State of Decay

by James Knapp

  The tip of the key found the slot and I jammed it in, turned it, then pushed the door open and went inside, letting it swing shut and slam behind me. I turned the bolt, wishing there were three more of them.

  After having not been in my apartment for a little while, I couldn’t help but notice it had an off smell. I needed to clean the place up. I threw my keys on the coffee table and shrugged out of my coat, hanging it on the rack. I felt dizzy. Why did he show that revivor to me? Why was he with that woman? Why was she chained, and what was he doing with her down there?

  Shivering, I went into the kitchen and poured a drink, drained it, then poured another one. The heat moved down my throat into my belly, but when I wiped my face, my hand was still shaking and the sweat there was cold. That had been the woman from my dream. It was definitely her. Three more drinks, and the shaking still wouldn’t stop.

  I hated the thing that Karen called my gift. From the bottom of my soul, I hated it all the way back to when I dreamed of my father’s mangled body, and every second since. I hated everything about it, but I learned something back in that storage room, and that was that hate it or no, I relied on it. I never realized until that moment how much I relied on it.

  When I pushed on that revivor, I felt something I’d never felt before in my life. When I focused on her and nothing happened, it felt like I had gone blind. None of the colors appeared and I couldn’t sense any of her thoughts or her feelings or even her mood. Until she stepped out where I could see her, I hadn’t even known she was standing a few feet away from me. It was terrifying.

  There was no way to make her go away, or make her go to sleep, or decide to leave me alone, or tell me who she was, how she got there, how she knew him . . . nothing. She could do whatever she wanted, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I couldn’t stop replaying that moment. There was just a gap, like a dark pit. Looking into it was like stepping through a door and finding no floor. It felt like if I pushed into that void, I would fall inside with no way of knowing what was down there or if it even had an end.

  I drained the glass and poured out another one, and that’s when the ripples appeared in the air in front of me, right between where I was standing and the fridge. The distortion took the shape of a man, and then just like that there was someone standing there, as if he’d appeared from out of nowhere. The glass slipped out of my hand and smashed on the floor between us.

  “Damn it!” I hissed.

  He was a big man dressed in a jacket and coat, with some kind of cloak or poncho draped over that. The coat’s hood was up over his head. It struck me that it might have been the first time I actually saw a vision appear while I was watching.

  “You guys need to start wearing bells,” I said. “Look at this.”

  He stood there, not moving, as I grabbed a paper towel and sopped up the booze, pushing the broken glass away against the bottom of the counter. I grabbed a new glass and filled it.

  “Look,” I said, feeling tears forming, “I don’t think I have anything left today, okay? How about you all leave me alone and let me just pass out tonight?”

  He didn’t say anything; he just kept watching me.

  “Please—”

  He reached out and grabbed my shoulder. His hand was real. He wasn’t a dream or a hallucination; he was real.

  He squeezed, and it hurt. I panicked, hitting at his arm, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

  “Help!” I screamed.

  I tried to focus on him and nothing happened. Just like earlier, I couldn’t see him or feel him. It was just like it had been with the dead woman in the storage unit: nothing but an empty, dark hole.

  “You’re—”

  He shook me hard and bashed me into the counter. Everything went white for a second when my head bounced off the wall; then he pulled me back toward him. No one had ever moved me like that; it was like I weighed nothing to him at all. Before I could do anything, I was dragged backward, out of the kitchen, and thrown down onto the sofa.

  He was dead, just like the woman. It was a revivor, and I had no way to control it.

  When I looked up, he was coming right toward me. I glanced to the front door and saw my next-door neighbor standing there. He was looking in, his eyes wide, but he wasn’t doing anything.

  “Help!”

  The dead man turned and saw him. For just a second, the old ginger man looked calm, almost confident, but as the revivor closed the distance, his eyes went wide and he just stared, like he was frozen.

  With a loud snap, the revivor’s palm split apart and a big, sharp blade shot out of it. It arced over his head with a whistling sound, and the next thing I knew Red was gasping as blood began to gush out of his neck. The blade whipped around again and he grabbed his belly as a squiggly red mess spilled out into his bloody hands.

  The big guy pulled me away, and I heard my neighbor’s body fall wetly onto the floor. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled something out, yanking the cap off of it with his mouth and spitting it onto the floor. It was a needle.

  I struggled, but he was too strong. I felt a prick as the needle stuck into the side of my neck.

  ...but this isn’t how it happens, I thought. I’m supposed to meet her three times. . . .

  He pulled the syringe away, and all of a sudden he convulsed. His eyes bugged out and his whole body started to shake as the fistful of my shirt slipped from his hand and I fell back onto the floor. When I looked up, Karen was there, standing behind him. She had something black in her hand with two prongs sticking out of it. She had stuck them right in the guy’s side, and I heard an electric popping sound.

  She pulled the prongs away and the popping stopped. I tried to get up, but my legs wouldn’t move and I fell over onto my side.

  The guy turned around toward Karen. She tried to stick him again with the stun gun and he hit her hard, causing her to stumble, waving the stunner blindly. He batted her arm away and shoved her down onto the floor.

  “Karen?” I mumbled, trying to focus. Blood was coming out of her nostrils and she was trying to get up as his foot stomped down and kicked the stunner away. I looked up in time to see the blade pulling back.

  “Wait!” I screamed, holding up my hands. I tried to scramble back, putting myself between them as he got ready to cut her. “Wait! Don’t!”

  He paused for just a second and looked from me to her, then back to me. I saw an orange light flicker behind his pale yellow eyes, and for a second it looked like he was reading something only he could see.

  “I can fix it!” I said. Karen was shaking her head, and her eyes were starting to clear.

  “Zoe, don’t. . . .”

  With some effort, I managed to get back up on my feet. He watched me as I staggered a few steps closer to him.

  “I can fix it,” I told him. The orange light continued to flicker in his eyes, and the blade was still poised like it was ready to strike.

  “I can make her forget,” I said.

  “I know you can,” he said.

  The orange light went out, and with a loud snap, the blade disappeared. His hand went back together and he relaxed his fingers.

  Before he could change his mind, I went over to Karen and dropped onto my knees next to her. With my remaining energy, I concentrated until the brightness came.

  “What are you—”

  “Sleep.”

  Her eyelids got heavy, and she started to sink back down onto the floor.

  “Zoe, no. . . .”

  “Sleep.”

  She rolled onto her back and went limp, her breathing becoming slow and easy.

  “You didn’t hear anything tonight,” I told her. “I was never in trouble and you didn’t come up here to help me. You didn’t see anyone else here tonight.”

  “Okay ...”

  “As far as you will remember, no one was here.”

  She nodded and I wiped my eyes, then leaned in closer so I could whisper in her ear.

  �
��If I don’t see you again,” I said, “thank you, Karen.”

  She murmured something in her dreamlike state, but I didn’t hear what it was as the big, cold hand came down and grabbed me by the back of my shirt. I was lifted up off the ground as everything went black, and all I could do was hope that whoever he was and whatever he wanted, he would just take me and go, because if he decided to kill her, there wasn’t anyone left who could stop him.

  10

  Rise

  Nico Wachalowski—Guardian Metro Storage Facility

  I woke up to the sound of something sputtering softly, then a single drop echoing as it splashed into a puddle somewhere below me. It was somewhere dark and cold.

  “Hey.”

  The voice came from out of the darkness. It was deep, but female.

  Drip.

  There was a tingling in my face and my neck that ran all the way down my arms and legs to my hands, fingers, and toes. My head was resting on something hard, and my back hurt. Everything hurt.

  “Hey.”

  Something nudged me in the ribs. Something hard. Messages scrolled by behind my eyelids, and I cracked them open. The room was mostly dark, but the walls were flickering with a dim light. Turning my head slightly, I saw a young woman was standing over me. She wore black leather boots and skintight jeans. She looked down at me, muscular arms hanging by her sides. It was the girl, Calliope.

  “Are you dead?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “You want me to call somebody?”

  “No.”

  My whole body felt like it had taken a beating, but everything still seemed to work. A deep pain dug into my chest when I tried to sit up, forcing me to roll over onto my hands and knees.

  Revivor bayonet. Faye stabbed me.

  Not Faye, Fawkes . . . he was controlling her.

  The box that had contained Faye’s body lay open, and the empty sac of fluid from inside was plastered to the floor like a giant piece of skin. I scanned around, but she was gone. All that was left was the padlock key from my pocket lying next to the discarded chain. I tried to check the chronometer to see how long I’d been out, but it looked like every system had reinitialized. I checked my cell phone instead. An hour had passed.

  “Was anyone else here when you got here?”

  “No, just you.”

  “Did you pass anyone on the way in?”

  “No.”

  Great.

  Wachalowski. It was Noakes.

  Yeah?

  Where is the revivor?

  The words hovered there. I tried to think of a good response, but I was still reeling. A dark spot swam in front of my eyes that wouldn’t go away.

  Never mind how I know, Wachalowski. Where is it?

  Squatting back on my heels, I ran a regimen of stims, painkillers, and anti-inflammatory serum, but the stims got overruled by the system because of drug conflict detection. Running down the list, it looked as though the emergency systems had delivered a massive dose of clotting agent to the wound site, along with a bunch of other stuff. No wonder I was dizzy.

  I don’t know where it is.

  You don’t know.

  No, but I think I know where it’s going.

  What do you mean?

  The revivor was a police detective involved in a series of murders that turned out to be directly related to my investigation. I had reason to believe it had information about the man responsible for the prison-truck hijack and also the shooting outside headquarters.

  Go on.

  The killer is one of the revivors Tai smuggled in for his special client, the one we’re looking for. However many revivors this person has gotten his hands on, he’s commanding them remotely over their communications system. A list of names has been distributed to them, and they’re eliminating the people on that list. The revivor that was with me ended up receiving a copy of that database when it came online.

  There was a pause on the other end of the line.

  Why are the people on the list being targeted?

  I don’t know yet.

  Who is commanding the revivors?

  I believe it’s a former Heinlein employee named Samuel Fawkes. Look, someone who is helping me with the case appeared on that list. I’m heading there now, but I need some units over at her place right away. I gave him Zoe’s name and address.

  Done. What about you?

  I’m fine.

  Your heart stopped. Your vitals were flat long enough for the implant to report you KIA.

  Peeling my shirt back, I could see there had been a lot of blood, at least initially. A dark crevice sat in the middle of my chest, hardened over with black.

  I’ll live.

  Even as I said it, though, that dark blotch still floated there in front of my eyes. It was like a blind spot that even the implant couldn’t write to. If the implant sent a KIA beacon, then I was technically dead for at least ninety seconds.

  Looking around, everything around the dark patch had a sharpness to it that seemed strange. Everything felt very clear and focused, but almost to the point where it felt like a drug trip. Was it a side effect of all the chemicals, or was it something worse?

  Wachalowski?

  I said, I’ll make it.

  The drugs coursed through my system, and the pain and stiffness retreated. Joints cracking, I managed to get to my feet and take a look around. The corner of the bedroll was stained through with blood where a pool of it had formed, and three footsteps in that same blood led from the spot toward the exit. It looked like she had stood up and immediately left, like she was moving with a purpose.

  You shouldn’t be out there alone in your condition.

  I’m not alone.

  Fine. Go. Someone is going to answer for that revivor, though, Agent.

  Understood.

  That’s going to be you. Find it.

  The connection closed. Calliope continued to watch me.

  “What?”

  “There’s this orange light,” she said, “behind your eyes.”

  “It’s reflection from the internal display.”

  “It’s cool.”

  “Thanks.”

  The results of my decisions were less cool. Faye was gone, Zoe was in trouble, and I was in it up to my neck. The only thing that might pull it out was the connection I monitored right before the remote override code came in. A quick check of my internal buffer showed the link was still there.

  Sean?

  Yeah.

  I need you to run a trace on this connection.

  You got it.

  I need to know where it originated from, the physical location. Is there enough?

  I think so. Give me some time.

  Let me know as soon as you have it.

  “How are you still standing?” Calliope asked.

  “There’s a piece of armor plating behind my breastbone.”

  “What the hell for?”

  “In case something like this ever happened. I had it installed during my tour. The blade went through the bone but never reached my heart.”

  That didn’t stop it from impacting it, though. The plate itself got pushed back and shocked my heart so hard it had stopped. If the emergency system hadn’t jolted it, it would have stopped for good.

  “Come on,” I said. “I have to move. Someone’s in trouble.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “I’ll take you there.”

  “I’ve got a vehicle.”

  “I’ve got a bike,” she said, “and I know how to ride it. How fast you want to get there?”

  My chest was still aching despite the drugs. Dragging her into this would probably be a mistake, but the streets would be jammed with patrols and people trying to beat the curfew; a motorcycle would skirt around a lot of it. Zoe needed help now, not later. I could commandeer the bike, but honestly, with the wound in my chest, I didn’t think I’d be able to control it.

  I checked for my gun and found that Faye had left it behind. Breaking out the mag
azine, I saw it was still fully loaded. I never even got off a shot.

  Header mismatch: Ott, Zoe. Experimentation.

  Experimentation . . . Whatever that meant, I didn’t like the sound of it. I was the one who brought her into the whole mess. There wasn’t time to argue.

  “Alright,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  Zoe Ott—The Holding Pens

  “Can you hear me?”

  A voice was whispering loudly somewhere nearby, but I could barely hear it over the constant hum that filled the air. I was lying on my back on the floor. Was I still in my apartment?

  “Hello? Can you hear me?”

  I opened my eyes and looked around. It was dark, but I could see a little bit. Wherever I was, it wasn’t my apartment; there was metal scaffolding somewhere off in front of me, and I could see a ton of spastic little blinking lights.

  “Hello?” It sounded like a woman’s voice.

  “I can hear you,” I said.

  “Get up. You’re in trouble,” she hissed.

  My body was so stiff I could barely move. I rolled over and got up on one elbow, just managing to raise my forehead a few inches off the ground. My body was shaking all over.

  “You’ll be all right,” the woman said. My hair trailed on the floor as I lifted my head and let it bob there, looking for her. There was some kind of glass wall or window in front of me. I reached out and touched it, streaking fingerprints. It was hard plastic that looked clear, but there was cardboard taped to the outside so I couldn’t see through.

  It started to sink in that I was in a box, a clear plastic box. It was no bigger than my bathroom. I went to brush my hair out of my face and felt some threads there, a whole bunch of them, but when I pulled at one, it tugged at my forehead like it was stuck there.

  “Here.”

  A fingernail tapped on the plastic nearby and I looked over where a piece of the cardboard was torn. A pair of eyes looked at me through the little gap.

  “Where am I?” I asked.

  “Look here,” the woman said, and moved her face away from the gap. I crawled across the floor and put my forehead to the wall so I could see through.

  Through the hole I could see another plastic box that looked just like the one I was in. They were right next to each other with the cardboard in between them. Sitting in the middle of the floor was a black woman wearing a plain white shirt and pants, and she looked even sicker than I usually did. Her hair had grown into a thicket of kinks that hung around her face, and underneath I saw a bunch of electrodes stuck to her forehead that trailed thin white wires.