Synthetica Page 16

  Nox's face still hung above hers, his expression changing rapidly from one of triumph to one of confusion and shock, as another sound rose above all the commotion, causing everyone to freeze. For a split second, Anais thought that the securi-bots sirens must've been malfunctioning, as the awful sound echoed on and on. But, as reality slowly began come back into focus, she realised with a sickening jolt that the inhuman, primal scream was, in fact, coming from her.

  Ten

  The sunrise was a blaze of light that washed over the skyscrapers in the distance. The sky was a riot of gold and orange and blue, promising to become another perfect day. The whole world felt tranquil and at peace with itself, as though nothing bad could ever happen in a city as beautiful as this.

  So why then, did Anais feel as though she wanted to tear it all down with her bare hands? If she had had the strength, she'd destroy every one of those perfect buildings that lined the horizon; she'd smash up every last pane of glass, she'd rip out every last object she could lay her hands on and tear it to shreds. And even then she doubted it would come close to expressing what she was really feeling.

  Internally Anais was screaming. The howl of pain and misery inside her hadn't stopped since last night, ever since she'd received that fateful message that had changed her world forever. She hadn't known it was possible to experience this kind of pain for so long and still be alive. It was as though someone was torturing her heart; causing it to endlessly contract and making it hard to breathe.

  She closed her eyes against the brightening sun, feeling the cool breeze play over her face and lifting up her hair. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the gentle scent of jasmine, honeysuckle and wildflowers that were sprinkled over this part of the park. It was the scent she'd known from childhood, as she and Dalla ran riot over the hills; playing hide and seek amongst the trees that surrounded the park's edge and fishing for imaginary fish in the streams. She remembered their shrieks of laughter as they splashed in the water, slipping on the slimy stones beneath their bare feet. As they grew older, they had built dens in the gently swaying trees and then sat in them for hours, talking about everything under the sun – boys, make-up, fashion, boys again - before one of their mums would find them and chase them home as night fell.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and she reluctantly opened her eyes, forcing herself to come out of her memories and back into the real world. Even though she knew she was standing there, knew this was really happening, there was still a part of her that felt oddly detached as though she was watching a show on the HV screen.

  Her mother was standing beside her, dressed in the old black skirt and jacket she always wore for funerals.

  “It's time,” Mrs Finch said gently. Anais nodded mutely.

  They were standing on top of a small hillock, the breeze rippling through the velvety green grass. Below them, Anais could see the stream of people all making their way towards the west end of the park. This group was sombrely clad in black, grey and navy, the absence of colour making Anais' heart ache all the more.

  She felt someone take her bandaged hand and she knew, simply from the reassuring presence he brought with him wherever he went, that it was her father. Together, the three of them followed the path down the rolling hill. Each step felt heavier than the last, and by the time they reached the bottom, Anais wasn't sure if she could've carry on if it wasn't for her parents by her side. They joined the last of the mourners as they made their way to the quietest corner of the park. Rowan trees lined the well swept path, their red fruit dangling low. Birds were chirping in the branches, oblivious to the events going on below them.

  They followed the path into the designated clearing. Cherry trees glowed red and gold in the morning light, their colour adding to the autumnal feel in the air. The clearing was right by the river, which ran through the length of the park. It's waters, normally roaring, were unusually placid today. In the distance the downtown buildings twinkled and sparkled in the light.

  Anais' eyes were drawn against her will from the glittering skyscrapers to the plain grey casket that lay on a small platform in front of the crowd. She took one look at the casket and almost lost her mind completely. There was no way, not in any fair world, that her friend – her beautiful, funny, kind, caring Dalla – was lying in that drab coffin. It's uniform grey colour was the same as the hundreds of others that were laid to rest every week in the city. If it had been up to Anais, she would've decorated the whole thing in flowers and stars and sunlight. It would've been bright and cheerful, just like the girl inside it had been. But every citizen in the Imperial City got the same treatment at the end of their lives – a quick ceremony and the same uniform bio-degradable box, as required by law.

  Her parents gently steered her into their reserved seats in the second row. Out of the corner of her eye, Anais could see many of her fellow students from the Academy that she hadn't seen since school had finished. There were quite a few teachers too - Dalla had been one of the Academy's top students during her time there.

  Although she could feel their eyes on her and hear the whispers from the crowd, Anais chose to ignore them all, staring straight ahead at nothing as she took her seat.

  Once everyone had sat down, the Warden of the Park stood up and began his speech in a loud voice so it carried over the crowd. Despite the volume, his voice remained curiously monotone.

  “We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Dalla Goddard, beloved daughter and friend. Life is but a gift, and in the end, we must all give back this gift we have received to the universe, so our energy may live on in our future generations. Although Dalla may be gone, her memory will live on in the flowers in the park, the wheat that grows outside our city and in the trees that line our city streets. It is important that we remember that our bodies are merely vessels for this universal energy, and we should be grateful of this chance to give something back to nature, which has provided us with so much -”

  Anais tuned out at this point. Her mind was utterly blank with exhaustion. She'd slept so little over the past few days that she barely felt able to comprehend what was going on. Had it really been less than 48 hours since she'd seen Dalla, so excited and glowing with life? Was it really only yesterday that she'd run to the police station with Xander to try and save Marcus? It felt as though this was some kind of horrific nightmare that had started from the day she'd witnessed the murder. Any moment now she should wake up, safe in her own bed, hearing her mum calling her for breakfast and receiving a message from Dalla asking her what she was wearing that day. Only the occasional throb of pain in her right hand convinced her that this was real. She stared down at the bandage that Xander had wrapped so neatly around her wounds.

  She flexed her fingers, relishing the pain in her hand. In a perverse way, it gave her some kind of anchor to reality. Too much had happened over the past few days for her to be able to process it properly. Yesterday especially seemed all jumbled up in her memory. Officer Hughes and Xander picking her up off the floor...trying to tell Xander what was wrong but her words being incoherent through her tears and pain...Nox's shock turning into anger as Hughes led her away...sitting in an interrogation room while Xander patiently bandaged her hand with shaking fingers and Hughes asked questions that she had no answer to.

  From what she gathered through her grief, Nox hadn't been happy at Anais slipping through his fingers yet again. Hughes had once again fought her corner and had overruled Nox's objections to letting her go free for the second time. This is just what she'd picked up from Xander later on, and from the snippets of the shouting match she'd heard in the corridor outside the room. Hughes had looked grimly satisfied when she'd walked back in. She'd sat down and looked Anais straight in the eyes.

  “You can go,” she'd said. “But only on the condition that you come and see me after th
e funeral. We have a lot of things to discuss.”

  Anais had agreed without fully realising what she was agreeing to and an official-looking icon had appeared in her vision – a reminder sent from Officer Hughes about their meeting.

  “Just in case you forget,” Hughes had said.

  Idly, she wondered why Officer Hughes kept standing up for her. She'd have to ask her when they met. It wasn't like Hughes owed her anything whereas now, Anais had no idea how she'd ever repay Hughes for the kindness she'd been shown. A cold trickle ran down her spine as she thought how differently everything could've turned out if Nox had got his hands on her first.

  Her mother squeezed her knee. She gave Anais a watery smile which Anais didn't return. Instead, Anais' attention was drawn back to the Warden who was concluding his monotone speech.

  “...and so, Dalla, we wish you peace and love on your final journey, and we hope that your energy finds it's way into something as beautiful and courageous as you were.”

  Anais' ears pricked up. Courageous? Dalla was many things, but courageous probably wasn't one of them. She stared at the Warden as he stepped back so the crowd could see the casket. A white hot blaze of anger was mounting inside her. She clenched her fists to stop them from shaking. Was it too much to ask that for once, they changed the words of the eulogy to suit the person they were talking about? Did everything in this city have to be exactly the fucking same?

  Her fingernails bit into her palms, the pain distracting her from doing something stupid. Like standing up and shouting at the Warden about how Dalla really was. About how when she smiled, she made everyone else around her smile too. And how she could cheer Anais up, just by being there. How she was the best friend anyone could ever ask for, and she deserved so much more than...than this.

  Anais' eyes burned and there was a swelling in her throat, making it difficult for her to swallow. She blinked hard, trying to pretend to herself that she was only deleting the alerts that kept popping up in her vision. She'd had a constant stream of them over the last day, as Marcus' crime kicked off the discussions over the Anderson/Pearson murders once more. She'd tried to set one up for Marcus too, but her vision had immediately been swamped with stories, and she'd had to delete it again. Now, a new one pinged into her eyesight. Clay Winterbourne: Mad or Misunderstood? read the headline. Anais deleted it without interest. The things that had seemed so paramount to her a few days ago – finding out about Civitas' merger with WireX, wondering if Clay Winterbourne had broken into the Civitas building and why – now seemed small and unremarkable.

  Anais blinked and the park came back into focus. Dalla's parents sitting in the front row on the other side of the congregation. Mrs Goddard's normally perfect face, so much like her daughter's, was glazed with tears; her brown eyes puffy and sore. Dalla's father looked very much as he had at the hospital, his face frozen in complete shock. He was deathly white as he stared straight ahead. Only the trembling of his hands as he gripped his wife's showed how hard he was fighting to keep back the emotion.

  The casket began its descent into the ground. It wouldn't remain there like the coffins they used to use; instead, it would be lowered into an underground tube and sent on to a special recycling plant, where it would be turned into compost to be used on the plants and crops around the city. Anais watched the box disappear, feeling as though her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. This time when the tears came, she let them splash over her cheeks and onto her lap, soaking the bandages on her hand. She could not believe that this would be the last time she would ever see or be close to Dalla.

  The coffin slid into the ground without a sound and the panel of grass that concealed the tube's entrance slid back into place, leaving no trace of the burial site. Gradually, murmurs began to fill the air as everyone stood up and started to leave. A queue began to form in front of Dalla's parents as well-wishers passed on their condolences. Anais' parents stood up and, after a moment, Anais followed suit, her limbs feeling as though they were made of lead. Mrs Finch pulled Anais into a fierce hug, her eyes still full of tears.

  “I'm so sorry my darling,” she said, her voice breaking. She drew back and clutched at Anais' hands, squeezing them hard. “How are you?”

  Anais could only shake her head. If she opened her mouth now, she felt as though she wouldn't be able to ever stop crying, or screaming, or both.

  “Anais,” came her dad's gentle voice. “We have to get back to work. Our shift starts in half an hour.”

  “I'm so sorry love,” her mum said, her eyes sparkling with fresh tears. “Will you be alright getting home? I wanted to come with you, but I wasn't allowed more than an hour off work...”

  Anais looked at her mum's face, now streaked with make-up and wanted with all her heart to ask them to stay with her, just so she wouldn't have to be alone. She saw her father's kindly expression and knew that they'd do whatever she asked them to do. They would drop everything and remain by her side if that's what she wanted. But that wasn't fair on them – they shouldn't have to stay with her. They had to go back to work, or risk facing disciplinary action and Anais knew she couldn't never ask her parents to go through that. She'd been fortunate to get the day off work, though it had taken the combined efforts of her parents pleading with her manager to do so. There was no doubt in her mind that Mr Mullins would make her pay for her day off when she returned.

  “It's fine,” Anais managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat. “I'll be okay. You two should go before they charge you for being late.”

  “Will you stay for the second service?” her dad asked her, and it felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. She shook her head. Marcus' funeral had been scheduled for that afternoon but she had no intention of going. The only reason she'd managed to drag herself to Dalla's funeral was out of love for her friend – she felt no such obligation towards Marcus. Despite what she had told him at the police station, there was still a part of her that did blame him for Dalla's death. She hated herself for thinking it, but if he hadn't mentioned the SLPs in the first place she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Dalla would still be alive.

  Mrs Finch gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and her father pulled her into a rib cracking hug. They both hurried away and Anais watched them offer their sympathies to the Goddards; her father shaking Mr Goddard's hand, while her mother pulled Mrs Goddard into a hug, before they began their walk back to the city.

  Reluctantly, her eyes were drawn back to the Goddards. The polite thing to do would be to go up there and say how sorry she was that Dalla was dead. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She wasn't sorry Dalla was dead – she was in agony. Guilt and grief roiled around in her stomach, threatening to make her throw up. She never had had the chance to tell Dalla's parents about the SLP Dalla had bought. She had left the hospital in such a rush, thinking she'd have time to go and visit Dalla again later, but after the fiasco at the police station she'd never had the chance to go back and see her. She had heard through the grapevine that the medics had listed Dalla's cause of death as septicaemia and there was a part of her was unwilling to shatter this illusion. Surely there was no reason to drag Dalla's name through the mud and connect it to all these murders, however tenuous the link. She knew deep down that she was simply making excuses, and yet, she still found herself walking away from Dalla's parents.

  She avoided her former classmates' eyes as she slipped through the congregation, not wanting their sympathies or to answer their well-meaning questions. She recoiled every time someone squeezed her arm or muttered how sorry they were. That's all very well, she felt like telling them, but it won't bring Dalla back will it? She tuned them all out, lost in her own world of grief, until a light touch on her arm made her stop. She glanced up, her heart doing a limp backflip as she looked up into Xander'
s face.

  There were dark smudges under his eyes and his face was white. His purple hair had lost it's usual shine. He was still wearing his silver Civitas uniform. He gazed at Anais, his eyes full of sadness and worry.

  “I'm so sorry,” he said quietly, but they were empty words and judging from his lost expression, Xander realised it. Anais remained silent, struggling internally with what to say.

  In the end, she didn't have to say anything. Xander reached out, and pulled her close to him. It was only when her head was nestled against his shoulder, his arms wrapped protectively around her, that the tears came thick and fast. He didn't say anything as she sobbed into his shoulder, her whole body shaking. After a moment, she tried to speak.

  “If I had r-realised earlier...if I'd j-just stopped her from buying it in the first place, she'd still b-be here -” Anais broke off, overcome, her face still buried against him. Xander gently pulled away but he kept a firm grip on her shoulders as he looked into her tear-stained face. She drew in a ragged breath in an attempt to calm down, but only succeeded in crying harder. Xander waited until she'd dissolved into hiccups rather than full-blown tears before he spoke.

  “This wasn't your fault, Anais,” he said firmly. “I've told you before, you're not to blame. How could you possibly have known what would happen?”

  His words did little to comfort her. She knew, deep down in her heart, that there was something she could've done – there was no reason for Dalla to die.

  Even though they were standing in an open space, the wind still playing with the tendrils of her hair, Anais felt as though she was suffocating. It was as though the whole sky was falling in on her, reducing her world to nothing and making it hard for her to breathe.

  “I have to get out of here,” she said wildly. “I – I can't stay here anymore.”