Halfblood Heritage

by Rheaume, Laura

  The many faces of her personality floated like balls around him. As he neared them, he could sense what they were like. A bloated, oily sphere hinted at a ceremony where she had reveled in her self-importance. Another bouncing, twirling ball revealed a memory of her playing with a small, white dog. There, to the side, something saggy that whimpered painfully, a guilt. He moved closer to that one and looked inside: a little boy was running, running into the street, getting hit by a car and falling flat so fast that it didn’t seem real. Then the boy was running again, running into the street. Samuel, her brother, running.

  The nurse whimpered and Scythe realized that she was reliving the memory with him. That gave him an idea.

  “Sis, I’m gonna go play, okay?” Scythe whispered, holding the nurse’s eyes and the memory tightly.

  “No, stay here with me,” the nurse said urgently. “Mom and dad said I was in charge.” Her voice was pitched a bit higher and had a bossy tone to it.

  “But this is boring. I wanna play outside.”

  “No, it’s too dangerous,” her heart was beating really fast now.

  “Okay, then, can I go take a bath?”

  She sighed, relieved, “Sure, I’ll wash your hair.”

  “I need you to undo my shirt. The sleeves are too tight.”

  “Hold on, let me do it.” She started to unfasten his wrist restraints, but then stopped. She frowned slightly. “Wait, what is...”

  The sphere had drifted, or he had. He reached out and clung to it. “Or we can go outside. I’ll show you how fast I run...”

  “No! You stay right here with me, or I’ll spank you.”

  “Then help me with my shirt. It’s hurting my wrist.”

  “I’m doing it, just hold still. You are so squirmy.” She undid the entire strap and Scythe pulled his hand out. He reached for the other buckle.

  “Can you help me get the other one? I’m too small, Sis.” He fumbled with the second hand, trying to unfasten it without looking, keeping his eyes on her face.

  “I’ve got it. Just…move your hand. You’re in the way,” she scolded playfully. The nurse released his other hand and Scythe yanked it out of the loop. He scrambled at the strap across his chest. It came off quickly and he hunched forward, working on his feet. He let the calm wash away, and in its wake a new kind of wave was rising.

  “What...what was that?” He heard her shaken voice behind him and took his eyes off his chore for a second to see that the nurse had backed away in horror. One shaking hand was on her throat, the other clenched in her apron.

  Scythe turned back, finishing the last strap, pulling his foot free and jumping off the bed. He expected to be tired and weak, but, on the contrary, he felt as if he could run all day and not tire out. His legs were springy, and he bounced a little on his toes, enjoying the movement. Warm all over, that’s how he felt: warm and getting warmer by the minute.

  His eyes fixed on his nurse, he said, “Get on the bed and let me strap you down, or I’ll probably have to hurt you.”

  In a very near corner of his mind, he was hoping she wouldn’t do it. His mouth started to spread into a smile at the thought it, rushing her, knocking her down...

  Frightened, she scrambled onto the bed, pushing her hands into the straps, her breath coming in gasps. “I won’t make a sound. I promise.”

  “I know,” he said, stepping forward and punching her in the head solidly and knocking her unconscious. His arm cocked back for another hit, but he stopped and reached instead for the straps. After fastening her to the bed, he ripped the sheet and fashioned a gag, though he doubted she would wake any time soon.

  He pulled the temporary wall over until it was between the bed and the door, and stepped over to the other beds. All three Kin were asleep and didn’t respond to his voice or slaps. Finally, he began to unstrap the patients. I won’t leave them tied up, at least.

  When he was done, he headed for the door.

  On impulse, he turned back, crossed the room to the small table and scooped up the data pad. Checking the display, he pulled up his records and transferred them into the pad. Perusing the other files, he selected a few more and transferred them as well. Then he searched through the drawers and picked up a handful of useful items.

  Hearing steps in the hall, he turned and strode back across the room, moving quicker than he expected. He collided with the wall behind the door, putting up his hands at the last second to stop himself from crashing into it loudly. His heart raced. I’m so fast. I want to go faster!

  He was disappointed when the footsteps passed by, the scent of gun oil drifting to him under the door, so he banged the door once with his hand. The footsteps paused and then returned, a voice calling, “Everything okay in there?”

  The door swung open, and a guard entered. Seeing no one except for the sleeping patients, he walked toward the screen that blocked his view of the other half of the room.

  When he cleared the door, Scythe was on him, jumping easily onto his back and slitting his throat with the scissors he had snatched from one of the drawers. He rode the man to the floor, amazed at how easy it was and strangely excited by the amount of blood spreading across the floor. He looked down at the back of the man’s head, wondering why he didn’t feel any sympathy or remorse. He only felt powerful, sitting on his first kill as the man’s jerky movements slowed and finally stopped. Drawing the smell of warm blood into his nose, Scythe grabbed onto the black shirt, his fingers wrapping themselves up in the thick material.

  His teeth clenched. I remember this uniform.

  When he heard the heart beneath him stop, he turned the man over and pulled the uniform off. Blood was all over the shirt and part of the pants, but it wasn’t easily noticeable on the dark black fabric. The smell, however, was a dead giveaway, so he knew he would have to get another set soon. He put on the entire uniform and the man’s equipment, including the weapon, a semiautomatic pistol. He tucked his long hair into his collar and pulled on the cap. It was no disguise, but it was better than the hospital gown.

  He walked to the door, cracking it slightly to listen and smell. The blood from his shirt was overpowering his nose, so he concentrated on the sounds: some small talking just down the hall to the left and nothing to the right. He pulled the door open, dropping low and looking out, first left then right. The long hall was broken on the left by a nurses’ station and a double door before continuing on for another fifteen feet. To the right, three pairs of doors some ten feet apart were marked only with a number. No windows interrupted the blank, unadorned white walls. No security cameras were visible, nor could he hear any close humming, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any very small ones down the hall. Two nurses worked at the station, monitoring machines and making annotations on data pads.

  Scythe stood, opened the door and strode across to the room opposite his, entering smoothly and looking around. A nurse with his back to the door was getting ready to inject one of the patients. He said, “Yes?” without turning around.

  Scythe stepped up to him, pulling his weapon and bringing it right up against the man’s head. He whispered, “Quiet, and slowly turn around.”

  Scythe felt excitement growing in his chest at the man’s immediate reaction. The smell of sweat and the furiously beating heart left him itching for another struggle. The man’s eyes were popping, and he was making a little whiny noise that he seemed to be unaware of.

  Scythe continued, despite his growing excitement, “If you want to inject yourself with a sedative, I’ll allow it. Or,” he grinned, “I can take care of you myself.”

  Again, he was disappointed when the man nodded and dosed himself with the syringe. He raised his shaking hands, holding up the syringe that was still half full, and said, “It’ll take a minute.”

  “Good, sit.” When the man began to move toward the chair, Scythe shook his head, “No, right here. Now, where are we?”

  The man swallowed, unsure of what to say. Scythe took the syringe out of his hand and asked,
“What will a few more of these doses do to you?”

  The nurse quickly said, “Okay, okay, um, it’s a hospital in Shelfield...”

  “The bordertown?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Scythe now understood why Lena and Ian couldn’t find the Kin. They weren’t in the city to be found in the first place. “How long has it been here?”

  “About seven months or so, since we relocated from the city. There has been some talk of relocating again, though, but I don’t know when.” He blinked and his head bobbed slightly.

  “How many people are here? Guards and staff?”

  “I don’t know. We aren’t allowed to move around a lot, but at least twenty-five soldiers...” He started to slouch over, his eyes closing.

  Scythe shook him, “Only twenty-five soldiers?”

  The man’s hand waved at him uselessly before dropping into his lap. “Mostly upstairs, not so much down here with the subjects.” He leaned over, slumping against the bed. Scythe listened to his heartbeat and breathing, satisfied that he was out before returning to the door to check outside.

  The two nurses continued their work and their animated conversation. Scythe turned back and scanned the room, taking in the three patients, two of whom were unconscious. The third was the one whose dosage was interrupted. The man lay with his head on his pillow, looking confused.

  Scythe walked up to him, whispering very low in Kin, “Can you hear me?”

  The man didn’t answer, but his eyes started to focus on Scythe. He tried again, “Can you move?” The Kin blinked his eyes slowly, but otherwise didn’t respond. Scythe undid his and the other patients’ bindings and went to the door again.

  He paused, considering. He could either get a few patients up and force their way out, or he could try to escape by himself, hoping to make it back with help before the hospital could be moved. His fear with the first plan was that every patient would be as unresponsive as those he had seen. However, the second choice was equally unattractive. Scythe didn’t know what the Humans would do to their captives if they feared they couldn’t relocate in time to avoid discovery, but he could make a few uncomfortable guesses. He decided to check two more rooms before deciding either way.

  He stepped into the hall confidently, turned away from the nurses’ station and crossed to the room next to his. He made himself walk slowly even though his mind and body wanted him to race across the open space. Inside, Scythe found three patients lying still and no nurse. He freed each Kin and then turned toward the door just as he heard the one across the hall open. Footsteps approached before his door swung wide. A nurse backed in with a tray of food. Scythe moved behind her, staying at her back as she rotated, bringing the tray to the table. He had the gun pointed at her and was about to speak when she turned, and, seeing him, screeched reflexively.

  He grit his teeth and then barked in a low, commanding voice, “Quiet!”

  “Oh, my god!” she squeaked again, just as loud as before. “How did you get out? Oh, my god!” She backed up, brushing the tray with her hip and almost sliding it off the table.

  “Stop talking and move against the wall.”

  She inched sideways. “Is that blood on your shirt?” her eyes were fixed on his uniform, and she began to look as if she would panic at any minute. Scythe rushed her, knocking her hands down and punching her. Her head banged against the wall and she crumpled, unconscious, to the floor. He moved in, instinctively snatching up a metal trash can and raising it for the killing blow, before his mind caught up with him and he froze.

  A voice beside him breathed, “Do it.”

  Startled, he turned his head to see one of the freed Kin sitting up weakly, rubbing her wrists. She whispered again, “Do it, brother.”

  He grinned at her, answering, “No, it looks like we are going to need some clean clothes.” The woman got down and together they stripped the nurse. Then Scythe ripped up the nearest sheet and tied and gagged the nurse while the Kin woman struggled to get dressed. Finishing, Scythe helped her pull on the nurse’s uniform, marveling that she could move at all after being bedridden for so long. When she was finally clothed, she straightened up and looked at him. Her expression was determined and expectant. “You are the halfblood, Scythe’s son.”

  Scythe nodded, “Yes, but before you get your hopes up, you should know that I have no idea how in hell we are going to get out of here.”

  “I have prayed…no, I once prayed, but have since given up praying for just one minute of freedom before my death. I am grateful for anything I get past this moment, standing here with you above our fallen enemy. Only, why you have tied her instead of slaying her eludes me.”

  Scythe glanced down at the naked, helpless woman, his passion having stepped momentarily to the side at the discovery of the alert Kin sister. He looked back, “Excuse me, what is your name?”

  “Flame,” she answered.

  Scythe, thinking of the horror of his relatively short confinement, considered her need for vengeance and bowed to her. “Mistress Flame, I will kill her if you desire it.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, and then, giving him a thoughtful look, said, “Let us instead use what time we have to help our brethren.”

  She turned and studied the other patients. “I don’t know how we are going to move them. I’d be very surprised if even one could muster the strength to walk any great distance.”

  “You can, Mistress Flame,” Scythe observed.

  “Flame is fine, child. I have only been in this room for a month or so. Before that, I was less restricted in my movements. I was in the room at the far end of the hall, where a few of our sisters remain until their time.”

  “Can they all get around like you?” Scythe asked hopefully.

  “More or less, depending on their condition. We will have to see. For now, what are our options?”

  “Well, you are the only one I have been able to talk to, but I have three more rooms to check on this side of the nurses’ station. I haven’t been found out yet, but...it could happen any minute. What do you think?”

  “Let us check the other rooms.”

  “Okay, is there always a nurse in every room?”

  “It depends. I’m not sure, but I think so.”

  “I’ll head across the hall. You stay by the door and listen for someone coming down the hall. If someone approaches, knock on the door and I’ll hear you.”

  “Alright. Hurry, Scythe.”

  Scythe nodded, his spirits lifted at not being alone in his escape. He crossed to the door, listening for a change in the status of the nurses down the hall. Hearing the same light banter, he opened the door and strode into the next room. Inside, he found three patients, all unconscious. After attempting unsuccessfully to wake them, he gave up and unfastened them. Then he went to the door and whispered across the hall to Flame in a voice that was barely audible, “I’m going to check out the last two.”

  He exited the room, quickly turning toward the two doors at the end of the hall. He didn’t stop when he heard the double doors open and a voice behind him ask, “Hey, Derrick, what’s taking you so long?”

  He pretended he didn’t hear, entering the door on the right smoothly. As the door closed behind him, he heard steps following him, but was relieved to note that they were moving at a slow, casual pace.

  Scythe scanned the room quickly, taking in the three patients, two of whom were awake and already looking at him and one who appeared to be sleeping, as well as the nurse standing by one of the Kin. The nurse was frozen, his hand still holding up the spoon to his patient’s mouth. Scythe flew across the room, reaching the nurse before he could even get out a yelp and, grabbing him by the throat, bashed his head into the wall behind him. Scythe cringed at the loud thump the movement made. The man’s eyes rolled back and he fell to the floor. Scythe pushed his limp body up against the wall, folding him into a ball and dragged a blanket from the bed over him. He rushed back to the door, pulling out his weapon just as the guar
d, a tall man with short cropped, black hair, entered. The man froze, clearly surprised, but not as frightened as Scythe would have liked.

  “What the hell?” The man put his hands up, but he seemed more curious than worried, despite having a weapon pointed at his head.

  “Come all the way in,” Scythe said, backing up to give him space.

  “Boy, what are you thinking? You got no chance of getting out of here.” He walked in, his eyes skimming over the room. He spotted the bulk on the floor and looked back a Scythe, finally becoming more wary. Then he noticed the uniform. His face hardened and his eyes darkened. “That’s a lot of blood there, boy,” he said, his tone menacing.

  “You can help us, or you can die,” said Scythe. He noticed that his body was reacting on its own to the threat in the man’s posture and voice. He felt the heat rise in him. The desire for a fight was a pleasurable sensation that crawled through him. He let the man see it in his eyes and in the grin on his face.

  The man nodded, acknowledging what he had seen, before saying grimly, “Well, I got no interest in dying, and it looks like you’ve already made good on that promise at least once today, so...what do you want me to do?”

  “Put your weapon on the floor, slowly; then, get those straps off my kin.” Scythe watched him closely as he complied. The man carefully unhooked and removed his weapon and laid it on the floor. He walked toward the closest patient and started unfastening the restraints. Scythe kept him in sight, picking up the other weapon and putting it in his empty holster.

  “Brother, free me so I can help,” said one of the patients.

  “Wait,” replied Scythe shortly. He asked the guard, “When will the next guard appear?”