Out of Darkness (Unclean Evolution Book 4)

by LC Champlin

  “I want to show you something.” Crevan waved to the wall, where the door through which he’d entered opened. Then he addressed the mercenaries: “Let him go. He has nowhere else to be. I’m not afraid of him.”

  The guards, likely glad for the opportunity to leave the situation that grew more insane by the second, unlocked Nathan’s handcuffs. The cold bracelets fell away. He massaged his wrists. Strangely, the loss of the bonds did not prove comforting. A worse fate awaited, no doubt.

  “All of you, go.” Neil jerked his head toward the hall Lexa had exited down. “And take that trash”—flick of the fingers toward Sophia’s body—“with you.”

  They dragged the corpse away, leaving a trail of blood.

  “Shall we?” The bastard motioned to the hall through which he had come.

  Keeping as much distance as he could between himself and the rejuvenated corpse of a man, Nathan entered the dark hall. Ahead, light glowed. He moved toward it. Behind, Neil’s footsteps clicked like the hands of a clock ticking down Nathan’s life. Did Janine watch? Did she have a plan? Or had she truly turned on him? No, he would know it. He . . . he would just know it.

  Nathan entered the room of light. The illumination blazed from bulbs along the union of the snow-blindness-white ceiling and walls. A similarly white desk with two black office chairs occupied the far end. A small glass-topped pedestal stood to the left of the door. On it lay glasses like those Ken used for his augmented reality. Nathan stepped far to the side as Neil passed.

  “Put them on.” Crevan pointed to the glasses.

  Nathan obeyed. Nothing changed in his field vision. “None for you?”

  “Mine is internal, let us say.” He tapped his temple with a talon. “It’s also how I can control the subjects—the affected.” Red and bronze specks dotted his eyes’ green irises. No rust-red with the refined serum, apparently.

  “A direct link.” Researchers of late had experienced breakthroughs in controlling computers with one’s mind. “Tell me, is LOGOS accepting of you taking complete control?”

  Crevan smiled, cool. “I had my rivals, but they sorted themselves out. LOGOS has divisions in other sections of the globe. They have their own affairs to deal with.”

  “Were you the one who created all this?” Surely Albin or Janine would have known something of it. If nothing else, Janine’s mother would have leaked it as an act of revenge.

  “I’m reaping the fruit of my colleagues’ labor as much as my own. The progenitor of the Lexington Organization for the Generation of Organism Sustainability is no more. He died decades ago, before he could see the fulfillment of his dream. But we will see his dream realized.”

  “He must have been a stellar individual with all the qualities of Stalin and Mao.” Nathan wore a sarcastic smile.

  Crevan ignored the comment. “We’re intending to bring a new age of peace and prosperity to humankind, and even trigger the next stage of evolution. Imagine, with everyone working for the furthering of good, what progress we can make!” As he finished, he made a grandiose gesture.

  Nathan’s glasses awoke with images of an idyllic world: people working together, nature flourishing, animals grazing. “I can see how it would be tempting.”

  “We would achieve what humanity has wanted since the Tower of Babel. With everyone connected to the neural network or at least following basic behavior models, there’s no need for divisions along language or national lines.”

  “You would reach Heaven itself and become gods.” By comparison, Ken looked sane.

  Neil laughed. “Haven’t we already become gods? We have technology that can save lives, reverse aging, stop wars, cure disease. We can communicate at the speed of light across the globe. We can see newspaper print from space. Tell me, isn’t that godlike? The gods of the Greeks and Romans would have salivated over our powers.”

  “What do you want to show me?” Nathan tapped the glasses frame. As he did, a screen with an aerial view of the Broncos stadium appeared. More images of arenas and stadiums appeared. In each, cannibals stood in rows.

  The scenes flashed to footage of the streets in . . . San Francisco, Van Ness Avenue, beside the domed City Hall. In the background, the obelisk-tipped TransAmerica building stood guard. Cannibals filled the street in columns. They waited.

  Chapter 93

  In the Blood is the Life

  Starlight – Muse

  “Why aren’t the authorities doing something about them?” Nathan demanded.

  “Doing what?” Neil chuckled. “They’re stretched thin. And at the moment, they’re still trying to understand what’s happening. The Federal government told them to avoid killing the subjects.”

  Of all the idiotic ideas—Wait. “At your behest, no doubt. Your connections are impressive. No wonder the government has been so unhelpful.”

  “Oh, our connections are less expansive than you would think!” Neil dismissed the idea with a wave. The skin on the back of his hand looked less like tissue paper than it had a few minutes ago. “Yes, we nudged them to . . . direct your path at times. They encouraged Albin to believe you were sentenced to a Federal detention facility in New York.” Crevan paused, thoughtful. “That was the only way I could get him to come home. They also gave you the bad news of Albin’s death. A shame you didn’t go through with offing yourself.”

  Only driving his nails into his palms prevented Nathan from driving his fist into the sadist’s face. But attacking would only bring the mercenaries and Peace Monitors down on him. Besides, Nathan had to know more.

  Crevan continued, “The government has largely done our work for us without knowing it and without us lifting a finger. Consider incompetence before conspiracy. But yes, we have of course hedged our bets. Mentions of past indiscretions by various government officials and civil servants helped secure our hold. Dropping the nightmarish threat, in their view, of an outsider fouling up their sanctuary of corruption didn’t hurt either.”

  “You’re referring to the Republican presidential candidate?” The Outsider of outsiders, who spoke without fear, and whom no one could buy.

  “Among others. Once we achieved the allegiance of the top brass, those below them did as they were ordered. Some even took on further initiatives to help their lords. Useful idiots,” Neil added with a laugh.

  “But with the right media narrative,” Nathan observed, “you don’t need to infect people with nanites or brain-altering viruses. They’ll do what you say. It seems you wasted a considerable amount of time and effort.”

  Neil shook his head, his fine, white strands of hair glowing in the lights. “We can’t risk anything going wrong. Any time the underclass has free will, there’s a risk that they’ll revolt.

  “But more importantly, being involved in this project has restored my body.” His withered face already looked brighter.

  “Why not stop there? Consider the good you could do if you used this technology to restore people’s health. The profit you could obtain from it would be immense.” Did money even still appeal to the old lunatic?

  “All you care about is money,” Crevan sneered, stepping closer. “For mankind to survive, we must come together.”

  “Whether we like it or not? You have become death, destroyer of billions of personal worlds. You have not brought us together; instead, you’ve created problems that will take decades to sort out.”

  “Only if you resist.” Neil sauntered even closer, but Nathan stood firm. “And why should you resist? I’m offering you peace and contentment. You can even be with Janine if you take my offer. If you do not, then . . .” His right foot stepped back, his fist balled. A blur of motion—

  Nathan doubled over as pain exploded in his abdomen, wrenching agony from his healing rib fractures. Hissing, he squinted up at Neil. The former vegetable had sucker punched him!

  “I’m stronger than you remember.” Crevan grinned. “You’ve met your match, lad. I’ve been playing you this entire time. I allowe
d you to hang yourself with Redwood Shores. I kept Red Chief from killing you, and especially Albin.”

  Nathan grunted. Stand straight, shake it off.

  “I had to show Albin and Janine your true, villainous nature. They wouldn’t have seen the light if I’d just ordered you offed, or allowed you to be killed. They had to see the real you the way I do.

  “Now,” Neil droned on, “will you take the elixir of life, or will you die? Perhaps I should rephrase that.” He raised his hand, finger up. “You will be infected either way. You can join the ranks of the Damned outside, or you can live in peace with us. You have potential, and I wouldn’t want to see it wasted with you becoming more of a brute. You know, perhaps being a Dalit would just reveal more of your nature.”

  A screen in the corner of the room flicked on. At three feet across and two feet high, it attracted both men’s attention. Janine’s face dominated it. Jaw set, determination and judgment in place, she looked out at them through the camera mounted below the screen. “Dad, I want you to give him the purified version. He needs to see the truth. It’s the only way. Nathan, if you love me, do this. There’s no need to say goodbye. It’s going to get better.”

  Memory flickered to life in the recesses of Nathan’s mind, bright as a star on the dark horizon. Those lines, words from Regina Spektor songs. The code meant Janine remained safe. But the last sentence? Spektor didn’t fit his favorite music genres, but he listened on occasion because Janine liked the songs. The last sentence belonged to . . . Fidelity. She meant she remained faithful.

  But did she really mean for him to accept the refined contagion? Or did she want him to fight? Did she only try to buy him time? He would have to wait and see. Meantime, one infection option offered more hope than the other.

  Nathan stood to his full height. “I accept. Give me the refined serum. I want to be with my wife and my son. I realize I failed them. My struggles have shown me I am not the man I thought I was. I want to be part of this movement. In Redwood Shores, I tried to bring people together to protect them. I tried to control the cannibals to bring peace. So go ahead.” He looked Neil in the eye, dignified yet acquiescing.

  “Finally starting to come around, lad.” Baring his teeth in a grin, Neil turned to the room’s entrance. Buck emerged.

  “Sit.” She jerked her head toward the office chairs at the desk.

  Not looking away from her, Nathan obeyed.

  “Your arm. Roll up your sleeve.”

  He rested his left arm on the desk. The cold surface made his skin tingle.

  She withdrew a syringe from the pouch at her hip. Silver-white liquid swirled in its barrel. Five milliliters of it.

  His heart rate rocketed into the hundreds. One, two, three—His mouth went Sahara dry as sweat prickled on his back and forehead.

  “Make a fist.” He barely needed to; his veins already stood out from the adrenaline that coursed through his blood.

  As she lay the needle, bevel up, over the vessel in the bend of his elbow, he looked up at the screen. Janine watched, impassive. Perhaps she truly did want him to join the collective, surrender his will, and cease being the troublesome bastard she had married.

  The large-bore needle pierced the skin, slid into the vein. It stung like a great wasp. Buck pressed the plunger, sending the serum—the color of cataracts and scar tissue, and glinting like mercury—into his bloodstream. How long would it take for the nanites and virus to find his brain? What would the infection feel like? Would he remember any of it, or would he sink into the oblivion of a living death?

  The serum burned in his vein like boiling oil. He gritted his teeth, free hand clenching the edge of the table. When the plunger reached the end of its travel, Buck withdrew the needle. A drop of blood beaded at the site.

  “You might want to get on the floor,” she advised, stepping back.

  “The floor?”

  Pain exploded in his head, starting in his neck and radiating up into his brain. With a snarl, he slid out of the chair. The floor. Yes. More fire blazed through his skull. He pushed away from the table and chairs, muscles already twitching beyond his control.

  Chapter 94

  Lead Us Not Into Temptation

  Devil Devil – MILCK

  Albin caught the edge of the desk for support, legs going numb at the sight on the screen: Mr. Serebus convulsed, snorting and growling like a beast. Crevan looked on with a smile on his thin lips. The computer specialist Buck watched the proceedings, the syringe still in hand.

  “Mr. Crevan,” Albin croaked. He cleared his throat. “Sir.”

  The old man glanced up at the camera. “Yes, lad?”

  “Now that everything is well in hand, I wish to speak with my comrades. They should know our situation’s status.”

  “Are they going to be useful, or are they going to be your pets? Ah, go ahead.” Crevan waved. “But not face to face; the camera will do.”

  Not the optimal outcome, but it would have to suffice. The screen on the upper right clicked to life. A room similar to the one he occupied appeared. In it, the Musters, Behrmann, Bridges, and Judge stared in suspicion at the camera. Their shell-shocked expressions indicated they had witnessed Mr. Serebus surrender to the needle.

  “Albin?” Amanda beat Behrmann to the question.

  “Yes, Amanda. Everyone, you’ve seen what transpired, I assume. We have no choice but to acquiesce to LOGOS. They offer benefits no other organization has been able to provide since time in memoriam. Ms. Josephine, I had expected this to transpire differently, but I fear this will end like our trip in the police cruiser after our van rolled. I believe that it must occur thusly.” His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head slightly, brow lifted. It substituted for verbalizing the word hint. “Amanda, Denver, Taylor, remember what I taught you and what we discussed while waiting in quarantine on the ship. Marvin, you’ll be called on to use your unique skill-set. Good luck.”

  The group looked about at each other, then turned back to the screen. “Albin,” Behrmann began, “I—”

  Amanda cut her off: “We trust you, Albin.”

  He gave a nod, then turned off his feed with the remote. The screen still displayed them, even though they could not see him.

  “What did Albin mean?” Denver asked Behrmann. “What happened at the police car?”

  “I . . . appeared to have an anxiety attack.” An interesting choice of words, confirming she had feigned the condition. “Then Nathan became claustrophobic and almost punched the cop.”

  “I miss all the fun,” Bridges quipped.

  Denver squinted at her. “I don’t get it.”

  Taylor, however, looked thoughtful. She leaned toward Behrmann, putting a hand on her shoulder. She whispered in the reporter’s ear. Brow furrowed, Behrmann nodded. She looked about at the Musters and Bridges. They must have seen something in her face, for they gave slight nods and smiles imperceptible to the casual observer.

  Taylor dropped cross-legged onto the ground. She stared at nothing. Then she slumped over onto her side. Arching of her back and muscle spasms ensued.

  Judge started barking. Everyone began yelling, impossible for the guards to ignore. Very good.

  Back to Mr. Serebus’s screen: he lay on his back on the floor, muscles twitching, breath wheezing. His dark eyes stared at nothing. Buck came to him. She maneuvered him onto his left side, the recovery position to prevent him from aspirating.

  “Sir,” Albin addressed the old man. “I wish to speak with Lexa Birk. She attempted to shelter Mr. Serebus. She possesses information that she will not reveal to you. I believe I can retrieve it for you.”

  “You want to antagonize her, is that it?” The sadistic madman’s lip curled in appreciation. “It can wait. Now, come take your rightful place at my side, lad. I waited too long for this. Bring the glasses, too.” A panel in the wall slid aside to reveal a pair of glasses similar to those Kenichi-san used to interact with his Oshiro’s system. Albin donned
them.

  The door to his cell opened, and two guards in combat gear greeted him with glares. “Let’s go.” The man on the right gestured for him to follow. They flanked him as he stepped into the hall.

  “I need to speak with Lexa Birk.”

  “She’s not your concern.”

  “I will need to visit my companions.” How well did Crevan communicate with his mercenaries?

  On his glasses, the view of the captives showed two guards bursting into their room. The men stood little chance against three prepared adults and two competent children. Marvin slammed the side of his fist into the neck of the nearest man, while Behrmann kicked the other in the knee. Judge lunged at this foe. She latched onto his arm. More blows rained down from the other members. Once on the ground, the fight ended for the mercenaries.

  “We don’t have any approval for that,” one of the guards announced. “But—” He broke off with an expression of confusion. Apparently his visor showed him the same image Albin’s displayed. “What the fuck?”

  On the camera feed, Bridges took a rifle, while Behrmann selected a pistol. Denver snatched up a knife. Taylor and Amanda chose telescoping batons. They also scavenged the radios.

  The mercenary on Albin’s right pressed his finger to his ear piece. “This is sector two. The detainees are escaping in sector three. Dispatch the Peace Monitors.”

  “What are Peace Monitors?” Albin demanded. An elite squad of mercenaries, perhaps?

  “Special cannibals,” the guard snapped, his attention on the responses on his radio.

  “Wait.” Albin seized him by the shoulder—only to have the mercenary smack his hand away.

  “Back off.”

  “You cannot risk allowing those creatures to walk the halls. They will turn on you.”

  The captor sneered. “For being Gray Fox’s favorite, you don’t know shit. They’re under control. Our enemies are the only ones who have something to worry about. So, are you worried?”