by J. C. Nelson
“Go back to sleep. I’ll report the theft. God knows they expect this kind of crap from me. Night, Grace.” He hung up, leaving me asking myself why I’d lied a third time to him in one day.
I got out of bed and picked up the remains of my computer, which, despite the crack in the screen, still somewhat worked. I held down the power until it clicked off, then dumped it in the waste container outside the door.
As I lay back in my bed, the adrenaline drained from me, making it near impossible to keep my eyes open. Then my phone chirped. A new e-mail message, high priority.
I unlocked the phone and read the mail. I read it again, to be sure. It came from Director Bismuth, sent just seconds ago. The body contained a list of files, dates and times, along with my laptop name.
The last line sent chills through me.
“We need to talk.”
Twenty
BRYNNER
I slept in until one and ate a dozen-egg omelet when I got up, compliments of the best chef in the world, my aunt. She granted me a onetime exception to her “no breakfast after noon” rule on account of how much time I’d spent in the hospital. Overnight, I’d had an epiphany, so long as “epiphany” meant I really wanted to talk to Grace.
My aunt made a call to the hospital and then reported back to me. “They’re releasing Grace today. You will be there to pick her up, right?”
Like she needed to remind me. “Aunt Emelia, would you please not help me? I’ve been wining and dining women since I was fourteen.”
She smacked a spatula down an inch from my hands. “Sharing a beer with a girl behind the hot dog stand does not count, Brynner Carson.”
It had worked out fairly well for me. But that brought up another question I’d been dying to ask once I wasn’t near comatose from lack of sleep. “She has Dad’s journals. At the hospital.”
Aunt Emelia nodded. “Of course she does. I brought them to her.”
“You wouldn’t let the BSI near them, wouldn’t even mail them to me, and you give them to her? How much did the BSI offer to pay you, and how many times?”
She sat down beside me. “I wasn’t ever interested in the money.”
I took her hand, remembering so many meals like this. “Then why? Why did you want the journals?”
“I thought one day you might need them. I hoped you’d come back, if only to get them. I don’t care about the journals. Your dad is gone. My sister is gone. And for so long, you were, too.”
“I’m here now.”
When she spoke, her voice cracked. “I don’t have that jar you’re looking for. I don’t have anything to drag you back once you leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I put an arm around her. In my memories, she seemed so tall and intimidating. Sitting next to me, I couldn’t help noticing how frail and small the years had made her.
She looked up at me, her eyes both stern and sad. “You’re a Carson, like your father. I don’t know why God made you that way, but I’m glad he did. You’ll leave. You’ll have to. Maybe it’ll be a meat-skin attacking a school. Or in a nursing home, like last year, but sooner or later, you’ll do what you do.”
She knew how the drive to find and kill the Re-Animus filled me. I hugged her so tight I almost cracked her ribs. “Then I’ll be back.”
After breakfast, I showered, shaved, and dressed in my finest gray BSI field suit. Ladies love a man in uniform. I picked up a bouquet of flowers, then grabbed a box of chocolate-covered scorpions chosen more for the box than the content. Can’t say that ladies loved chocolate-covered scorpions, but they seemed fitting.
When I arrived at the hospital, I entered through the emergency room. A naked Indian man stood in the center of the lobby, mumbling to himself. He grabbed me as I walked past. “Do you want to know a secret? I’m going to live forever, and you are going to die soon.”
I’d have punched him, but my hands were full of flowers and chocolates. I called to the nurse, “This guy’s going to have one heck of a sunburn if he goes outside.”
“Oh, dear lord. Is that the med student from last month?” said the triage nurse. “Someone page Psych. And buzz Brynner through.”
When the door opened for me, the naked man sprinted through, shrieking and waving his hands. Last I saw, he had three orderlies and a nurse chasing him.
I jogged to Grace’s room.
Which was empty.
“They moved her upstairs this morning. Fourth floor, room 418.” The nurse in the doorway looked at me, bemused.
I ran up the stairs rather than wait for the elevator, and nearly ran over Grace in the hallway. She wore a white blouse with yellow buttons and tan pants that showed off her figure. I hadn’t seen her in them before, because anything that looked that good on her wouldn’t be forgettable. “Grace—”
When she looked up at me, my tongue caught in my throat. I shoved the flowers at her. “These are for you. And these.”
“Chocolate scorpions. I’m just getting out of this place.” She handed the box to the nurse and took a carnation from the bouquet, which she slipped into my uniform collar like a boutonniere. “I love carnations. You like the outfit? The head nurse in maternity is the same size I am and lent me clothes so I wouldn’t have to wear a gown back to the motel.”
I snagged the box and handed it back to her. “Love the outfit, and you are going to love this. Trust me.”
The nurse she’d been talking to laughed. “Grace, Dr. Fielding is covering for our psychiatrist today. He’ll be right back to discharge you once he’s done with an emergency.”
Sure he would be. Just as soon as my immortal friend had a nice soft bed and a handful of anti-psychotics. “I’ll wait with Grace.”
Grace held up a bag full of journals. “I didn’t sleep much last night, and they woke me up at morning rounds. I made it through to . . . recent years.”
It would have hurt to say it before, but listening to Grace, nothing hurt. “The ones I’m not in.”
She nodded. “You or your mother. There’re three sequences I can’t make out that appear everywhere, but by that point he was pretty much inventing ways to express ideas. There’s no easy way to say ‘regret,’ for instance, so he writes it as ‘the sad yesterday.’ We thought there were lots of these, but most of them only cover a month or two.”
“I don’t really want to talk about my dad today. Have you reported to the director about your progress? She’s going to be delighted.”
Grace looked like a rainstorm on a sunny day, the worry that passed across her face cast her blue eyes downward. “Not yet.”
“Did you have time for my translation before your laptop got stolen?”
Again, worry shaded her beautiful smile. I cursed myself for bringing it up. They’d probably take it out of her check.
She finally looked at me. “Yes, I did, but I lost my notes with the laptop. The inscription referenced Ra-Ame. Last time you brought her up, I argued. This time, I want to hear what you think about her.”
Though the name confirmed my fears, I held myself calm for Grace. And as for Grace believing in Ra-Ame, I’d sooner believe Grace wanted me to cut her liver out. “You’ve met a Re-Animus. Remember how smart it was? How fast it was?”
“I remember.” The blood drained from her face, and Grace glanced quickly to the door.
“Ra-Ame is basically their God. Dad thought she might have been one of the first, or maybe just the oldest left. So when her name comes up, we pay attention.” When her name came up, I usually didn’t sleep for a few days.
Grace nodded. “And you believe this, too?”
How could I answer? I put one hand on her shoulder, careful to make sure it came across right. “I’m as sure of it as I am anything. You’ve heard the Re-Animus talk about her.”
“I’ve heard adults talk about the Easter bunny and honest lawyers. On the other hand, the Easter bunny hasn’t tried to kill me. Her name comes up in your dad’s journals quite a bit. I can’t quite decipher the surrounding text,
but I’ll get there.”
Which reminded me of the other thing about Ra-Ame. “If you find anything about her, it has to be reported to Director Bismuth immediately.”
Grace sighed, her shoulders dropping. “I’ll call Director Bismuth tonight.”
With a rumbling like a thousand thunderclaps, the world exploded beneath us.
GRACE
The building shook, and a roar like a fighter jet broke all the windows, throwing me to the ground. Outside the windows, black smoke billowed. Brynner got to his feet first, sprinting to a broken window to look down. “Are you okay? Building’s on fire. Let’s get you out of here.”
“I’ll live.” I ran to my room, grabbed the bag with Heinrich’s journals, and followed him down a stairwell. Screams and shouts of chaos filled the dark, until Brynner kicked a door open, letting blinding sun in. “Get out.” With strong hands he forced me out, guiding a stream of patients behind him.
To the south, the front of the building lay in smoking ruins. I choked on the acrid black smoke and the reek of natural gas.
“Get them away from the doors, send them as far out into the field as possible.” Brynner squinted, looking out into the field. Bodies lay scattered like leaves blown by the wind.
Bodies that now moved, rising to their feet. They pivoted toward the exit door, and lurched forward, barely moving. These weren’t like the ones at the farm. Their motions seemed dull, their gaze unfocused.
“You deal with these. They’ll be easy kills for the time being. I’m going to go take care of the ones inside.”
I looked over to him. “I thought you said co-orgs couldn’t get past the barriers in this place.”
Brynner shook his head. “Barriers can be blown up, if one managed to get inside. After that blast, I doubt any of the barriers are intact.”
The corpses stumbled in our direction, slack mouths open wide. Brynner drew his daggers and sprinted for them, burying his daggers in one after the other, but the wisps of smoke that came up looked more like steam than the clouds of darkness from the ones I’d seen before. He ran back to me, reaching into the bag. “Take this.”
He handed me the box of chocolate-covered scorpions.
Which felt quite heavy. I threw the box top off and found a Deliverator inside.
“They’re all special rounds.” Brynner took my hand for a moment, looking straight into my eyes. “Make sure if you point it at someone, they’re already dead. Otherwise, you’ll have to shoot twice. Once to kill them, once to keep them that way.”
As he pushed into the stream of frightened people leaving the building, I shouted, “Where are you going?”
“The nursery is on the second floor.” He pointed to the field. “Guide the evacuation, move everyone away from the building, and keep them safe. I’m going to make sure the nurses can get everyone out.” He disappeared, using sheer strength to swim upstream in the frantic crowd.
“Move,” I yelled, forcing myself to stand tall and act braver than I felt. “Move in a line, no shoving, no pushing. Proceed to the far end of the parking lot as fast as you safely can.”
After what seemed like an eternity, the gush of people in the emergency exit slowed, and my first nurse appeared, holding two babies in a sling and one in each arm. I grabbed her for a moment. “How many more are up there?”
She looked at me, her eyes wide. “They’re everywhere.”
“Babies. How many more babies?” I looked into her eyes, willing her to answer.
“Six. The other nurse will bring them. If she’s not—” A second explosion rocked the building. The nurse shrieked, throwing herself to the ground. “There’s oxygen tanks in there.”
I watcher her rise and run for the field. When I turned back to the stairwell, a nightmare waited.
A bloated, burnt corpse staggered out of the stairwell, one side charred to ash.
If I’d watched that nurse two seconds longer, I might have died. I stumbled backward, then set my stance and brought the gun to bear, lining up for a chest shot.
It stopped, wavering back and forth, then opened its mouth, splitting the skin on its cheek. “Grace Roberts. Come with me. Bring the books.” This voice was different. A different Re-Animus.
I shot it and kicked the body out of the way. Hearing my name spoken by co-orgs would have left me stunned if it weren’t for more pressing matters. Even if the nurses got the other babies out, what about the patients in the cancer ward?
Of course, if the Re-Animus was truly interested in me, the safest thing to do might be to flee, drawing the dead away from the hospital. What had I said to Brynner about running away?
I had a field team badge. Received field operative pay, and had a teammate missing inside the building. I ran for the remains of the emergency entrance. Where the security door stood, a naked man wandered, dazed.
He flailed at me, but I avoided him and ran for the nearest stairs. In the hallway, one of the nurses who treated me stumbled out, a metal rod driven through her chest. “Grace Roberts, come back,” said the same voice through her lips. A different voice than the one on the farm. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot her, even though I knew she was gone.
I dashed up the stairs to the second floor, where the fire sprinklers doused everything, keeping the flames at the end. Every crib lay empty, but from the sounds of crashing metal and breaking glass, I wasn’t alone.
I didn’t flinch as I shot the doctor who was missing most of his face and arm, not even when he mouthed my name. Beyond the neonatal ward, a crowd of corpses pressed in, hands outstretched.
In the middle of them stood Brynner, his daggers flying, leaping from side to side, on top of dead co-orgs. I picked two on the outside and shot them.
They stopped, letting Brynner tear into the nearest ones, and the crowd turned toward me. In one voice, they spoke. “Grace Roberts.”
“Get out of here,” yelled Brynner. “Get out and stay out.”
I shot two more as they stumbled toward me. “Did you notice I have a fan club?”
“Not funny. Stay in the sun, shoot anything that approaches you. Please.” Brynner stabbed another one, and spun one away from me.
The sound of crying in a room down the hall caught my attention, and I shot the three co-orgs in my way to run to the door. In the bed, a woman lay, hooked up to IVs and monitors. Her ashen face said she didn’t have long to live, but no one deserved to die like this.
I pulled out the IVs, ripped off her monitors, and flopped her into a wheelchair. We rolled through flames to where Brynner stood, knifing the last co-org from the pile.
I pointed to the main stairwell I’d come in by. “The one we used is on fire. I’m going out the main entrance with her.”
He nodded. “I’m going to start at the top and sweep the floors.” He ran for the east stairwell, running up into smoke, avoiding the flames below.
I pushed her to the main stairs. If I lost control of the wheelchair, she’d break her neck on the way down. I slipped one arm under her and lifted. “You need to hold on to me. Can you do that?”
My patient looked up and nodded, her eyes sunken deep. “I can do it.”
With my one arm under her and the other holding my Deliverator, we limped down the stairs. Every few steps I looked back to make sure nothing came after us from behind. When we reached the ruined emergency room, I practically dragged her through the twisted doors, where an orderly ran to help me.
“Grace Roberts.” The Re-Animus voice sounded close enough to touch.
I spun and aimed.
The naked man from earlier looked at me with wild eyes, a pair of dead women flanking him. “Come with me. I open the way to the woman and the books; he gave me eternal life.”
I kicked him in the crotch, and both of the corpses behind him collapsed at the same time, holding testicles they didn’t have. Still half dragging the woman, I limped toward the door. When we stepped out of the building, I couldn’t help feeling better. Just outside the doors, I set her down an
d took a deep breath.
Someone yanked my head backward, dragging me by the hair, back into the emergency room. I grabbed the wrist dragging me and kicked my way onto my feet, then drove myself forward, head butting the man right in the stomach. He fell backward, his arms lying limp to show slashed wrists, which still oozed blood. While he lay there, I took stock of my assailant, a thin Indian man with dark brown skin and not a stitch of clothing. Black smoke writhed on his wrist wounds, entering his body and surging out like a wave.
His eyes opened again. “You cannot leave. You are my price. My pathway.” He clutched his hands to his head. “Destroy the barriers first, then embrace death, and let the darkness take me.”
“Surrender, Grace Roberts. She may let you keep your miserable life. If you serve Ra-Ame well, she will grant you entrance to the next.” He staggered toward me, using his arms and legs like an animal.
Ra-Ame. Godess of the Re-Animus. He spoke of her like someone real. I lined up for a shot at his head. The Deliverator clicked but didn’t bark.
I ran back toward the stairs, climbing with leg muscles that burned hotter than the fire licking the carpet edges. At the second floor I stopped. Neonatal. The down arrow said “Emergency.” The up arrow, “Labs and Isolation.” I ran up.
Through labs filled with smoke I sprinted until I reached a long hallway of double-pane glass doors.
I threw emergency breakers as I ran, tripping a set of alarms that joined the chorus and searching each of the glass pods for what I needed. When I looked up, the naked man was standing in the doorway, a group of corpses in his wake.
When he spoke, they all did. “Grace Roberts, I give you my final offer. Surrender or the Sin Eater will give you the death that does not end.”
“Make me.” I threw the Deliverator at him, striking a corpse beside him.
He recoiled, rubbing his face, then sprinted for me.
I held still, waiting, counting as he came barreling down the hallway, and at the last moment, I threw myself at his ankles. One knee caught me in the ribs as I fell, knocking the air out of me with a resounding cracking sound I felt rather than heard.