Breakout

by Ann Aguirre

  “How so? You’re always saying that you’re stronger than you look.”

  That was certainly true, but it didn’t mean he wanted to bet her life on it. Jael tried to frame an argument, but he couldn’t think of a better solution. And while he hesitated, more scavengers appeared, scenting a free meal. Sod it all.

  “Fine. But if I drop you, it’s on your head.”

  She laughed. “Pun intended?”

  “No. That’s not funny.”

  “Come on, it is a little. Grab my ankles.”

  Unable to believe he was doing this, he did as she asked and then took the pain as she fell forward with her chains. They were long enough for her to strike the ground while hanging upside down this way, but she couldn’t get her usual momentum because of the weird angle. His arms were already hurting, but he only tightened his grip on her. However long it took, he’d hold until she thinned them out. In time, she got the hang of it and smashed five of their skulls.

  “Pull me up,” she called.

  Panting, he did, and once she was safe, he uncurled his hands with a groan. Quietly she took his arm and massaged the muscle, rousing a groan of appreciation from him. Normally he’d pretend it didn’t bother him, but if he did, she might stop.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “I think we have to do it in shifts. I get dizzy if I hang like that too long, and you look done in, too.”

  “I’m getting old,” he muttered.

  “It’s my fault. You were much stronger before.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, so he didn’t see the need to reassure her. “We’ll rest a bit, then I’ll hold you next, and you can kill a few, whenever you feel ready.”

  “I’m not letting you dangle me upside down.”

  Dred raised a brow. “Why not? I did. And I’m stronger than I look, too.”

  After a moment of contemplation, he realized there was no good reason not to do it. She’s already proved she’ll save your ass when it counts. So he leaned back against the wall and let her rub the soreness out of his forearms. That’s totally so I can use the chains better.

  “You’re spoiling me,” he mumbled.

  “Am I? Well, I expect the same treatment when I haul you up.” Her tone was casual.

  Eventually, he said, “Let’s get this done.”

  Up top, he had no idea how disorienting it would be to kill things while hanging upside down. It made moving the chains more difficult, plus the pressure in his head was distracting. The way the scavengers leapt at him and shuffled around made it so his strikes clanged against the floor more often than not. He split four skulls once he got the hang of it, and as she hauled him up, he saw that they were eating the corpses.

  Even in the shadows, he could tell that she was too pale. “What’s wrong? Was I too heavy? I’ll go easy on the paste.”

  She only shook her head, but he noticed how she curled her hands against her chest, unconsciously protective. Carefully he reached for them, demanding that she let him look with a single heated stare. Sighing faintly Dred relented and he pried her fingers open to reveal deep slices, still bleeding slightly. It must have hurt so much holding me like this. Yet she never let go.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, like it was a cause for shame.

  “What were you thinking?”

  “That I want us to be partners. Equal.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes one person needs the other to take up the slack. I’m not all right with you hurting over me. Which is admittedly a mad thing to say in a place like this.”

  A faint smile flickered. “Maybe you do owe me a little. I’ve lost good days of my life nursing you.”

  “See? I’m clearly more troublesome. Let’s see how bad it is.” A preliminary inspection reassured him. “This should close up in a day or so. And I’m not just talking a scab here. We’re special, you and I.”

  It felt so good including her in that statement. He’d been alone for so long, no way of knowing if anyone like him still existed in the universe. Jael suspected not, however, because Sci-Corp was so reluctant to dispose of him entirely. If they hadn’t feared they might need samples someday, why send him to Perdition instead of a quick death? They wouldn’t do that if they had access to other Bred specimens. It’d been a long time since that word popped into his head. Almost got used to thinking of myself as a person, eh?

  She nodded without looking at him, and he reached out, pulling the woman he loved into his arms. To his satisfaction, she didn’t resist. Dred had so few moments of actual vulnerability that this one tasted candy-sweet. It wasn’t that he wanted her to be weak, quite the opposite. No, the delight came from what it signified—the fact that she trusted him enough to reveal it.

  From below came the hungry snarls of animals fighting over food. “Once they’ve eaten their fill, they should move off, giving us a clear run to the lift.”

  “Seems like an accurate assessment. So this time, the smart move is to do nothing.”

  “I could use a little rest,” Jael said.

  “Too bad we can’t figure out a way to sic those things on Silence. But they can’t get up and down too easily.”

  “There are definite advantages to being bipedal. Like this, for instance.” He tightened his arms around her and rested his chin on her hair. She smelled of the strong powdery soap they all used, not delicate or feminine, but the scent was better on her skin.

  “I’m not doing you in the ducts.”

  He smiled faintly. “I know. This is enough. Just this.”

  21

  A Pox on Their Houses

  Eventually, the scavengers finished their feast and scuttled off, leaving three carcasses chewed all the way down to the bone. Dred waited a few minutes longer and jumped down. Her fingers had scabbed over while they were waiting, giving her respite from the throbbing. But she didn’t regret taking her turn, no matter what Jael thought.

  Not trying to be quiet, she raced down the corridor, with Jael close behind. The lift doors stood open, and she skidded inside, pressing the button that would deliver them to the repair bay. With a groan and a shudder, the mechanism kicked into motion, but as they descended, the box jerked and strained, heaving and dropping in unsteady judders, until the lights went out entirely.

  “Shit.” She could see in the dark better than most, but . . .

  “On second thought, possibly it wasn’t the best idea to take the lift when this part of the station is on emergency power,” Jael said.

  A quiet chuckle escaped her. “If only we’d considered that before getting on. How far down do you think we are?”

  “No idea. But this is starting to feel like a heroic quest.”

  “With all the obstacles between us and the artifact we must retrieve to save the world?” Dred admired his imaginative bent, especially at a time like this.

  “Our own hides anyway.”

  “Close enough. There must be an emergency hatch up top. Boost me up?” In answer he wrapped his arms around her thighs and lifted. “A little higher if you can.”

  “You know I’m not the big man, right? Any more, and you’ll be on my shoulders.”

  “That could work. Set me down.”

  Though Jael grumbled, he let her clamber up, then somehow he managed to straighten without them toppling over. Balancing wasn’t easy, but now she could reach the ceiling. Dred felt around until she discovered the latch. Flipping it open meant getting conked on the head; she took the hit on her skull, and the impact made them wobble. As Jael stumbled toward the wall, she leapt from his shoulders and grappled for the top of the lift. This time she didn’t cut up her fingers worse, but the scabs broke open, making it hard to hold on. Practically tearing out her nails, she scrambled up and flopped over on her side, breathing hard.

  “Hey,” Jael called. “Still in need of extraction down here, yeah?”

  “I wou
ldn’t forget you. It’s marvelous how handy these are.” She lowered her chains and braced, so he could climb. The resultant burn in her arms echoed in her injured hands, the blood flowing freely. Fortunately, they were small cuts, not enough for the loss to weaken her too much, only make a mess.

  “You’ve got my vote,” he said, surveying the area. “Looks like there’s a ladder.”

  “Then let’s get moving.”

  “Not so fast. It’s a long way down.” Jael tore a strip from his shirt and wrapped Dred’s hands with a practiced touch.

  “Thanks. That’ll help me hold on.”

  “Let me know if you bleed through, all right?”

  “I promise. Doubt I will. As long as I don’t have to do any more stunt jumps, this should scab over again pretty fast. How’re your bites feeling?” She was asking because her legs felt sore and hot where the rodents had gouged out her flesh.

  “Not great.” From him, that was tantamount to admission of a problem. “But it’s too dark for me to see the damage, though.”

  “Likewise. You want to go first, or should I?”

  “I will,” Jael said.

  He made the leap from the top of the lift to the rungs affixed to the side of the wall look graceful and easy. Conscious of how clumsy she could be with makeshift bandages on her hands, Dred hesitated and only moved once she was sure it wouldn’t hurt him if she fell. She hit the metal handholds with a clang and almost slipped, but his hand came up, clamping onto her calf with an unshakable resolve.

  “I’m fine, you can let go.”

  Without arguing, he did.

  It was a tight squeeze downward; this shaft wasn’t meant for normal use. From what she could tell, it had only been included for emergency maintenance; it ran parallel to the lift space and offered floor access every fifty meters or so. She tried counting as they climbed, but Dred soon lost track of where they were.

  “How are we supposed to know when we’re far enough down?” Jael asked eventually.

  Though her arms were tired, that wasn’t a good gauge of how long they’d been climbing. It had already been a long-ass day, between the Silent, the scavengers, then complete mechanical failure. So she couldn’t trust her own body to estimate distance, and the darkness made it impossible to read any markers that might’ve been posted for Monsanto workers.

  “We should probably get back to the station proper and look for the stairs,” she said.

  “On it.”

  She found a hatch, forced it open, then edged into a tiny crawl space that eventually widened to a small landing, blocked by a blast door. There was a security panel, but thanks to the power outage, it was blinking a NO SERVICE alert. She swore.

  “With no power, shouldn’t this have opened?” she muttered.

  “Today’s not our lucky day, love.”

  With no way to cut through this much metal, they retraced their steps back to the emergency ladder. This time Dred went first; they climbed to the next tier and tried again. Same obstacle. By then, her arms ached like mad, but she couldn’t be the first to complain or ask for quarter. Besides, it wasn’t like anybody was coming to save them. So even if she felt strange and dizzy, hot and sick . . . Well, suck it up, weakling.

  She started to shove past to the crawl space, but Jael pulled her back. “If we’re trapped, we still will be in a couple of hours.”

  “You suck at pep talks. We’ll also be hungrier and more dehydrated.”

  “Did you check the bag Calypso sent with us? We have a packet of paste to share and a bottle of water. When we get back, remind me to thank her.”

  • • •

  AT first, Jael didn’t think Dred would go for a rest break. But eventually she relaxed and let him draw her against the blast door that was currently blocking their path. Its sturdy presence also meant nobody could get at them, so they could sleep like they were locked up in the docking bay. He didn’t actually expect her to close her eyes, but she leaned her head against his shoulder.

  More than I thought.

  “Give me the paste. Might as well top off if we’re taking a breather.”

  He ripped it open and watched her suck down half of it. Then she passed it over, and he drained the rest. “Water?”

  “Thanks.”

  She was careful with that, he noted, taking only a few swallows. They could both get by much longer without food than fluids. The emergency lights flickered, giving a low-wattage strobe. With a faint sigh, he pulled up his pant leg to survey the damage. As expected, small chunks of flesh were missing, but more disturbing? The damage to surrounding skin; it was already turning black, and yellow ooze trickled out of each wound. His armpits were sore, too, and when he pressed, the glands seemed to be swollen.

  Worried, he touched Dred’s cheek and found it burning hot, dry and tight. He compared it to his own and tipped his head back to accuse the ceiling. “Seriously?”

  She was already a little out of it, or she would’ve noticed on her own. He checked her over and found hard lumps forming faster, not just in her armpits. That meant her immune system was a few paces behind. That made sense since the abilities he’d shared probably didn’t divide neatly down the middle. But it also scared the shit out of him. Cranky, she batted his hands away.

  “Hurts,” she mumbled.

  Not wanting to scare her, he said softly, “Sorry. Get some rest.”

  “You should sleep, too.”

  “I will.” There was no way in hell.

  We caught the damned plague from those mutant sewer beasts. It’s probably contagious. Which meant even if they could find their way out—and that was a question, considering how weak they both were—they shouldn’t go back and expose the others. We’ll either survive this with a bottle of water and no medicine, or we die together. Right, then.

  At this point, he couldn’t remember which mad Queenslander had said it—his head was fuzzy and aching—but he recalled the sentiment well enough. Sometimes it feels like the station itself is sentient, like it’s trying to kill us. He’d dismissed that as paranoid nonsense but now that Perdition was nearly a lifeless void, and it was still finding ways to test his admittedly superhuman survival skills, it was hard to ignore.

  “I never meant to hurt you.” Her voice was clear as a bell, but her eyes were shut.

  He had the feeling she wasn’t talking to him. Yet . . . “Why?”

  “You were collateral damage,” she whispered.

  Despite the pounding in his head, he still snapped to attention. This prickled his nerves as a secret she’d kept to herself, a story she probably wouldn’t share if she were in her right mind. Because he was an awful bastard, he encouraged, “Was I?”

  She nodded, cheek gliding against the rough cloth of his shirt. Her face looked a little softer, too, as if she wasn’t such a hardened killer in these memories. “Nobody believed me about your brother, not even you.”

  “I should have.”

  “Yes. You know how many people he hurt?”

  “Not really. You should tell me.”

  “Dead people don’t remember anything,” she mumbled.

  “Remind me.” Yeah, I’ll probably burn in hell for this.

  “I’m so sorry, Cedric.” For long moments, she was quiet and he thought she’d succumbed to deeper sleep, but then she whispered, “I’m sorry I never loved you—that I pretended. But it was close, you were so kind. Too gentle, truly.”

  Jael had never been accused of that; his savagery ran bone deep. Maybe he didn’t want to hear this story after all. As he registered the misgivings, she slumped against him. A palm against her forehead told him her fever had spiked. He had no idea how long illnesses like this took to reach critical levels, but she was definitely progressing faster than him.

  I need to cool her down, but I can’t waste our water.

  Nothing in his life prepare
d him for the sheer helplessness and terror of holding Dred’s limp body in his arms and having no way to help her. He couldn’t call for backup. There was no way out, only an endless descent into darkness, and he couldn’t carry her. Too weak. We’ll both fall. An awful voice whispered, It would be quicker.

  Shivering, he pulled her into his lap. The fact that he felt cold now instead of hot meant he was getting worse. Jael tilted his head against hers and couldn’t tell who was hotter. She reached for him with fitful hands, moaning as he held her tighter, and something between them burst. One of the lumps, probably, and it carried the stench of the beasts that had bitten them, a putrid syrup that felt sticky on his skin.

  He had been to recovery hell so many times, lived through impossible wounds and purified himself of incurable ailments. Yet it didn’t matter right then because even if he made it, she might not, and in this flashing darkness, that felt like a fate worse than death. If cutting himself open and letting her drink his blood could save her, Jael would’ve done it. But it probably wouldn’t since he was infected, too.

  Trembling, he wrapped his arms around her, his whole body, and they toppled sideways before the blast door. His lashes flickered in time to the guttering emergency lights, showing him the same scene, again, again, the rusted gray metal of the floor, the curve of her cheek, painted red with the awful fever, the ragged tumble of her hair over his arm.

  His eyes shut.

  Don’t care, he thought. Live or die. As long as I’m with you.

  22

  Mission Impossible

  When Dred woke, her lips were like two slashes of leather, and her whole body hurt. Once, not too long after her arrest, she’d incited a riot in gen pop without getting away fast enough. The enraged crowd had knocked her down, trampled her. And I didn’t feel this bad when I woke up in the infirmary two days later. Now, everything was dark, and at first, she thought she’d gone blind.

  Then she realized her eyelids were fused shut with some kind of gluey secretion. With trembling hands, she scraped the gunk away from her eyes until she could open them. The emergency lights were still on, and she had no idea how long she’d been out. Jael was curled up on his side, and the floor seemed to be smeared with . . . something. Since it was dried, she couldn’t be sure, but it smelled like blood.