Division Zero: Thrall

by Matthew S. Cox

  “You’re not even playing. You’re just squishing buttons as fast as you can.”

  She pulled her goggles off and set them on the couch next to her. “That’s playing. If I wasn’t playing, I wouldn’t push any buttons.”

  “That’s not how you play! You’re s’posed ta use moves an’ combos and tactics. Countermoves and attacks.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m winning, aren’t I?”

  Evan frowned. “Wanna play Colony Commando 9? We can be on the same team there.”

  Shani scrunched her face. “Are there bunnies?”

  “No.”

  “Cats?” She tilted her head left.

  “No.”

  “Puppies?” She tilted her head right.

  “No, it doesn’t have cute stuff. It’s about soldiers and aliens.”

  A series of contortions worked their way through her lips as she ground the gears of her little seven-year-old mind. “Do the soldiers shoot bunnies?”

  “No!” Evan threw his hands up in the air.

  “Okay. As long as they don’t kill bunnies.”

  He glared. “‘Kay, lemme put in my EGM username. We can play co-op on this one.”

  “You’re just tired of losing to me.”

  Evan’s eyebrows formed a flat line across his brow. “Yeah, I’m just tired of losing a fuzzy bunny fighting game to a button masher.”

  She gave him a raspberry.

  He punched in his PID, logged into Electronic Game Megaverse, and connected Shani’s Neurocaster IV to his account. Nila’s apartment filled with the sound of a dropship overflight, knocking small objects off shelves in the rumble of starship-sized ion thrusters. A chill washed over him, a sensation which manifested as sharp nausea spreading to a rapid full-body numbness and a cold sweat. He crossed his hands over his belly, shivering.

  “Turn that down! What the hell are you doing?” yelled Nila from the back.

  “Volume twenty percent,” chirped Shani.

  A green line appeared on the holographic display, which then shrank to the left.

  “Okay, Mom.” Shani shoved her feet into the couch hard enough to lean her up and over the back to yell. When she flopped back down, she stared at Evan. “What’s wrong?”

  Evan looked at her, searching for words he could not find. His hands shook, sweat ran down the back of his neck.

  Fear.

  Just as soon as it had come on, it faded. He looked around, fixating on the cartoonish huge-chinned soldier grimacing at him from the screen. Giant machine guns sprouted from both hands and little mini-turrets dotted his powered armor in ridiculous amounts. Letters resembling cut steel spelled out Colony Commando: The Last Hope on the right half of the screen. Nine large bullet holes underlined it―the ninth in the series.

  She made a face at the image in the goggles. “The first one and the ninth one are the same game with little bit better graphics. His armor is silly. If he fired all those guns at once, he’d fall over, and where does he keep all the bullets? This is the ninth one? Why do they keep making these games?”

  New maps, new weapons, new aliens. Evan answered in his own head; the impulse to speak got lost trying to wander from brain to tongue. “S-something’s wrong.”

  “This was your idea, Evvie.” Shani grabbed her goggles and popped them on. “You’re not afraid of some slimy aliens are you?”

  The doorbell chimed, a series of bell noises. Nila had said the music was from some big guy named Ben, in England. Evan whipped around to stare at the door. The pealing vibrated through his bones. Shani tossed the goggles, leaping to her feet and cheering “I got it! I got it!”

  “Shani, no! Don’t open the door!” Evan screamed and started to climb over the couch to get away, stopping when he saw Shani’s hand on the knob. “Nila!”

  old grit ground into Kirsten’s skin with every breath. Her head felt as though someone inflated it to many times its size. Numbness manifested in patches over a body she could not move. The taste of dust made her sputter, and she gathered every ounce of conscious willpower into the task of getting her lips away from the floor. Air washed over her belly as her weight shifted. Freezing metal spots found the small of her back―rigid bands locked about her wrists. Her eyes snapped open.

  She was in the cell.

  Short-chain binders pinned her ankles together and kept her hands behind her back. Some manner of rubbery cord linked the two restraints, allowing her little range of motion. Devoid of reason, Kirsten thrashed in an effort to break free. Her struggle ground more painful sand into her hips. She knew she was not strong enough to crack plastisteel, but some primal instinct urged her to try. Lying still would be to accept her captivity.

  “You fucking bastard!” she screamed. “Don’t you dare touch him!”

  Her voice echoed back from the basement until the only sound was her own breathing. Muscles exhausted, the elastic strap drew her hands and feet close once more. The memory of Konstantin’s touch between her legs brought hot anger to her face; her attempt to cover herself came to a halt with a metallic click. Kirsten wobbled into a kneeling position, wringing her arms in an ineffectual attempt to slip loose.

  “Lay off the yelling or they’ll gag you,” a voice whispered. Now awake, the woman who had been in the cell before was sitting up, leaning against the far wall.

  Kirsten’s face burned red. She twisted around to examine the cuffs locked on her legs. Like the door, they were mechanical, and almost a half-inch thick. The logo of an online kink store was etched along the hasp. Whoever put them on her tightened them too much, enough to break bones if she twisted wrong. At least the only person who can see me is another woman. Her head sagged forward. She remembered her mother dragging her into the kitchen by her hair. She felt helpless then. She thought about waking up in her own cuffs when Templeton found her. That had been scary, but it had not topped Mother. Hiding under an SUV in a parking garage to elude a man with vibro claws―that made her feel more vulnerable than Mother ever had. When there was nothing between her and an assassin but a fast-disintegrating concrete support pylon, that surpassed the SUV.

  Kirsten stared at herself. Naked, hogtied, and trapped in the basement dungeon of a manor house where no one knew she had gone. I’ve gotta stop trying to one up myself. She squirmed, brushing hard grainy bits from her back as best she could. Crushed soy hull. A glance at the cat box sent her into another fit of struggling. The bodies had soy hull and cat litter in their skin. She dry heaved twice before working up a sweat from trying to pull her hands through the cuffs.

  “You’re wasting your strength,” said the other woman. “The guy they had here before you was huge, and he couldn’t break them.”

  That must’ve been Arris.

  “I gotta get out of here. That piece of shit is going after my son.” Kirsten stared at the ceiling, thinking about what the Seraphim told her, something about being out there to protect her. She curled into a ball, shivering from shame as well as the cold. Where were they now? Her mind began down the path of ‘where are they when I need their help,’ but she put the brakes on. They’re not here. They gave me a boost off the parking deck. I must not need their help now. “There’s a way out.”

  “Good fucking luck finding it.” The woman puffed at a stray bit of hair over her eyes.

  Kirsten wobbled onto the balls of her feet and hopped twice toward the door before the elastic pulled her off balance. She fell forward, whimpering from the strike of her knees on concrete.

  The other woman shook her head. “What ‘chu gonna do? Bite the bars out? You can’t even stand up to see the lock.”

  “I’m not helpless.”

  “Yeah, you sure as hell don’t look it. Skinny ass bitch done up like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

  “They didn’t blindfold me. I’ll kill the first son of a bitch I see.” Kirsten snarled, falling over backwards in a failed attempt to get back on her feet.

  “You go, girl. Kick some ass. We halfway out now.” She laughed at
Kirsten’s ungainly roll. “So what are you doing here? They grab you just like the others?”

  “I’m with Division Zero.” Kirsten grunted, taking another futile stab at breaking the restraints, or at least snapping the elastic. She got one hand around the rubber cord; it was at least an inch thick.

  “That sounds kinda military.”

  “Police, actually.” Back on her belly, she rested her head sideways on the cold floor, panting.

  “You’re a skinny little thing for a cop. Thought all cop chicks were like dudes with boobs.”

  “Maybe in Five or Six. I’m more of a detective.” You’re keeping secrets, K? Neither one of us has much to hide at this point. She blushed again.

  “Oh, so you gonna detect our asses out of here? I’ve been stuck in this cage for two weeks. Least they haven’t taken me out. Guess they’re strugglin’ to find a buyer. My brown ass ain’t so exotic, but a pale thing like you oughta be outta here real fast.”

  Kirsten rocked until she wound up seated again. She glared at the wall just past the woman’s head, jealous for a moment her cellmate was not hogtied. “They’re not going to sell us. We’re going to be used as human sacrifices to summon demons.”

  “Yeah, right.” The other woman stared down. Ten seconds later, her gaze leapt to the door, and then she fell over sideways in a furious effort to break her cuffs. “Shit! You’re right, these weird motherfuckers are gonna kill us.” She stopped fighting when she ran out of breath. “Why the hell did they take our clothes if all they wanna do is kill us? You got a point though, the one dude was a little harsh to look at.”

  Kirsten did not want to admit to being about to get it on with a seventy-year-old man. The mere combination of her last glimpse of Konstantin’s face coupled with remembering his ‘worker’s’ hand touching her brought back the dry heaves. She leaned forward, face on knees, breathing. When the wave of nausea subsided, she spent another minute searching for a voice. “It’s probably to reduce forensic evidence or some weird ritual thing I don’t understand. All the victims found so far were nude. I dunno, maybe the bastard likes the view or maybe you get bigger demons for sacrificing naked virgins. Name’s Kirsten, by the way.”

  “Miranda. Heh, guess that’s why I’m still here.” Much of the cockiness had vanished from her voice. “I haven’t been one of those in a long time. Shit, are you really a cop? That means you got backup comin’ right? You’re gonna get us outta here? I don’t wana fuckin’ die.”

  “I… I didn’t tell them I was coming here. It was sort of on a, umm… date.” She shivered, as cold as she was ashamed.

  “Date?” Miranda wriggled herself seated again. “You were dating an old geezer?”

  Kirsten went pale. “Don’t remind me. He had some kind of spirit embedded in this bracelet he gave me. I think it made me see him as if he was perfect.” As if being chained up in here isn’t embarrassing enough. They were all right. Everyone was trying to warn me. Evan called him old… To a nine year old anyone over 18 is old. He was t oo good to be true. Tears fell from her eyes and slid down her shins.

  “So, cop chick, how are you figurin’ our asses are getting out of here? I don’t know about you, but I feel pretty damn screwed. Your ass is thin, but you ain’t making it through the bars.”

  Nothing to lose now. “I’m psionic. Division Zero is a special branch of the police commissioned to deal with psionic criminals. I happen to be the one that gets stuck with all the other stuff, like ghosts.”

  “You’re psi… psionic?” Miranda squirmed against the wall until she stood on tiptoe in the corner, chains rattling. “Please don’t kill me. Papa warned me about psionics. Said you come from the Devil.”

  “I’m so tired of that bullshit!” Kirsten shrieked. “Fucking made up Satan has nothing to do with it.”

  This time her growling struggle to free herself made Miranda whimper as if trapped in jail with a hungry lion held back by a leash that could break at any second. Finding the effort futile, Kirsten glared, lost somewhere between crying at old wounds and getting so furious her heart felt like it would explode. She closed her eyes, seething. Chaos swam through her mind until all she thought about was finding a way to get to Evan.

  Kirsten narrowed her gaze at her whimpering cellmate. “Not every psionic can kill people with their mind. Some can just play with emotions, see ghosts, or hear what you’re thinking. No, I’m not reading your mind right now. I try not to just invade people’s privacy. My mother was like you, thought psionics were the Devil’s work. Bitch almost killed me when I was ten.”

  “I’m sorry.” Miranda closed her eyes, crying, whispering to God for help. After a moment of nothing happening, she sniffled and glanced down at the floor. “Can you kill people?”

  Kirsten took a deep breath, bristling with anger at the fear in the sound of Miranda’s clattering handcuffs, and let it out in a long, drawn-out groan. “Yeah. I got lucky enough to be one of the few who can. However, I don’t like doing it. It hurts me too… and it just feels, I dunno, wrong.”

  “Oh, God. Oh, God. Please don’t hurt me. Now I know why I’m stuck in here. God wanted me to stop being afraid of psionics.”

  Kirsten shifted, unable to get comfortable. “Ugh. Look, I don’t have time to fucking debate theology with you. We’re both stuck in this place, and I know for a fact we can get out of here.”

  “How could you know that?”

  I bet I could tell this one an angel told me and she’d believe it. “I’m psychic.”

  Miranda giggled, nervously, still trying to squeeze herself into the wall.

  Kirsten shivered with rage. Evan was in danger and she could not do a damn thing about it. Like Princess Alsbeth in the Monwyn vid, she sat locked in a long-forgotten dungeon. At least Alsbeth had a beautiful white robe. Unfortunately, there was no great and powerful wizard coming to save her. No, Princess Wren gets stuck saving herself. You fell for the Prince Charming routine and he turned out to be a geriatric maleficar . For a moment, she pondered trying to use Beacon to call Theodore or Dorian, but decided against it. Konstantin might have things in this house capable of destroying Dorian, and she did not want Theodore to find her like this . She studied the lone LED bulb, the walls, the floor, and the bars. So damn cold.

  “Hey, these cuffs came from a sex shop right? Maybe they have a safety release?”

  “You into that weird shit?” Miranda blinked.

  Kirsten was past blushing anymore. “No, I just hear stories from the Div One guys who find people in compromising situations. This one guy was hanging from his ceiling for twenty-seven hours before he realized the cuffs had a thumb switch.” She scooted over and studied the restraints on Miranda’s legs. “Shit, just keys. Dammit.”

  “Can you, like, maybe scoot back to your side?”

  “What, you don’t want me to get any psionic on you?” Kirsten squinted. “We’re trapped in here like this and all you can think about is not wanting to touch a psionic? Really? Are you that damn shallow?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “Too damn late. So, how’d you wind up here? All of the other victims had no family or anyone to notice them missing. You got people looking for you?”

  “I can’t tell you. Please don’t read my mind, it’s not admissible.”

  “Did you kill anyone? You gonna kill anyone?”

  Miranda shook her head. “No, uhh, I did fantasize about shooting the bastard who put me in this cage.”

  “Then I couldn’t care less right now. I just need to get out of here and get to my son before that motherfucking, lying, cheating, son of a bitch, bastard…” Kirsten strained against the cuffs with each curse word, until she broke down and sobbed. The remembered touch of a calloused hand sliding up inside her thigh flashed from handsome highwayman to horror-vid walking corpse. She gagged.

  “I snuck in to rob the place. This guy has a lot of expensive shit. Some of it supposed to be priceless. I dunno what happened to me. I’m creepin’ arou
nd this museum-like room, right?” She made hand gestures behind her back while speaking. “Then there was this, like, cold on the back of my neck. Like some kinda hand was made outta ice grabbed me, and everything went dark. I woke up like this.” Miranda fidgeted, her fear ebbed enough to let her heels touch the floor again. “Hey, how good are you with your tongue?”

  Kirsten’s bawling shut off as if a switch was thrown. “What did you just say? How can you think about that at a time like this? I don’t even like women. Hey, wait a sec. You’re all into the God thing, but you were gonna rob the place? What happened to thou shalt not steal?”

  “It took a back seat to ‘thou shalt not starve.’ Anyway, that’s not what I mean. If you promise, and I mean swear-promise not to arrest me, I might be able to help us get out.”

  “If you could just get out, why are you still here?”

  “’Cause, you stupid bitch, I can’t reach.” She bounced like an anxious kid begging for a treat. “You swear-promise?”

  “What are you, twelve? This isn’t a goddamned sleep over.” She exhaled hard enough to blow cat litter across the floor. “Fine.”

  Miranda swung her head to the side, tossing hair away from a small half-inch black square behind her right ear. It had a light grey stick-figure head with snake-hair stenciled in the middle of it. “

  “A medusa.” Kirsten blinked. “You have a Loki Blade don’t you?”

  Miranda looked down. “They’re not illegal. Just, well… frowned on.”

  “Yeah, I know. Div One loves to do awful things to people who have them. Come on, get down and scoot over―if you can stand to let a psionic touch you.”

  “Soz.” Miranda slid down the wall until she sat on the floor, and shifted onto her stomach before crawling closer. She halted, staring up and trembling.