by Liahona West
“I want to stay on her good side.”
“Yeah,” Seth said, but Eloise knew it was just a placating phrase. He blinked away the moisture in his eyes. “Hungry?”
“I could eat.”
The lump in her throat would take time to go away. She hated Joy for keeping him trapped. He was sick, yes, but still a human who needed more interaction than he got, and it affected his mental well-being. He used to be such a happy kid. Now, because of Joy’s neglect, he was suffering. Eloise bristled. She clenched her fist.
How could she do this to him?
No one, except Mason and Soora, knew what she did at night every three months, and when people asked, they accepted the simple answer of Eloise being too tired. The entire Compound knew she struggled with trauma, even if they didn’t know the details.
As Eloise watched Seth send a nurse for food, her heart dropped a bit lower in her chest. A pang hit her stomach
Without me, you'll die. I don’t know if I can lose you, too.
In an attempt to ease the grief, Eloise glanced around the room. Robots made from medical equipment and scrap metal lined the shelves. Posters Seth made himself about how robots worked, robot trivia, and facts littered the walls. Glow in the dark stars peppered his ceiling.
“Do you remember when you used to pester Ada about helping you build with Legos?” Eloise asked.
Seth laughed, a quiet and airy exhale. “I remember. If she didn’t…want to, she would ignore…me.”
“And you’d spend the whole day begging her to play just for a little bit.”
“Then you’d either…get fed up and play or Ada…would give in and…grumble for about five minutes…before she…was into…it.”
“Remember the epic Eiffel Tower? It was more like a rectangle than the actual thing?”
“Yeah! She…was so proud of it…too. Her Lego…building skills weren’t…pretty.”
“No, they were not.”
They couldn’t hold a long conversation about Ada without the energy in the room dropping to ice-cold levels as they both felt the gravity of her absence. Ada and Seth were always together. Joy would bring Seth over for work nights with Eloise and Ada’s parents. The three kids would build blanket forts, have fake campfires, and tell each other ghost stories, and for many wonderful hours, it was just them existing in the world.
Seth chewed on the inside of his lip. “Do you still miss…her?”
“Yes. There’s a hole in my heart where she used to be. I don’t think that will ever change, but it’s more of a dull ache now.”
“I know…what you mean.” Seth tilted his head back. “I think…what I miss the most…from before I got sick is walking…on the beach. I want to…get better. I hate this chair—I…only sit in it because I get…so tired but I want to do…things, Eloise! I want to run…like actually…run. And see things. Everything. Instead, I’m sick…and I hate it. The nanites are…gross, too. They make me…so sick after.”
They’d had the same conversation countless times and every time made Eloise nauseous. Seth was so tired—she could tell from his sullen face—of being sick and cooped up in white walls with a mother who hid him from the world. She knew he resented her for it.
“Tell you what.” Eloise reached forward and patted his knee. She ignored the sinking of her stomach when she felt the thin kneecap underneath his pant leg and kept a smile on her face. “When the nanites start helping you, we’re going outside and touching the beach. I might throw in some toe wiggling because I’m so generous. Deal?”
Her hands trembled. She hid them in her blanket. Every bit of dread and anxiety Eloise tried to shove away only returned. Vengeful. Seth’s smile was infectious, though, and it soothed her sore heart.
“Deal.” After a beat, Seth pulled a folded-up paper out from underneath his pillow. He handed it to Eloise, lowered his eyes, and said, “I wrote this for…you.”
Eloise smiled and took the paper. “Thank you.”
“But don’t…open it!” Seth put his hands on hers. “Not yet. I want…you to read it when you get…back home.”
“Alright,” Eloise chuckled and put it in her pocket.
The sound of a closing door echoed through the room and Eloise’s smile faded when she saw Joy holding a syringe filled with a light lavender liquid.
“Hi, Mama.”
Joy smiled, something she reserved only for Seth. “Ready?”
The question was more rhetorical than anything. Joy injected the lavender serum into the tube trailing to Seth’s arm. He clenched his teeth and groaned.
Eloise scooted off the hospital bed and crouched in front of Seth. “I have to go, okay?”
He nodded.
Eloise walked toward the door.
“I’m not finished.” Joy’s voice had an edge to it. Eloise paused. After placing a pillow into a more comfortable position for Seth to lay back on, Joy met Eloise at the door. “The nanites aren’t enough. I need more.”
The color drained from Eloise’s face. “What?”
“I ran a few tests before you arrived tonight, and Seth’s condition is worse. I thought increasing his dosage of your nanites would be enough, but nothing has changed.”
Eloise clenched her fists. Years of late nights meant nothing. The fatal brain disease still steamrolled on its trajectory. Soon—Eloise shuddered—it would take Seth’s life and she couldn’t do anything to stop it.
“How much more of my blood do you need?” She asked.
“All of it.”
“All—” The word came out several octaves higher than expected, and Eloise lowered her voice. “I’ll die! If we remove them all, they’ll rip my insides to shreds.”
“I know.”
“And what about the dose he just received tonight?” Eloise snapped. “Why isn’t it working?”
Joy stared at Eloise as if she were an infuriating child asking too many questions. She sighed. “We already went over this. These artificially intelligent nanites like your weakened immune system. Seth’s body can’t keep them alive long enough to self-replicate because his disease is too progressive. At first, I thought every few months would be enough, but now I realize it’s not.”
“And how do you know giving him all the nanites will even work? Seth could still die.”
“Yes. He could still die. I will not rest until I have exhausted every single probability.”
Three guards appeared at both ends of the hallway, one beside Joy and two behind Eloise.
Heat rushed down Eloise’s arms and legs while the rest of her body grew cold. “After all I’ve done,” Eloise paced in front of Joy, “after everything I've given to your son! You’re just going to kill me?”
“You’re special to Seth. He loves you, and if he found out I murdered you, he would be destroyed. I won’t do that. But I can blame your death on the nanites. They could malfunction and kill you.” Joy flicked her wrist.
Eloise rushed forward, ripped off her jacket, and used it to wrench the stun baton out of the female guard’s hand. Her jacket still in her hands, Eloise pushed off the wall with her feet, brought her hand back, and made sure the large brass buttons contacted the woman’s face.
The guard, a welt underneath her eye, cuffed Eloise’s wrist behind her body. She pivoted. The guard swung sideways with the momentum of Eloise’s body and smashed against the wall.
Her shoulder burned. Eloise stumbled away, holding her arm. Another guard grabbed at her. With an angry yell, she slammed her knee into the groin of her attacker. He responded with a fist to her cheek. The metallic taste of blood spread throughout her mouth. She gasped, stumbling away. Her face throbbed.
Metal and glass lanterns hung by rings dotted the walls. Before the third guard could grab Eloise, she slid underneath his legs, tore a lantern off the wall, and ran around the corner.
A small trail of blood ran down her lip, and she licked it away. Her breathing ragged and hands shaking, Eloise clicked th
e opposite end of the handcuffs to the metal ring on top of the lantern and swallowed hard. Joy’s furious screams and quick footsteps drew closer. She had seconds. Eloise tested the weight of her makeshift weapon and inhaled.
A red-headed man appeared first. He cried out when Eloise swung as hard as she could, the air carrying a faint whistle, and crashed the lantern into his face. Glass shattered. The guard collapsed, unconscious. She readied for her second victim. Again, she swung. The lantern shattered on contact. Metal and more glass rained onto the floor, but the female guard still stood. Eloise stepped back, and her breathing faltered.
“I’m not going to die for Seth!” Eloise screamed at Joy who she saw turn the corner. “And I’ll claw my way out of here if I have to.”
Weapon destroyed, Eloise half-crouched, waiting for the two remaining guards to get close enough.
One step.
Two steps.
Three … Four.
Eloise bent, grabbed the broken lantern, now sharp, and sliced the female guard’s arm from her wrist to her elbow, then went after the last guard. She ducked underneath his arm and stabbed his knee. He crumpled.
Joy, blocked by the bodies Eloise left in her wake, watched Eloise with fury contorting her face
A thrill of terror sliced through Eloise and she slipped on the bloody floor as she ran, panting, while the handcuffs jingled at her wrist.
CHAPTER TWO
Bannack
The locket in Bannack’s hand clinked as he lowered it into the hole he had dug, joining the akrafena, a blade with a wide curve at the end and a golden pommel. His agya had spent his life trying to find it, taking Bannack on some of his trips, and now Bannack was returning it to the earth from where it came.
The years alone fighting for shelter and shivering on the cold ground day after day brought him to his knees. Sure, he found the occasional group of people to settle with, but his guilt over destroying countless lives drove him into a life of voluntary solitude. After a few years of bouncing between family groups, he accepted his fate as a wanderer. No one would want him anyway, so he stayed away.
Bannack stroked his maame’s face on the photo he held, her arms wrapped around her children. Her forelock of white hair disappeared into her yellow and orange headscarf and her single bright blue eye, many times a fascination for school friends when he was a kid, stood out against her dark skin. He shared the same trait, except he had two blue eyes.
“Forgive me.”
The dirt hit the metal of the locket and sword as Bannack covered up the hole. He wouldn’t remember anything by the morning. Not who he was, nor his name. He could create a new identity, ignorant of his past, and even his shame over not protecting his family would be fleeting. They were gone, he still lived, and that haunted him for too long.
His cheeks glistening, Bannack began his long walk to Joy.
***
Standing parallel to the facility where Joy had turned him into a monster, Bannack shook, his fists clenched. She had destroyed him, promising a memory wipe and then asking him to do the unthinkable task of kidnapping a young girl. Her command broke him in half. He looked into Joy’s heartless, cold eyes all those years ago and knew, right then and there, that he couldn’t continue to do what she wanted.
For too long, Bannack stood beside Joy as she experimented on the people he had collected for her. Their screams haunted his days and their faces, begging and terrified, haunted his nights. What he had done he could not atone for, but by forcing Joy to get rid of his memories now, Bannack could fix it all. He would be reborn, no longer weighed down by his sins.
The grass brushed over his thighs as he slunk toward the building.
Whispering voices made the hair on his neck raise, and he slipped behind a bush and watched the source of the whispers, two men, appear. One of them unzipped his pants, relieved himself, and continued his patrol. Bannack waited, counting in his head, and then slunk toward the building.
If Bannack could get to the side, he could slip in through a window. Finding Joy would be the hardest part since she frequented many rooms, and he had no way of knowing how many guards were on the inside.
You’re an idiot, Bannack, for thinking this will work.
He rubbed his eyes to rid the thought from his mind. It wasn’t helping.
I’m going to do this, even if it kills me.
A space of about three yards stood between him, the guards, and the side door.
Distraction.
Bannack’s fingers closed around a rock, and he threw it. The resulting clatter put the guards on edge and they stood, mumbling amongst themselves.
“Come on,” one of the guards whispered. Another followed.
Left behind, the youngest guard settled back down on his rock and yawned. Bannack released a quiet grunt. He should have known one would stay.
Hard way it is.
The branches brushed over his back as Bannack slunk behind the young guard, digging a fine cable out of his pocket. Bannack slipped the cording around the man’s neck, pulled down hard, and dug his knee into the guard’s spine. The neck tried to resist but failed. Bones snapped. Cording sliced into his neck. The guard relaxed.
Bannack lowered the body to the ground and began working on the lock. He had found the lock pick set some years back, and it had saved his ass many times. The first mechanism fell into place, then the second, while Bannack kept his good ear angled toward the front of the building.
Halfway through working with the lock, the guards returned.
They looked at their fallen comrade, shock turned to anger, and they ran toward Bannack. He sighed, grabbed a knife from the fallen guard’s thigh, and flicked it into a neck. The third guard paused for just a moment, looked at both of the dead men, then advanced. Bannack ducked, and the last guard’s fist crashed into the wall. He whimpered, cradling his injured hand and looked up just as Bannack brought a rock down onto his forehead.
More footsteps sounded while Bannack struggled with the lock. He gritted his teeth and the final mechanism clicked. Bannack threw open the door, used one of the guard’s bodies to block the way, pocketed a knife, and ran through the hallway, desperate for any door to hide behind. With each step, the noise from his boots echoed off the blank walls, dull taps ricocheting through his skull.
A guard as tall as he was burst forward. Bannack smashed into the ground. A fist collided with his cheekbone, making him see stars and taste blood.
“You’re not going anywhere,” one of them said into Bannack’s ear.
“The hell I am.” Bannack allowed the fury to spread through him like a wildfire, making his skin burn and giving his muscles fuel to twist behind his attacker, aim below the shoulder, and drive the knife he stole from the dead guard into the man’s back. Bannack jerked the knife blade up. The man, lying on the floor, made some gurgling noises and died.
Sore, Bannack peered around every corner. Guards were coming. He needed to find refuge. In his frantic run, he discovered many of the hallways were blocked off which he wasn’t expecting. Many times, he had to backtrack.
Something is wrong.
Tension rose in his neck and shoulders as he spent the next several minutes searching for a door.
Has she been losing employees?
Bannack remembered Joy’s announcement a couple years into his service with her that they would no longer take people from the Compound. It wasn’t his place to ask questions, so he accepted the order, but the lack of guards made Bannack consider the possibility that something was changing. A power shift, perhaps?
He saw a door, one he recognized as Joy’s office, and tried the doorknob. It opened. Bannack slipped through.
The room was about the size of his bedroom when he was a kid and had a second door at the far end. Her desk sat in the middle of the room, bare except for a baby picture of her son and an open file. She must have been actively reading it because the desk held several stacks of papers. Curious, Bannac
k pushed them around. He found a title. ‘Project Nemosyne’ and a photo of a younger Joy surrounded by what appeared to be her colleagues taped below the title. All of them smiled with their arms around each other, dressed in lab coats. Bannack leaned closer to the photo and made out “Artondale Regional Laboratories” engraved into a flat granite slab sitting behind and to the right of the group.
That is just up the hill from here, near the twin bridges.
Bannack looked at each of the people in the photo and his throat closed tight as he recognized Eloise’s parents, her dad holding two-year-old Eloise and mom pregnant with Ada. Eloise had been his closest friend from childhood, and her family had lived down the street from him. His memories of the family were some of his most cherished.
Like her mother, Eloise was bold and independent, but she had inherited her father’s features of golden freckles and red hair. She stood low to the ground, perfect height for knocking her father off his feet, and possessed the most vibrant golden eyes he had ever seen. Even after ten years, he still remembered those eyes.
Bannack turned the picture upside down and flipped through the documents in the rest of the folder. According to the files, Joy’s attempts at developing a brain-healing serum were ruined when she injected it into the body of a six-year-old girl suffering from a blood infection brought on by a compromised immune system. The one reference to this little girl was the name “Donor,” her true name redacted in the documents with information on her blood type as a universal donor, the date of a car accident, the hospital’s attempt to save her life, and her sickness. But no name.
Joy spoke of the destruction of her lab, losing her research and serum, which left Donor with the only pure version of the nanites inside her body. The girl was missing.
“I’ve given up my search for Donor. It’s a lost cause,” Joy explained in the notes. “Seth is too sick. Recreating the serum will take too much time.”
A few lines down, dated two years before Bannack’s family died, Joy wrote, “Human experiments have begun. My only hope now is to find subjects and pray it works. Seth’s life is what matters. Seth’s life is what matters.”