by Elise Jae
“Like a caulk gun.”
“I don’t know what that is… is it dangerous?”
“Not normally. It’s a construction tool.”
I laugh, because I’m still getting used to the way her brain works.
“I want you to take a few practice shots when we get outside. You’ll want to know what the recoil is like before you have to fire it.”
The bike is parked in the lower entrance storage area, and when I open the narrow roll up door to the blinding white of the midday sun, I point her toward a drift that won’t cause problems if she vaporizes it.
But the first shot she takes burns a hole straight through its center, and the thing collapses in on itself.
“Oh,” she turns the gun, looking at it like she hadn’t seen it before. “I like this one. I thought it was going to kick harder with the way you were worried.”
“I don’t have a baseline for you, remember?” Kissing her, I climb on the bike, helping her on and showing her where to strap her gun above mine. “All I’ve seen is that tiny little pistol.”
She smacks me, but I feel a tingle of warmth wash through me, and then she wraps her arms around me and holds tight.
“Let’s get going.”
With her snuggled up behind me, I can almost forget the general dread that settles in my stomach every time I venture out into these wastes.
Nine
FAULT
I’m glad for her warmth against me when we get to the outpost the Maker left behind just for me… and her. I haven’t mentioned my new suspicion—that he meant for me to have her all along.
It’s similar to other outposts we’d found. The entrance is made into a natural cleft in the glacial wall.
We would have checked it once we’d gotten to it… eventually.
“There are some good points for an ambush. If the Maker was still alive, we wouldn’t be going in.”
“Well, he’s not. Ready?” she asks.
If the Maker was alive, she wouldn’t be with me at all.
Not even a little bit. But I take the first step into that canyon and toward whatever problem the Maker left behind for me to clean up.
It’s a long trudge through knee deep snow, and I clear the path for her, wondering if I shouldn’t go back for the heater to soften the snow ahead.
But the door reveals itself soon enough.
The crevasse continues on for another fifty or so yards, but the ugly blue metal of this hatch isn’t something I’d miss after seeing so many of them before.
A shiver races through her and across me too. But she’s not cold.
Even with the ice rising on either side of us, I made sure she was bundled up tight. No, this is just the dread my sire inspired in anyone who met him.
Anyone who wasn’t deeply flawed themselves.
“Are you okay?” Wren’s concern is an odd balm to my soul. It wasn’t something I thought would be calming… even if it passes too quickly to enjoy.
“Nothing the Maker ever did was okay.” But that’s not quite right. I squeeze her hand. “Except for you.”
“Chances are, what he actually wanted for me wasn’t going to be okay.” She winches and I know she felt the flare of anger. “Sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
There’s a key lock on the side. Not something I’ve seen before.
“What do you think?” She looks from it to me. “My birthday again? Or something related to you.”
“Let’s try yours out. It’s what got us here, after all.”
And it’s what gets us in.
As soon as the door opens, the lights flick on and the heater hums to life. It’s not going to be warm in here anytime soon, but it’s nice to know if something happens and we get stuck here, we won’t freeze to death.
I hold her back on the threshold, waiting for… something.
Anything.
But there’s nothing.
No sign of life on the other side of the strange little airlock between us and the main lab.
The outpost is… normal. Or as normal as something like that could be. It’s stuffed to bursting with computer equipment and clear signs of experiments that were long since completed.
“Are you okay?” Wren asks, her small hand squeezing my arm.
“I don’t know.” I blow out a long breath. The air tastes too stale to hold it in my lungs. “He liked things to look a certain way, liked them to be polished and straight and…. It’s not where he held us as children, but it’s so similar…”
“It makes your skin crawl.”
“I’m sorry you have to feel it.”
“I’m sorry you have to feel how revolted I am right now.” She gives the space another cursory glance and then heads through into the seemingly innocuous lab. “It’s empty. Let’s see if he left behind anything useful.”
She’s braver than I ever would have expected, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the gun.
That moment’s surprise is the reason I don’t make her wait, the reason I don’t insist on going ahead of her.
But when my body kicks back into gear, I step into that airlock and everything goes wrong.
Like fire doors crashing closed, thick polycarbonate partitions slam down, trapping me inside, and dark gas pours from a nozzle in the ceiling.
WREN
The sensation turns me around quicker than the noise of the plexiglass wall dropping between Fault and I.
I rush back, hitting it in my haste and that tells me more than I need to know. The wall is thick, there’s no chance I can break it even if I had an axe. And I search the edges of the opening. No emergency release. Nothing that looks even remotely helpful.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t—”
Fault drops to his knees, the pain slicing through me sharper than the cold. I hit the floor too.
I claw at the gun on my hip, dragging it from its holster. I can barely focus enough to aim for the corner of the glass.
Squeezing the trigger is agony.
Nothing.
Not even a smudge on the glass.
Clarity comes back to me so fast, it’s like I’ve been kicked in the chest. Because Fault has passed out. I don’t feel anymore pain… just the after effects, and static on my nerve endings.
I want a crowbar. Need something to get this wall up and open. But my fingers can’t get under it.
I can’t see him anymore. Everything inside the glass is a swirling mess of dark gas. But he’s still alive. I know that. And I’m not going to—
A sighing sound echoes, the sharpness of it making me flinch. Like a tiny tornado, the dark gas inside swirls. Sucked up into the same vent it had just poured out of.
Fault is on the ground, eyes closed. He looks like he’s just asleep. A peaceful slumber.
But the sensation on my skin isn’t the normal skin crawling. It’s something more. Something I don’t understand, and something I want to stop.
I fall forward when the glass retracts into the ceiling just as quickly as it dropped. The ground is damp, but I don’t get up, I scramble across the floor to him.
His breath leaves a hazy mark on the floor beneath his cheek, and I shake him.
“Fault. Wake up.”
He doesn’t.
There’s a numbness swirling deep inside of me, something that I know is his, but maybe it’s a little bit mine as well.
“I need you to wake up so we can get you out of here.”
He won’t.
I know that clear as anything. Fault isn’t going to wake up any time soon. And I can’t move him on my own.
I can’t call Drift. Not for this.
My comm has all of the bondmate’s contacts in it….
I dial on impulse, and she answers immediately.
“Laurel. I need your help.” I may not know her well, but we share our strange history, and I trust her a little more for that. “I need you to have Richter ping this signal and come as quick
ly as he can. Fault’s in trouble and I don’t trust anyone else right now.”
She starts to ask a question, and I hear Richter in the background. “He’s already on his way. What do you need from me?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”
Richter has our location, so I hang up. I can’t think about anything other than Fault right now.
By the time Richter gets there, I’ve dragged Fault far enough away from that airlock. I’m not sure it won’t hurt Richter too. But there’s no way I could have gotten Fault further.
Richter enters the outpost with his gun drawn, gaze sweeping the space over our head before he holsters it and comes to us,
Dropping down to press his hand at the pulse point on Fault’s chest.
“He’s alive.” I say, even if he doesn’t need to hear it.
Even if he’d check regardless.
“What is going on? What is this place?”
“It’s another one of the Maker’s hideouts. Help me get him on the bike. I can drive it, but I can’t move him on my own.”
“You won’t be able to move him at all.” Richter pulls Fault’s hand away from mine and looks at the gun. “Can you handle that.”
“Yes.” I don’t say “of course.”
I don’t lash out.
He’s here to help and I need it desperately.
“Good. He’s always been the biggest of us. I’m going to need you to get the door, and make sure none of the monsters sneak up on us.
He hefts Fault over his shoulder like he’s a sack of potatoes, and I’m glad the trench we made is still there. The last thing I need is for Richter to stumble and drop him.
He slings him over the back of the bike and I catch his head before it can smack the other side.
“This is how Trench transports the monsters Jessica’s been studying. Never thought I’d see one of us lashed down.”
“Fault isn’t a monster.”
The words are sharp. They’re out of my mouth before I can stop them.
And Richter stops, the rope still in his hand, blinking at me.
“I know.” The words are hesitant. “Are you okay?”
Dragging a hand down my face, I shake my head. “Not even a little bit.”
It takes less than a minute to secure Fault’s limp body, and I hate it.
It’s half of the reason I push the bike to it’s limit as I race back to our outpost with Richter as close behind me as is safe.
Engine killed, door closed, Richter doesn’t let me help him after we’ve got the bindings undone.
“Show me where the medical room is.”
I lead the way through the maze like space, constantly turning back to check on him.
Richter groans as he shifts him, but he doesn’t complain, and I catch Fault’s head again when the other man finally sets him on the diagnostic table.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
I could lie… but he came to help without hesitation. I’ll tell him what I can.
“We went to investigate something the Maker left behind and…. He’d set some sort of boobytrap. I don’t know what it’s done to him, exactly, but he’s changing I can feel it and I don’t know how to stop it. Hell, I don’t even know if I should want to stop it.”
Richter looks down at Fault and I have to turn to him too. There are subtle changes. Ones I doubt Richter’s noticed yet.
“Why did he take you? He could have called any of us.” He sounds hurt.
“We all have our secrets, Richter. You’ll have to trust me to keep his right now.”
He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t press.
He was the right person to call.
“Go back to Laurel and be careful.”
“You should call Cindy, and if you need anything. Laurel and I will be here in an instant.”
Nodding, I watch him go, turning toward the stairs that will take him back to his bike. As soon as the outpost tells me he’s left and the door has shut behind him. I draw in a deep breath and stare at the confused medical unit.
I should have told him to keep quiet. Should have asked him to not tell Drift.
But I have no doubt we’ll have a visitor soon. The only question is…. Who will get here first.
A chill runs through me and I see Fault’s skin twitch.
I don’t know who I trust right now.
It’s why I scroll through the outpost options on the screen on the wall, and the place into full lockdown.
Ten
WREN
Drift is at my door.
I watch him through the monitors for a long moment, letting him beat his fist on the hatch and shout about his right to enter.
But I don’t let him in. Not until I’ve retrieved my gun, and made sure it’s loaded.
When I throw the lock, I move back to the opening for the stairwell. I’ll let him into the house, but I’m not letting him anywhere near Fault.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Stop right there.”
For all his bluster, Drift actually does as I say.
“Why did I have to hear something was wrong from Richter?”
“You haven’t given me any reason to trust you.”
His jaw tightens and he starts to step forward.
“No. You stay where you are.” I put my hand on the table and I see when he registers the weapon.
“If he’s hurt, I need to see him. If he’s changing….”
“Like hell you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Have you ever heard the term, self-fulfilling prophecy?” When he shakes his head, I say. “I wouldn’t think so. It’s what happens when you’re so afraid of something happening, you wind up causing it through the actions you take trying to prevent it.”
“You’re saying whatever he becomes, it’s my fault.”
“No, I’m saying you are damned lucky we had an accident and I ruined your plans. The Maker was a man of hate. Fault has never been that, but he could have been. With enough of the suffering you put him through, you could have forced him to become just like that sadist who created you. It might have taken decades, but if it did, it would have been your fault.
“You isolated him out of fear, and I will never forgive you for that cowardice. You stole his friends, told him he could never have a family…. You treated him like the monster you feared. And the fact that he did not turn into that very beast is a god damned miracle.”
“It’s easy for you to come in here and pass judgement. I did what I had to do for the rest of the Brotherhood.”
“No.” This is tearing my heart out. “What you did was easy. You abandoned him. Created a cage for him and pretended it was a little palace.”
“Where is he?”
“Downstairs, in the med unit. He was half dead when Richter and I dragged him back here and I’m not about to let a man I don’t trust near him when he’s like this.”
“You can’t bar me from him.”
“I can, and I will.” I pick the gun up from the table. “If you want to see him, you can come back with Kimba. But I will not allow you past this room without her supervision.”
“She is my wife, not my nursemaid.”
“She’s the only way you’re getting down there.” I level the gun at his chest. “Because if you do something to him, she needs to know the true bastard she wound up with.”
“You’re not going to shoot me.”
I flick the safety off. “To protect the man I love? Do you really want to test that theory?”
He hesitates, but I can see when he decides to believe me.
“I will be back.”
“With Kimba.”
His jaw tightens, and he turns on his heel.
I follow him at a distance, and when he leaves, I throw the lock that disengages the external keypad again. I won’t let him back in without proof Kimba is with him.
But I do need help, and there’s only one per
son in the caldera who knows how to fully understand what the med unit is telling me.
I pull up the wall screen and place the gun out of view.
I’m not surprised when the woman’s smile slides away almost as soon as she answers the call.
“Cindy? I need you.”
Eleven
WREN
All four of them arrive at once, and I know the other three can see the animosity I hold for Drift. I don’t care.
“He’s downstairs.”
I lead the way into the dim lower floors, constantly checking to make sure none of them wander off, and let them into the room, watching each as they pass. Drift is last inside and as he passes me, I say. “I still have the gun.”
“Noted.”
“What the hell happened?” Core is the one to ask the question I know they’re all thinking when they look at Fault’s face. The changes aren’t subtle anymore and my jaw is killing me.
The ridges on his face are rearranging, coral-shaped growths pressing at his skin.
“It’s a long story, but one of the Maker’s machines did… something to him.” I turn to Cindy. “His eyes are different and the bony protrusions are also on his arms and shins.”
Peeling his eyes open, Cindy shines a light on them, the pupils iridesce.
“There are… internal changes as well, but I can’t tell you what they are, I just feel them. And the medunit is confused.”
Going to the display, Cindy scowls at the readout. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why haven’t I seen his records before. Moreover, why didn’t I notice I hadn’t seen them?”
“Someone was keeping them from you.” I level a glare on Drift, and remind myself the gun’s in easy reach.
“That’s not important right now.” Drift snaps at me and doesn’t look at Cindy when he asks, “Can you tell us what’s going on?”
“He went through the same hell the rest of you did, but he had a different gene marker, see this right here?” She points to the screen and blows out a long breath. “Whatever’s happening to him right now has latched onto that gene marker. It’s facilitating this accelerated mutation.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” Kimba says, rubbing her stomach as she looks down at Fault’s unconscious form.