly. ‘No. I haven’t killed.’

‘Then you’re wise, girl,’ Dana said. ‘And you make sure it stays that way.’

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Imogen demanded. ‘Don’t you dare try and brainwash her! She’ll make her own decisions.’ There it was again: the hunger.

‘What, and become a cold, soulless terrorist?’ Dana challenged.

The hunger within Imogen took over.

She fired her gun before Dana even realised what was going on. As the bullet was released, a colossal noise erupted from the little gun. I screamed louder than the Marauder, who was hit squarely in the chest before she could react. She staggered backwards, colliding with the table and hitting her head on it as she fell backwards. I watched in sick fascination and horror as blood began to drench her dark t-shirt and hands. She gasped, clutching her stomach, doubling over, screaming.

Imogen just watched, her gun poised ready as Dana begged for mercy.

‘That’s what you get for messing with Dreamers,’ Imogen said in a sort of twisted attempt at humour. I staggered backwards as though I, like Dana, had been wounded. I had to get out of here. My head was spinning. I was going to be sick. The woman was dying.

Dana finally comprehended the shock enough to scream. And when she did, she did not stop. She gasped and wailed and cried, wiping a bloodstained hand across her face, shuddering and convulsing as she lay, sprawled clumsily on the floor, her back up against the desk.

I couldn’t bear it. The world was spinning around me. I couldn’t take it. Killing was not glamorous or glorious or brave. It was just disgusting.

And before I knew what I was doing, I was holding my stun gun up, pointing it at Dana. It was only meant to stun, but she was so weak, surely it would end her pain once and for all.

‘Amy, what are you doing?’ Imogen asked softly. The hunger in her eyes was beginning to pass, but it was still there beneath the surface. It was never going to go away. I was determined that, no matter how long I lasted in this place, I would never be consumed by that hunger. It was never going to infect me in the same way as it had infected everyone else.

‘I can’t...take it,’ I said, the world still spinning out of control. ‘You could at least have the dignity to kill her properly!’ The tears were pouring across my cheeks, and I saw Imogen’s anxiety through it all. Dana looked at me, confused, intrigued, even excited through all her pain.

I closed my eyes and fired.

When I opened them again, Dana was lying still and silent, bleeding on the ground.

Imogen looked between me and the Marauder, unsure of what to say. I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or scared. I was just scared. Of myself, of Imogen, of war, of everything we were and everything we could become.

Thunderous footsteps from outside shocked me out of my reverie, and a familiar face peered in through the door.

‘Amy!’ cried Casper, running in. Initially he looked happy, but his face clouded with fear when he saw mine. The world spun slowly around me, blurring in and out of focus, a little fuzzy at the edges. My head pounded on the inside like it was being hit with a hammer and I could have been sick.

He saw Dana for the first time.

‘What happened?’ he asked, looking more at Imogen than me.

‘Amy killed her,’ Imogen whispered.
‘No I did not!’ I shrieked. Casper’s arms were almost round me by this point, and it shocked him so that they dropped limply to his side and he stepped backwards. ‘You killed her Imogen! She was dying, but she was in pain. I just finished it for you!’ Two miniature waterfalls were running down my face and my eyes were swollen and blurred and puffy. Everything felt damp with sweat, with water, with blood...who knew?

Casper pulled me close to him without hesitation, and his embrace was so intense and passionate that for the tiniest moment I forgot what I was crying about, making way in my tempestuous mind for thoughts only about him—his smell, his feel, his warmth.

‘Amy,’ he said softly as Imogen moved a little further away, ‘calm down.’ He sounded like a parent more than anything; gentle yet firm.

‘I didn’t kill her,’ I whispered in way of reply. The worst of the histrionics were over, but now I was choking up violent sobs and struggling to catch my breath.

‘No, you didn’t,’ Casper replied. Maybe he was only humouring me, but for now it was reassuring. Whatever I had thought about the hunger within him earlier was far gone. Being afraid of this sweet, gentle man was nothing more than a distant, and very strange memory.

‘Come on,’ he said once it seemed I had calmed down enough. ‘We should get back to the centre of the base; we don’t know whether the battle has finished or whether it’s still in full flow.’

I nodded, still too choked up to speak, and followed him out of the room. Even in a state that was bordering on delirious, I still couldn’t fail to notice how he held my hand the entire way back.