October Rain

by Morgan, Dylan J.

  Rage broiled in me with as much fervor as the rain outside the city. For me, this was the chance to avenge my horrible past and secure a prosperous future. Striding with authority to Pierce’s quivering body, I thrust the barrel of my gun hard onto his forehead.

  His eyes darkened with obvious terror.

  “You’re nothing like me,” I said. “Nothing at all.”

  I pulled the trigger, and then crossed the final name from my list.

  Now it’s over: job done.

  Anger drained away in a rush of expended energy. Calmness returned, stronger than before, and brought an acute sense of relief. I checked my watch. There wasn’t time to go home and sleep before we departed, but I could get lots of relaxation once our voyage had begun; years of rest and recuperation in Kari and Shauna’s loving embrace. I smiled.

  The cave became a tranquil place, soft lighting increasing the sense of serenity. My own peace became disturbed by the stifled sobs of a woman whose first death occurred in the long distant past. Light glimmered off a narrow length of silver upon papers on the counter before me. I reached out and nudged it: a fashioned clasp snapped from the body of a pen. Confusion entered my world. The clip seemed to be pointing towards the title at the top of the page.

  Steele was written in lowercase, my surname in capitals, and beneath the header was the date and place of my birth, my nationality, the names of my parents, even my Interstellar Identity Number. Brushing the silver strip away and gathering up the papers, I began reading a file about my full medical history.

  “What the fuck?”

  I set the dossier down and closed the cover page. A government stamp in the top right-hand corner told me the document was official. Stunned and bewildered, my jaw went slack. Pushing the report aside in an effort to check the paperwork beneath it, the manuscript knocked over some plastic vials at the head of the bench. Blood settled like a thick sauce in the smallest beaker. Picking it up and rolling it in my fingers, the red liquid bulged against the pull of gravity. Despite my bewilderment, it didn’t surprise me to see my name written on the glass. A plop of fluid on paper dragged my attention from my name and back to the bench. A blood splatter formed a misshapen star on the page.

  Then, another droplet fell and widened the bloody field.

  The words on the page held my attention, a document about mankind’s dramatic progress in the field of complete retina transplantation and how it no longer carried the risks it once had. Looking at Pierce’s shattered head I used the barrel of my gun to prod the one eyeball protruding from its broken socket. It was spongy and more pliable than I expected, folding together when the single stitch snapped and allowed the slit at the top of the orb to open fully.

  Inhaling to fight mounting anxiety, my brain spun with its rush of oxygen.

  I staggered and my hip caught the edge of the workbench. My fingers shifted an aged computer mouse across its mat. The black screensaver flicked off with a hiss of static and the monitor cleared.

  The most recently viewed document filled the screen, a colorless article showing pictures of a human fingertip during a six-stage process: diagrams of where best to make incisions, how to remove the epidermis to ensure successful reconnection of blood capillaries, even how to complete the delicate surgery. The article’s title—Fingerprint Transplant: a Guide.

  God, no, I thought. Not that as well!

  I slipped my gun into its holster and looked at Pierce’s hands, fingers linked over his blood-soaked stomach. Crouching beside the body and taking his right arm at the wrist, I pulled his hands apart. I used my own fingers to wipe away the thick layer of discharged blood from his digits.

  Pierce had no prints. The pads of his fingers were smooth, their healthy pink color replaced by a crimson rawness. A combination of surreal events, showing me the truth, had fallen into place as if planned: my medical documents that revealed everything anybody could want to know about my genetic structure; a vial of my blood taken from the government vault, a crucial source of DNA; retina transplants and fingerprint transplants, the ideal security pass.

  Holding the hand of a dead man, my brain struggled to comprehend everything I’d just discovered. My body fought the foreign sensation of rising fear and trepidation. Two and two became four and I realized what lay at my feet; it dawned on me with the same oppressive intensity as the solar system’s dying sun.

  Pushing away from the body with a scream, I landed painfully on my ass. Kicking out, I scrambled to distance myself from the cadaver until the pillar containing the sobbing woman halted my progress. I struggled to my feet and pressed into the column, wanting to force myself through its brick and hide from the horror sprawled before me. Yanking my gun from its holster, my grip feeble and unsteady, I swallowed hard to resist an ejection of vomit and stared at the blood-stained corpse of my clone. Dread churned a storm in my guts and panic dragged a terrifying new reality into my mind.

  The carcass wasn’t Pierce.

  My callous brother, a man who stated the moment he was deported that he would come back and take everything I owned, was somewhere above ground, in the city, within reach of my family.

  “Kari.” My mouth dried with disbelief. “Oh my god; Shauna.”

  I turned on my heels and ran like hell.

  NINE

  Sprinting headlong out of the mineshafts wasn’t the most sensible way to emerge into the anarchistic mining district, but blind panic had swamped my usual persona of calm and left me fighting for breath. Unnerved by the horrific secret I’d discovered, the run from the cavern’s depths seemed to take forever. Still, knowing that time didn’t stand still became the real terror.

  My family’s chances faded with every second.

  A group of the freakish creatures who inhabited the mining region gathered at the entrance to the shafts, sentries positioned to warn of my return. I sucked in a deep breath and screamed as I ran from the abyss into the gray darkness of an October storm. They feared the cavern’s mutant more than I expected, and scattered with startled yelps as if the monster charged up the tunnel intent on devouring them all.

  It gave me enough time to rush from the opening unopposed. I sprinted across the open district, kicking up dust. Agitated shouts filled the air around me as the neighborhood lunatics realized they’d been tricked. They closed in, leaping from the smallholdings and scurrying from dark shadows at the base of the buildings. Strafing the area as I ran, the fragile, undernourished bodies of those I hit shattered under the force of high-velocity bullets. I kept the firing sporadic; it would do no good to empty the magazine on fleeting silhouettes.

  The main gate stood directly ahead, but I angled my run towards the slit in the chain-link fence. Screams grew louder in the darkness, making me aware that the creatures were closing fast. Lightning traversed the heavens, and strobes of illumination glinted off the sweaty bodies of the misfits blocking my escape.

  Squeezing, releasing, then squeezing again, I pumped shell after shell into the gathering. Bodies twisted upon impact, some flying backwards to rebound off the taut wire. Screams of pain and anguish flooded the district.

  A hand touched my back, but failed to grab my clothing.

  I removed the last inhuman obstacle lurking by the gash in the fence with a clean shot to the head.

  Diving headfirst, my torso skipped off Martian dust, breath rushed from my lungs in an agonizing whoosh, and the cut links of metal scraped my skin as my head and shoulders burst through the gap. Thrusting my hands through, making sure the weapon didn’t get tangled in the chain, I kicked my legs on the ground to push my body clear. Pain surged up my right leg, my calf muscle igniting with burning agony. I turned over and saw one of the abominations with its jaw locked onto my leg. Another one grabbed at my foot, gaining purchase and pulling hard. Dragging my other leg through the hole, I pressed my foot against the fencing in order to resist its attempt to pull me back into its domain.

  Enthused by their comrade’s success in grabbing a piece of me, others lop
ed over to join the tug of war on my limb. The persistent one with its teeth clamped to my leg looked female. Smaller than the others; her long, thin fingers kept my limb steady as she bit harder, teeth sinking deeper.

  I took her out first.

  Her petite head exploded when the shell slammed into it. I fired repeatedly, ripping the crowd to pieces until I could drag my leg clear of the district. Scrambling to my feet, I fled the scene, leaving the inhabitants of the mines screaming at me, their means of escape through the fence blocked by the pulped remains of their slain cohabitants.

  Transit pods no longer stopped at the mining district, and my dash across the adjacent neighborhood with a fiery pain in my leg seemed to take forever. The white glow at the nearest transfer node drew me forward, its beacon intensifying my desperate need to get home and protect my family. A pod sat idly at the station, waiting the allotted time before the computer-driven transport slid to its next destination. Two people sat in the car but I paid them no heed as I smashed into the side of the pod and pulled the doors open moments before the craft whispered quietly from the station. For the first time since arriving on Mars I realized just how slow those fucking transit pods went. The vehicle would have departed the platform quicker if a couple of two-year old girls got behind the damn thing and pushed.

  On average, it took around three minutes for a pod to ride from one station to another. The journey from this junction to the next felt like three hours.

  The wait at that district was worse. Staring at my watch, I wished mankind’s scientific progresses had included the discovery of how to stop time.

  I paced the pod’s short length like a caged maniac, gun drawn and fists clenched in anger. The two youths traveling the route were probably gang members cruising the tracks in search of rival gangs or easy targets. They had the common sense not to confront me and sat with heads bowed and mouths shut.

  Four junctions from my neighborhood, I left the vehicle.

  Running along the moving walkway’s horizontal tread, I hoped its speed and my loping stride would retrieve lost time.

  Gravity pushed at my back like a bully on the playground and I sprawled forward onto the hard walkway. A muscle popped in my back as my body twisted on impact, head thudding into the wall, elbow cracking against the steel tread. Stunned, I considered myself lucky I hadn’t been knocked unconscious.

  The transit pod hissed by, its occupants laughing at me from the windows.

  Despair churned through my veins as I hobbled down the tunnel and entered the deserted station. I cursed at having wasted more time and fired a round into a bench. Chunks of Martian rock bounced across the platform.

  Tears formed.

  I hoped it wasn’t too late.

  When the next pod came I forced the doors open before they were ready and paced the empty car as before, full of anger and hatred. Pierce would kill them both. He’d hold them hostage for a while, maybe until I arrived, but there would be no hesitation, no sign of remorse.

  “Come on!”

  I kicked the front of the vehicle, willing it to go faster, and thrust my weapon’s stock onto the cushioned seating. If only I could ram the gun into Pierce’s skull before he harmed my family, then I’d have done at least one moral deed during the course of my lifetime. Switching vehicles at the next node and reaching the pod bound for my district moments before it left, hope surged in my pulsing heart. Perhaps I’d made up enough time to reach my loved ones before my brother squeezed the trigger. The pod docked at a station almost a full district length from my apartment. Three individuals hunkered in a corner dividing drugs, but they ignored me when I ran by.

  My neighborhood spread before me, cheap apartments and rundown flats shrouded in night. The standard of living had never been good in this area. Its depravity, almost like a living thing, tried to reach me from dark boulevards.

  My lungs burned; leg muscles ached with overuse.

  Expecting to hear gunshots but hopeful they’d never come, I considered the possibility that he’d already pulled the trigger. Or maybe he wouldn’t use a gun. I ran faster.

  A small gang edged from the shadows to my right, a shout directed at me. Poor street lighting glinted softly off a blade in the shadows. I raised my firearm, told them to back off, and they complied.

  I took the steps to my apartment block two at a time and waited with a throbbing chest for the scanner to unlock the building. Once inside, I charged up two flights, and then turned right into the corridor that led to our home. Unlocking the door, it swung into a dark hallway. Light from the corridor crept across the floor and the barrel of my weapon led the way. My fingers touched the light scanner and shadows retreated into the bowels of my home. I stepped across the threshold, closed the door, and locked it.

  In the gloomy kitchen the small dining table had been cleared and pushed against the far wall, our chairs stowed neatly under it. The dirty dishes from tonight’s meal had been removed, the bin emptied. Pierce must have arrived after Kari finished clearing dinner.

  “Kari?”

  Nothing.

  My fatigued heartbeat thumped in my ears.

  “Shauna?”

  The house remained silent.

  With the wall at my back, the hall wardrobe in front of me, I edged towards the living area. Furniture blended into deep shadow until I touched the scanner and bathed the room with luminosity. The round table concealed the couch and coffee table, cupboards closed as usual, and the washroom door pulled to.

  The bedroom doors were shut, both ours and Shauna’s latched. We never closed her room. Swallowing hard and forcing saliva down my parched throat, I struggled against deteriorating composure.

  Sweat dampened my brow.

  “Kari?”

  My voice cracked through the dryness.

  “Shauna?”

  He kept them quiet, I considered; probably with restraints in their mouths and a gun to Shauna’s head.

  I pushed from the wall and entered the main room. Gun ready to wield, it took three strides to reach my bedroom door. Compelled to check it before Shauna’s, I thrust the door inwards.

  Shadows backed off as light crossed the carpet until it reached the bed. White cupboards glowed under the light, amplifying the brightness. They weren’t there.

  Between our room and Shauna’s, I glanced into the toilet. Hardly big enough to accommodate me when I sat, it too was empty. Steeling myself once more, I moved into Shauna’s room.

  Without her, my princess’s room no longer resembled a castle, but a drab place that didn’t even hint at the laughter that once reverberated off its walls.

  Across the living room, the closed laundry door seemed so obvious. Of course: Pierce knew the bedrooms would be the first places to search. Crossing the intervening space, I imagined my loved ones shaking with fear, their eyes pleading for mercy.

  Pierce would pay.

  I burst into the room. Towels sat in neatly folded piles on the workbench; detergent and bleach bottles lined against the wall. Beneath the counter, the cleaning units sat dormant, the basket for dirty clothes empty.

  All the edges were square and tight with no gaps, none big enough to hide a woman and her child.

  The living area somehow felt twice as big as normal. It looked different: the whole place wiped clean, devoid of unsorted paperwork and clutter. Two old books remained in the low bookcase, and the radio that usually sat atop it had gone.

  “Kari! Shauna!”

  The house remained as silent as all the people I’d put to death.

  “No,” I whispered. “Please, no.”

  Jumping over the sofa I ran to our bedroom. Small pillows decorated the bed like they always did, the sheets ironed, but the clock no longer sat on the bedside unit. Sliding open the closet, giving it too much weight in my frustration, naked hangers dangled on the rail. Dropping to my knees, I lifted the duvet and groped under the bed. My fingers found the dent in the carpet but no suitcase. A noise escaped me, a pained whimper, as if the worthles
sness swelling inside squeezed my lungs.

  I ran to Shauna’s room and tore the place apart: dragging off her bedspread, tipping over the bedside table, pulling drawers from her cupboards—all in an effort to find some tangible evidence that she remained in the house.

  Inside her vacant wardrobe, the jingle of empty hangers collided with each other like chimes of impending doom. I left her room and hurried to the hall. A blank hanging space greeted me in the closet. Fumbling with the scanner and unlocking our safe, I pulled the door open. Reaching in, my fingers slid over its smooth walls. I staggered from the closet.

  They wouldn’t leave without me.

  They couldn’t leave without me.

  My chest heaved in exhausted gasps of panic. On the small, old table to the side of our kitchen, the LED on the telephone blinked green. I reached out and pushed the button to play the message.

  “Hey Steele, how you doing?” the voice said. Cold fingers of terror circled my heart. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you but, as you know, I’m on a tight schedule. You’ve done all right for yourself, I see. Well, the house is not much, but then it’s better than I expected. And your family—Kari’s a beautiful woman, Steele. I bet she’s a great fuck. And Shauna, sweet and innocent, so easy to corrupt.”

  “What have you done with them, you bastard,” I shouted and raised my hands, intent on swiping the phone from the table.

  Kari’s voice crackled from the base unit; distant, as if she stood some meters from the caller. “Steele, get off the phone. They’ve already made the last call, we’d better get moving.”

  My breath caught in my throat.

  “Yeah, come on, Dad. Let’s go.” I touched the phone as Shauna’s voice echoed through the tinny speaker. My very soul twisted in anguish.

  Pierce issued a contented sigh on the other end of the line, and then said, “Goodbye Steele, I’ve got to go. Your family needs me.”

  TEN

  The gunshot blast that destroyed the telephone and silenced Pierce’s voice still rang in my ears as I charged into the Departure Hall located in the second district of Olympia’s first level.