Hurricane Heart

Hurricane

The lights still worked, so that was a good start. They flickered on; dim, strip lighting across the ceiling. One of the bulbs had gone, letting shadows prevail in one far corner, but the other two were intact.

This was not strictly one of our bases, and it never had been. But it was the underground. And the underground belonged to us.

Just to be on the safe side, I began to head across the room and further down the tunnel that led away from it. This time, Arjan walked close by my side, hardly daring to breathe. He was scared.

‘Where are we?’ he murmured, glancing around with wide eyes, his pupils large in the shadowy dark. ‘What is this place?’

For some reason, I felt the need to reassure him. ‘It’s the underground,’ I explained simply. ‘You must have been down here before.’

He nodded a little absent-mindedly. ‘Nowhere like this. Only to get to the train station, or underneath a busy road.’

‘Well,’ I said, my tone a little too ominous. ‘This is the real underground. I’ve spent years living down here.’

‘Years?’ he repeated. ‘How long have you been...one of them?’

I didn’t answer. I didn’t like talking about any of it. It was not a joyful part of my history. Although, perhaps the time before it was even worse. The silence hung in the air.

‘Is that what you do then?’ he asked, his voice bitter. ‘When you don’t like a question, you just don’t reply, and hope it goes away. Because it doesn’t work like that, you know.’

I gave him a threatening look, hoping that he would flinch away. Sadly, he didn’t.

‘Be quiet,’ I warned him. ‘Stop asking, or you’ll be back in chains again tonight.’

This, if nothing else, silenced him instantly. I led him further down the tunnel until it opened out into a wider chamber. This was not one of our bases, or one of our outhouses, so it was not equipped for human life. Thankfully, I was a little more prepared. I had sleeping bags, food, clothes and music. It was enough to get us through the night, and it was much safer than staying in the car or risking deserted countryside.

I stopped, and he noticed it quickly.

‘We’re sleeping here?’ he asked almost in disbelief. Apart from the fact that this section of the tunnel was significantly wider; more like a room with doors on either side, it was no different to the rest of the tunnel.

‘You have a better suggestion?’ I snapped. This time, he did flinch, looking like he wished he hadn’t questioned me.

‘It’s just like...couldn’t we stay in a hotel or something?’ he asked. He sounded like he was pleading.

‘Arjan, you’ve been fucking kidnapped!’ I cried. This time it was I who was in disbelief. ‘You should just be thankful that I haven’t killed you or tortured you or locked you in a cage; all of which can, of course, be arranged.’

Genuine fear was building up in his eyes. That was good; fear was much better than complacency. He needed to fear me if we were ever going to get through this alive.

‘And besides,’ I continued, ‘I would love to be in a hotel room right now. But it’s not safe. We shouldn’t go anywhere where they can follow.’

I unrolled the first sleeping bag, wafting it out, shaking it so hard that it slammed onto the ground. It was a sound far too loud, resounding through the silent tunnel, for something made of soft material.

‘Sit down,’ I ordered. This time, he obeyed without question. I got out a sleeping bag for myself, laying it out, before beginning to pace, wondering how we could protect ourselves down here. There was no door, and there would be nothing to barricade it with anyway.

Arjan sat, rocking slightly, his legs curled right up to his chest with his arms tightly around them.

‘Please,’ he whispered, and this time there was true fear and desperation in his eyes. ‘Please just tell me something. Where are we? Who are you? What do you want to do with me?’

‘I’ve told you,’ I muttered, not looking him in the eye. Instead I rummaged through the bag to find some food; I would need to stop off somewhere, probably tomorrow, to buy some more supplies. When I’d first set off tracking the Soulless up to Hamburg, I hadn’t expected to be away for more than twenty-four hours, despite what the Master had said. ‘You guessed it; I’m one of the rebels.’

‘But who are you working for?’ he pleaded. ‘And why do you want me? And why do you look over your shoulder every time you hear a noise, yet claim you're not scared?’

I shut my mouth, determined not to answer, yet his words swam through my brain, lodging in the forefront and refusing to go away. That, along with his earlier statement. Is that what you do then? When you don’t like a question, you just don’t reply, and hope it goes away. Because it doesn’t work like that, you know.

I could make it work like that if I wanted to. He was in no position to question anything I did.

‘Come here,’ I murmured, making sure it still sounded authoritative enough. Hesitantly, he moved forwards.

I was surprised he hadn’t grown wiser by now. I gripped his hand, pulling him closer, wrapping ropes around it and his other flailing wrist, tying it tightly, until he was bound again. Just because there were no doors and no obstacles to stop him from getting out of here, I wasn’t going to make it easy to escape.

‘Why?’ he cried disdainfully. ‘Get off me!’

‘There,’ I said sharply, pushing him back onto his sleeping bag. ‘Perhaps now we can talk.’

Arjan

Hurricane was a bitch. I hated her. She was a lying, deceiving, unfair, unkind bitch.

‘Who are you?’ I repeated. ‘I know you’re a rebel and whatever, but where do you come from?’ I was determined to get something out of her, whatever it may be. She’d taken me unfairly from my old life, kidnapping me and driving me far away. But I could get revenge one day. Vengeance would come eventually.

‘We’re Dreamers, Arjan,’ she snapped, turning her hazel brown eyes away from me. As much as I hated Hurricane, I unfortunately couldn’t deny that she was actually very pretty. I had no idea where she was from, but her dark hair, even though it was probably dyed, and lightly tanned, flawless skin gave her a foreign look.

‘Dreamers?’ I asked, hoping she would elaborate.

She obviously wasn’t in a talking mood; not that she ever really was.

‘We’re rebels, Arjan!’ she snapped, standing up and beginning to pace. She never ever switched off. Still she glanced over her shoulder every time she turned her back on the doorway. She was fast and subtle about it, and I’m sure she thought I didn’t notice, but I did notice, and I began to wonder.

I began to think. I began to use my imagination.

This was really, really bad. She had already influenced me too much.

‘We just call ourselves Dreamers,’ she explained, still pacing, still not ever meeting my eye for more than a fraction of a second at a time. ‘It’s our name. It makes it feel like we belong somewhere. You should know that—you must have heard of us.’

‘And where do you come from?’ I asked.

‘Berlin,’ she said, ‘but I thought you’d have guessed that.’

‘So why aren’t we going there?’ I prompted.

She gave me a dark look. ‘Because we aren’t.’

‘But you don’t know where we’re going.’ It wasn’t a question this time; she’d confirmed this as a fact.

‘No, I don’t,’ she murmured. ‘But we’ve got to keep moving.’

This time, I rested my eyes firmly on hers until she was forced to look at me. Eventually she stood with her back against the wall, reluctantly gazing into my eyes.

‘Who are we running from, Hurricane?’

‘That doesn’t matter.’

‘Who?’ I had to know. Apart from the name ‘Dreamer,’ which was hardly critical information, she had told me nothing.

‘No one that should concern you,’ she muttered. ‘Now, I want you to go to sleep, Arjan.’

‘I can’t sleep just because you tell me to sleep!’ I cried. She could be completely unreasonable sometimes. I hated her.

She moved closer, fast and swift as a shadow, crouching down inches from me, those beautiful but murderous almond eyes glaring into mine, hardened and solidified into fiery ice.

‘Yes, you can.’ She did not shout, but her voice still sent shivers down my spine. ‘Eat and then sleep if you must.’

‘I don’t suppose there’s a bathroom down here?’

Her eyes, which had momentarily flickered away, now came back, their cold gaze boring into my brain.

‘Don’t push it.’

She threw me a couple more packets of food; I noticed how she never seemed able to pass me anything, as though the comparatively kind gesture was simply too much. She dug through her bag and found a full bottle of water, which she handed to me before taking out one for herself.

Quite simply, there were more specific reasons why I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t planning on staying down here any longer. She might have tied my hands together once again, but that wasn’t really going to stop me from getting away. She couldn’t sleep with her gun in her pocket, and she couldn’t hold it—that would be too foolish—so I would wait until the early hours, and then I would take it, rendering her powerless, and I would leave. I wouldn’t shoot her, because I wasn’t that sort of person, but I was getting out all the same.

After all, what separated me from the real world? A dark tunnel—not completely dark, although it would be good if I could take her torch as well, and a door. An unlocked door.

I would take money as well. It wasn’t strictly stealing; I’d had my wallet the night she’d kidnapped me, and she’d taken that when she’d taken my phone and not given it back since. I’d probably had thirty or forty Euros in there at the time, so I’d take the equivalent from her and use it to buy a less conspicuous jacket and a train ticket back to Hamburg...or at least a telephone call. If need be, I could call mum and ask her to come and get me. I’d be forced to stay low for a couple of days, making sure she couldn’t track my scent or something weird that I wouldn’t put past her, but it wouldn’t be that hard. Olsztyn was big enough to hide in until someone came to rescue me.

I ate one of the sandwiches she had thrown me, not feeling overly hungry, and then drank some of the water.

‘Go to sleep,’ she ordered. She stood up and walked to the light switch as I watched her from where I lay, cold and uncomfortable in the sleeping bag. It was odd; she got to the wall, placed her finger on the switch, and then hesitated. Standing motionless beside it for a moment, she then seemed to think better and turn to go back to her bed, leaving the dim lights on. That was even better; that meant I wouldn’t accidently trip over anything on my way out, and finding her gun and purse would be much easier.

I lay there, looking at the room from a sideways point of view, watching her take her leather jacket and boots off before getting into the sleeping bag.

‘Go to sleep!’ she ordered, noticing how I lay there with open eyes. A little reluctantly, I shut them, keeping my thoughts busy to stay awake. I tried to think about anything—about my journey here, about my family, about past memories, about the music I’d heard today. How hard could it be? I wasn’t exactly tired to start with. However, I didn’t dare venture into the dangerous and illegal world of imagination. Hurricane had already got me wearing rebel clothes and listening to rebel music, and I’d found myself thinking further beyond the boundaries of what was safe more and more these past few days. I wasn’t going to allow this sudden betrayal of my mind to go any further.