Fear My Mortality

by Everly Frost

  “It’s a bunch of swirls.”

  I jabbed my finger at a particular spot. “It’s the curve of the corridor. See this splash. That’s where we are. See this other line, stretching perpendicular. It’s opposite us.” I pushed past him as he peered into the glass with a puzzled look on his face.

  There it was, on the opposite wall—a bump. I pressed it and a small, round panel slid open. A lock glided out. I turned to Michael with my best game show host impersonation. “Ta-da.”

  “Huh. What do you know?”

  I turned the key in the lock and pushed. Michael stepped inside and I glanced back at the glass panel. It looked like only part of the map, the beginning of one, but I knew what I was looking for now. We left the door open behind us as we ran down the new corridor, looking for a glass panel with an exit marked on it.

  We ran for what seemed like half a mile, the corridor always pulling slightly to the left in the circle that Michael had talked about. We found another exit to a new corridor, and then another, and with each one, the curve in the walls became less distinct, larger as we moved closer to the outside of the building.

  Michael pulled me on. “We must be close to the outer corridor.”

  This time we ran for close to an hour, stopping to assess the glazed panels, which showed the way out always in the same direction, but as we followed the curve of the hallway, I realized that something was wrong. I stopped, puffing, standing outside the latest in a string of panels. “I’m sure we’ve been here before.”

  “I’d believe that.” Michael had barely broken a sweat.

  I frowned at the colors on the glass panel. “I’m not reading this right. All the maps say the way out is this way, but we never get any closer to it. We’ve been going around and around. Hang on … ” I peered at the panel again, following the curves with my finger. “It looks like this is pointing inward again, unless … Oh!”

  “What is it?”

  I looked up at the ceiling. I pointed.

  Michael ran his hand through his hair. “They really don’t want anyone getting out of here easy. C’mon. Up on my shoulders.”

  I bit my lip. “Um … ”

  “It’ll be fine, star girl. Time to fly again.” He knelt down and I clambered onto his shoulders, clinging for dear life to his head. I reached upward, touching the ceiling with my palm, balancing there. Little shocks traveled up my legs through the rips in my jeans where his bare shoulders touched my skin, making me shiver. I stretched for the protrusion in the ceiling. “Do you seriously think this is how these guys come to work every day?”

  “Not likely. This must be the emergency escape.”

  I smiled at that. “Do you think they have fire drills?” My fingers found the bump and pressed. It slid open. This time something opened in the ceiling behind us. It creaked and clanged and a pair of stairs unfolded all the way to the floor.

  “At least I don’t have to toss you up there.” There was a grin in his voice. As he spoke, Michael moved, and I lost my balance, the world swung. He caught me—just in time. Right before my field of view filled with Michael’s shoulders, I caught a glimpse of something I didn’t want to see. A small red light.

  I settled down in the crook of his arm, frozen against him.

  “Hey,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

  “No.” My breathing increased. I pressed my face into his chest, keeping my voice low, my lips concealed. “They’re watching. I’ve been so stupid.”

  It took him a moment. He froze too.

  “I guess that’s why we haven’t seen any guards yet.” I raised my eyes to his. I ducked my head down again. “I’m sorry. I should have known this was way too easy.”

  He gave me a single nod. I raised my face to his again. He looked as if he needed to say a thousand things, but they’d see. They’d hear. One corner of his mouth rose. He glanced up at the camera with the strangest look in his eyes. Then he said, “I’ve been wanting an excuse to do this.”

  He dropped his lips to mine.

  It was so unexpected, I didn’t even know how to react. A sharp snap of energy jolted all the way down my neck like a bolt of firelight sizzling all the way to the tips of my toes.

  I gasped, and he moved backward, letting me go, as though he was worried he’d done the wrong thing. I pulled him back to me before our lips could part, crushing myself against his chest. My head tipped back as I drank in the rafts of energy coursing from him to me until everything around me blurred and was forgotten, and the electrical pulse between us became a constant thrum that I couldn’t live without.

  For a moment, I forgot all about running and being afraid, and even the tremors in my body stopped and focused and let me just be. And what I wanted to be was there, right then, with his arms around my waist and shoulders, my own around his back, and stillness in my heart.

  Too soon, he spoke, his words smothered against my mouth, “Let’s go up the stairs. It’s probably a trap, but there’s no other choice, right?”

  “Right,” I whispered as our mouths moved apart.

  He gave me a crooked smile, with one of those I-kind-of-really-hope-that-was-okay-just-now looks. I grinned back, thinking that it might be the last time I’d have the chance to snatch a moment of happiness, even if it was tempered by cameras and the knowledge that capture was only minutes away.

  Michael took my hand and I followed him up the stairs.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  We emerged into another corridor, only a few feet long, with a door at the end of it. Dim lights lifted the gloom and I ran my hand along the wall, in case I found another concealed bump, but there were no other openings here, no other pathways to escape through. I put my hand up against the door, and Michael rested his over mine, making me feel unnaturally calm.

  I leaned in and pressed my ear against the door, hoping to hear something that might tell me what was behind it. I was surprised to find that it wasn’t metal, but wood painted black.

  I left my face resting there, cool, controlled for a brief moment. Michael breathed out beside me. His hand moved over mine, his fingers wrapping tight. His forehead dropped to the door and my own slumped, until my chin rested all the way on my chest, my hair falling forward. I said, “It’s time to go in.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  I didn’t quite meet his eyes, turning away from the determined gleam in them. Shivers and knots filled my muscles and made my head swim. When I put the key in the lock and pushed on the door, I moved without feeling my feet.

  We heard the fighting before we saw it, but it was the crisp, clean scent of fresh bamboo that overwhelmed me. Two steps took us beyond the short entrance into a wide combat theater. Wooden pillars rose to the ceiling, the floor covered in beautifully woven tatami matting, each wall decorated with swords, knives, and shining weapons.

  We were in the Terminal.

  Michael pulled me behind a pillar. Three people already battled in the center of the room, whirling in a deadly dance. Not one of them looked to be losing, none of them giving ground.

  I expected to see faces in the viewing booths above us, crowds to see the fight. I hoped that maybe someone—anyone—might help us. But the panels were blanked out, shuttered black.

  “If this is the Dojo, where are the spectators?”

  Michael dropped to one knee, tugging me down with him. “There are drones everywhere. Look.” He pointed to the four corners of the ceiling, as well as between each one. Small brown drones blended into the wooden surrounds, barely visible. He ran a hand through his hair, face paler than I thought possible. “Someone’s watching us.”

  My blood pounded, but not with fear. “Then let’s take them out.”

  “Yeah, and then we need to get past those guys.”

  I forced a smile. “I don’t think they’re going to let us stroll on out of here.”

  One of the fighters did a backflip. The other one cast a running jump
up one of the wooden pillars and hung in the air, kicking the first one flat, staying airborne for an impossible amount of time.

  I remembered the newsflash in the truck. Gravity-defying fields. “At least I know how to kill the drones.”

  I scooted around the edge of the room, aiming for the end furthest away from the fighters. The newsreader had said that only five would be allowed into the Dojo. Either there were two more coming or we were the other two. I eyed the weapons on the wall and picked the closest knife with the sturdiest-looking handle. Locating the drone furthest from the fighters, I circled out into the room as far as I dared, knowing the others might see me, but I needed the run up.

  I charged at the nearest corner, launched myself at the wall on one side, and felt gravity change, gripping me as if I had a string attached to the top of my head. I bounced over to the other wall and back again, higher each time. On the last bounce, I reached out, plucked the drone out of the air and wrenched it down to the floor, ignoring the whirring blades, smashing the handle of the knife into it. Once. Twice. The glass fell out of the camera and the drone’s body cracked, spilling out electronics.

  The other fighters seemed oblivious, intent only on each other. I looked to Michael, but he already followed my lead. Within minutes, we broke four of the drones, but as I landed down again, I shuddered to find that the remaining drones circled overhead and the fighting behind us had changed.

  The three fighters had separated, keeping a distance from each other, watching us at the same time. It looked like one of them was a woman. The other two were definitely men. It was impossible to tell who they really were because they were in costume. Black ninja garb covered their faces and bodies.

  They crept toward us, shoulders hunched, weapons ready. They must have wondered what we were doing there, me in my white t-shirt and ripped jeans, Michael bare to the waist. At least it looked like we’d fought our way in there.

  I still had the knife in my hand. So did Michael.

  Something about the group changed, their formation altered. I glanced at Michael and he had a look on his face like he’d seen it all before. We were the intruders. The common enemy.

  Three against two.

  For now.

  I figured they were too crazed with battle to recognize my face from the news or else they might have stopped. Maybe asked questions. But of course, they wouldn’t. They couldn’t die. The idea of dying was impossible to them. They had no war to fight.

  I pictured Josh tapping his forehead. The only war we fight is the one in here.

  Michael moved like a bodyguard, blocking me, but I wasn’t going to let him fight for me this time. Live or die. I looked to the nearest wall of weapons, wishing I had something more than the knife, but if I broke off to grab something else, it could set off a reaction from the fighters, and it would leave Michael without backup. The knife would have to do.

  One of them headed straight for us, the other two circled, moving in behind. Michael swiveled to the first one. When he fought, before he killed Josh, he was cold and uninterested. The look on his face now was something I hadn’t seen before. Anger. So intense that his lips drew back in a snarl.

  He spoke to the first one, the woman. “Do your worst.”

  She raced at him, but instead of meeting her, Michael spun and flung his knife at the man edging up behind me. The guy staggered backward and dropped to the floor. At the same time, the second man lunged for me. Michael brushed past me, snatched the knife from my hand, and the second man went down. The woman changed course and rushed at me instead of Michael. I barely had time to think about dodging when Michael flew back, crashed into her from the side and knocked her to the ground. She rolled to safety.

  “They know I’m protecting you!” It was all Michael had time to shout before the woman jumped back to her feet, bouncing up off the wall at him with her weapon ready to cut him to shreds. He didn’t move fast enough and she sliced his hand clean off.

  It didn’t even leave his wrist. The woman’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in disbelief. Michael gave his wrist a light touch, watching the woman’s reaction with a wicked grin on his face.

  Then she charged him again. I sensed movement behind me and I glanced at the other two.

  They hadn’t stopped watching me while they waited for their bodies to heal. To them, I was the weak one. The one they could get to.

  Stuff that.

  I raced over to the wall of weapons and grabbed something I could use: a thin ribbon of leather with a serrated edge, about two feet long with a handle at one end. I’d danced with ribbons and I figured this wouldn’t be much different. So long as I kept it away from my own face.

  The first guy recovered and was upon me.

  I swung, letting the ribbon unfurl into the air, arc out, and whip around his upraised arm. He blinked, frozen, but the initial moment of surprise passed. He yanked his hand back, pulling on the ribbon, trying to upset my balance. I braced, held tight, and he roared, his wild eyes the only thing giving away any hint of pain or fear as the ribbon left a gash across his forearm.

  He lunged for me again, and I whipped the ribbon his way, missing his face by a scant quarter inch. Up close, I knew I’d be in trouble. I leaped for the nearest wooden pole and shimmied up it. The fighter raced after me, snatching at my ankle with his good hand. He took a second to produce another knife and in the meantime, I’d made it further up the pole. He slashed at me, as high as he could reach, and my thigh stung.

  I kicked him hard in the face. He tried to dodge backward, but blood gushed down across his mouth, soaking through the black material. I was sure I’d broken his nose and it gave me the time I needed to gain another couple feet of height, where I clung with my legs, the task made easier by the anti-gravity. I only had a moment before he climbed up after me. The ribbon was still in my hand, clutched in shaking fingers.

  As he spat out blood and wiped his streaming nose, I dropped my head, arching back and down, still clinging with my legs, controlling the swing just enough to stop before I slammed the back of my head into wood. As the room tilted upside-down, I judged the distance between him and me. My arm snapped out. The ribbon darted like a black snake, winding around his neck.

  He forgot his nose and grabbed at the serrated edge around his throat. His eyes changed to something very uncertain. Maybe he even wondered what it might be like to die.

  I stopped thinking about it and forced my arms to retract.

  He dropped to the floor.

  I lifted myself back to the pole. My body heaved. I made myself shimmy further up and around to the back and I stayed there with my legs and arms clutching wood as if I could squeeze my soul into it. If I could just see Michael, see that he was okay, then I was sure I’d be okay too. I wanted to bury my head and tune out to the sounds of clashing steel. We hadn’t finished smashing drones, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. They’d never let us out. Never.

  I touched my pocket, grasping for the only thing that could help us, but all I found was tattered material and a hole through which my fingers poked. The syringe of nectar had to be on the floor somewhere. I dropped to the ground, floating down in the arms of the anti-gravity.

  There. The nectar had rolled a few feet away.

  “Ava! Move!” Michael’s voice shocked me into action. I dropped and rolled without even looking. The air shifted. There was a twang in the pole behind me, a quivering arrow, as the woman ran toward me, notching another one. The last man lunged at Michael as he tried to follow her, forcing him to turn and fight. I sprinted for the wall of weapons, weaving around the pole. Another arrow thwacked wood. There was a clatter behind me, way too close. My hand reached for something—anything—to fight her with.

  Something swiped my legs out from under me. I crashed to my side, the air crushed out of my lungs. She snatched up my arms into a death grip, pressing me into the floor.

  Her breath kissed my cheek. “I didn’t think I’d dance in t
he same room with you again, Ava. Not ever.”

  I struggled, my cheek grazing the tatami floor, the clean musk of bamboo rushing into my lungs. “Hannah?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  She pulled off her face mask. Her words washed over me like shock waves. I told myself I wasn’t hearing her right, that she couldn’t be saying it, that she was my best friend. “You’re a Basher.”

  She planted her knee on the small of my back, pushing my face into the floor with her free hand. “For a while now.”

  “Why, Hannah?”

  “Because the government is creating weapons that kill people. Messing with our DNA. They shouldn’t be the ones with that power.”

  “And the Bashers should? They want to do exactly the same thing. Tell me I’m wrong.” I tried to see her face, but she wrenched on my arms.

  There was silence, broken only by the distant clashing of swords. Her voice turned to a whisper. “The Bashers want to use you too. They want the blood running in your veins more than anything else. With your blood, they can eliminate the weak once and for all. They can choose who lives.”

  “Hannah, I—”

  “You’re nothing to them, Ava. Just like Josh was nothing to them. When they couldn’t use him to make a weapon, they took that thing out of his back, took away the only thing keeping him safe because they wanted what was inside it.” There was a snarl in her voice. “Nectar. It’s just as important as you are. They killed him for it, and they’ll end up killing you too.”

  Her arms trembled and her voice choked. “They asked me to find you. So I did. I found you. And I’m not going to spend the rest of my life buried in a cell.” She shook herself before she ground out, “I was glad I blew your legs off. Do you know how demeaning it was to find out I’d been dancing with a mortal? Competing with a mortal?” She spat the word as if it was a bug that needed squashing.