Feral Empires: First Spark

by Stephen L. Hadley

  He kept moving. There was just enough time for the girl’s eyes to widen in surprise and then he was upon her. The effect of his roar was somewhat lessened with only a single lung, but adrenaline made up the difference. The girl cried out involuntarily as he tackled her to the ground, one hand grabbing a fistful of her hair and the other pressing the blade of his knife to her throat.

  “You—you bitch!” Liam snarled, though the words came out as a wheeze. “I’ll kill you!”

  For the first time, he felt the itch of his injuries. That wasn’t good. Another few seconds and he’d feel the full-fledged pain of them. That might very well leave him helpless. Steeling himself, he prepared to cut the girl’s throat.

  “Liam,” Scott croaked.

  Liam flinched and glanced up. Scott’s head lolled against his shoulder and his face was deathly pale but his eyes were focused as he stared at Liam. His hands gripped the shaft of his wood penetrating his stomach as if to keep the blood from leaking out around it. He wasn’t doing a very good job.

  “Don’t,” Scott mumbled, eyes beginning to flutter shut. “Don’t do it. Don…”

  “Why?” Liam demanded. He glanced furiously back and forth between the man and the killer beneath him. “Why not? Scott! What do you mean?”

  There was no answer and, as the pain of his injuries began to manifest, he placed his face inches from the still-silent girl beneath him. There wasn’t much time.

  “Why did you do it?” he roared. “Who are you? Why did you kill him?”

  For a few seconds, the girl merely blinked up at him. Then she swallowed and tilted her head slightly to look at Scott.

  “He’s not dead yet,” she whispered. “You might be able to save him.”

  “Liar! I’ll kill you!”

  The girl flinched at his words, closing her eyes and looking as though she wanted to shrink into the ground beneath her. She swallowed again and, softer than before, insisted, “I’m not lying.”

  He was out of time. Liam groaned as his entire body throbbed from head to toe. Every nerve he possessed seemed to be aflame, threatening to make him collapse at any second.

  He should just do it. Cut the girl’s throat, then crawl over to Scott’s side and do what he could. It was pointless. Even growing up in a cage, he knew that much already. But what else could he do? Scott was his only link to the world at large and without his help, Liam was lost.

  Tossing his knife aside, Liam crawled off the girl. Any second now, she’d kill him. But he couldn’t summon the energy to care, much less prevent it. Standing up, slitting her throat, they were both beyond him now. Even traveling on his hands and knees he felt his body threatening to pass out with each clumsy movement.

  It felt like an eternity before he reached Scott’s side. The man didn’t react to Liam’s presence. His eyes were closed and his fingers slack around the shaft of wood in his gut.

  Wheezing, Liam doubled over with sudden dizziness. He could feel his body struggling to heal his devastated lung but at the moment he cursed its desire to heal him. Couldn’t it tell there were more important matters to attend to?

  Weakly grasping the wooden javelin, Liam tugged at it. The wood shifted and his stomach flip-flopped as the sensation reminded him of trying to free his arrow from the tree. Now, as before, he couldn’t manage it.

  “Help me,” he pleaded. “I can’t get it out.”

  More dizziness. Liam slumped against Scott’s chest as he waited for the sensation to pass. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the coolness of the man’s skin terrified him.

  The first thing Liam perceived was the sickening, fleshy sound of the wood being withdrawn. He felt it shake the body a second later. Sitting up, he gagged. It wasn’t from the sight of Scott’s gaping wound; he’d seen his own body in worse condition countless times. Instead, it was the way the world seemed to swim. Every time he tried to look at something, it took his body a second to obey and his vision blurred in transit.

  The open wound seemed to call to him and Liam studied it, trying to make his brain work. He was supposed to be doing something. Slowly, comprehension came to him and he reached up to the wound in his own chest. There was no sign of the wood that had caused it—had it gone clean through? He could feel the splintered bone of his broken ribs and tried not to waste time dwelling on that either.

  When he pulled his fingers free, they were coated with blood. Had he been bleeding that much this whole time? There seemed to be no end to the stuff.

  He wouldn’t faint. Not yet. Scott was depending on him.

  Blowing out a slow breath, Liam slipped his hand into the man’s wound. He felt the tattered skin and torn muscles beneath his fingertips and, deeper still, the disheveled lumps of internal organs.

  “Heal,” he whispered, risking the word. “Heal, damn you.”

  He had no idea if this would work. The Institute had regularly taken his blood and, judging by their excitement over it when he was a child, they’d managed to do something with it. This was a whole new level of desperation though.

  For endless, minutes, Liam worked. Each time he returned to the wound in his chest, his fingers were covered with Scott’s blood and it was impossible to tell how much of his own he managed to collect. Even so, he continued ferrying cupped handfuls of his own into the man’s wound. Then, when his skin reknit, he moved to the foot-long gash in his thigh. That healed faster than he’d hoped as well, but by the time it had a bit of color had returned to Scott’s face.

  Liam wanted to check if the man was breathing. But, after a minute’s confusion, realized he was lying down and the ache in his side was, in fact, Scott’s shinbones pressing into him. To his surprise, they hurt more than his own injuries. That was good. Unfortunately, it meant that the numbness and exhaustion he felt wasn’t something that would be going away anytime soon. He needed sleep.

  Maybe he’d get lucky and the girl would decide not to kill them. Or he’d be slightly less lucky and she would. Anything was better than going back, after all.

  He’d take what he could get.

  ***

  When Liam woke, the first thing he noticed was how good he felt. Every inch of him seemed filled with warm, pleasant ache that practically begged him to stretch.

  So he did. And he was still lying on the seemingly endless bed of moss, back arched and arms outstretched, when the memories returned to him. Gasping, he sat up with wide eyes.

  Scott lay a few feet away, naked from the waist up. A green-black poultice had been applied to the wound on his stomach and the blood had been washed from his hands, but otherwise, he seemed untouched.

  Liam watched for a moment and breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted the shallow rise and fall of the man’s chest. His relief turned to anxiety as he looked around, however.

  They were resting inside… something. A hut, he realized, as he cautiously tested the walls of the structure and found them pliable. At his touch, a bundle of leafy plant-matter fell away to reveal the same trees and hills they’d been hunting amid earlier. The sun was still high and bright, so he couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours.

  And yet, where had the hut come from? The padded, mossy floor? And Scott’s bandage? The only logical explanation seemed to be the would-be assassin, but for her to accomplish such a thing in such a short time bewildered him. To say nothing of why she would do such a thing.

  Don’t.

  Liam massaged his temples to ward off the headache he felt coming on. Scott had told him not to kill the girl. But why? Who was she? And how had Scott known?

  As if on cue, Scott coughed weakly. Liam turned, but the man had not woken. Instead, his breathing took on a dry, raspy quality that made Liam all too aware of how thirsty he was, himself. He looked around for a canteen and, spotting his own, muttered a curse when he found it empty.

  Water. That came first, then fire and food. And, if he could manage it, answers.

  There was a small gap in the h
ut where it leaned against a tree. Liam squeezed through it, blinking at the sudden brightness. There was no sign of the girl and, as he reached for his knife, he was surprised to find it had been returned to its sheath at his waist.

  Did that mean the girl wasn’t an enemy, after all? Or was it simply a ruse of some kind? A way to gain his trust?

  It didn’t matter. They needed water. Taking a moment to orient himself, Liam set off toward the nearest creek, canteen in hand.

  As always, he found himself growing wary as he neared the stream. Though Scott had led him to a well-hidden camp nearly thirty miles from the Institute, if they somehow managed to track him here, this would be the ideal spot for an ambush. And even if it wasn’t the Institute, they couldn’t rule out the possibility of some other group of Occ soldiers stumbling across the place.

  Fortunately, the undergrowth was particularly thick near this particular stretch. Cautiously ducking amid the cattails and reeds, he filled his canteen. He refused to grow complacent and continued to scan the nearby slopes for any sign of movement, even as he drank nearly a full canteen’s worth of water to slake his thirst. He’d refilled it, replaced the cap, and was just about to slip away when he noticed a flicker of movement on the opposite side of the creek.

  Normally, Liam might have brushed it aside as a bird or a squirrel. But the memory of his wounds, and Scott’s, had left him jittery. Squatting down, he waited and watched.

  There was nothing to suggest that anything was wrong. The birds continued to sing and the odd frog’s croaking went undisturbed. There were no footsteps, snapping twigs, or rustling of disturbed leaves. Nothing at all.

  Just when Liam was about to convince himself that he’d imagined the whole thing, he spotted it again. This time, it was thirty yards to the left near the bank of the stream. A faint flutter of green and brown triggered something in his peripherals. He continued to wait.

  The third time he saw it was different. Instead of a camouflaged hint of motion, there was no mistaking what lay before his eyes.

  The girl, his would-be killer, waded out into the water. Gone were the tentacle-like vines and wooden javelins. In fact, there wasn’t much around her at all. And, as she eased herself down into the deeper center of the creek, her hair fanned out behind her in the current and Liam realized she wasn’t wearing anything.

  He couldn’t look away.

  He wanted to, or rather, knew that he ought to. Even growing up surrounded by doctors and scientists hadn’t left him entirely shameless. If anything, being stripped repeatedly for experimentation had left him even more conscious of how nudity and helplessness were connected. And yet, the sight of the girl’s pale, pink skin and unfamiliar curves left him equal parts fascinated and awed.

  It didn’t make her appear weak. If anything, her absence of clothing lent her an air of invulnerability, as if she was daring any would-be enemy to try and take advantage of her current state.

  Liam shook his head to clear his thoughts.

  Could he remain here, silently observing until she finished bathing and departed? What if she intended to check up on Scott and discovered him watching her? She might not be an enemy now, but he could easily see that changing with such a revelation. Would it be better to simply announce himself and play it off as a coincidence? If so, he had better move fast; that option grew less viable with each passing second.

  “Are you going to join me or not?” called a feminine voice.

  Liam froze, not even daring to breathe. Had she spotted him? Impossible—she wasn’t looking anywhere close to his hiding spot and she would never have ventured into the water if she’d spotted him earlier. It had to be a trap, like the one Scott had pulled after knocking him out the night of his escape.

  “Yes. You.” The girl sat up, wearing only a grin, and stared directly at him. “The one who heals. Knife-boy. Shit, what was… Liam? I think? I can feel you watching.”

  Too stunned to do otherwise, Liam slowly straightened and took a cautious step out from the cattails. He walked forward until he was submerged to the knees. Almost without meaning to, his hand fell to rest on the hilt of his knife. The girl noticed immediately, eyes darting to it, but merely grinned wider.

  “There you are,” she said.

  “What do you mean you felt me watching?” he asked.

  The girl laughed, voice high and clear. Somehow, the sound was both mocking and endearing. Not that Liam noticed; he was having enough trouble keeping his gaze from dropping to her chest. There was something unmistakably hypnotic about the way the water dripped from her hair and down over her breasts.

  “Not the most observant, are you?” she said. “I control plants. You were so obvious, you might as well have set those ones on fire.”

  “You… control plants?”

  Mercifully, the girl folded her knees up against her chest. Resting her chin atop them, she gave a knowing wink and smiled.

  “That’s right,” she said. “You’re from the Institute too, right? I’m Jenn.”

  At the mention of the word Institute, Liam had his fingers curled around the hilt of his knife. Opposite him, Jenn did not even react. Only her smile wavered a bit.

  “Escaped,” she clarified. “No way in hell I’d work for those bastards.”

  Exhaling as his sudden burst of adrenaline faded, Liam released his knife. He couldn’t quite say why, but some part of him was glad that Jenn wasn’t an Occ. Even though she’d tried to kill him and, in Scott’s case, nearly succeeded, speaking to her like this brought unexpected satisfaction.

  “Oh,” he said. Then, awkwardly, “I’m Liam.”

  “Liam,” Jenn echoed. Standing suddenly, she waded toward him, one hand outstretched. “I thought that was it. It’s nice to meet you.”

  It took all of his self-control not to bolt away as the girl approached. Unfortunately, that left none to manage the wandering of his eyes. He drank in the sight of Jenn’s body, from her stiff, pink nipples to the smooth curve of her hips, and from there to the tangle of dark curls that lay at the center.

  He was so distracted by the sights that he nearly jumped when Jenn took his hand. She smelled of grass and flowers. And, if she minded his staring, there was no sign of it in the wry, vaguely superior smirk she answered him with.

  “So when did you escape?” she asked.

  Forcing his muddled thoughts into order with a shake of his head, Liam cleared his throat before answering.

  “Um, about a month ago.”

  “Shit!” Jenn clapped a hand to her forehead. Wincing, she folded an arm over her chest. “Sorry, Liam. I thought you were just shy around women. That’s why I was teasing. I didn’t realize it was so recent.”

  “Huh?”

  Jenn retreated a few steps and sank back down to hide herself in the water. Once there, she began to scrub her exposed arms and refused to meet his eyes.

  “Everyone needs a few months to adjust,” she explained. Hesitating, she added, “Or longer, I guess. I got out almost a year ago. I’m sorry if I came on a bit strong.”

  “It’s—” Liam shook his head again. For some reason, just trying to talk to Jenn felt like he’d taken a blow to the head. “It’s okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know…”

  “Peek?” Jenn finished for him. Her smirk had returned, though this time it was accompanied by a faint blush to her cheeks. “I don’t mind. I was the one who decided to put on a show, after all.”

  “Why?”

  Still, Jenn did not meet his eyes. After a moment, she shrugged.

  “We kind of… started off wrong,” she said. “I guess I’d rather you think of me as the naked-river-girl than the one who almost killed you and your friend.”

  Liam flinched, reaching for his canteen to assure himself it was still there. Without another word, he headed for shore.

  “Liam?” Jenn called out. “What’s wrong?”

  Despite himself, he paused and looked back at her.

  �
��Scott,” he explained, trusting her to understand. “I came to get water for him. Sorry, I really need to—”

  “Good thinking.” Jenn interrupted with a reassuring gesture. At last, she met his eyes. “You don’t have to rush, though. He lost a lot of blood, but whatever you did healed most of his injuries. He’ll live. I bandaged him up to prevent infection too.”

  Liam relaxed, though only somewhat.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Jenn smiled at him. Then, unexpectedly, her blush deepened.

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “And, um, I’ll be here for a while. If you come back after you check on Scott, I could… teach you a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  Jenn buried her face against her knees. It took a long time for her to raise it again. And, when she did, her face looked as though it had been burning for hours under a midday sun.

  “Things they don’t teach you at the Institute.”

  Chapter Three

  To Liam’s astonishment, Scott was actually awake when he returned to the hut. Though he wore a pained grimace and actually yelped when Liam helped him prop up his shoulders to sip from the canteen, those were the only outward signs of discomfort he gave. Instead, he picked at the edge of the poultice on his stomach and let out a low whistle as he peeked beneath it.

  “You did well,” he admitted. “I thought I was a goner. How did you heal me?”

  Liam told him and Scott nodded as though expecting the answer. Clapping Liam weakly on the shoulder, he closed his eyes and took a slow, experimental breath. From his wince, it was not a painless effort.

  “And the girl?” Scott asked. “How is she?”

  Liam blinked at the unexpected change of subject. For a second, he struggled to find an appropriate answer.

  “I didn’t hurt her,” he said. Then, in an effort to lighten the mood, he donned a playful grin. “Surprised her during a bath, though.”

  Scott reached up and flicked him squarely between the eyes. Hard. And, as Liam scowled and massaged the sensitive spot, the man gestured warningly with a finger.