A Game of Risk

by Bella Forrest

  We moved through the lab’s entrance. The doors clanged shut behind me.

  “You’re going to be okay,” one of the women said in a soft tone. “You’re going to be okay.”

  Fluorescent lighting blared overhead. A palm pressed down against my forehead, and less than a minute later, I was being planted down on some kind of cool, hard surface. A metal tabletop.

  “You need to help me,” I breathed, exaggerating my pain. In truth, now that the fangs were pulled out of me, the agony wasn’t nearly as much. “I’m not going to turn, am I?”

  To my further surprise, the other hunters who had carried me here wandered off, leaving me with just two of the women. “No, no.” The woman smiled—Dr Finnegan, according to her badge. “Don’t worry. You’re not going to turn.”

  What is happening?

  She reached into a drawer and withdrew some cotton wipes and antiseptic. She wet the cotton and, tilting my head to one side, pressed down against my bite marks. My breath hitched, my whole body tensing. They stung like hell.

  She held the cotton over the puncture wounds for a few seconds longer to absorb the blood. Then, after drying the bites, she retrieved some Band-Aids and began to apply them.

  “What are you doing?” I couldn’t help but gasp.

  “Just treating your wounds,” she said calmly.

  “But the thing bit me! It bit me in the neck!”

  I motioned to sit up in my panic, but the women gripped my shoulders and simply pushed me back down.

  “We can see that,” the second woman—Dr. Norton—said. “But as Dr. Finnegan said, you’re going to be fine. Just lie back and relax. The shock will wear off.”

  I refused to sit back. I forced myself upright again and glared at the women. “I was just bitten,” I said, trying to steady my uneven voice. “How can you tell me that I’m going to be fine?”

  The women exchanged uncertain glances.

  As Dr. Finnegan looked back at me, she heaved a sigh. “I… I’m not sure that I have permission to explain.”

  “Permission to explain?” I repeated, my temper rising. “Why do you need permission? I’m Atticus Conway’s son, dammit!”

  She swallowed. Another second passed before she said, “Okay. Let me call your father.”

  Great. That was exactly what I had wanted to avoid. They had obviously been briefed by him that information given to me was to be censored.

  She withdrew a phone from her pocket and dialed my father’s number. It was just my luck that he wasn’t on another call at this exact moment.

  “Mr. Conway,” she said. “We have a, uh, situation down here in the lab. It’s your son. He just suffered an attack from a Bloodless. He was bitten in the neck. Oh, don’t worry. We’ve got him here. He’s sitting right in front of me as we speak.” Her eyes roamed me furtively. “Yes, he’s all right. But he’s confused about how we can be so sure that he won’t turn.”

  There was a pause.

  “You want to speak to him?” Dr. Finnegan went on. “Okay. I’ll pass him on to you.”

  She handed me the phone. I cleared my throat before saying, “Dad?”

  “Lawrence, what the hell?”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, “I’m sorry. I meant to stay near the wall but I got carried away during the shooting. I was following a large group and with both them and me traveling at supernatural speed, I lost track of the distance.”

  “How did you get yourself bitten?”

  “I got off the mutant,” I said. “I wanted to practice shooting from the ground. One of them came at me from behind while I wasn’t paying enough attention and, well, neither I nor the mutant noticed in time. It was a stupid mistake.”

  “A moronic mistake. First thing you learnt in Bloodless combat is never to leave your back uncovered. You should have been backed up against a wall or something else solid and high—”

  “Yes, I know. But it’s done; what’s happening now?” I pressed. “Why is everyone saying I’m going to be all right? Shouldn’t I be turning?”

  My brows were knotted in confusion.

  My father heaved a sigh—the same type of resigned sigh that Dr. Finnegan had let out a couple of minutes earlier.

  “Dammit,” he hissed. “I’ve got another call coming in. Look, Lawrence. Pass me on to Finnegan again quickly. I’ll give her permission to explain what’s happened.”

  Why did she not have permission to begin with?

  I handed the cellphone back to Finnegan. Placing it to her ear, she said, “Yes?” She nodded. “Okay. Okay. I’ll explain.”

  With that, she hung up.

  Dr. Norton wandered off while Dr. Finnegan pulled up a chair and sat down. Her demeanor was calm as ever, as though she were conducting a general health check rather than addressing someone who should have just contracted the most insidious disease known to man.

  “Well,” she began, crossing her legs, “as you know, you have undergone a special procedure. You are different from everyone else, Lawrence.”

  I stared at her. How could I be so different as to be immune to the Bloodless disease?

  “How, exactly, am I different?” I breathed.

  “Because of the new drug you were a—successful—test subject for. As you have witnessed yourself, it has the ability to turn a human into a strengthened being almost bordering on the supernatural. You can run fast, almost as fast as a Bloodless. When you get hurt or cut, you heal fast…”

  I instinctively reached for my neck and realized that the pain had stopped. I tore off the bandage, feeling for the wounds. My God. The skin had become almost smooth already. I also realized that this was the first time I’d gotten cut since waking from my coma.

  “It’s healed,” I gasped.

  She nodded slowly, with almost a hint of amusement in her eyes.

  “You see, Lawrence, one of the many components contained within the drug is derived from Bloodless DNA. We have been struggling for years to find just the right composition. We suspected early on, many years ago, that the Bloodless might play a big part in the future development of the human race, in our attempts to strengthen and equip ourselves against our intruders. But it has taken us many years and many failures to finally arrive at the right concoction. One that does not mess up a human’s system—make it weak, paralyzed or fatally altered—but instead works to enhance it. You, sir, are currently the only lucky person alive to have received the perfect formula… A suspected side effect of the drug is immunity to Bloodless venom. Just like with certain viruses, exposing oneself to a small trace of it actually serves to strengthen one’s resistance against it. The same principle has been in play in this case with you.”

  I sat there gaping as her words sank in. Although I had asked for details of what exactly the procedure carried out on me had involved before, I had never been given such a precise answer. It had always been vague—the procedure was extremely complicated, and unless I was a scientist myself, I wouldn’t understand it.

  But now… Now it all made sense. The convicts Grace had come across in this part of Chicago—they were all failed test subjects. They had received faulty batches of the formula, causing their systems to be “fatally altered”. That was why their life expectancy was so short. Why they were dropping like flies. And to add insult to injury, the IBSI was conducting further tests on them—while turning them into Bloodless. Grace had described a process where they withdrew blood from a man as he was in the process of turning.

  I wondered how many experiments and procedures relating to the Bloodless these people were carrying out here. And for what purposes? I wondered if they had developed the drug that I had been given here. Perhaps even the antidote itself had been developed here.

  I considered for a moment whether the drug I’d been given might also be the antidote, but that would not make sense. My mother had supposedly discovered it thirteen years ago before her death. They had only just arrived at my formula now.

  Dr. Finnegan seemed to notice my distracted state.
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  “A lot to take in, isn’t it?” she said jovially, reclining in her chair.

  “Yeah,” I murmured.

  Now my mind was furiously working to figure out… What was next? It still didn’t feel like I was any closer to finding an antidote, even after offering myself up as a damn human sacrifice. Still, my efforts had not been rewarded.

  I cast my gaze around the lab, eyeing the scientists milling about, some hunching over the metal tables in clusters, while others stood in the aisles engaging in conversation. The Bloodless and convicts were supposed to be kept on the uppermost floors of this lab; I couldn’t see them from down here, neither could I hear them. Perhaps they were sedated.

  “Well, any questions?” Dr. Finnegan asked.

  I returned my focus on her.

  You bet. I felt like I might boil over with frustration. This woman sitting before me probably knew what the cure was. I figured that there was at least a fifty percent chance. All it might take would be for me to pop the question—a few words.

  But she had been so skittish about explaining the procedure I had undergone—insisting on getting permission from my father first—I could only imagine her reaction if I started spouting off about the cure. As tempting as it was, and as desperate as I was growing, asking her outright would not be a smart move.

  I had to try to coax the information out of her. At least some of it. Any of it. Anything at all felt like it would be a step forward at this point. Even if I could get some idea of what was involved in that “freezing” drug, it might help at least delay Grace’s demise… assuming it wasn’t already too late for her. None of us had any idea how long it would take for her transformation to complete. I had to focus on uncovering the cure rather than the freezing drug—it would be wise to assume the worst.

  I returned my mind to the present. Dr. Finnegan was starting to get fidgety. Like she wanted to return to work. I couldn’t have that yet. I had to keep her in conversation. “So, you’re really telling me that I’m still the only person who has undergone the procedure? I know my father is planning to do it soon—he has already been preparing himself for it, but have none of you scientists taken it yet? Nobody in this room?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not yet. You are the first one.”

  “Why was I the first one?”

  “Because you volunteered,” she replied, without skipping a beat. “You just don’t remember.”

  Sure I don’t…

  “Why do I have a memory gap?” I asked. “Why can’t I remember?”

  “We’re not sure,” she replied. “It was the first time we carried out the procedure with the updated version of the drug, and it was obviously a nerve-racking experience.” Her lips curled in a grim smile. “I wasn’t there personally but for those who were, obviously, they had the life of our boss’ son in their hands. I think that they made a mistake somewhere in the process, which had an adverse effect on your brain, causing a kind of blackout in your memory function, but… I’m not sure, Lawrence. Although we seem to have gotten the balance of the formula right, there is still much perfecting to be done in regards to administering it.”

  “What other components are in the drug?” I asked.

  “Ah,” she said. “I’m afraid that is classified information. Not allowed to talk to anybody about it. Ask your father.”

  Yeah, right.

  “So, are you planning to take it?” I asked.

  “Who, me personally?”

  “Yes. You personally.”

  “Yes. I will,” she replied without missing a beat.

  “And once you have perfected the process and diminished the risks—is this drug something that you plan to make more widely available?”

  She hesitated this time. “I’m not sure. That is not exactly a decision I’m involved with. Again, ask your father.”

  She was showing definite signs of impatience now. She probably had a lot of work to finish before the end of the day, but I couldn’t let her go now. Not yet.

  “I get that you’re busy,” I said. “I know you don’t have a lot of time. But neither does my father. I honestly don’t get a chance to ask him much…” Since by now, we had crossed the subject of immunity to the Bloodless virus more than once, posing the possibility of a cure felt like a more natural place to lead the conversation. Even if I knew nothing about FOEBA, I was sure that it was a question that would be running through my mind now as I sat here in this lab of mysteries. And after she had explained to me that I had Bloodless DNA running through my veins, if I didn’t have a right to be curious about the subject, nobody did.

  I feigned a shudder. “It’s a good thing that I did undertake that procedure. Imagine if I was just a regular human. I would have arrived at the gates, yelling for help and… what? There would have been nothing you could do for me? You would have just watched helplessly while I turned?”

  Dr. Finnegan’s jaw tensed before, to my deepest dismay, she merely nodded. “Yup. Nothing we could have done. We might have developed preventative measures for the Bloodless virus, but no way to cure it…”

  I held her gaze, wondering what she must be feeling inside as she lied to me so boldly. She glanced away, breathing out, apparently uncomfortable beneath my perusal.

  “Well,” she said, standing up and yawning—a yawn that looked a little too artificial to me. “I need to get back to work… How did you get here in the first place?”

  “Uh, a mutant,” I muttered, my voice thick with disappointment. “In case you didn’t hear my explanation, I came out to practice my shooting.”

  “Right, well, your father will be wanting you back at headquarters. I’ll arrange for a driver to take you back in one of the tanks. Your mutant can ride along in that, too. Your father would not be amused if we let you return by yourself after the trauma you’ve just been through. Wait here and I’ll arrange it.”

  She left me and crossed to the other side of the lab, where she drew open a back door and slipped through it. I gazed around again at the lab, wishing that I could read these people’s minds.

  Then I spotted something that made me freeze. My mouth slackened as I caught sight of a man with salt-and-pepper hair appearing behind the doors of an elevator—the man whom I had caused to be bitten just a few hours ago. Albeit assisted by another hunter, he was standing, walking, as they moved out of the elevator and entered the room.

  I cursed beneath my breath as Dr. Finnegan returned barely a few seconds later, accompanied by a tall, unshaven man in a navy-blue janitor’s suit. She had been quick. She obviously wanted to get me out of here soon as possible—probably because she thought that was what my father would have wanted.

  “This is Kell,” she said as they approached me. “He’ll take you directly back to headquarters. Take care of yourself.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

  I had no choice but to leave with Kell and tear my eyes away from the miraculously cured man as he made his way to the other side of the room.

  We left the lab and crossed the yard in silence. A tank was already waiting. Jez was also waiting out here, perched on the gates. Judging from the gunk on his talons, he had torn a number of Bloodless to shreds while he had been out here.

  I beckoned him down and climbed into the back of the tank with him.

  Kell slammed the door behind us, locking us securely inside. And then we began the journey back through the city of nightmares.

  Bastien

  I tried to look casual as I entered the Mortclaws’ mountain and wound my way toward my parents’—and my old—bedroom.

  I arrived to find the door slightly ajar. As I entered, my mother was inside, sitting in the wooden chair in the corner. My father was absent. My entrance brought a relieved smile to her face. She stood up and moved toward me.

  “Well, where is…” Her voice trailed off as she poked her head outside the door, as if expecting to see… who exactly? Rona? Did she honestly expect me to bring Rona back here, after
the massacre I had just witnessed them engage in?

  “What?” I said, my eyes narrowing on her.

  She appeared confused for a moment, but then shook it off. “Never mind,” she said. She straightened, looking me in the eye again. “You decided to return home by yourself.”

  I nodded, clenching my jaw.

  She let out a soft sigh. Reaching out to clutch my hands, she pulled me to sit with her on the edge of the bed.

  “Listen, Bastien,” she began. “Things are still not going smoothly between us, I know. And I’m sorry for that. I truly am.” She looked at me with an expression that I would’ve liked to think was sincere, but knew in my heart was not.

  “You must understand that we have a certain conditioning. We crave our own kind’s flesh like we crave air. It is our sustenance—a kind of sustenance that we simply cannot get elsewhere. I saw the horror in your eyes, my dear, but at the time I was too caught up in my hunger to stop and explain myself to you fully. But there are no more secrets now. You know what we are…”

  I had become tired of my mother’s switching personalities. There were times when she seemed soft, almost apologetic—but the next moment she would turn again, and become hard as stone. Impenetrable to any word or plea I might direct at her.

  Her words did not mean anything. Whether due to her conditioning caused by the black witches, or simply by choice, it did not matter. The result was the same. My family were cannibals—and my mother’s actions were doing nothing but making my life a misery in all respects. However apologetic she might appear, she refused to change or budge even an inch from her stance.

  My throat felt dry as I swallowed. I steeled myself for my next move, even as I wondered if I really had what it took to follow through. But she spoke again before I could begin.

  “I truly am so pleased that you made your way back here,” she said, her expression brightening. “Yuraya desperately wishes to speak to you about a misunderstanding she fears you and she might have had.”

  And we’re back to that dreaded girl again. I shuddered internally, recalling the look she had given me earlier. It had been salacious, vulturine, like she was undressing me with her eyes before we even knew a thing about each other. She repelled me. Such a far cry from my sweet Victoria.