The Viperob Files Read online

  Gwen kept her mouth shut, her heart sinking as the guard shoved her toward the nearest lift.

  Chapter Seven

  Ethan opened his eyes in the dark. It was always the same for him—from sleep to wakefulness in the space of a few heartbeats soon after dawn, not that he could see the sunrise from his windowless bedroom. In there, the only indication of time came from a red digital clock imbedded into his wall. He reached out an arm and flicked on the light. Ethan covered his eyes with one hand, waiting for them to adjust before sitting up.

  Last night’s conversation still had his mind going in circles. On one hand he was mildly scandalized that his father had nearly been expelled, while on the other, he was in awe that he’d been brave enough to fight the system. Ethan tried to stretch his legs to ease aching muscles from the previous day, but there wasn’t room in the tight space. He’d always hated the tiny bed, but now it seemed to represent the cage his parents had described.

  Faint sounds of his dad cooking breakfast came through his door, making him smile. Ethan had inherited his morning-person status from Nikolai. His mum was a completely different story and would have slept till late morning every day if given half a chance. He pulled on a pair of shorts and t-shirt, then went out to join his dad.

  Nikolai glanced up as Ethan entered the room. Heavy-lidded eyes underlined by grey smudges hinted of a night with little sleep.

  “I’m making some porridge, you want any?”

  Ethan nodded acceptance, then stepped past to pour himself a cup of water from the sink. He leant against a wall with drink in hand, watching his dad stir the bubbling pot. Everything was normal, and yet it wasn’t—not after what he’d learnt. Ethan gazed about the kitchenette. Viperob logos that had been invisible to his gaze the day before, seemed to crowd the room. The bolded letters were everywhere, every item splashed with at least one of the company logos.

  “Hey, Dad, about last night…”

  Nikolai stopped stirring the post and looked up sharply. “I meant what I said, Ethan. It was a one-off discussion. It’s just not worth the risk.”

  Ethan stuttered, desperate to ask a dozen questions, but noting the worry in his father’s eyes, he stopped. Once his dad had made up his mind on a subject, there was no changing it. “All right,” disappointment clear in his voice. The gentle sound of the bubbling pot filled the silence for a few moments. “Do you think you’ll be able to find a buyer for the rings?”

  “Hopefully. I’m still amazed you boys actually found something,” said his father. “Kids have been searching those ruins for generations. I thought they were picked clean decades ago.”

  After much of the Antarctic had melted generations earlier, sea levels had risen by over forty metres, flooding much of the original city and turning numerous headlands such as the one the Viperob complex stood upon into islands.

  Ethan shrugged. “We got lucky.”

  Nikolai spooned some of the porridge into a pair of bowls. Ethan eyed the breakfast with mild distaste. “Once we sell the jewellery, I can buy us some proper food rather than this tasteless slop.”

  “It’s got everything your body needs in it. Food’s fuel, nothing more.”

  “Yeah, but for three meals a day, seven days a week?”

  “That was a once-in-a-lifetime discovery. You and Jaego should keep the money from the rings for something more important in the future rather than wasting it on food.”

  “Well, maybe cash wouldn’t be so tight all the time if you followed through on creating a workers’ union again to fight for better wages and…”

  Nikolai slammed the wooden spoon onto the bench top, splattering porridge in droplets across the floor. “Dammit, boy! I told you to let it drop.”

  Ethan felt his own anger rise. Every day, he and his mates were pushed hard to excel. Told to stop acting like kids, they were encouraged to take the preparation for adulthood seriously. But now that there was something important happening, something that had changed his understanding of the world—his father was refusing him information that would help him adapt. He was sick of being treated like a child only when it suited those in control.

  “No. You can’t tell me stuff and then expect me to conveniently forget all about it. That’s not how it works, Dad.”

  Nikolai didn’t reply, just stood with both hands on the bench, staring at his son.

  “And I’m big enough to look after myself as well. The combat instructor even said me and Jaego should be considering a defence career.”

  “And become part of Viperob’s security force?”

  “No, I was told I’d be protecting the company from outside threats.”

  “Outside and internal threats, boy. Who do you think stopped our initial attempts at forming a union? You’d become nothing more than the bully with his foot on the neck of the worker. I haven’t kept my head down just to see you become one of the scum in control.”

  His father’s words hit him like a punch in the guts, hard enough to rock the growing certainty that he would follow a military path. “But it’s the only thing I’m actually good at. Are there any options?”

  “Not within the corporation,” said Nikolai, rubbing an agitated hand through his hair. “Viperob has to supply a quota of army recruits as part of its obligation to the state. If you score one of those spots, you could serve honourably.”

  “But?”

  “It’s a lottery. Once you’ve shown interest, if you don’t score a position with the federal defence force, you’ll be automatically enrolled in Viperob’s private security force.”

  Ethan rocked back on his heels, frustrated by yet another blockage in his path. “Fine. Forget about it, I’ll work with the other rejects on the assembly line.”

  He picked up one of the bowls his father had prepared, grabbed a spoon from the draw and walked to the opposite end of the room to escape the conversation. Ethan stared out the window to the surrounding land as he ate. For the first time, the island seemed exceedingly small. Covering an expanse of four square kilometres, eighty per cent of the land was occupied by deserted housing in various stages of decay. The properties had been abandoned decades earlier when Tri-Claw became nocturnal hunters. The clawed predators ensured that the only safe spot to sleep was behind the ten-metre wall encircling the Viperob complex. Daytime was a different matter. When the sun shone, people could roam the expanse of the island, even swim in the shallows in relative safety. But few did aside from teenagers seeking escape for a while.

  Ethan heard light footsteps approach from behind.

  “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I know you’re almost an adult, but Kane put me in a difficult position last night, and it scares the crap out of me having you involved in this.”

  Ethan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to match his father’s efforts in truce. “You can trust me, Dad. I’m not going to do anything stupid that would place you or Mum in any more risk. I’m old enough to play a part.”

  Nikolai sighed in resignation. “Wait here for a second,” he said, then turned and disappeared into the hall. Ethan heard a closet door open and close. His dad walked back into the room carrying a data chip and his bang stick.

  “Has that chip got the files you took on it?” asked Ethan.

  Nikolai nodded. “The less you know about it at this stage, the better. But if you’re determined to become involved, you can do one thing for me.”

  “Anything, Dad.”

  “I need you to get this chip off site and hidden.” Nikolai took the bang stick and unscrewed it into three pieces. One of the sections had a small waterproof compartment that his dad popped a data chip into before re-securing.

  “I won’t let you down. I’ll take it to the…”

  Nikolai cut him off. “No, don’t tell me. If I get questioned, it’s better that I don’t know. Just get it off grounds the first chance you get today.”

  Ethan nodded. He went and got his backpack, wrapped the bang stick sections in a jumper and
placed them in the bottom. “I’ll skip first class and get it done.”

  “Great, now I’ve got you wagging school as well,” muttered Nikolai. He pulled Ethan into a rough hug. “God, I hope I don’t regret this. Just stay safe, ok?”

  Chapter Eight

  Gwen’s eyes opened. For a moment she didn’t know where she was, but then the details of the previous night came rushing back. Caught with illegal goods, arrested and thrown in a cell to await questioning. Shit.

  She was sitting with her back to the corner of the room on a simple mattress, knees drawn up to her chest. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. After her guard had locked her in the cell, Gwen had sat and waited, nervous tension gnawing at her insides like acid. She’d watched the cell door with hawk-like intensity, expecting to be dragged out for interrogation at any moment.

  But it hadn’t happened.

  No, they’d left her to stew in the dark. Forgotten her while guilt and worry about her father stoked an electric buzz of anxiety in her chest. Eventually exhaustion had won out. Head lolling to the right, she’d passed out in the small hours of the morning. And now she was paying the price for sleeping upright. Straightening her neck, she winced as it cracked, stiff muscles down the left side protesting. Gwen massaged them with her eyes closed until the spasm eased, then climbed off the bed to stand.

  Early-morning light filtered through a small window high in the wall behind her, leaving much of the room in shadow. The cell was approximately eight feet long and two paces wide, the far wall consisting of vertical bars stretching from ceiling to floor. Just enough space to fit a mattress and a toilet.

  Gwen eyed the metal toilet bowl, lip wrinkling in distaste at the lack of seat. It was clean, but it didn’t change the fact it was gross and lacked privacy. She glanced towards the bars; if a guard finally appeared, they’d be able to see her. Bloody perverts. Gwen’s bladder took the decision out of her hands; she was busting. Muttering bitterly under her breath, she dropped her jeans and took a seat.

  Finished, she’d only just stood and pulled up her pants when heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor outside her cell. All gripes about the toilet were instantly forgotten. Adrenaline surged, her heart began hammering against her ribs like a cornered escapee. A grey-uniformed guard appeared, face impassive as he regarded her. Eyes slowly travelled up from her feet, pausing at her chest, then finally onto her face. Creep.

  “Lieutenant Harris is ready to see you.”

  The guard unlocked the door to her cell, then unclipped a set of cuffs from his belt. Gwen forced a deep, slow breath as the cold metal fastened about her wrists. She’d be damned if she let him know she was bloody terrified.

  “Oww!” yelped Gwen.

  A large hand gripped her shoulder, fingers digging painfully deep as it steered her into a room off the hallway and shoved her onto a waiting chair next to a table. The guard jerked her wrists onto the table by the chain between her cuffs and fastened it to a loop of metal, ensuring she would not be able to escape or fight back. He gave the chain a last shake to ensure it was secured properly, then left. Harsh light bathed the room, forcing her to squint until her eyes adjusted.

  And then she saw him.

  Her father, Marco, was seated at the opposite side of the table. Gwen’s bottom lip trembled as she saw his condition. Marco looked as if he’d aged a decade overnight. Dark bags hung under exhausted eyes. His skin was grey and pale while sweat plastered dirty hair to his scalp. Blood stuck his shirt to his chest in dark patches of gore.

  “Dad, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, voice catching. “Are you ok?”

  Marco nodded, a small, stiff movement. He flicked his eyes to the left and as Gwen followed the movement, she realised he was indicating they weren’t alone. Another guard was in the room, watching from a chair in the corner.

  Gwen tried to swallow, but the spit in her mouth had dried to the consistency of glue. Things weren’t looking good. If the lieutenant had found out they’d been stealing from the corporation, the best they could hope for was banishment. To be kicked into the desolation outside the city’s walls without hope of employment by a different corporation. From the stories she’d heard, few lasted their first week.

  Gwen mentally shook herself. Get yourself together, girl. All they had was a bottle of pills which could be explained in a hundred different ways. The only way they’d get dirt on them was if either talked. Gwen sat straighter in her chair, shoulders squaring. She wouldn’t give an inch.

  In the hall outside, crisp footsteps approached, echoing off the concrete walls. The guard in the corner stood and saluted as Lieutenant Harris entered the room. Harris stood for a moment, a bemused expression with one eyebrow slightly raised as he looked between Marco and Gwen. Harris took the guard’s chair and pulled it over to the table. With a sigh, he sat and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles.

  “It’s a sad state of affairs when a father uses his own young daughter as a drug mule,” he said shaking his head slightly. “Placing her health, safety and whole future at risk. Who would do such a stupid thing, eh?”

  Taking his grey beret off, he ran one hand through close-cropped hair before dropping the hat on the table between them. “Well, apparently the answer to that question, is you, Mr. Russo.”

  Marco glared at Harris, ill-disguised hatred in his eyes.

  “This is ridiculous,” said Gwen, willing some confidence into her voice. “I found a bottle of Morphilin that someone dropped, but that doesn’t make either of us criminals. I was on my way to the medical clinic to hand it in when your meathead of a guard bailed me up and ransacked my bag.”

  Harris smiled. “Oh, bravo. That was quite the performance, my dear. If I was a gullible fool, I might believe you.” He drew his legs under the chair and leant forward, bringing his face within inches of hers. “But, thanks to your father, I happen to know it’s a lie.”

  No, that can’t be true. Gwen looked at her father, but he refused to meet her eye, clearly ashamed. Gwen’s shoulders sagged.

  “Oh, don’t look at him that way,” tutted Harris. “It took a little persuasion to hand over all the details of your business.” He stood and walked behind Marco, then grabbed the bottom of his top and lifted it, exposing the skin of his chest and abdomen.

  Gwen gasped, her stomach clenching in horror. Her father’s torso was a ruin of bruises, cuts and burns. His left nipple had been clipped off, leaving a cruel, smile-shaped wound that leaked blood-stained fluid in a trickle down his chest. The lieutenant let the shirt drop and casually retook his seat.

  “We had to leave his face untouched, you see. Couldn’t have people knowing that Marco’s been interrogated. As far as everyone at the Maglev station knows, our minor investigation was completely satisfied by the little visit yesterday. We picked him up later from your apartment.” Harris looked over at Marco, a slight smirk on his face. “He was in a right state when we got there, fretting that you hadn’t made it home.”

  Gwen’s mind was still reeling from the state of her father’s chest, so it took a moment for his words to register. If he didn’t want anyone to know about the interrogation, then they must want them to…

  Anger flared.

  “I’m not going to work as a snitch for you!” Gwen stared at her father, eyes pleading. “Dad, we can’t do this, they’re our friends.”

  Marco stared at the table, shoulders stooped, a broken man.

  Harris barked a laugh. “He already has, sweetheart. And I’m quite happy with his work so far,” he said, pulling a written list from his front pocket. “Thanks to Marco, I’ve already got the names of all the major players in this smuggling operation, along with all your regular buyers.” Harris tucked it away again. “But that’s only the start, and let me make this abundantly clear.” Any softness dropped from his face, pale blue eyes promising violence as his voice hardened. “I own both of you. You will do what I say, and if either of you steps out of line, you’ll just… disappear. There’s never much left
after a Tri-Claw’s eaten.”

  Gwen knew she was trapped. Like a gut-hooked fish, Harris had her on a line. Resignation slowly crept in. “What happens next?”

  “For you? Other than showing me how you hacked the inventory lists, not much,” said Harris. “I need you to act normal. Go to school, do your work and don’t draw attention to yourself. The same goes for your father.”

  The meeting evidently finished, Harris stood and walked to the door before glancing back at them. “Marco, I’ll be in contact soon. If you want to keep this pretty daughter of yours alive, you’ll be working hard for me—very hard.”

  Chapter Nine

  Gwen dipped a gauze pad into water, then gently began to clean her father’s wounds. Breath hissed through Marco’s lips as the gauze snagged on the edge of the wound where his nipple had been, causing it to bleed again.

  “Sorry, Dad, I’m trying to be as gentle as I can,” murmured Gwen, her hand starting to shake as she applied pressure to try and stop the bleeding.

  Marco sat on a stool next to the sink in their flat. Wearing only a pair of trousers, his chest was bare while Gwen helped him. They’d been allowed to return home with her father in a clean shirt to hide the damage to his torso, but there was little time for rest as he now had to get to work.

  “It’s all right, darl, it’s not your fault,” he said through gritted teeth. “Can you help me put on some dressings?”

  Gwen taped non-stick, white pads over the open wounds, ensuring they were well-fixed. Marco couldn’t afford them to come loose during the shift or it would draw attention, and with that would come questions. Wounds covered, she helped him put on a shirt, wincing at his every movement as though the cracked ribs and purple bruises were her own.

  As Marco did up his shirt buttons, Gwen tore open a sachet of powder and upended it into a pair of bowls, followed by boiling water to make a breakfast. She stirred the mixture, creating a porridge-like sludge. After adding a dash of reconstituted milk, she passed one of the bowls to her father. While Marco mechanically spooned the mixture into his mouth, Gwen took her bowl and sat on the couch. She poked at the pale brown sludge tentatively with her spoon. At the best of times, she hated their only breakfast option, but today she had no appetite and felt mildly nauseated.