Metallic Heart

by Liahona West

  “They ain’t up here,” said Skeleton Man to Edmund who grunted out his dissatisfaction. “We better double check the house. Might be hidin’ out in there.”

  “Shit,” Luke growled and buried his face in his hands.

  The group with the mastiff moved on, wading through the grass along the trail. Fortunately, they didn’t take the same path Bannack, Eloise, and Luke took out of the forest and instead made their way, the mastiff’s nose glued to the ground, down the hill.

  Once out of sight, Eloise counted. One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.

  Boatswain lurched to his feet, shaking his shaggy coat free of the broken sticks and dirt lodged in his fur, and Luke plucked a bramble off his forehead, ruffled his hair, then cooed, “You’re such a g-good boy for staying quiet.”

  Boatswain panted.

  Eloise stared down the road in front of her, a rollercoaster of sparse, overgrown grass swaying in the wind, and she noticed, barely visible past a line of dense forest, an abandoned gated community.

  “We can avoid them if we go that way.”

  She looked at Sibyl, Bannack, and Luke, a silent conversation passing between them, and they all nodded.

  Luke said, “There might be supplies or or weapons there, t-too.”

  Sibyl made a noise. “They’re not looking for us. Why do you want weapons?”

  “If they think we’re in their way, they’re going to try to kill us. Weren’t you listening?”

  “Duh. But you can be less of a jerk about it.”

  Luke groaned. “Sibyl! I’m not-t-t capable of being nice so much. I’ve hit my quota for the day.”

  “Who said anything about being nice, dumb quat? You should be kind. Nice is easy. Being kind is the hard part.”

  “Dumb quat-t?” Luke stared at her with his head cocked.

  “I don’t know.” Sibyl tossed her hands in the air and walked toward the abandoned neighborhood. “It sounded better in my head.”

  As they approached the community, they stepped over the gate which lay on the ground, mangled like a crumpled piece of paper in a heap through the closest manufactured home. Something big had smashed the gate.

  They wound through the abandoned houses, taking in the apocalyptic scene of the ghostly neighborhood. Of the homes that weren’t burnt, crumpled by fallen trees, or covered in moss, the rest stood in eerie silence, forgotten souls waiting in line to be delivered to their fate. It was a graveyard. But instead of bones, it was row upon row of ruined, decrepit houses.

  Eloise shuddered and hugged her body tight.

  ***

  Sibyl, Eloise, and Bannack stood in the kitchen, searching through the cupboards for anything they could use and waiting for Luke to join them.

  “They could find us?” Luke adjusted Boatswain’s rope leash in his hand as he entered the living room. “How are we going to prove we’re not in their way?”

  “We could talk to them.” Eloise opened a cupboard door and a rat carcass stared back at her. She balked and closed the door. “I don’t know who they’re looking for. It could be anyone. But we have to get back to the Compound soon, so we can’t afford any hiccups.”

  “Okay,” Sibyl said. “Then we avoid the people with the dog and focus on getting back to the Compound in one piece.”

  The sound of crashing glass gave Eloise barely enough time to turn before the bolt of a crossbow sunk deep into the cupboard door she held onto. The force swung it wide, wrenching it from her hand, and cracking it against the wall. Eloise gasped and stepped backward. Her foot touched nothing. Doing the most painful splits of her life, Eloise fell to the laminate floor. Her body partially fell through rotting drywall, the inside of her thigh near her crotch crackled and burned, and she remained there for a moment, trying to figure out how to move.

  Bannack’s hands were on Eloise, helping her stand.

  “Move!” Luke yelled.

  Another bolt sunk deep into the fridge, an awful metal crunch followed by the freezer crumbling around the entry wound, made Eloise and Bannack duck then scramble.

  Eloise slammed her boot into the screen of the low window in the dining nook then slid through. The mastiff let out a deep bark. It fought against its leash, tied to the metal railing of a house. Her feet hit the top of an air-conditioning unit. She slunk around the corner, placed her back against the siding, and whispered, “Now what?”

  But when she turned, Bannack, Sibyl, and Luke were missing. Her pupils dilated as tingling waves rolled underneath her skin. How could she lose them?

  They must not have followed me out of the window. But I could have sworn—

  Voices coming from the front of the house caught Eloise’s attention and she stood slowly. Her body ached and hand burned. She panicked when she heard the exchange Bannack and Sibyl were having with the people they hid from earlier.

  “We’re looking for a man named Graham, and a teen named Seth. They’ve gone missing.”

  Seth’s gone missing?

  “Let-t us through!”

  “So, you can take him right back to his prison?” Bannack. “Like hell!”

  Clanging of metal, yelling, and the unmistakable sound of fists on human flesh filled the air. She peered around the corner, still reeling about Seth going missing, as Skeleton Man tumbled across the gravel, Luke hot on his heels. His cloak fluttered with his movements. He swung a metal garbage can lid. It landed mere inches from Skeleton Man.

  The mastiff barked.

  An ear-splitting sound of trash cans being overturned made Eloise jump, and her heart slammed against her chest. Bannack lay sprawled on the ground for a moment. Edmund loomed over him. In an effort to halt his forward progression, club in hand, Sibyl jumped on top of Edmund’s shoulders. Bannack scrambled to his feet.

  Before Eloise could move to help, a bolt from the woman’s crossbow glanced off the asphalt several feet in front of Eloise, then clattered out of sight. Eloise ran, sending gravel flying as she took refuge behind a fallen tree. Her breath forced itself from her lungs.

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  Eloise lurched to her feet. She ran, tripping as she did so, to help her friends.

  A body slammed into her shoulder. She tumbled sideways, crashing through an old door. She slammed into the half wall separating the entry from the living room. Her hand stung as she moved it. A laceration on her upper arm bled into her shirt. Eloise covered it with her hand.

  Great.

  Glancing up gave her barely enough time to roll away before Edmund charged her with his saber raised. She squealed, her eyes dilating in fear and ran through the living room. Out of nowhere, Edmund slammed into her again. This time her feet left the ground. She sailed over the bar stools and crashed, back first, onto the top of the kitchen island. The wind flew from her lungs. Eloise half screamed, half grunted. When the back of her head hit the kitchen sink attached to the island, her entire body shuddered. She tipped over. Her ankles slammed into the metal gas stove top and she folded as she fell the rest of the way. Everything hurt.

  Hands clamped around her throat.

  Barely able to make out Edmund through her blurred vision, Eloise’s feet left the floor which swayed unnaturally. She tasted bile and the metallic tinge of blood.

  “You and your friends gave us a damn headache, you have.” Edmund hissed at her and Eloise vaguely thought that he sounded British, but she struggled to form anything else coherent.

  Her throat burned. Her back collided with the fridge.

  Claw at him! Get to his eyes!

  Eloise willed her mind to clear. Despite the red nail marks in Edmund’s hands and arms, he continued to hold on to her throat, pushing her further against the fridge and tightening his large hands around her neck. Panicked, once again, Eloise thrashed, kicking at him with everything she had.

  He laughed. “You’re cute.”

  “P…plea–lease.” Eloise croaked out. Words were sandpaper in her throat. �
��Let me go.”

  “Do as she asks.”

  At some point, Luke had equipped the crossbow and stood with the bolt trained on Edmund who chuckled.

  “You’re just a kid. Think you can fight me and a dog?”

  The fierce, terrifying growl of the mastiff came from the door Eloise had crashed through and Luke stepped sideways, his eyes wide.

  “Then I’ll just have to shoot his mast-ter.” Luke swallowed and raised the crossbow again.

  “Ha!” Edmund squeezed Eloise’s throat. “I have your girl.”

  “False.” Luke smiled. “Not mine.”

  Edmund whistled.

  The mastiff leapt at Luke. Expecting the attack, Luke fired.

  The bolt lanced Edmund’s cheek, but the injury was enough to make his head jerk sideways and his grip release Eloise’s throat.

  She stumbled away, wheezing. Her throat burned, and she could feel the red handprint around her neck.

  Jaws clamped down on Luke’s elbow, and he cried out. He fell, the crossbow forgotten on the floor, and fought with the large dog, pulling on ears and arching against the animal’s body.

  Eloise half-crawled toward Luke.

  Edmund’s laugh, mocking and deep, abruptly stopped when, as Eloise turned, Bannack pulled a kitchen knife out of the man’s neck. Her stomach rolled. Blood pooled down Edmund’s barrel chest and he sat against the cabinet door, twitching, trying to speak but unable to. Then his head tilted, and he stilled.

  Ignoring Eloise, Bannack stalked toward Luke, blood dripping from the metal tip of the blade. She saw his face and her blood froze. He was on auto-pilot, eyes blank yet dark. Murder flashed in his eyes.

  Sibyl appeared at Eloise’s side and pulled her close. The warmth of the hug released some tension and Eloise began hyperventilating. Without speaking, Sibyl coached her through breathing, pushing her hands away so she couldn’t scratch at the inside of her wrists.

  “Don’t hurt-t the dog!” Luke, still trapped, held his hand out for a moment then screamed and grappled with the animal again.

  Bannack advanced.

  Luke tried again. “Stop! He’s—Ach!—He’s only doing as he’s commanded!” Luke arched his back when the dog shook his head. “His legs. Damn it! G-g-grab his fucking legs!”

  Eloise rushed past Bannack, which seemed to wake him up, took hold of the mastiff’s feet. She gave one giant heave sideways. The dog’s body hit the floor, knocked off balance, and released Luke.

  The dog whined and padded over to his owner, cautiously licking his cheek. With one droopy-eyed look at Bannack, Eloise, and Luke, he turned and laid down by his master.

  Luke hissed when he rolled up his sleeve to inspect where the dog had bitten him. He had bruising, but no broken skin. “I’m fine. If the dog really wanted to hurt-t me, he would have.” Luke pushed his sleeve down. “I’ll be sore for a day or so.”

  “Are we going to even talk about Seth?” Eloise’s brain fumbled over itself, trying to figure out why and how Seth escaped.

  Luke tended to his arm and mumbled angry words underneath his breath. Sibyl sat on the porch, her head in her hands, and Bannack leaned against the siding, his arms crossed and foot flat against the wall. No one spoke. Eloise didn’t blame them. They had just been attacked for no reason except that they were in the way.

  Sibyl finally spoke. “Seth could be anywhere right now.”

  “Not without help,” Luke said and winced. “From what we heard, someone named Graham helped him. T-take that and and add it to Joy sending her goons out to find him, we can assume he he succeeded in disappearing.”

  “Then we have to trust him,” Sibyl said. “He’s seventeen. That’s old enough to be smart about running away, especially that we know someone is with him. Until we know more, we have to assume he doesn’t need us. And, Mason is still a mystery.”

  As much as she hated it, she knew Sibyl was right. Seth wasn’t a priority. She had to stay focused on their true goal: getting answers for how to deal with Mason. They hadn’t made much headway, but they knew that in the couple weeks since his memory wipe, he hadn’t degraded, and his headaches had slowed down.

  “Fine,” Eloise rubbed her neck. “We’ll deal with our injuries and head back to the Compound. Hopefully, Finch’s crew makes better headway than we did.”

  “Hey,” Luke spread his good arm and smiled, “we at least discovered Seth is defying his mom. Very exciting.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Joy

  The metal chair flew out of Joy’s office, the horrid clang and crash barely audible through her pounding anger.

  Joy stood behind her desk, shaking hands splayed across the top, and her shoulders shook. Hot, furious tears fell down her face, getting stuck on her chin before they dropped. She glanced at her employees, fifteen of them, standing at attention and sweating.

  “How,” she whispered to Amy, the only person willing to speak, “have you not found him yet?”

  “Apologies, ma’am. We’re doing our best.”

  Anger made Joy lose control again. “Your best isn’t good enough! My son is missing and you’ve spent weeks looking for him! He’s in a wheelchair. Either you’re all incompetent, or someone is lying.”

  Amy jumped when Joy slammed her hand on the desk. “I’m sorry. He must be—”

  “Stop!” Joy glared at Amy. She could barely speak now, her breath heaving. “I want you all looking for him.” Joy straightened as a thought burst into her mind, then inhaled. “Whoever brings me my son and Graham’s head, I will end their service to me and reinstate their families' memories.”

  “Excuse me?” Amy blinked at Joy. Excited mumbles rose from the group.

  “You heard me. Go!”

  The group scuttled away and disappeared.

  Joy inhaled, still shaking, and looked at the framed photo of Seth as a six-month-old baby. His nose was scrunched up and eyes sparkled as he held a tiny pumpkin. People walked in the background, blurred out of focus. She had taken the photo at a pumpkin patch Before and as a single mom who spent much of her time in the office trying to discover a cure for Alzheimer’s disease, the day trip to the local pumpkin patch was priceless. It was her favorite memory of him.

  I’m going to find you.

  Graham had kidnapped Seth and her heart ached to think what was happening to her son if she wasn’t there to make sure he stayed safe. Avoided getting sick. His body had grown too weak to endure much of the outside world.

  She screamed and punched the wall.

  He’s going to kill Seth faster than the disease! I knew I shouldn’t have let Graham near my son, or Eloise. She probably put the idea into his head in the first place.

  “Damn it.”

  She’d been careless.

  Trusted too much.

  Because of that, Seth was gone.

  Nothing remained except Joy, the cold walls, and soulless machines.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Bannack

  The rain soaked him to his bones as he rushed inside, holding the door for the other Sentinels in his squad.

  “Man!” A Sentinel named Isaac flicked water from his hands. “Too much rain for me.”

  “I’m soaked!” Another Sentinel, Lance, scrubbed his hair, making droplets of water fly all over the people close to him while they all voiced their upset. He chuckled. “Sorry guys.”

  The four of them gathered in the alcove just inside the door, shaking off the water and drying their bodies with the towels waiting on a rack.

  Marcas finished first and tossed his towel into a basket. “Drinks on me, boys?”

  Bannack didn’t respond as Isaac and Lance ran off with Marcas. Why should he celebrate when Mason was struggling? It felt…disrespectful. He fiddled with the towel, carefully drying off his arms and neck as he stared at his feet.

  We’re no closer to figuring out how to help Mason, Seth is still missing, and it’s only a matter of time before Elois
e gets sick.

  “There you are.”

  Soora’s voice made him look up. “Hey, Soora,” Bannack said, and the towel made a muffled thump when he tossed it in the basket.

  “How’s the weather treating you?”

  “Have you seen outside?”

  Soora smiled. “Don’t like the rain, huh?”

  He opened his mouth to respond and then noticed a slight change in her posture. She sighed, her shoulders drooped, and a small wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows, so small he almost missed it. “Is everything okay? Mason has…”

  “No. No. He’s perfectly fine.” Soora glanced away. “I’m concerned about Eloise.”

  His heartbeat pounded against his chest and he stepped forward, eyes wide. “She’s sick, isn’t she?”

  “Came in two nights ago. Shortly after you left.”

  A bitter ache latched onto Bannack’s throat. “And no one came to get me?”

  “You were gone. I had no way to contact you, you know that.”

  “Yes.” Bannack sighed. “Can you take me to her?”

  The walk to Eloise’s room made his chest ache with every step, and by the time he stood on her doorstep, he barely contained his fear. His hands shook. Eloise laid in the bed, sweating, her eyes closed. People bustled around her carrying fresh water and towels. Something brushed across his leg. Bali mewed up at him. Bannack picked her up and held her to his chest as he watched the activity of the room and memories flooded into his mind of his dad lying on a bed, sweating and breathing heavily, unable to understand anything around him. The memories crowded his head, all vying for attention, until they gave him a headache. He set the cat down, groaned, and turned his head, trying to escape the thoughts. He’d seen death before. Why did it have to be exactly as his father had looked days before his death?