Getting close enough to peek through the mob, Alessa’s heart dropped into her stomach.
It was Carlos – returned from last night’s training mission – with a dead creature in tow.
Pushing her way through the crowd, Alessa surged to the center of the circle, pleading under her breath: it can’t be him, it can’t be him, please don’t let it be him.
And with a gasp of relief, she saw immediately that it wasn’t.
It was hard to be certain, of course – the body was so mangled from its original form, it was hard to even connect the mass of limbs and sinew pitched on the ground in front of her with once having been human – but the eyes confirmed it. Frozen open in death, she could see clearly that they were brown, not blue.
Clutching at the person behind her – Janie, thankfully – to stop her knees from buckling in relief, Alessa took a deep breath and tried to steady her shaking limbs.
A set of firm, supportive hands wrapped around her waist, and the comforting flash of Isaac’s blue eyes appeared in her peripheral vision.
“Hey, you ok?” he asked quietly.
Alessa nodded, still catching her breath.
“You… felt something?” Isaac guessed.
She hadn’t noticed it before, but come to think of it, there was something there – a faint lingering sense of fear and rage. And pain. So much pain.
She eyed the bullet holes riddling the monster’s chest, and tried not to let herself think of the person this had once been.
Turning into Isaac’s embrace, she tried to recover her composure. “Thank you. Yeah, I’m okay, just… wasn’t expecting that.”
Isaac held her face in his hand for a moment, his searching gaze boring into her eyes. He released her only once he seemed satisfied that she was, indeed, all right. “Okay.”
He turned his attention back to the spectacle at the center of the circle. “Carlos, what happened?”
Suddenly everyone quieted down and turned their attention to the sturdy, tan-skinned militia leader.
Carlos motioned towards the body on the ground and grinned ear-to-ear like a big game hunter displaying his trophy. “This one picked the wrong squad to attack.”
“No one was hurt?” Isaac confirmed.
Carlos shook his head. “Nah, man. No one hurt.”
No one else, Alessa thought, glancing again at the bloodied corpse.
She cleared her throat. “When did this happen?”
“Early this morning,” Carlos replied. “Woke up and found him sniffing around camp. Took care of business before he could cause any trouble.” He patted the firearm at his side with affection.
“Lucky,” Janie whistled.
Alessa had to agree – every couple weeks a pack of these things had seemed to hunt down one of their training missions. And as Alessa and Isaac had witnessed firsthand during their expedition over the winter, they were impossibly fast, inhumanly strong, and insanely vicious.
Usually there was at least one casualty; this was the first time it’d ever been one of monsters.
“What about the others?” Isaac asked.
“It was alone,” Carlos shrugged.
That was unusual. Most of the time they came in groups – and lately, the attacks had almost started to seem coordinated.
Silence fell over the group as everyone paused to more closely examine the strange sight before them.
Seeing one up close, it was obvious why they’d proven so absolutely lethal.
The creature boasted huge muscles, so thickly packed that its spine curved involuntarily – Alessa guessed it would likely walk hunched and with slightly bent knees, always at the ready to sprint or pounce.
The body was still recognizably human-esque, but the face – that was a different story. Any trace of hair was gone, and its eyes bulged out of the sockets, with massive popped pupils lending a creepy blackness to their empty gaze. The nose was blackened and mostly shriveled off, almost as if it’d lost circulation and just died there. And the mouth hung open to reveal jagged, well-worn teeth – Alessa guessed from crunching through bone.
She drew her eyes away from its face and, glossing over the bullet-ridden chest, settled her gaze on the beast’s hands – each of its nails so thick and overgrown that they’d curled into a sharp point. Alessa realized with a shudder that they were caked with dried blood, most likely not its own…
“Where do you think it came from?” Janie asked, kneeling next to the body and gently fingering the tattered remnants of its clothes.
“Your guess is good as mine,” Carlos responded.
Janie turned one of the filthy shreds of cloth around, a puzzled look on her face. “Is this… isn’t this a prison uniform?”
Someone Alessa didn’t recognize stepped forward and inspected the piece of cloth Janie was holding. “It definitely is,” he confirmed.
A collective gasp juddered through the group as everyone reached the same conclusion Alessa had so many weeks ago in the train car – that the creatures were once, somehow, human.
“Bastards,” Carlos spit.
“But how?” someone called out.
“I don’t know,” Isaac said, eyeing Alessa. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if this had something to do with the stitch.”
“Poor bugger got ‘stuck!’” someone else shouted from the back of the crowd.
A quiet, uncomfortable laugh spread through the group.
“The Stuck,” Carlos nodded, the corners of his mouth curling up into a wry smile. “I like it.”
Stuck. You could say that again, Alessa thought to herself. She looked down at the creature once more, pity welling in her throat.
She was just so thankful it wasn’t Joe. But still, something just wasn’t sitting right with Alessa.
Did the creature look somehow… familiar?
Janie continued to search the body, looking for more clues, Alessa guessed, as to its origins. But as she worked her way down the corpse without turning up any answers, her movements became increasingly urgent. Desperate, even.
Could Janie be thinking the same thing?
Alessa watched as her sister hefted up one of the monster’s filthy, twisted feet, its claw-like toenails having obliterated the front half of the shoe, which Alessa recognized immediately as one of Paragon’s standard-issue boots. A flap of the heel-end of the boot clung perilously to the monster’s limb, so caked in mud and Alessa didn’t even want to think what else that it practically blended in with the grungy, blackened skin.
With a look of revulsion, Janie scraped away at the crusted grime lining the transition between the sole of the foot and the sole of the boot. Silence – and disgust – hung heavy over the group as everyone waited to see what exactly she was thinking.
As the crud fell away, Janie gingerly inserted her finger into the gap between the foot and the remains of the boot.
“Ew!” someone behind Alessa gasped. Alessa had to agree – what was Janie doing?
Alessa peered closer as Janie seemed to peel back the insert of the shoe, revealing a surprisingly unsoiled middle layer of the sole. Something white – so stark against all the muck – caught Alessa’s eye.
Janie quickly plucked it out, placing the foot back on the ground with more care than Alessa would have expected.
Puzzled, she watched as Janie gently pulled the flimsy paper apart, opening the folds until it resumed the shape of… a napkin?
How could Janie possibly have known to look for that in there?
But when Janie turned to Alessa, a pained look in her eyes – and she glimpsed the neat block writing on the other side of the paper – finally, her heart dropping, she understood.
Janie looked up at Alessa and, with a hitch in her throat, managed to croak, “It was Nikhil.”
7. INTRIGUE
“Can we get this over with?” the General rasped. “I have things to do.”
The Developer wheezed one of his customary weary sighs. “Why don’t you begin by filling us in on the progress w
ith the drama?”
The General grunted in acquiescence. “It’s operational. The production team commandeered visible sections of the compound for filming, and the rumors about the train have mostly been quelled since the first episode aired this week.” He shook his head dismissively. “I told you it would work.”
“And we’re lucky it has,” the Doctor piped up. “How the rebels managed to orchestrate such an elaborate escape right under our military’s noses, I will never understand –”
“But at least there’s no p-permanent harm done,” the Economist added judiciously.
The General deepened his scowl nonetheless.
The Draftsman leaned back and folded his hands over his midsection, fixing the others – but especially the General and the Doctor – in a disapproving glare. “We would have no rebellion to speak of, if not for your antics. Memory alteration, mistreating prisoners, mass medication – since when was any of that part of the plan?” he challenged. He turned to the Developer. “This isn’t what I signed up for.”
Affronted, the Developed spat, “A little late for you to start voicing objections.”
“I’ve been objecting all along,” the Draftsman retorted. “Look where it’s gotten us. Citizens outside the walls. Mutant creatures mucking about. Lies and lies and more lies to keep it all afloat. This is your grand scheme to save the world?”
The Developer’s face had grown a deeper shade of red with every accusation. As if any of them could have foreseen all these complications! And somehow, it was always his job to find solutions to all their messes. His lips contorted with indignant sputtering, searching for the words.
But before he could form a coherent response, the Economist interjected, a desperate, soothing tone failing to mask his own near-hysteria. “Let’s focus on the b-b-big picture! No lives were lost! A violent uprising was deterred –”
Finally recovering himself, the Developer finished, “And Phoenix is executing the plan to recover the missing citizens as intended.”
“Taking long enough,” the General huffed.
The Developer eyed him ungenerously. “These things take time.” He stroked a few keys on the lettered panel projected in front of him, and suddenly the room filled with Phoenix’s disembodied voice.
“But Mom,” she pleaded. “You have to be rational. The only place we know all these people are safe from the virus is back in Paragon. I’m sure if you just spoke to them…”
The General reached over and abruptly switched off the recording. “We get it. At least we know where they are, so we can eliminate this problem once you all realize how futile it is trusting such an important mission to the hands of a stupid, little –”
Sighing pointedly over the General’s rambling, the Draftsman interrupted, directing his question to the Developer. “Your backup plan is still in place?” His voice had recovered its usual measured calm.
“Yes,” the Developer confirmed, his words steeped in a lingering defensiveness. “If Regina refuses to come to her senses, the pieces are already in place to make her regret it. And Phoenix will make sure the girl is out of harm’s way before I issue the order.”
“Good,” the Doctor replied. Running a hand through his silver hair, he admitted, “The research has mostly stalled without samples of her blood and tissue.”
“Soon,” the Developer promised. “One way, or another.”
“G-g-great!” the Economist blurted. “You always have a plan,” he added sycophantically.
The Draftsman grunted noncommittally to himself, and the Developer flushed once again, interpreting the judgment as critical.
Quickly changing the subject, the Economist chimed, “From what I’m hearing amongst the Ruling Class, the new drama seems to be serving its p-p-p-purpose. Anti-rebel sentiment is at an all-time high.”
The Draftsman stroked his beard thoughtfully. “High enough that if they leaked rumors of the algorithm and the vaccine, the average citizen would be inclined to reject them, Ben?”
“I b-b-believe so,” the Economist replied.
A cautious look settled over the Developer’s face. “What are you thinking, Pascal?” he inquired in his severe, nasal whine.
The Draftsman leaned forward, adjusting his gut to sit more comfortably in his lap. “Just that, it would be a lot for someone to digest. I know it was necessary, but when it comes down to it, we deliberately massacred almost everyone they ever knew or cared about. We were able to make Phoenix see reason, but an angry mob is another story…”
“Well that’s why we’re utilizing the sedatives,” the Doctor reminded him.
“And like we explained to Phoenix,” the Developer lamented, “they’d all be dead if we hadn’t done it. Why is this so hard to understand? If we hadn’t taken matters into our own hands, the wars and resulting famine would have wiped us all out. We averted extinction. They should be grateful, if anything.”
The Draftsman shook his head plaintively. “You know it’s not that simple. Most people think with their emotions first, intellect second.”
“And that’s exactly what got us into this mess,” the Developer blustered.
“What I don’t understand, is why we aren’t just moving straight on to Plan B. Let’s obliterate them and be done with it,” the General growled.
“The genes…” the Doctor argued.
“You said there’s redundancy!” the General disputed.
“We’ll fall back on that if we have to,” the Developer assured him. “But let’s give Phoenix a little more time. We know from the audio transmissions that the rebels are at least several weeks out from staging an attack. Let’s be patient.”
He looked around the room, gathering the range of their expressions – from apprehensive, to frustrated, to relieved – and was glad he was the only one with actual control over the course of action. None of them were rational enough to call the shots. Not when the stakes were so high.
“One way or another,” the Developer repeated. “It will all come together the way we’ve designed. The only question is how much more bloodshed will be required to get us there.”
8. PRECIPICE
Isaac stuffed the last pair of socks into his pack and pulled the zipper closed with a sense of relief. All set.
He was starting to understand why Alessa had been feeling so claustrophobic these past months. It’d been just over four weeks since they’d last ventured outside Raptor’s confines, the day he and Alessa had stolen away to the lake. As the rebels approached the finish line on their plans to liberate Paragon – and the frequency of the Stuck attacks had increased – Regina had all but terminated the training missions outside the base. Isaac was antsy for some fresh air.
There was a knock at the door and it slid open. Alessa strode past him and practically tumbled onto the bed, breathless. “I’m so exhausted,” she moaned into the pillow.
“Still feeling under the weather?” Isaac asked. He sat down beside her and gently rubbed her back in sympathy.
“Ugh,” Alessa grunted in confirmation. “And I’m starting to feel queasy now, too.”
“Sorry, babe,” Isaac soothed. “How’s Janie today?” She’d been a bit of a wreck since the discovery of Nikhil, but some days were worse than others.
“Blaming herself, as usual.” Alessa’s voice was muffled against the bed, but he could guess clearly enough what she’d said.
“I wish she wouldn’t,” Isaac sighed.
“Ugghhhh,” was Alessa’s only response.
He kissed the back of her head and stroked her soft, brown tresses for a moment. “You rest up. I’ll see you at dinner in an hour?”
“Mm-hmm,” Alessa hummed, her eyes already drifting off to dreamland.
Isaac quietly exited the room, the door whooshing shut behind him, and he headed out to check in with Regina before the evening meal. He found her in the commander’s office, poring over a report on her computer screen.
“Isaac,” she looked up and smiled. “Good news, come look at
this.”
Isaac joined Regina on the other side of the desk and peered down at the screen – it appeared to be schematics for some kind of large, powerful-looking gun.
Regina’s eyes crinkled in delight as she looked up at him from her seat. “Sato finally cracked it. Carlos is down in the weapons arena right now trying them out.”
“No way!” Isaac bubbled with excitement. This was it – the last piece of the puzzle unlocking their plans for Paragon. It’d taken weeks of diligent work, but the final – and, they suspected, most formidable – cache of weapons had been accessed at last. “Wow. These look incredible.”
“You and Alessa are scheduled on Carlos’s mission tomorrow, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Great. You’ll be amongst the first to test them in the field, then. Carlos is reconfiguring the mission to evaluate their effectiveness in a real-world environment.”
Isaac couldn’t contain his excitement. “Are you saying… that we’re going to go blow some shit up?”
Regina laughed, despite herself. “Language, Officer Mason.”
He tried to suppress his smile. “Stuff. Blow some stuff up.”
Regina shook her head, bemused. “Yes, you’re going to appraise their performance, outside the controlled environment of the weapons arena.”
Isaac’s eyes twinkled. “I won’t let you down.”
Chuckling, Regina replied, “I’m sure you won’t.”
A mechanical whoosh sounded and Alicia entered the room, head buried in the tablet she held in front of her as she rattled off some data points excitedly.
“…And what I think this analysis shows is that if we can get our hands on the right equipment, we might be able to manufacture an antiserum that would prevent the infants from succumbing to the disease.” At that, she looked up for the first time and her eyes widened in alarm at noticing Isaac standing beside Regina. “Oh! I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”
Regina sighed. “I hope you’ll be more cautious with classified information in the future,” she scolded. At the same time, though, she seemed almost relieved. “Luckily, I trust Isaac –” a pang of guilt struck him in the chest at her words, thinking of all he was keeping from her, “– so you might as well fill him in on the details, now that we’ve spilled the beans.”
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