Prey (The Shade Chronicles Book 1)

by T. K. Bradley

  “Uhh, hey, Jose? I’m just gonna take a quick bathroom break.” Jose is already waist-deep under the hood of the lead vehicle. I take his mumbled reply as consent.

  I find myself meandering down the hall after Kenzo. I try to look casual, but I probably look about as discreet as an ostrich out for a stroll. The more I try to swing my arms calmly at my sides, the more awkward and gangly I feel. I attempt to keep some distance between us, allowing his lab coat to disappear around the corner ahead of me before following down the next stretch of corridor. I pass a couple of citizens and flash my least-creepy smile their way, but the startled expressions I get in return mean that I’m failing miserably.

  Seriously, what the hell am I thinking? If Kenzo turns around and finds me following him and grinning like an idiot, he’ll probably think I’m stalking him. Oh god, he’ll totally get the wrong impression. I can’t stop myself, though. I think about the way the blood dripped from that poor scavenger. And then I think of the blood in the dorms. And both times I’ve been given the brush-off. I have no rank in this society, I’m not worthy of answers.

  A flash of hot fury burns through me, and my cheeks flush. This compound is such bullshit. On the surface, it’s safety, which obviously nobody would turn their noses up at. But… it’s like polishing a turd. Is there really any point? I can feel the fresh paint peeling at the edges, flaking off to show the blood-spattered walls beneath. Is safety worth turning a blind eye?

  Are we selling ourselves out?

  I step out into the next hallway without peeking, lost in thought. Kenzo is standing 20 feet away. Lucky for me, he’s turned away, facing an unmarked door. I leap back with a muffled squeak and then count to ten to make sure he isn’t coming back this way. When I risk a quick glance around the corner again, I watch him swipe his card.

  The door unlocks with a soft click, and Kenzo pushes through. I try to get a look past him, but there’s nothing beyond the door except… a second door! Thwarted again! As it closes behind him, I sag in defeat.

  What a lame disappointment. Now I have to get on with my day. My stupid, boring day. It involves spraying blood off the garage floor and feeding my lazy-ass boyfriend. Gee whiz, however will I survive all that excitement.

  I drag my feet back to the garage to get the cleaning over with. The only thing worse than cleaning up blood, is cleaning up dried blood. At first you think it won’t be that bad because at least the smell is gone. But then you spray water on it, and it all just rehydrates, and guess what… the smell rehydrates too! Presto!

  Stupid, lame, boring day.

  3

  Kenzo

  The first door closes behind me with a click, but it’s the second door, closing with the ominous click-buzz, that makes my skin crawl. When I hear that sound, it becomes official: I am locked in here with these things…

  The door may look like every other door in the compound, nondescript and nearly indistinguishable, but I promise you, it’s what’s on this side of the door that sets it apart from the others.

  “Doctor, I have everything prepared for you.” Eleanor’s voice quivers and she won’t look me in the eye. But at least her hands aren’t shaking as she hands me the clipboard.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask her. It would be remiss of me if I didn’t at least ask, but the question is a formality. There’s no going back for her now. If she can’t handle it, the authority will make sure she never leaves this lab. She wouldn’t be the first who couldn’t make the cut.

  Her eyes flick up to mine, and she squares off her shoulders. “I can handle it.”

  “Of course you can.” I give her a pat on the arm, which I intend to be comforting but is probably actually patronizing. I can see Major Ellis Hill over her shoulder, and he’s watching her carefully, one hand resting against the butt of his holstered gun. As the compound’s head of security, it’s his job to take care of all the loose cannons and loose ends. We share a look, and he relaxes his stance.

  Harker and Telly trudge past, their bodies sagging, uniforms caked with drying blood. They barely spare me a glance on their way to the showers. Normally they would smirk or jostle me “by accident,” but this lab is like a different world from the rest of the compound. They know it could just as easily have been them strapped down to a gurney in here.

  Maybe next time it will be.

  I lead the way down the hall, passing by a dozen doors, a dozen empty rooms. I know when I get to the right room by the shuddering breath from Eleanor. I turn and look through the small window in the center of the reinforced door.

  “How is he?” I ask, a cold dread sinking into my stomach.

  Eleanor starts listing his stats, “Patient is Daniel Strum, age 22. His temp is 105.2 and rising, blood pressure 130 over 90. He’s lost a lot of blood and—”

  “He’s infected,” Ellis interrupts.

  But I didn’t need him to tell me that. It’s obvious, anyone with eyes could see something isn’t right with Dan. His body is arching under the restraints, bucking and pulling against the thick straps, even as his blood soaks through his bandages, spilling out over the floor.

  “He’s… is that normal?” Eleanor asks. I know what she’s asking. Not, is that normal for a human, but is that expected for one of our… experiments.

  I clear my throat and square my shoulder. “The portentum noctis virus has already spread through his bloodstream and is currently overwhelming his nervous system. Do you see the bandage on his abdomen?” Eleanor nods. “It should be all red where the blood is soaking through, but see how it’s starting to darken?” She nods again, her eyes wide. “The blood has already begun to change its appearance, its texture, and even its function. It won’t take long before we’ll begin to see the exterior changes to the body as well.”

  “Shouldn’t he be getting… weaker? From the blood loss?” She isn’t looking away, and I feel a little flutter of pride. Maybe she can handle it after all.

  “It actually helps for the body to purge the blood. It will speed the transition. The body will become much more efficient before the transformation is complete.”

  A door opens from the back of the lab, and a man in full uniform enters. Major Hill stands to attention, saluting. “At ease, soldier,” the older man says with a distracted salute.

  “General Howell, this is my assistant, Eleanor Baker.”

  He nods in response, but I’m not sure he even hears me. He only has eyes for the experiment. “Remarkable,” he whispers reverently. “I never get tired of this stage.” He reaches out and touches his hand to the window. “It’s a big one, isn’t it? An impressive specimen. It’ll be a good asset if we can keep it in line. Did it have any ties to the compound? Family? Any loved ones?”

  I look down at the clipboard in my hands. “No, sir. No next of kin listed.”

  “Huh. That’s unfortunate,” General Howell says, a frown puckering his creased face. “Oh well, maybe we can appeal to its sense of patriotism.” He barks out a laugh, and I give a lame attempt at joining him, but my chuckle comes out brittle.

  General Howell gives me a disappointed glance, and then waves his hand at me. “Well? Get on with it. Um… Eric?” he calls over his shoulder, snapping his fingers at the man behind him.

  I take a deep breath and steel myself against the inevitable. It’s not “Eric” as General Howell said, but David Fisher, Lori’s father. It’s probably best that Howell doesn’t seem to know his name, and neither of us correct him. I try not to look at David; his eyes are too much like Lori’s, and she has no place in this lab, not even the thought of her.

  David isn’t a big man, but he has two things going for him. He’s desperate, and he’s expendable. Without a word, he unbolts the door and swings it open just enough to slide through the gap. As soon as the door opens, we’re assaulted by the howling of a madman. Madthing. “—the fuck out of here! You can’t do this to me! I’m—” The words are muffled once again as the door closes behind him.

  We all
huddle around the small window, unable to look away. David steadies the specimen’s arm against the gurney and moves to inject a needle into its skin. I see the skin dimple beneath the needle’s point, resisting the pierce. After a moment, David looks up and shakes his head. We were too slow.

  I turn to Eleanor to explain. “We weren’t fast enough, the skin has already begun to thicken. David will have to inject through another site.”

  Eleanor’s eyebrows go up. “Another site? Where—”

  Her question is answered as David darts forward and peels back the specimen’s eyelid, exposing the softer tissue behind the tear ducts. Its head is strapped to the gurney, but the teeth are still a danger. I can see that the teeth have already begun to sprout from the gums, leaving a viscous venom dripping from the elongated canines.

  I’m grateful that we can’t hear the howls that are coming from the creature. The cries tug at me, and I’m trying my best to sever the doctor-patient connection—human connection—that is too easy to draw at this stage. He—it, I remind myself—still looks too human. Not for long.

  I dart a glance over to Eleanor, and I’m pleased to see that she has her emotions on lockdown. Ellis and I share another meaningful glance. She’s showing promise, she might make it out of this yet.

  “Well, that certainly was exciting,” General Howell says with a satisfied sigh. “Let me know if there’s any progress, yes?” Without waiting for my response, he heads back out the way he came, through the back door. I won’t see him again for another week at least.

  As David comes back out through the door, we are once again blasted by the inhuman wail, though now the specimen gratefully seems beyond words.

  “Now what?” Eleanor whispers.

  “Now we wait,” I tell her simply.

  She looks like she has dozens of questions, but Ellis takes her by the elbow. “Tomorrow,” he says softly. “Think things over and ask your questions tomorrow.” Though his tone is gentle, I know that he can be anything but. He’ll be watching her tonight, keeping an eye to make sure she doesn’t break, that she doesn’t spill the beans to the other civilians. If she makes it through this, she’ll have the chance to become an important member of the compound. And that means, she’ll be generously rewarded for her service. I take one last glance at the man on the gurney before turning away.

  It’s not a bad deal, if you can handle it. But the price to pay is steep.

  David stays behind as Ellis leads Eleanor back into the compound. “I just wanted to ask… Judith?”

  “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. She’s dying.” He collapses against my words as though I’ve struck him. “Why don’t you come by to see her? I’m sure she’d—”

  “No,” he interrupts. “She doesn’t want me there. She told me she wanted me to remember her as she was.” David’s face crumples, and he lets out a soft sob before scrubbing a hand over his face and straightening back up. “Is there anything I can do? Anything she needs?”

  “No, she’s as comfortable as she can be. What about Brent? Will he visit?”

  David shakes his head. “He’s angry with her, as if it’s her fault she’s dying.”

  “Your wife deserves to say goodbye,” I tell him, but I already know there’s no point. Lori is the only one who has the courage to face the truth. Judith is dying, and it’s a fact that even Judith herself doesn’t seem to be able to grasp.

  We can’t cheat death.

  “It’s going to break her, you know,” I say, talking about Lori now. I didn’t mean to speak the words out loud, but they’ve been on my mind for a long time.

  “I know,” David says, catching the topic shift, his voice rough. “But I don’t know how to protect her anymore. She’s my little girl, she’s better than all of this,” he gestures to the walls around us, the cell and thrashing body in front of us.

  “She’s better than all of us.”

  “We have to do whatever we can to keep her safe.” They’re the words of a father, but I feel them deeply. Lori means more to me than I ever could have expected. More than she will ever know. Lori’s strong. Her walls are already coming up, protecting her from her mother’s impending death, but it won’t matter how thick those barriers are. She will be broken.

  And I will do everything in my power to protect her.

  4

  Lori

  I go through the motions for the rest of the day. I spray down the garage and use a giant squeegee to push the red sludge down the floor drain. I do a couple routine oil changes and inspections on the trucks before tomorrow.

  The real excitement starts when Jose and I replace the damaged panels along the side.

  “What the hell is that?” My voice is barely more than a whisper, but I’m sure Jose hears me. His whole body goes rigid, eyes trained on the same thing as mine. Whatever it is, it’s protruding from a tear in the metal. I reach forward to touch it, but Jose reaches out and grabs me by the wrist.

  “Don’t touch it,” he snaps.

  “Why not? Do you know what it is?”

  “I’m not sure… but isn’t that a good enough reason not to touch it?” I can’t argue with him about that. After a moment of staring, he reluctantly tears his eyes away and turns towards the wall of tools. He comes back with a pair of pliers and a tin cup. “Here, hold this.” Jose passes me the cup and gestures for me to hold it directly below the mystery object. Then he taps it with the pliers.

  The metal makes a sharp sound against it, but it doesn’t budge from its spot wedged in the truck door. It’s obviously hard, but what is it made of? Not metal, not plastic. It’s not shiny, not pliable. The color is almost the same color as… bone…

  No. It can’t be. I become filled — no, emptied — by a bottomless pit. A giant black hole slowly pulling me down into the darkness.

  Jose, completely oblivious to my inner chasm, gets a grip on the off-white sliver with his pliers and gives it a tug. Then he pulls harder. Finally, he’s got both hands on the pliers and he’s standing back, pulling with his whole body. With a soft ping the object loosens from the panel, and for a brief moment, Jose grins in triumph.

  But then he looks back at the pliers to see his prize. His face slackens. “That’s not—”

  “Don’t say it,” I interrupt.

  “But—”

  “No. I don’t care what it looks like. It’s not…” A claw. A four-inch claw, the edges razor-sharp. I lean in closer and see that the tip is slick with something thick and mucousy. “Don’t touch it,” I say, repeating Jose’s own words back at him, though only now feeling their importance. He drops the offending item into my tin cup, and we both stare down at it.

  “Now what?” I ask. There wasn’t anything about this in the training manual.

  Jose gives an audible gulp. “Now I guess we turn it in?”

  We exchange a glance. The compound authorities aren’t exactly what you would call approachable. They mostly keep to themselves, hiding behind locked doors. Every now and then you’ll see one of them rushing down the hall on a mission, but they only spare us a glance to make sure they don’t come into direct contact with one of us. It could just be that they don’t want our filthy clothes to muck up their pristine uniforms, but I suspect it’s more than that.

  I once saw an officer, in his overly starched regalia, talking with Dr. Kimura outside the hospital. When the high-ranked officer turned away, he accidentally bumped into one of the patients. I’m talking the smallest nudge, barely more than a brush against the hospital gown. Never in my life have I seen such a spastic response. He flailed around like he was having a seizure in his panic to peel off his uniform. That prissy fool ran full-tilt down the hall, straight back to his locked doors. I’d bet my right arm that he scrubbed his skin raw as soon as he was back in his hermetically sealed habitat in an attempt to wash away the cooties.

  My question is this: Are the cooties contagious? Should we be worried?

  I wish I could afford the luxury of being worried.
<
br />   I thrust the tin cup at Jose. “Here. You take it.”

  “What?” he squeaks. “Why me?”

  “Aren’t you my boss?”

  He seems hesitant to answer that. I swear I can see the gears turning behind his eyes, wondering how he can get out of this. He gives a slow smile. “Yes… I’m your boss… and I’m telling you to take it.”

  I let out a growl of frustration. “Can’t you just give it to Magnus or something?”

  Jose just crosses his arms across his chest and gives me a smug look. It was worth a shot, but now that Jose has latched onto his genius idea of passing the buck, there’s no way he’ll accept any responsibility.

  I huff out a sigh. Jose looks at me expectantly. I grab the cup back and lift my eyebrows at him.

  “What?” he says after a moment.

  “Well? What the hell do you expect me to do with this? You can’t push this responsibility on me without at least giving me a clue.”

  “Oh.” He looks older than just minutes ago. His creased face is pulled into a deep frown as he stares down at the cup in my hands. “Okay, so… assuming this thing isn’t what you say it’s not?” Jose looks at me expectantly, making sure I’m following his logic. “Perhaps it’s best to turn it over to the people who deal with everything out there.” He gestures over his shoulder at the garage door. “Trey can figure out who needs to see it.”

  “Fair enough,” I say with finality. I’m so ready to be done with this. Plus, I’m all right with any excuse to see Trey. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll just take this over to him.”