“Mack,” says a voice. “I think I saw something.”
Riska’s ears swivel forward. A tinny voice responds, so soft he can’t make out the words. The soldiers are talking to each other with their earpieces.
“Yeah, I’ll check it out,” says the voice.
Riska backs down the ramp. His secondary eyelids—a modification Dr. Hom made after his first trip into Vex—slide into place. They hide the reflection of his eyes.
The soldier eases into view, gun raised. He pauses at the top of the stairs, pointing a rifle into the darkness. His eyes move in the shiny white mask as he scans the stairwell.
Riska sits perfectly still, tail curled over his front feet and wings compressed against his sides. His vision is foggy through the membrane, but he can see the outline of the man.
The soldier eases forward, one black boot making a whisper against the ramp. Riska’s fur bristles. The long muzzle of the gun passes through the air over his head.
Another step. Three more, and the soldier will step on him. If he doesn’t spot him and shoot first. And Riska can’t get shot. If he gets shot, he’ll never find Sulan.
Another step. Riska spins around and lets loose a spray of sleeping gas. The man thunks onto the ramp, falling silent. His earpiece hums with activity.
Boots pound on the deck. People shout. There are at least three different voices.
There is no escape up the ramp. Riska turns. The dark swallows him as he runs down a narrow hall and banks hard to the right, shooting down a corridor. Behind him, boots pound on the ramp. A flashlight shines down the hall. The beam flicks across him.
The passageway isn’t wide enough for him to fly, but that’s okay. Dr. Hom made sure Riska was ready for this. He cuts to the side. Tiny suction cups on the pads of his feet allow him to run up the wall. Gecko feet, Dr. Hom had called them, though Riska does not know what a gecko is.
He skims along the wall, swerving to avoid being seen, and sprints along the ceiling. His wings are folded tight against his body.
“There’s something down here!” a voice shouts. “It looks like an animal.”
“Shoot it!” says another voice.
Footsteps thump after him. An intersection looms ahead. Riska takes a left, legs burning. Multiple light beams break the darkness of the passageway, one of them catching him in its path.
“It’s running on the ceiling!”
“What is it?”
“Just shoot it!”
The bang of a gun rings in his ears. A bullet whizzes past his head. The gun keeps firing. Riska cuts erratically back and forth, trying to avoid the bullets.
Another intersection. He runs to the left wall and makes a turn. In front of him is a door propped open with a rock. A humming sound pours out. He zips inside, still clinging to the wall.
The hum deepens. Vibrations fill the air. The room is full of pipes and machinery. Riska drops to the floor and crawls behind a giant machine that blasts him with heat.
“Which way did it go?” The voice comes from the passageway.
“You two go that way. We’ll check the engine room.”
Footsteps draw near. Riska scrunches farther behind the machine. One wing is wedged under his body. The other is skewed up against the wall, and his tail is tangled around one foot.
“It could be anywhere in here,” says a voice.
“Maybe it didn’t come this way,” says another.
“We need to check.”
He pricks his ears forward, straining to track the soldiers above the hum of the engines. They move around the room. Their flashlight beams bounce off the wall near his hiding place. He freezes, not daring to move.
A soldier steps into view. He’s next to the machine, aiming his light at a vent in the ceiling. The man stands on his toes, peering up. He is so close that Riska could hit his boot with venom.
He closes his secondary lids, dropping the filmy eye sheath over his glinting eyes. As his sight dims beneath the membrane, the man pulls on the vent, boot scraping the floor as he yanks.
“You think it’s up in the duct?”
“Maybe. You saw the way it ran across the ceiling.”
“It couldn’t have gotten the grate off. Let’s try the other corridor.”
“In a minute.” There’s a soft clink as the man places the grate on the floor. He’s even closer now. If he turns and shines his flashlight behind the machine, he’ll see Riska.
Wedged into the thin crevice, Riska can hardly move. He works his jaw, readying venom. He keeps his secondary lid closed, relying on his ears.
“Hurry up, will you?”
“Coming.” The grate clicks as it’s returned.
Riska raises his lids as the man disappears. He sags, resting his chin on the floor, and listens as the soldiers exit the room.
He stays hidden for a long time, worried the men will come back. As time passes and the soldiers don’t return, he begins the painful process of extracting himself. He stretches one foot out, major claws extending. They scritch against the floor as he pulls. At the same time, he pushes with his back legs. His body slides forward, moving toward the opening. His claws gouge the metal.
Inch by inch, he pushes and pulls himself free. At last, he tumbles out, lying on the floor in a heap. One wing is completely numb. The other is cramped. He gets to his feet and shakes them out.
He raises his nose and sniffs the air. Sulan’s trail is faint, mingled with smells of salt, water, metal, and grease. He must stay below deck and hunt for her, even though it will take longer to find his way. There are too many soldiers on deck and no place to hide.
He pads to the door. Poking his head around the doorframe, he peers out. His ears swivel forward as his eyes scan the darkness. He inhales, testing the air for any sign of the bad men.
All is silent. There is no scent of the soldiers. Moving silently, he steps out of the engine room.
He remains on the ground, moving cautiously and following the trail. He stays close to the wall, ears constantly swiveling. Somewhere in the distance is a drip-drip-drip, punctuated by the hum of the engines. Other than that, all is quiet.
He walks for a long time, always following the trail. At last, it grows stronger, filling his nose like a balm.
She is close. He will find her.
Just as soon as he can figure a way to get past all the soldiers.
18: No Matter What
There are a lot of them. He can’t see them yet, but he can hear the clomp of many boots and the murmur of voices. They are close. By the smells and sounds, he guesses they are with Sulan.
He runs up the wall and takes to the ceiling. The lights in this part of the ship are dim, many of them burned out, making it easy for him to hide in the shadows. Ahead is a three-way intersection. Riska turns right, following Sulan’s scent.
He passes a few closed doors, all of them painted beige. He pauses at each, sniffing. When he’s satisfied she isn’t inside, he continues on.
Sulan’s trail fills the air like a bright ribbon. He moves through halls, staying on the ceiling. When he enters a corridor lit by a flickering lightbulb, he hears a voice—her voice.
“Don’t call me that!” Sulan says. Riska feels her anger and terror down to his bones. He shivers. It takes all his will power not to hiss.
“I’ll call you anything I want,” replies a voice with a thick accent.
Riska tucks himself high into a corner. He fans out his wings and covers himself, doing his best to blend in with the shadows. He fixes his gaze on the door, waiting. People are moving on the other side. There is furniture being moved. Someone is crying. It’s not Sulan.
Several minutes later, the door opens. A dozen men in dark blue file out. All of them have dark hair and shiny, white plastic masks over their faces. Riska runs silently over their heads and through the open door. It’s dark inside, a single bulb casting feeble light in a large room. He darts to a dark corner above the door and waits there, hanging upside down and hiding beneath hi
s wings.
The men in blue slam the door behind them. Locks turn, sealing Riska inside. He’s near a staircase that leads into a vast room.
There below him, fastened to a narrow bed, is Sulan. Her face is pale, her eyes large in the dimness. Even from his high perch, he smells her fear. It slides into his gut like sour fish, making the fur along his spine bristle.
There are three other humans with her, all of them on identical narrow beds. Taro is there, plus a boy and a girl he’s never seen before. Taro’s eyes are closed, the muscles of his jaw clenched. Riska can smell his pain almost as strongly as he smells Sulan.
Only one thing prevents him from rushing headlong to her: a single metal drone. It makes lazy circles through the room, red and green lights blinking.
Drones see everything. He can’t go to Sulan until he disables it.
He hunkers down, wrapping his dark wings around his body. As the drone circles to the far side of the room, he runs down the walls. He huddles at the base of shadowed stairs, waiting as the drone makes another circuit. This is a big room, wide enough for him to fly. He lifts himself into the air, winging into the darkest part of the room. He faces Sulan, staying close to the ceiling.
He does not drop his secondary lids. He stares at Sulan over the whizzing drone, hoping she’ll see his eyes and know he’s here.
But it’s not Sulan who sees him first. It’s the other girl who spots him.
“Sulan!” she hisses. “What is that thing?” The girl stares straight at him.
Sulan lifts her head from the cot, gaze drifting across the darkness. When her eyes land on him, Riska feels it like a shockwave. A purr rumbles up from his chest. He zips forward and slams into the drone. It flies across the room and hits a wall with a satisfying crack.
Then he lands on his beloved Sulan, working his claws in her jumpsuit as he presses his nose into her face. He can’t control his purr. When she kisses his head, the world around him disappears into a haze.
He’s found her. He has kept his promise to Dr. Hom and Mom. He has found Sulan, and he will protect her. He will keep her safe, no matter what.
THE END
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to my amazing beta readers!
M.G. Alves Jr.
Lan Chan
Chris Picott
Arlene Ang
Heidi Garrett
About the Author
Camille Picott is a fifth-generation Chinese American. She's been writing novels since she was twelve years old. Among her books you can find Asian-inspired science fiction and fantasy novels, zombies stories, and how-to manuals for speculative fiction authors.
Camille loves cooking and running absurdly long distances. It's not unusual to find her chopping veggies in the kitchen late at night or hitting the trail in her running shoes long before the sun rises. She considers sleep to be optional and largely overrated.
Visit Camille at
www.camillepicott.com
or follow on Facebook @ultrawriter
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Other Works by Camille Picott
Available on Amazon, Kindle Unlimited, and Audible
The League
Sulan, Episode 1
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Sixteen-year-old Sulan Hom can’t remember life before the Default, the day the United States government declared bankruptcy. As a math prodigy, she leads a protected life, kept safe from the hunger and crime plaguing the streets of America. She attends the corporate-sponsored Virtual High School, an academy in Vex (Virtual Experience) for gifted children.
Beyond the security of Sulan’s high-tech world, the Anti-American League wages a guerrilla war against the United States. Their leader, Imugi, is dedicated to undermining the nation’s reconstruction attempts. He attacks anything considered a national resource, including corporations, food storage facilities, and schools. When Sulan witnesses the public execution of a teenage student and the bombing of a college dorm, she panics.
Her mother, a retired mercenary, refuses to teach her self-defense. Sulan takes matters into her own hands. With the help of her hacker best friend, Sulan acquires Touch, an illegal Vex technology that allows her to share the physical experience of her avatar. With Touch, Sulan defies her mother and trains herself to fight.
When Imugi unleashes a new attack on the United States, Sulan finds herself caught in his net. Will her Vex training be enough to help her survive and escape?
Risk Alleviator
Sulan, Episode 2
Buy @ Amazon | Buy @ Audible
Riska, a miniature winged tiger, is the first Risk Alleviator prototype. A purposeful collision of biology and weaponry, he is product of the Global Arms research facility. He was crafted to be a bodyguard for the wealthy and privileged. Before his kind can be mass produced and released to the market, an extensive testing and training phase is required.
When a training session goes horribly wrong, Riska is slated for destruction. Dr. Hom intercedes to save Riska’s life, presenting a new proposal to Global Arms. Riska is released into his care. The eccentric doctor is the first human to show him kindness, and a bond is quickly forged between the two.
But even as Dr. Hom alters Riska in the desired direction of Global Arms, it becomes clear he has his own agenda. First and foremost among those is to create a personal bodyguard for his daughter, Sulan.
This novella is the next installment of the Sulan series.
The Dome
Sulan, Episode 3
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After escaping the League, Sulan and her friends are granted entrance into the Dome, a utopian biodome in the wilderness of Alaska. Sulan soon finds herself a pawn in Global Arms’s political maneuvers to secure the national mercenary contract. Forced to put on a public persona that makes her skin crawl, she must charm Vex media moguls to further the cause of Global. Should she fail to embrace her new role as company spokesperson, the consequences will be deadly to everyone she loves.
Meanwhile, the League unleashes a new deadly threat on the United States. When Sulan and her friends stumble on the trail of a League mole within the Dome, they set out to track him down. Will they be safe in their new home, or will they find themselves trapped among enemies?
Undead Ultra
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Undead: a reanimated corpse with a craving for human flesh.
Ultramarathon: any footrace longer than a traditional marathon (26.2 miles).
For ultrarunners Kate and Frederico, a typical Saturday morning is spent pounding out a twenty- to thirty-mile “fun run.” It’s during one of their runs that an insidious illness descends upon northern California, turning humans into flesh-shredding zombies.
When Kate receives a desperate call from her son, Carter, she and Frederico flee their hometown and set out to help him. The only problem? Carter attends college over two hundred miles away and the freeways—clogged with car wrecks, zombies, and government blockades—are impassable. Running back roads and railroad tracks becomes their only means of travel, but neither of them has ever run so far before.
As pain, injuries, hunger, and fatigue plague them, getting to Carter and staying alive seem impossible. It’s either outrun the undead or become one of them, and for Kate, death is not an option.
The Warrior & The Flower
3 Kingdoms, Book 1
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Yi, a retired soldier, has lost everything he loves: his wife, his daughter, and his home. He seeks refuge from his heartache by plunging into a secret mission for the World Emperor. The assignment takes him to the doorstep of a brothel, where he witnesses the madam beating a young girl. Drawn by the child’s striking resemblance to his lost daughter, Yi rushes to her defense and negotiates for her purchase. After all, how hard can it be t
o care for one little girl? But between the child’s inquisitive nature and the dangerous secret she carries, he gets more than he bargained for.
Raggedy Chan
A Chinese Heritage Tale, Book 1
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Emma Chan-McDougal receives a special gift from her Auntie Gracie: a rag doll named Raggedy Chan. But Raggedy Chan is no ordinary doll. She is a beautiful Chinese princess who lives in a jasper palace on the enchanted isle of Kunlun. The peace of her island home is threatened when Drought Fury steals Winged Dragon, bringer of rain. Without Winged Dragon, Kunlun will wither and die.
To save her stricken homeland, Raggedy Chan sets forth alone. Her quest leads her to America, where she meets people who distrust her because she’s different. Can Raggedy Chan adapt to the strange ways of this new land and rescue her beloved dragon?
In this modern fairy tale, Chinese-American author Camille Picott draws on her heritage to weave a story of magic, adventure, and sacrifice.
Raggedy Chan – the Illustrated Edition
Contains over forty full-color illustrations
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Nine-Tail Fox
A Chinese Heritage Tale, Book 2
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When fifth-grade Emma Chan-McDougal is ridiculed by her classmates for being part Chinese, she's devastated. To ease Emma's wounded self-esteem, her aunt, a Chinese immigrant, spins the mythical tale of a brave little Nine-Tail Fox named Ainu who lives in San Francisco.
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