Strays

by Justin Kassab

  Ashton’s eyes shot open, and she was greeted with the purring of Bristle. Her head snapped to the side. She tried to hide the hellfire from her eyes, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than to tear the child’s throat out for waking her before she was ready. Every time she had the second guard shift, she needed a little more sleep to get the day started. Now the little pip-squeak had brought her out of her slumber too soon.

  She did her best to suppress the desire to murder the child. “What?”

  “Meredith isn’t waking up,” Franklin said.

  Ashton tossed an arm over her eyes to block out the morning light. She must have forgotten to close her blinds before she went to bed. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, and she was in no rush to get up either.

  “Did you ever think she might just not want to wake up yet?” Ashton said.

  “Today is her birthday,” Franklin said.

  Ashton let out a long whine. “I like to sleep in on my birthday.”

  “Miss Ashton, I can’t wake her up. She’s hardly breathing. I don’t know what to do,” Franklin said, with tears welling up behind his Coke-bottle glasses.

  “Fine,” she snapped. “Take your cat, and I will be over in a moment.”

  “She’s a king cheetah,” Franklin responded as he left the room.

  Ashton let out a growl and kicked off her sheets. She pulled on a pair of shorts and tossed on a sweatshirt. She stumbled, barefoot, down to the kids’ room.

  Inside, Franklin knelt beside Meredith’s bed. Ashton went right up to her and gave her a shake.

  “Hey,” she said loudly.

  Meredith’s body responded like a rag doll, showing no sign of waking. The lack of response sobered Ashton out of her sleep grog, and she dropped beside the bed. She placed two fingers on the artery in Meredith’s neck and felt a slow pulse.

  “Franklin, go get the walkie out of my room,” Ashton said.

  The boy took off with all the coordination of a fish. Ashton checked Meredith’s breathing and tried again to wake her, but had no luck. Franklin tripped on his way back into the room and fell onto the bed. Still, Meredith gave no response.

  Ashton held the walkie to her mouth. “Damian, I need you in the kids’ room now.”

  “On my way, sis,” Damian responded.

  A few moments later, Damian rushed through the door, huffing and puffing like he was going to collapse.

  “I’ve got to quit smoking,” Damian said, raising his arms to assist his breathing.

  “She won’t wake up,” Franklin said.

  Damian took one look at Meredith, and Ashton knew what she had feared was true: Meredith was in the coma leading up to the ending of death, foamer, or immunity. Damian didn’t say anything and continued his volley of tests on Meredith.

  By the time he finished, everyone else had filed into the room. Damian didn’t seem too thrilled to have the zoo of people and animals watching him work, but he continued on, ignoring comments and sniffs.

  “She’s been vaccinated,” Damian said.

  “How?” Ashton said.

  Wright leaned against the doorframe. “I heard you’ve been doing research on the vaccine.”

  Damian never turned around, but Victoria stepped into Wright, planting a finger against his sternum. “If you’re going to make it with this group, you better learn how to speak straight, shrink.”

  “If someone was shot, we would look to the person with the smoking gun. Damian is the only one of us that has vaccines,” Wright said.

  Victoria let out a cackle. “What reason would we have to vaccinate anyone? We’ve been doing research on how to fix the problem.”

  “You have vaccinated subjects, and you have access to foamers, but you don’t have anyone in the process of transition. Maybe you needed a new subject. Aren’t we all expendable to you science types?” Wright said.

  Damian’s head remained stooped as he knelt beside the bed. Ashton knew he had no way to defend himself. The entire Primal Age had been his doing. Indeed, the entire population had been nothing but test subjects to him.

  Then a thought that scared her came into her mind. What if Wright was correct? She didn’t believe him and wouldn’t believe the accusation, but she felt a tingle of fear dance along her spine.

  “I’d like to call a trial to prove that he has been experimenting on Meredith, and maybe even Scott,” Wright said.

  “Where do you think you are right now? We don’t do trials,” Victoria said.

  “Then I would like to call the first. I will prosecute, Damian can defend, and the rest of you will be the jury,” Wright said.

  Franklin broke into sobs. “Why would you teach me how to do research if my friends were the subjects?”

  Wright came into the room and wrapped a protective arm around the boy.

  “If she wakes up, she will be able to tell us what happened,” Victoria said.

  “And if she doesn’t?” Wright said.

  “You can have your trial,” Damian said with such force all other chatter stopped.

  Ashton didn’t like the idea one bit. Even on the shred of doubt she had that her brother was capable of such an act, he was still her brother. As much as she was against a trial, Damian seemed adamant about it, which meant he had to believe he would be proven innocent.

  “I will stay with the child to make sure Scott’s fate doesn’t come to her as well,” Wright proclaimed.

  “Like hell. I’ll watch her,” Victoria retorted.

  “You could be just as guilty,” Wright said.

  “For the time being, I am still in charge,” Damian said, getting to his feet. “Dr. Wright and Victoria, you will both stay with Meredith. Everyone else out.” He ushered the two dogs, cheetah, and remaining people into the hallway. “Go. You all have work to get to.”

  Ashton sent Franklin and Bristle to her room, but waited with her brother until everyone else left.

  “I hate to ask, but did you do it?” Ashton asked.

  Damian’s eyes were miles away. “Was it the vaccine that I invented that did this to her? Yes. Did I personally do it? No. Does that make me any less guilty?”

  Her brother walked away before she could say anything. Even though she believed Damian was innocent, his feeling of guilt was something she had no control over. She did still have the ability to affect the kids. One was dead, one was in a coma, and the last one was probably nearing a breakdown. What energy she had she needed to put into taking care of Franklin.

  * * *

  Kade’s grip tightened on his rifle. He didn’t know how many people were behind him. They hadn’t shot yet, so he wasn’t entirely sure what the situation entailed.

  “Identify yourself,” a soldier hollered.

  “Henry Rabbenstein,” Kade said.

  “Put your rifle down.”

  “Wait, what if he is one of the civilians they just promoted?” a different soldier said.

  Trying to avoid the click, Kade flipped his safety off. He hadn’t gotten this close to be stopped now.

  “Four, seven, and nine,” Zack murmured.

  “He can still put his rifle down,” the first soldier said to his comrade.

  Kade spun and found his targets exactly where Zack had called them. He tapped the trigger as he faded across the line. His first shot winged the man on his nine, the second dropped seven, and he completely missed the man on his four.

  The man he missed took off running. Kade hurried after him, while putting another bullet in the first man. The last standing soldier bounded through the door with a large bag in his arms, making it clear to Kade why he hadn’t been shot.

  “Kade,” Zack called. “Get us out of here.”

  He took one last look in the direction the man had fled before he searched the other two bodies for keys. His fear was by letting the soldier escape he’d have to face a greater force. Either way, escaping would be a challenge. Finding a ring of keys, he returned to the cages and let Zack out first. Zack went to gather weapons from the d
owned soldiers while Kade opened the rest of the cages.

  Kade stood before the two people that didn’t belong to his cohort. “Neither of you have to come with us. You’re welcome to stay, but decide quick.”

  The man looked like he had come from a concentration camp, but the woman looked remarkably fit. He figured she hadn’t been in captivity long. They both aligned themselves with Kade.

  “Come up with a plan to get us out of here yet?” Kade asked Zack.

  “I had hoped your pilot buddy would be able to fly us out, but I’d take any drunk over him right now.”

  “Just walk out through the metro tunnels,” Jem said.

  Zack and Kade shared a look.

  “It’s not a bad plan. They cleared most of the resistance out, so if we can get past their line we should be good,” the female prisoner said.

  “Who are you?” Kade asked.

  She held her filthy hand out to him. “Yuzuki, and this is Anquan. I led the American University resistance force.”

  Kade shook her hand.

  “They’re in here!” came echoing from outside the room.

  Zack handed the spare rifle to Anquan and the pistol to Yuzuki. Yuzuki swapped her pistol for the rifle.

  Kade took Jem under the shoulder while Yuzuki did the same with Anquan, and Zack took Mick. As delicately as he wanted to handle the wounded, if they didn’t cover a lot of ground fast, they’d all be dead. Their injuries would heal, but he couldn’t bring someone back from death. They led the group across the Castle to the second entrance, where Kade cautiously pushed open the door to the back gardens.

  * * *

  John walked down the hallway winged by Emma and Grace. They had just left Meredith’s room. No one spoke until they were one set of doors away from Damian.

  “I can’t believe he would prey on the children like that. I’d like to have seen him try that on me,” Emma said.

  Grace looked past John to Emma. “He didn’t do it.”

  “The simplest explanation is usually the right one. He’s a scientist who does research on people. He needed subjects, so he found them,” Emma said.

  “He’s a Zerris. He wouldn’t do that. John, you agree, right?” Grace said.

  John held his silence for as long as the girls would let him. He continued to walk, feeling them both staring at him as if he was going to preach the eleventh commandment.

  “It isn’t that hard to believe. Look at what he’s already done,” John said, then realized he let information out that he promised Kade he wouldn’t.

  They had just entered the common area, and John saw his agriculture textbook still sitting open where he’d left it.

  “I have to run to the library,” John said, and jogged to his book and then away from the girls as fast as he could go. Grace would be mad at him for not siding with her, but even angrier that he’d disobeyed Kade. Emma would want more information. Neither situation could end well for him.

  John was in such a rush that he didn’t even arm up before climbing out of the dorms. He felt naked when he hit the ground, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to go back and face both the girls. Foamers tended to stay across the water from campus these days, so he was less afraid of an attack than he was of the two women.

  John crossed the street, then the quad, to get to the library. The footpaths carved by college students cutting corners had mostly grown back in. In his hurry he hardly had time to appreciate the beauty of the sunrise. He entered through the front doors and sped past the checkout desk to the first couch he could throw himself onto.

  The couch was as comfortable as a medieval torture device, but it was somewhere to hide. He dropped the book to the ground. Maybe in a minute he would get up and go look for a more interesting book, but for now he just wanted to feel sorry for himself.

  The swoosh of the doors brought him out of his self-pity, and he snatched up the book as he jumped to his feet. It was the first weapon he could think to grab. If he couldn’t hit them with it, he could at least read them to sleep.

  Emma came around the corner, and John dropped the book. She stopped where she was with her hands tucked into the pockets of her peacoat. The thick black coat was tied tightly around her waist. A sly smile came across her face as she stood watching John; he had the distinct feeling he understood what a mouse felt like when staring down a cat.

  Her brow furrowed as she took a step toward him. “I thought I could help you study.”

  John stepped back, his heels hitting the edge of the couch. “You know about agrigora—I mean agro—farming. You know about farming?”

  “I did a little gardening,” she said, the heels of her knee-high boots clicking on the floor as she continued toward him. “Like, where do you plant seeds?”

  John’s brain raced for an answer. 1492. Buzz Aldrin. Lance Armstrong. Water runs downhill. Negative nine point eight meters per second squared. Every piece of information he had ever crammed into his brain came flooding back in.

  Finally he spit out, “Dirt?”

  “Brilliant,” she cooed as she loosened the belt to her coat and let it drop from her shoulders. She stayed her course toward John as he took in her white button-down and black jeans. “What do plants need to grow?”

  Thank god for biology class. “Water.”

  Emma undid all the buttons on her shirt but the last one, leaving the shirt hanging open like a sail. John tried to back away from the bra-clad breasts approaching him, but ended up falling onto the couch.

  Her legs squeezed tight on either side of him as she straddled his lap and put her hands on his shoulders. “What else?”

  John wanted to look her in the eyes, but he couldn’t pull his gaze from the crests of her breasts. This was the closest he had been to boobs since Tiny buried his head in her chest when she was shooting over him. He had never seen naked, real-life boobs.

  “What else?” Her voice sounded like honey. She pressed her thin lips to his forehead and gave him a long kiss. She could take as long as she wanted. The closer she moved to him, the nearer her breasts came to his face. In an attempt to suppress his desire to touch them, John went to put his hands in his pockets, but ended up placing them squarely on her quads. She didn’t do anything to relocate his hands, so he figured it was best to let his accident pass as intention.

  “Sunlight,” John got out through ragged breaths.

  She undid the last button of her shirt. “Such a bright pupil.”

  She took his hands and guided them to her shoulders. She let them sit for a moment, but when John didn’t do anything, she helped to guide the shirt over her shoulders so it was nestled around her wrists.

  John closed his eyes, letting his hands wander along her arms, feeling the warmth of her smooth skin. A rattled breath escaped his lips.

  “How do plants make food?” Emma whispered into his ear.

  Crap. John couldn’t remember. Something about chloro-something-or-other. His eyes shot open in panic.

  Emma sat back, her arms hanging at her sides, still linked at the wrist by her shirt. The faint indents of her abs led his eyes to her white bra and continued up to the defined lines of her neck. As if she knew he was studying the portrait, she turned her head to the side to accent her neck. He had followed the lines all the way out to her sharp chin before he remembered he was supposed to be giving an answer.

  He couldn’t even remember the question. Afraid to ask in case she would penalize him, he kept thinking. Something about plant food.

  “Photosynthesis!” Thank the dear Lord and sweet baby Jesus for Mr. Maney, his middle school science teacher.

  “Top marks,” Emma replied. Her hands disappeared behind her back, and then her bra fell forward off her shoulders. John’s eyes went wide as he saw his first pair. His hands moved like the Itsy-Bitsy Spider up her ribs. Every inch he climbed, his eyes would dart from her eyes to her breasts. This seemed too good to be true, and he expected her to stop him at any moment.

  Just before his hands reached the
ir objective, they shot back like he had been electrocuted.

  “Grace,” was all he could say.

  “I’m Emma,” she said, putting her elbows on his shoulders and leaning over, hanging what John wanted just in front of his face.

  “I know. But Grace,” John said, forcing his eyes to look into hers.

  Her arms tightened around his head, tucking his face between her breasts. John fought to keep his focus, but the warmth of her breasts had him struggling to remember his own name.

  “John, John, John, you are so sweet, but don’t mistake my intentions. I am not trying to steal your emotional desires from Grace. All I’m doing is enjoying the moment. You’ve helped me; I’m helping you.”

  She leaned back, resting her forehead against his. Her breath was sickly sweet on his face as she ran a hand under his shirt. Her delicate fingers worked their way up to his sternum. She rested her hand just over his heart, and he could already tell she was feeling the rapid beats.

  “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. I’m asking for nothing more than friendship. If you say no, I’ll put my clothes back on and walk away. This never happened,” Emma said.

  No is what John knew he should have said. Even if Grace wouldn’t have him, his heart was still hers. But—

  Emma placed a long lingering kiss on John’s lips. John’s first kiss. In the movies people always closed their eyes, but he was so stunned he couldn’t stop watching her face. The kiss could only have been a few seconds, but he felt like time had stopped.

  She pulled away, locking eyes with him.

  “I’m sorry. I should have waited for your answer,” she said.

  No more is what John should have said, but he wrapped his arms around her hips and laid her under him on the couch. Her fingernails scratched against the back of his neck as she pulled his lips to hers.

  Her tongue explored his mouth, and he met it with his own. She pulled away and coyly smiled at him. She tore his shirt clear off his head and pressed his bare chest against hers. Any defense John planned to mount was destroyed as he pressed his lips into the nape of her neck.