Brink: A Dystopian Sci-Fi Novel (Rogue Spark Book 2)

by Cameron Coral

  She’d shared a bottle of wine with Gatz the night before, after Lucy and Vera had gone to bed.

  “We traveled mostly during the day because the Heavies became more active at night. When darkness fell, the troops would prepare for battle. Some nights, nothing happened. Others…”

  She spared the details, only saying the attacks were fast, came in waves, and nearly always left wounded and dead.

  “Did you heal the wounded?” he asked.

  She rested her chin on her hands. “Only if I liked them. You got on my wrong side, and you were shit out of luck.”

  He raised his eyebrows, started to speak, then shut his mouth.

  She grinned. “I’m just shitting you. How’d you get so gullible? Don’t they teach you anything on Planet Zed or wherever you came from.”

  “China,” he said, getting up. “And you wouldn’t be laughing if you knew how great a civilization they were. They invented paper and fireworks.”

  “Oh, here we go, Professor Gatz.”

  He poured more pinot noir into her glass and chuckled. “Back to my question. Did you heal people in the war?”

  A dark look crossed her features. “I wasn’t exactly advertising my freak flag, if you know what I mean.” She played with the discarded wine cork, flipping it between gloved fingers. “Yeah, I used it when I could. I had to be careful the others didn’t figure out what I was doing. Mostly they knew to stay out of my way. I had a high recovery rate.”

  “I bet. Did you save a lot of lives?”

  “Enough to matter, I guess. But there were many I couldn’t help.” She closed her eyes.

  He was silent as he sipped from his glass, then glanced at his biocuff.

  “Got somewhere to be? You never really answered my question. Where did you come from?”

  “I told you, China. What you really mean to ask is how I came to be.”

  She leaned in.

  “I was raised in a protected forest in rural China—deep inland.” He topped off his wine. “I don’t remember my earliest years. I didn’t have a mother or father. I was created in a test tube, a result of hybrid experimentation by human scientists. There were about twenty of us, all different. Some were mostly wolf, with less human in them, while others like me were mostly human, with wolf DNA mixed in. Those of us on the more human side were smarter—something the scientists figured out quickly.”

  “Were the scientists kind toward you and the others?

  “They weren’t cruel. Indifferent. We had caretakers, those who came from the outside and fed us, cleaned us. They were mostly young women, and very nurturing. They became like our mothers, or at least we thought of them that way. We didn’t have anyone else.”

  “Wow.”

  “Messed up, right? So, one day everything went to hell. A huge earthquake caused rockslides from the surrounding mountains, and the building where the people worked was badly damaged. A fire started. One of the caretakers—Mai was her name—came and led me and a few others across the bridge to safety. The fire destroyed the scientific center and people died in the wreckage. The government came and sent us to the city of Shanghai. There, we were treated like animals, and lived in squalor. Mai arranged with a man to smuggle us out of the country. We ended up crossing the ocean in a shipping container, and arrived in Los Angeles eventually. We heard about other hybrids in Spark City—the results of other scientific experimentation. We were taken in and accepted here.”

  “In the section of the city where the hybrids live?”

  “Yes. Hybrids usually keep to their own kind, and most choose to live in Section H. A few, like me, have ventured out to start businesses in the human areas of the city, trying to coexist. It’s not easy.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “What do you think of us?” he asked.

  “Before I met you, I didn’t think much. I’ve never been around your kind. Never had to interact. Just heard stories.”

  “What kind of stories?”

  “Well, in the war, some of the troops talked of incidents where hybrids were in a platoon, and they turned extremely violent, and even fought against the human soldiers.”

  He paused and lowered his gaze. “Every hybrid is different. We were made in different labs, and there could have been violent reactions to the stress of a battle.”

  “So, you’ve heard those stories?”

  “No,” said Gatz. “Well, I mean, a few hybrids have gone rogue, but they’re always sent away to live on their own. We can’t exist with humans if we don’t punish wrongdoers. It works the same for humans. In a normal society, you would jail or exile criminals.”

  Ida swirled the liquid in her glass as she gazed at him, but he changed the subject. “What are you going to do when this is all over?”

  She smirked. “I’m going to Disneyland. You?”

  “I told you, I’m staying here. Living life.”

  “How can you think about staying here with this asshole running things? This is insane,” she said.

  “I was doing a swell job at living a quiet life until you walked through my door.”

  “You mean when you pulled a peeping Tom on me in the alley.”

  He raised his glass in a toast. “To keeping life interesting. To the future.”

  “To staying alive,” she said.

  Ida entered Gatz’s office that morning, still wiping the sleep out of her eyes. Behind her, the smell of bacon wafted from the stairs below. Now that she’d been clean for a few weeks, Vera was like a new person, and heartily accepted her role as mother and caretaker.

  They’d been over the “procedures” many times. A keypad on the inner side of the door required a numeric code. Gatz only opened the door when a tiny green light on his biocuff beeped. They were being cautious; they couldn’t risk a buzzer or even a knock.

  “Where’s my breakfast?” he said.

  “Feeling left out? It’s like the freaking Brady Bunch down there. Domestic bliss, but I’m going out of my mind. What’s it like to see daylight?” She sat back in his chair and kicked her boots up on his desk. “You really should visit more often.”

  He peered at her. “We can’t afford to take risks right now. Especially not after what I found this morning. I debated even showing you, but here goes.” He flipped a button on a remote control, and a small digital screen descended from the ceiling.

  Ida watched as a television commercial came on screen. Another Vance Drem ad. She shifted to the edge of her seat and curled her fingers around the armrests. The film making was sloppier this time, as if Vance had been in a hurry. Not his usual, polished self.

  Something was off; the camera showed him from only one side. He had flaunted his good looks in past commercials, and the public had eaten it up. No doubt many found him fascinating. Being with Vance would mean living on the edge. But that edge was razor sharp.

  This time, Vance got straight to the point. Filming took place in his riverside factory—two large skyscrapers that had been retrofitted into his home/office/factory. Historic landmarks, they resembled two giant corncobs rising toward the sky.

  Below ground, at basement level, Vance’s robots self-manufactured themselves. His living quarters took up the top floors at the penthouse level.

  Since he was a perpetual bachelor, the building also housed a restaurant and nightclub called The Phoenix. Whenever foreign VIPs or celebrities visited Spark City, their visits included dinner and drinks atop the sixtieth floor. Vance relished his entertaining duties.

  He toured his factory while he made a speech:

  “Citizens, Mayor Drem here. As always, I wish the very best for our city.

  Together, we will make this city the best and the safest, most profitable place on the planet.”

  Vance’s machines worked on building parts for other robots. As he strode through, a shower of red sparks fanned over him, forming an arc. He arrived at his restaurant, The Phoenix, with its luxurious view overlooking the river and city lights below. Carefully, he always kept
his right side out of view.

  “Our hope lies in our future. And what can be more important to our future than the youth of Spark City?”

  Then he grabbed a seat next to a young man.

  “The young men and women of Spark City are our hope. They hold the future of our city in their hands. We must nurture and protect them, and mold them into the citizens of the future that we so desperately need in this time of uncertainty.”

  Ida stared at the screen and turned pale. It was Paul. The camera panned on a close-up shot of Vance as he continued his speech.

  “Because I believe in our future, I’m recruiting the young men and women of Spark City to become special youth ambassadors. My new program will include training for children ages fifteen to nineteen. They’ll learn skills alongside my team, train with our police, and help keep our city safe.

  My friend, Paul, here is my first recruit. He’s going to help me seek out the terrorists who have been attacking our city from within.

  The attack on our city was a tragedy. Say hello to the camera, Paul, and show the city who you are.”

  Paul managed to look into the camera, but was glassy-eyed, as if he’d been drugged. Quickly, the camera panned to Vance.

  “Wonderful. Thanks, Paul. Look no further than the children for our rescue, for they are the ointment for what ails us. Out of the eater, something to eat; out of the strong, something sweet.”

  Gatz turned off the screen. Ida’s face turned red. She climbed to her feet and suddenly shoved a pile of books and tablets off his desk. “You weren’t going to tell me! What the hell? Paul knows everything about me!”

  “He’s as good as dead. Vance already knew you existed. They have your image from the droids at the planetarium, and now they’ve framed you as a terrorist. They know where you live, and Paul is their bargaining chip.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “It just limits our options now.” Leaning on the edge of his desk, he crossed his arms. “Your friend, Paul—it’s not going to end well. Is Lucy going to be okay?”

  “Not sure. I’ll have to find a way to break the news to her.”

  Twenty-Five

  When Ida returned to the underground living quarters, she found Lucy and Vera seated at the small kitchen table, laughing and talking. They’d been working on a large jigsaw puzzle.

  “It’s like every piece of the Ferris wheel is the same!” said Lucy.

  Vera smiled. “I know, what are we going to do?” She paused and ate another forkful of pancake. “The city looked so nice. Everything was nicer then.”

  Lucy craned her head at the sound of Ida’s entrance. “Hey, Ida! Why are you just standing there? Don’t you want breakfast before we start my lessons today? You promised you would teach me to fight with a knife today.” Then she went on with a pretentious British accent, “Would you care for tea and crumpets?” They had started using accents to pass the time. Lucy preferred English and Scottish accents, whereas Ida usually opted for German or Russian. Lucy said she sounded badass.

  “No thanks,” said Ida. “Lost my appetite.”

  “Is it something Gatz said or did?” Lucy tried to keep it light, but her smile was fading. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I have bad news.”

  Lucy straightened and put down her coffee. “Ok. Let’s have it.”

  Ida silently appreciated her get-to-the-point attitude. That’s how she liked her own bad news delivered—fast and straight. “Vance Drem has Paul. I don’t know how he got him or what’s going to happen to him, but Gatz thinks it’s bad.”

  Lucy leaped up from her chair, peering at the wall console that controlled the small amount of communication they had with Gatz above. She typed a message into the box on the wall.

  “What are you doing?” said Ida. “Come on, you know we need to keep the messages short and only for emergencies.”

  Lucy continued typing as if she didn’t hear.

  Ida lunged toward Lucy. By the time she yanked her hands away, Lucy was done.

  “What did you say to him?” asked Ida.

  “I told him to start organizing a team that can rescue Paul. What else would I be doing?”

  “Lucy, you know we can’t do that. We’re outnumbered, outgunned by Vance’s machines. Gatz is trying to come up with a plan, but he needs more time. For now, we just have to—”

  “What? Just sit here twiddling our thumbs and do nothing for Paul?” Lucy’s eyes blazed. Her voice held a passion Ida and Vera had never witnessed.

  Ida said nothing, and instead glanced at Vera as if hoping for backup.

  Vera went to Lucy and gave her a hug. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart.”

  Lucy pushed her mother away. “No, it’s really not going to be okay for Paul. Vance Drem is a bastard.” At the kitchen table, she shoved her face in her hands. “I feel terrible about this. He was taken because of me. We usually waited to meet up with each other by your place, Ida. At the pond in the woods. He was probably waiting for me and got taken. I didn’t give him a warning text because Gatz took our phones, said we couldn’t let anyone know anything. That we had to disappear.”

  On the wall, the box buzzed with a reply from Gatz.

  Lucy said, “All Paul ever wanted was to help us. He doesn’t have much. He lives with an uncle who barely knows he’s there. I’m his family, and now you are too, Ida.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Ida. “But Paul’s almost an adult. He’s going to have to take care of himself. We can’t risk more lives.”

  “No.” Lucy read the message on the box. “We have to save Paul. Gatz thinks so, too.”

  “No way in hell he does,” said Ida, striding over to the box. She read the messages that had passed back and forth:

  Lucy: Am devastated about Paul. His life is in danger. We must rescue him. Will you help me? Otherwise, I will go myself. We’re all he has. We’re his family.

  Gatz: I’m sorry. Dangerous world out there. If you insist on going after him, I will help however I can.

  Ida slammed the small door on the comms box shut. “He’s wrong. You can’t go out there. You’re facing an army. You can’t win.”

  “Not me alone, but we can.”

  “Nope, I’m out. Actually, I was never in,” said Ida, arms crossed.

  Lucy crossed her own arms in return and stomped. “You, me, Gatz, and a few of his men—we can sneak in and rescue Paul.”

  “Right, sounds so easy. Do you realize it will take weeks of planning and surveillance to know how to ‘sneak’ in? We don’t even know where they’re keeping Paul.”

  “Well, where does Vance live? I’ll bet that’s where he is.”

  “The commercial showed—”

  Lucy cut her off. “What commercial?”

  Upstairs in the office, Ida showed Lucy the video with Paul and Vance inside The Phoenix.

  As they replayed the ending, Ida caught something new, but she didn’t mention it. Instead, she asked, “What did you think?”

  Lucy scrunched her face. “It’s Oscar-worthy? Geez, Ida. I don’t know. Maybe I’m more focused on finding my friend because he’s being held by an evil dictator.”

  “What do you think the message in the video means?”

  “I don’t care.” Lucy paced the office floor slowly. “When do you think Gatz will be back?”

  “Not sure…” Ida said, distracted as she contemplated the ad’s ending. “Why don’t you head down and get some rest?”

  Lucy turned to go but held back. “Hey, you know why I have to help him, right?”

  “I know you care about Paul, but this isn’t going to help him. It’s only going to get you and others killed.”

  “We can’t just do nothing. It’s not right. Paul could be getting tortured right now, for all we know,” said Lucy.

  “We need to focus on our own survival. Right now, lying low is the best thing we can do.”

  “And what—hope and pray Paul is okay? Screw that. Survival isn’t about being a chicken
shit and hiding underground while one of our own dies. That’s no way to live.”

  Ida opened her mouth as if to speak, but couldn’t find words. She would have argued the same in Lucy’s shoes.

  Lucy went on, “You were the one who said we must keep moving to survive. You said it to Gatz, but now all you want is to stay underground. That’s no plan.”

  “It’s the best we can do right now. Survival is about cutting our losses and staying alive.”

  “What?” Lucy was incredulous. “Have you heard nothing I’ve said? Have my words bounced off that thick skull of yours? Survival is about doing what’s right. It’s about taking care of the people you love.”

  Ida glared at her.

  Lucy tried a new tactic. “Would you have left your fellow soldiers to die at the hands of Vance Drem?”

  She’d struck a nerve. Ida tensed. “Don’t talk about the war. About things you don’t know. I had to leave people behind every day, and they were left to fates far worse than Vance Drem. I’ll tell you someday when you’re old enough to hear about it.”

  Lucy stared hard, not wanting to be the first to flinch. She tried her best, but after twenty seconds, couldn’t keep up the tough facade. They retreated into separate corners of the small office to lick their wounds.

  “This is too much,” Ida finally said. “I can’t believe I’m having an argument with a teenager. I’m out of here.” She entered the passcode into the door.

  Lucy followed her downstairs. “So that’s it? When the fight gets tough, you give up? Pack your bags and ship out because things are inconvenient? Is that what happened in the war?”

  Ida spun around and grabbed Lucy’s shoulders. She wanted to throw her against the wall. Below, Vera looked up with concern. Ida pulled away and ran downstairs, past Vera, into her small bedroom, where she slammed and bolted the door.