by Caryn Lix
“Let’s give it a shot.” I pulled on both the inner and outer gloves. “If I hold her, can you get her down?”
“Not sure I can reach.” Cage stood on his toes, his hands encased in thin cloth gloves of his own, and shook his head. “Hang on a sec.”
He disappeared again in another burst of wind, this one carrying the unpleasant, almost astringent scent of the liquid coating Rita. Seconds later he reappeared with one of the metal boxes from the supply room, and he climbed on top of it. “Okay, I can reach now. You got her?”
I braced my hands on Rita’s waist. “Yeah.”
“Try not to get any of that fluid on yourself.”
“I know, Cage. Hurry up.”
He twisted at an awkward angle as he jimmied the cuffs. Rita came loose with a pop, and she sagged against me. I tried to shift her toward the wall, but she slumped forward, coating my shoulder with slimy, disgusting goop. I shuddered as it oozed over my neck, dripping past the collar of my sweater.
Cage leaped off the box and grabbed her arms, pulling her off me. Together we laid her down. “Well,” I said in disgust, running my finger over the slime on my shoulder, “if this stuff is dangerous, I guess we’re about to find out.”
“Not our best-laid plan,” he agreed, groping along her wrist in search of a pulse. His lips drew tight and I knew what he was going to say before he spoke.
“No.” I shed both pairs of gloves and pressed along Rita’s throat. Her skin was cool to the touch. I dug my fingers into her skin, waiting for that telltale flutter meaning her heart still beat.
Nothing.
I sagged against the wall, pressing my hands to my closed eyes until I saw flashes of light. Gently, Cage pried them down. “Please don’t get that junk in your eyes.”
I nodded, reluctantly acknowledging the wisdom of his advice, and fixed my gaze on Rita. “I knew she was dead,” I whispered, half to myself. “I knew that.”
“Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean your mom is.”
Fury surged in my throat, but I quickly choked it down. It wasn’t Cage’s fault. He didn’t know how things operated when you were in a corporation together, when you worked on such a small space as Sanctuary. “It’s not just that. It’s Rita. She’s . . .” I swallowed, searching for words and breath and space. “It’s Rita,” I finished helplessly.
“Oh,” he replied softly, his hands gentle on my wrists. “Oh. Kenzie, I’m sorry.”
“I know.” I forced myself to take a breath, then another. Cage angled the light away from her face, but somehow I could still feel Rita’s empty gaze. She was the most full-of-life person I’d ever known, always ready with a quip or a grin, never seeming to have a moment of exhaustion or self-doubt or fear. And yet here she lay, covered in some sort of alien slime, her limbs cold and stiff. Once again my heart clawed its way into my throat, and once again I fought it down, drawing deep breaths until the haze in front of my face cleared.
“What is this stuff, anyway?” I demanded to distract myself, wiping the goop off my gloves against the wall.
“I don’t know,” Cage replied, but his tone gave him away.
I narrowed my eyes. “You have a theory, though.”
“I don’t . . .” He met my gaze and frowned. “Okay, fine. It might be some sort of . . . preservative.”
“Preservative.” The word caught in my throat as his meaning took hold. “Preservative? Like they’re going to eat her and they want to keep her fresh? Are you kidding me?”
He winced. “Now you see why I didn’t want to say anything.”
I inspected Rita for damage, but I didn’t see any signs of recent violence, any clue to what killed her. In fact, I didn’t see any signs of violence. Her earlier wounds had healed.
And more importantly, if Rita was here . . . I stared into the corridor’s murky depths. “Mom,” I whispered.
Cage nodded. “Let’s go.”
I pulled Rita against the wall and wiped away as much of the gunk on her face as I could. “I’m so sorry, Rita,” I whispered. As an afterthought, I folded her hands around the small golden crucifix she wore around her neck. I hesitated, not wanting to leave her, but if Mom was somewhere on this ship . . .
I couldn’t help Rita now. I could only try to help Mom—not to mention the kids back on Sanctuary and Earth itself. I squeezed Rita’s hand one last time and let Cage tug me to my feet.
We rounded a corner and stopped short. Our dim light illuminated the horror stretching in front of us: bodies as far as the eye could see, each one glistening with the bizarre liquid. “Oh my God,” I gasped. “Are they all dead?”
Cage swore softly. “They’re all ours.” He directed the light, revealing the uniform each wore—the same jumpsuit as his. The same one worn by all Sanctuary prisoners. “These are the missing kids.”
“Mom,” I said. I snatched the penlight from his hand and took off, shining the light into every face I passed. Behind me, Cage called something, but I didn’t pause to listen.
I made it past at least three dozen bodies before I found her.
My mother drooped against the wall like all the others, and I lunged for her, scrambling to reach the cuffs. “Cage!” I cried, mindless now of my volume. “Cage, I need help!”
He was at my side in an instant, absorbed the situation in another. Before I blinked, he vanished again, then reappeared with the box and scrambled up to pop her free of the cuffs.
We caught her and lowered her to the ground. The flickering light illuminated her in glimpses and flashes. Her neat ponytail had come loose and her hair clung to her face in damp clumps, surrounding pale skin and drawn lips. My fingers slid over her cold, slick flesh as I stretched her out on the ship’s floor. For a moment, I froze, terrified to confirm my suspicion. Then, gathering up all the strength I had left, I fumbled for her neck.
And felt nothing.
I let out a sob that told Cage everything he needed to know. “Let me see,” he said, pushing past. I clenched my hands into fists on my knees. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. Whatever was between us—whatever caused my parents to chip me, whatever made her choose Sanctuary over me when Cage threatened my life—she was still my mother. And she couldn’t die like this. Not here. Not now.
And not without giving me answers.
Cage sat back on his heels, not meeting my eyes. “Kenzie . . .”
“No.”
“Kenzie, I’m sorry.”
“No.” I bent over her lifeless form, shaking her viciously. “Mom. Mom!”
“Kenzie.”
“Mom!” I slapped her face, gently at first but then with increasing strength. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes sliding open, staring unseeing into space, covered by milky-white cataracts—exactly like the aliens’.
I cried out, recoiling. “Her eyes,” I gasped.
Cage lifted me and tucked me against the wall. “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll take a look.”
I sagged, shock settling into every crevice of my being. Finding Rita had twisted my stomach, sent pain stabbing through my heart—but Mom, my mom . . . and her eyes. What were the creatures doing to her? If Cage was right, if they planned to eat her, why would her eyes have gone white? None of it made any sense.
Cage returned, angling the light away, leaving me the comfort of darkness. He didn’t say anything but put his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. I leaned against him, staring blankly into the darkness, trying to process a new reality where Mom was dead, where Rita was dead, where Dad was gone. Where it was just me, alone and without my family, abandoned by my corporation, in a world where murder by aliens was not only a possible but a likely way to die.
“Kenzie.” Cage’s voice seemed to come from a long distance, as if he was on the other side of a tunnel. I barely registered his arms around me. “Kenzie, please move. Say something.”
I shook myself, attempting to claw out of the well I’d fallen into, but I couldn’t blink, couldn’t move my gaze
from the blocky wall across the corridor. Cage didn’t say anything else, just held me and stroked my hair. We sat in the midst of death on this alien monstrosity, and we were silent, and still. Why was I silent? Why wasn’t I crying, or screaming, or swearing? Why couldn’t I feel anything? My heart seemed as cold and dead as my . . .
The pain surged through me like a lance, starting in my stomach and piercing straight through to the top of my head. I closed my eyes against it, choking on agony, clutching Cage’s arm as the only lifeline left.
Mom was dead. My mom. Mom with her teasing smiles and stern patriotism and gentle hugs and willingness to kill me. She was gone. I’d never get to ask her any of the questions burning inside me, never get to find out what had really been going through her mind when she pushed that button. All I wanted to do was shove Cage away, lie down on the ground, and sleep. Forget everything, forget everyone, and sleep until I woke up and all of this was a dream.
But I couldn’t do that, could I? Even if Omnistellar had betrayed me, the training remained seared deep into my soul—and that training said there were people depending on me back on Sanctuary, on Earth. Dad, for one. And Rune, and Alexei, and Matt, and even Mia. I owed it to them to keep going. And after, well . . . I couldn’t think that far yet.
I went through the training exercises one at a time. Listen to your breath. Become aware of your hands. Name a smell (the astringent stench of—no, no, no, Cage, focus on that). Blink twice.
My heartbeat returned to normal, the grief sliding into its prison. I pulled away from Cage experimentally and found I could sit under my own power. “Her eyes,” I managed. It was less than I’d meant to say, but the words seemed reasonably calm.
Cage hesitated. “Kenzie, are you okay? You’re . . .”
“Her eyes,” I repeated with more force. I refused to look at my mother lying on the floor. Instead, I pulled my stun gun free and busied myself with checking that the safety was off. “Did you see them?”
“Yeah,” he replied softly. “And that’s not all. Her . . . teeth. They’re longer, sharper. Same with her nails.”
“What?” I pulled back to stare at him in disbelief. “I need to see.”
“Kenz, I’m not sure that’s such a—”
“What would you do if it were Rune?” I demanded.
Cage hesitated a moment longer. “All right.” We crept to her side, and I realized that he’d done for Mom what I’d done for Rita, wiped her face clean of as much liquid as possible, folded her hands
I ran my fingers over Mom’s face. From this angle, she could have been sleeping. I forced myself to examine her, keeping my body taut, my expression dispassionate. Still, I squeezed her hands before checking her nails. Cage directed the light for me and sure enough, her nails extended a solid half inch past her fingers, curving in clawlike formations, darker at the tips. I folded them over her chest and spread her lips. There too I found things exactly as Cage described them: all of her teeth longer, sharper. Her incisors in particular had reached the vampire stage.
“What’s going on here?” I whispered. “All of these people . . . what are they doing to them?”
“I don’t know.” Did I imagine the slight hesitation in his words? “But, Kenzie, I’m sorry—so sorry about Rita and your mom.”
I stared at Mom a moment longer, then unholstered her sidearm. I ejected the magazine, verified it was loaded, and shoved it back into place. “What?” I demanded as Cage watched me, his expression inscrutable. “The stun guns aren’t stopping those things. Maybe a bullet will.”
“Your mother had a gun,” he reminded me softly. “So did Rita.”
And we didn’t even know where Rita’s was. But right now, I didn’t care. I tucked the pistol into place in my uniform holster, my expression daring Cage to challenge me. He didn’t. I passed him my stun gun as a reward, and he accepted it, his face still carefully neutral.
Finding Mom made me realize what a waste of time this trip had been. We still had no way to destroy the ship, nothing to help us communicate with Earth. Just a panel of stupid symbols that meant nothing. We’d have been better off staying on Sanctuary and releasing the escape pod. At least that was still an option. So far we’d seen no aliens here, which meant we could probably head back to Sanctuary easily enough. Maybe the pod stood a chance of getting to Earth after all. We could send Anya away, save her life—only for her to be instantly arrested and re-imprisoned, but still—and warn everyone back on Earth what waited in orbit.
If we failed . . . well, I didn’t even want to imagine that possibility. The creatures had torn through Sanctuary with almost no effort, even once we had our powers. Sure, guns might faze them, but if no one on Earth saw them coming . . .
No. I wasn’t going there. We would find a way to warn Earth. I didn’t care whose life it cost at this point. I might fall down seven times, but I was getting up eight.
Cage’s thoughts must have mirrored mine, because he dropped against the wall, resting his chin on his folded arms. I focused on smoothing Mom’s hair into place, arranging her in a more restful pose. My penlight played over the ink on Cage’s arm, the Chinese characters he’d told me represented Rune’s name. I traced them with my fingers, stroking the delicate shapes, and he inclined his head, watching me with dark, steady eyes.
Lin.
I blinked.
I could read them. Of course—my power. If it worked for spoken languages, why not written?
At that thought, I paused, my heart stuttering.
Why not written?
“I need another look at those computers,” I said, jumping to my feet.
Cage glanced up at me. “Why?”
“I’ll explain later. Come on.” Voicing the hope felt like tempting fate. But if I was right—if I had even a chance of deciphering the alien language—it might change everything.
I faltered, glancing at Mom. . . . No. I had to focus on saving everyone else. If I let myself think about Mom, even for a minute, if I let myself feel the wrenching grief welling inside me, I’d collapse and never get up. Gritting my teeth, I set off at a run.
At that moment, one of the bodies twitched on the wall. I skidded to a halt so fast Cage smacked into me, and we both stumbled. “Did you see that?” I whispered, angling the light at the body, now hanging limp.
“See what?”
I stared into the shadows. It was a girl, my age or a bit younger, with long black hair and brown skin slicked with sweat. She remained absolutely still, hanging limp. “Nothing,” I said at last. “Nothing. My imagination.”
At that second, the girl’s eyes flew open, revealing milky-white, unseeing depths.
“Help,” she croaked, and her voice came out in a horrible rasp—a clash between an alien’s shrill cry and a human girl’s sob. “Somebody . . . please. Help me.”
TWENTY-NINE
SCREAMING, WE RECOILED, COLLIDING WITH the wall. Cage erupted into a string of furious Mandarin, and my ankle twisted, almost capsizing me. “She’s alive,” Cage whispered unnecessarily.
The girl spoke again, her voice stronger but still with that horrible shrill edge. “Who’s there? Please . . . help me. . . .”
“Hang on,” I managed at last. “We’ll get you down.” I turned to Cage, but he was already moving, grabbing the box and scrambling up to pop the girl’s cuffs. She collapsed against my arms, and her knees gave way the second her feet hit the ground. I staggered under the sudden load, and Cage leaped to help me. The crushing weight relaxed as he shared the burden. For a moment I flashed back to Rita’s body landing the same way, to Mom’s.
Together, we laid her on the floor, then wiped fluid from her skin. I seized the opportunity to examine her hands. Sure enough, her nails had elongated like my mother’s, and maybe even more so. There was a strange, mottled pattern on her skin—something I hadn’t noticed on Mom. “Are you okay?” I asked stupidly. I rested her head on my lap and pressed her hand with my own. “What’s your name?”
“Imani,”
she murmured, closing her eyes. “It’s so dark. I can’t see.”
I exchanged glances with Cage. How much should we tell her? “You’re okay,” I lied. “We’re going to get you out of here.” Just like I did for Mom and Rita. I squelched that inner voice and forced myself to focus on the person I could help. “Are you hurt?”
“So thirsty,” she whispered. “Water?”
I hadn’t seen water anywhere on this ship. Cage shrugged. “I’ll go look,” he said. “I can’t search in the dark, though.”
I really didn’t want to be alone in utter blackness with this poor girl and the lifeless—or not?—bodies, but I could hardly begrudge him the light.
Cage retreated at a normal speed, the light bobbing along. I stared after it, memorizing its impression in case I never saw light again. He rounded the corner and vanished, leaving me in sudden, total darkness.
Imani’s fingers trembled around mine, and I adjusted my grip to avoid her nails. “It’s going to be okay,” I repeated. “Cage will find water. Just hold on.”
She didn’t try to reply. I wasn’t even sure she was conscious. We huddled together in a sea of shadows. I’d never seen absolute darkness before; there’d always been ambient light from the stars, or from a computer console, or from passing vehicles back on Earth. When I first reached Sanctuary, I’d remarked on its silent darkness at night. But even then, there’d been the whir of machinery, lights from my charging comm device.
My mind created noise—the other prisoners waking, moaning, thrashing in their bonds. What would I do if that happened? I couldn’t help them, not on my own, not in the dark. My hand tightened involuntarily around Imani’s, and she responded in kind, reassuring me that she, at least, was still with me. The darkness, the silence, left too much to my imagination, which kept forcing pictures of Mom’s lifeless face to the surface. I ground my teeth, directing my thoughts elsewhere.