Annex

by Rich Larson

  “He can be our ally,” Bo said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “He can help us beat them. You see how quick he moved? Across the ceiling like that?” He scurried his hand through the air to demonstrate. “Like a … Like a mijin kunama.”

  “A what?”

  “A special kind of spider,” Bo said. The ugly, lightning-fast spider that he remembered speeding across the cement floor of their old house in Niamey, the one his mom sometimes joked was the reason they immigrated.

  “Regular old cockroaches do that too,” Violet said. “The ceiling thing.” She had her arms folded, her back stiff. She looked worried.

  But Bo was electric from excitement. The ship was the only ship, meaning the rest of the world was still alright. Even better, the gaunt man was on their side, and he knew what the Parasites were really for. He knew everything they’d wondered about for four months.

  “We have to let him out,” Bo said. “I bet he knows a way off the ship. Like, a lifeboat or something. How a ship ship would have.”

  “We should leave him where he is,” Violet said. “He gives me the creeps. Doesn’t he give you the creeps?”

  “He knows things,” Bo insisted. “Knows more than we do, anyway. About them, about the ship, about the Parasites.”

  “How do you know anything he’s saying is actually true?” Violet demanded. “He just wants us to let him out. It could all be bullshit.” She rubbed her arms. “The second he’s out, he could turn into that black stuff again and smother us.”

  Bo shook his head. “He’s not on their side—”

  “Doesn’t mean he’s on ours.”

  “—or they wouldn’t have put him in a cell,” Bo finished. “You said that. Before, you said that.”

  “What if they locked him up for a good reason?” Violet demanded. “Maybe whatever he is is even worse than they are.”

  “I hope he is,” Bo said fiercely. “It’s a war, right? The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” He was starting to feel angry, feel it in his chest and his Parasite. They needed all the help they could get. Violet knew that. They needed the gaunt man.

  Violet looked at him and her eyes were colder than they had been in a long time, like they’d been back when she first found him in the parking lot.

  “You get that from Wyatt?” she asked. “Sounds just like him.”

  Bo felt himself flush hot. What might have been regret flickered through Violet’s face, but only for a split second before she set her jaw. She was right—it was from Wyatt. Wyatt, who could justify anything, whether it was torturing the pod or cutting Bo’s Parasite out of his stomach. Wyatt, who said they were two of a kind.

  But this wasn’t like that.

  Bo took a breath. “We don’t have to trust him all the way,” he said. “We can be careful. We can ask him some questions first. But I’m letting him out.”

  “Fine,” Violet said. She looked like she was going to say something else too, then just shook her head. They went back to the prisoner. He was still standing, so close to the red screen it looked like he was in danger of toppling into it. Bo had a feeling he didn’t lose his balance easily.

  “Oh, hello again,” the man said. This time there was some sarcasm to it.

  “Before we decide about helping you, we want to know some things,” Bo said, making his voice cool and firm how Lia did when she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Who are you? And who are the other aliens? The ones who own the ship.”

  “I am a saboteur. When you let me out, I will be your friend. Was that unclear?” The man leaned even closer, his waxy pale face almost brushing the red screen. Bo checked his feet; there was no way he should be able to lean so far without falling, but his polished black shoes were still somehow anchored to the floor. “The ones who own the ship will never be your friends. They are conniving. Do you know what conniving means, children? They are conniving and bad and their dead metal stinks.” He tapped a long bony finger against his nostril. “We were their slaves once. They will make you their slaves now.”

  Bo immediately pictured the wasters wandering through the ruined city. That was what the aliens wanted: a whole world of sleepwalking slaves. He had heard enough.

  “If we let you go, will you help us off the ship?” he asked.

  The gaunt man gave his not-quite-right smile. “I will fly you off the ship.” His arms and shoulders burst outward in gleaming black ropes, then twisted together into massive moth-like wings, beating up and down. “I am very tired of the ship,” he said. “I want better lighting.” The wings collapsed back into his body, tendrils sucked back in to re-form his black sleeves.

  Bo’s heart pounded. He shot Violet a triumphant look, but she didn’t return it. “And will you help us free the other kids?” he demanded. “The ones with the new keys put in them.”

  “The new keys cannot stay where they are,” the man said. “Or they will be used to open the door. I will help you move them.”

  “Alright,” Bo said, clenching his fist at his side, tamping down his grin. “We’re going to let you out. What do we call you?”

  “What do you call me?”

  “Yeah.” Bo stuck his hand on his chest. “Like, I’m Bo. That’s Violet. What’s your name?”

  The man didn’t respond for a moment, his face perfectly blank. “You can call me Gloom,” he finally said. “In your manner of naming, we are all called Gloom.”

  “Pleasure,” Violet said. “Let’s get Mr. Gloomy out of here and get going.” She had both her hands bundled tight in her pockets. She looked anxious. Bo wanted to tell her that it was alright, and that if Gloom tried to attack them, he would use his Parasite to vanish him. But three conferences around the corner was maybe too many. A whirlybird might come to check the cell soon.

  “How do we open it?” Bo asked.

  Gloom put his spidery pale hand against his middle, where a Parasite would sit. “With the four of you, I am sure you can think of a way,” he said.

  Violet stepped back with an all-yours wave. Bo studied the sparking red screen. It didn’t look solid, like the kind of thing he could vanish. It reminded him more of the fog at the end of the world. He took a step to the right to see it lengthwise. On the inside of the doorway, there was a vertical row of bulbs. Projectors, maybe—the more he looked, the more it seemed like the red screen was a wave bouncing back and forth across the space. When he finally managed to coax the static out of his Parasite, he aimed it at the black frame.

  It wasn’t as focused a hole as he’d done boring through the pod. More of a wide gash, like something had taken a bite out of the metal. But it worked: Steam twirled out of the sliced circuitry and a second later the red screen jittered and died.

  Gloom stepped through the empty space, and Bo felt just a hint of trepidation. He’d held some of the static back, enough for another burst. The gaunt man seemed taller now, looming over the top of them—he’d forgotten how tall adults could be. Not that Gloom was even a human.

  His big pale hand jerked forward and Bo stepped back instinctively before he realized it was poised to shake. He threw a look to Violet, half hoping she had her Parasite ready too, just in case. She’d taken Wyatt’s hand off her. She could take Gloom’s off him.

  Bo swallowed, then put his hand into Gloom’s and shook. It didn’t feel like real skin. It was too smooth and too cold.

  “We are friends now,” Gloom said, smiling widely. “My motes will taste your genes to remember you.”

  “Your what?”

  “My motes. My body.”

  Gloom’s hand burst into a rustling black blob that enveloped Bo’s, swirling all around it like a thousand tiny bugs. Bo gritted his teeth and held still. Gloom’s hand re-formed an instant later and pulled away. He held it out toward Violet next.

  “I’m good,” she said. Her hands stayed in her pockets.

  “You can be my second friend,” Gloom wheedled.

  “Tempting.” Violet’s voice was terse. “Let’s go, Bo.”


  Bo was still wiping his hand on his shirt, trying to get rid of the phantom feel of Gloom’s motes scurrying over his skin, as the gaunt man turned back to him.

  “Your key is tuned,” he said. “Much better-tuned than the other keys they have brought to the ship. Congratulations.”

  Bo’s hand froze. “What other keys?” he demanded. “You mean there’s other kids on the ship? Like us?”

  “Yes,” Gloom said. “Would you like me to show you?”

  Bo looked to Violet, but before either of them could speak a bone-deep vibration shook through them. At first he thought it was his Parasite, or hers, but there was no static with it. Just the vibration, rippling past them into the walls and up the ceiling. It came again and he braced himself as it passed under his feet. He realized it was moving out in concentric circles from the center of the empty cell.

  “We should not stay here,” Gloom said. “They know I have escaped. Follow me.”

  He dissolved back into shadow and flowed, like quicksilver, across the floor of the hall. At the doorway he stopped, forming a rustling black pillar, and waited for them. Bo followed, heart pounding, and glanced back to make sure Violet was following too. The vibration shook them again, and in the distance he heard the soft whine of whirlybirds coming to life.

  18

  Gloom was fast, so fast Violet couldn’t imagine how he’d been caught in the first place. Sometimes he was the flowing black mass of machinery, others he was the tall skinny man, but he was always moving. Scuttling along the ceiling and surfing the wall, or else running bent double with his lanky arms making short chopping motions like an animatronic gone wrong. Bo bounced along gamely behind him and Violet could barely keep pace.

  He really was creepy as fuck, with his stretched-out smiles and gleaming black eyes, and he made things about a hundred times more complicated. There was no chance she could sneak away to use the orb now. And if what Gloom had said about the ship was true, if it really was the only ship, then maybe she wasn’t as cornered as she’d thought.

  Maybe there was a way to get past the end of the world, to get out of the city, to start over in the real world. She could leave Wyatt to his war and Bo to his own version of it. Escape.

  “Stand against the wall, please, children,” Gloom said, his face appearing through a cloud of swirling black motes. “Now.”

  They’d been running through another dark hall, this one dotted with circular pits in the floor. Violet had looked down into one and seen a writhing mass of tendrils—same thing as the wormy wall, being grown under a pale purple light.

  Bo shimmied back flat against the wall; Violet did the same, glad to catch her breath, and a moment later she heard what Gloom had already. It didn’t have the same wheezy edge as it did outside the ship, but she recognized the chugging sound of a pod approaching. Maybe more than one. Her palms went clammy as Gloom stretched himself thin and started to web across them like a blanket. Bo gave her a nudge on the hip, maybe remembering what she’d said about it smothering them, maybe trying to be reassuring.

  The motes slithered across their bodies like a million little bugs. Violet hated bugs. She closed her eyes briefly as they covered her head. When she opened them she realized the camouflage was thin enough to see through and porous enough to breathe through, but also somehow soundproof—the noise of the pods was muffled.

  She tried to slow her heart and lungs as the aliens drifted into the hall. They had harnesses of some kind slung from under their bellies; she couldn’t tell if it was flesh or machine. Tubes were coiled around each other and a thick blue mist leaked from what might have been a nozzle. A slight ripple went through Gloom’s distended body at the sight.

  “That is how they caught me.” His voice came through the motes in a tinny whisper. “It is a gas that freezes. Do you understand freezing, children?”

  “Bo,” Bo muttered through clenched-sounding teeth. “And Violet. Yeah, we know what freezing is.”

  The pods floated toward them and for a moment Violet thought of breaking away, getting their attention. But maybe they would douse her with the freezing fog before they bothered using their yellow flash to recognize her. Her hand went to the orb in her pocket and tightened around it. The pods passed by them, close enough to reach out and touch, then continued into the next hall. Violet felt Bo exhale a long breath. She let herself slump back against the wall.

  Gloom started to peel back, away from Bo, then from her, and in the split second when it was only her face still covered she felt the motes crawl up her temple and into her ear.

  “What do you have in your pocket, Violet?”

  She stiffened, but the motes were already gone and Gloom was standing in front of them again, his hat resettling on his head. The tinny whisper had been faint, so faint she could nearly pretend she’d imagined it. But she knew she hadn’t.

  “We are getting close, Bo and Violet,” Gloom said. “Please move quietly.” His black stare lingered on her for a moment too long. Violet’s heart hammered. Did he know what the orb was? Had he recognized the shape of it when he slid across her? Her Parasite gave a nervous wriggle.

  But Gloom said nothing else as they crept along at a more cautious pace, pausing several more times to hide against walls or corners as whirlybirds whined past. Bo had a fierce sort of grin on his face whenever she checked. This was exciting for him. Violet only felt sick and trembly all over.

  Gloom led them down a grate into a small winding tunnel lined with sharp edges and twists of circuitry. They had to go on hands and knees. Even being as careful as she could, Violet managed to scrape the skin off her knee. She barely felt the sting. Too many other things to worry about. Tetanus didn’t make even the bottom of the list.

  As they crawled along, small black blots dropped down off the ceiling onto Gloom’s shoulders, sinking into his coat.

  “You waited for me,” he crooned. “Hello, my motes.” He twisted around so he was crabwalking backward at uncanny speed. “I lost a portion of myself when I was being chased,” he explained. “They burrowed this passage trying to root me out. So they could pump the gas that freezes through the ship’s infrastructure. Now we are using it to escape from them. Do you know irony, children?”

  Bo shot her a look over his shoulder, like he was expecting something.

  “No,” Violet said. “But it sounds fucking fascinating.”

  “I learned of many things before our enemy disabled your primitive machine mind, your information net,” Gloom said. “Some were fascinating, yes.” He came to an abrupt halt. “We are below the other keys now. The other keys in the other children. I will look to see if the room is empty.” He dug two fingers into his eye socket and pulled; his eye came out as a gleaming ball of motes. He tossed it upward and Violet watched it slither through a crack in the ceiling.

  “He’s right,” Bo said. “There’s more Parasites up there. Active ones. You feel them?” He put his hand on his stomach, and Violet saw a steady ripple going through his abdomen. “I always feel them,” he muttered, looking up at the tunnel ceiling.

  She shook her head—she only ever felt her own Parasite. But she knew Bo’s was different. Stronger. That was why they wanted him so bad.

  Bo was clenching and unclenching his fists as he turned to Gloom. “Why are some of the kids here, and not in the warehouses?” he asked.

  Violet knew what he was thinking. It was written all over his face. He thought his sister might be up here. She felt a churn of guilt.

  “The keys are not being grown in ideal conditions,” Gloom said. “The enemy is desperate. They used as many viable hosts as they could, hoping at least a handful would have compatible genes to turn the key. Do you understand genes, Bo?”

  “Not really,” Bo said. “So why are some of the keys here? I mean, kids.”

  “The best keys have been moved here to be tuned,” Gloom said. “That is why they brought you up here. Your key might already be capable of opening the door.”

  “I’m no
t opening any door for them,” Bo said darkly. “I’d cut it out first.”

  Violet thought of the scar across Wyatt’s hips and flushed. She would never forget about Wyatt if they didn’t give her a clamp. He’d be lurking around in the back of her head forever, even if she managed to somehow escape past the end of the world.

  The motes dropped back down from the ceiling and scurried over Gloom’s face, back into their hollow dark socket. “Empty,” he said. “Bo, would you make a hole, please?”

  Bo was crouched, rocking back and forth on his heels. “We have to look,” he said. “Right? Even if she’s not here, maybe we can rescue the others.”

  Violet nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She scooted backward so Bo could position himself. He slapped at his face, shook himself. The static came quick. She felt her hair stand straight up as he put his hands against the roof of the tunnel. The metal and wire ate away into nothing, and Gloom swept up through the hole in a rush of motes. Bo levered himself up after. Violet followed last.

  The room was smaller than the last few they’d been through, and the far side was lined with tanks full of an aquamarine and faintly luminescent liquid. Violet knew what had to be inside them, but it still gave her a jolt to see the drifting silhouettes. She stepped shakily to the nearest tank. A boy, maybe Saif’s age or not even, was bobbing up and down in the liquid. His eyes were shut and tubes kept him tethered in place, snaking into his limbs and down his throat. Violet wanted to gag just looking at it.

  “It is simpler to keep the hosts sedated at this point,” Gloom said in her ear. “To ensure the chemical balance.”

  Violet’s gaze traveled to Bo, who was sliding from tank to tank, eyes wide, searching. This was what they would do to Bo, and once they used his Parasite to open the door, it really would be the end of the world. But she wouldn’t have to know about it. The thought slipped into her like a morphine needle. It would be the end of the world that had never liked her much anyway, and she would never have to know.