The shakes came in waves, making the keys jingle as I fumbled with them. I had to find the right one. With each wrong key I felt a sense of urgency. What if I couldn’t find it? What if I couldn’t get in? Then the lock turned, and I slipped behind the door, praying I wouldn’t be seen. When I closed it behind me, I clicked the lock and pressed my back against the cool surface. My chest worked hard, pumping up and down rapidly. Once I saw what was in front of me, I couldn’t move.
Blood. It was everywhere. Not in a messy scene-of-a-crime kind of way, but neatly organized in large vials as tall as the ceiling. The white walls glowed pink, bathing the room with it. Tubes were connected to bodies outstretched on sterile silver tables, rows and rows of them. I covered my mouth with my hand, and walked down the line of unconscious people being milked. Their blood was being siphoned and collected. For what, I didn’t know.
Slowly I began to recognize some of them, Descendants who’d been with us but never returned from missions. Guilt throbbed in my chest. As I walked down the line of tables, I stumbled over my feet at the sight of a familiar face—Dr. Nickel. I made myself move closer, ignoring the sick feeling in my stomach and the knot in my throat. A few tables away there were other faces amongst the bodies—Sam, Paul, and Nics. A sound escaped my lips, but I stopped it before it became a sob.
I stood still and listened. The room was quiet, so I stepped closer to my friends. Nics and Sam were next to each other, their bare legs and arms sticking out of hospital gowns. My feet were heavy as I walked across the white tile floor. All I could do was stare.
The sound of screams snapped me out of it. Voices and clatter echoed from somewhere distant. The diversion. As I reached forward to rip the first tube from Nics’s arm, my surroundings blurred and stretched. Not now, I thought, trying to resist it, but the room pulled away from me. No matter how deeply I breathed, how wide I kept my eyes, I couldn’t stop it. I was carried off to some other place.
In the vision I stared back at Christoph. I couldn’t make out what was behind him or around us. The moment was brief, a dark empty blur.
“I’m here to surrender,” I said, and at those words everything shifted.
First blackness that seemed to stretch on forever, solitude, loneliness, fear. Then I stared into new eyes, familiar, loving eyes. William’s eyes.
I woke up on the cold tile, dripping with sweat. How long had it been? A few seconds? A minute? An hour?
Nothing had changed. Their bodies lay unmoving on the tables, but it was quiet. Luther, the fighting and clatter, gone.
I scrambled to my feet, frantically ripping the tubes from their bodies as fast as I could. I shifted my bracelet to the right wrist and punched the buttons. I opened Nics’s mouth first, letting the drops flow over her tongue, then moved from one to the other doing the same.
I waited. Every second I expected someone to burst through the door and shoot me, leaving the four of them to be bled dry, but all was still.
Nics was the first to move. Her head turned to look at
Sam, but she didn’t sit up.
“Nics, it’s me,” I whispered. I held my finger to my lips. “It’s okay.”
She blinked her eyes and swallowed, and I knew I didn’t have much time before the others woke up. Until the vision, I assumed I’d leave with them. That Dr. Nickel would mimic Alex’s ability and take us home. But I had other plans now.
I removed my dart gun, my bracelet, and my satchel of darts. “Here,” I said as I handed them to her. “I’m not going with you.”
“What?” her voice was hardly audible. She was still dazed. I squeezed her hand and eyed the door on the other side of the room. I was hoping it would lead me to the humans. “Don’t try and follow me. Just leave.”
Through the door there was more blood, more bodies, but these weren’t the neat kind. I’d found the warehouse, the humans, but all of them were dead. My boots tracked blood across the floor as I searched for movement. A rising chest, a blinking eye, but they were all lifeless.
Not a single soul had survived. I thought of the clatter. The screaming I had heard. I was too late. What was it he’d said? “Prob’ly won’t save most, but at least you’ll save some.” Had he tried to save them without me?
The industrial hanging fluorescents flickered dim, ghostly light that reflected up from the floor. I could hear my heart in my ears, the breath move in and out of my lungs, my footsteps as I made my way across the room.
My stomach felt hollow, and just as I thought I couldn’t take anymore of it, I found a familiar face. Luther. I knelt down beside him, taking his hard hand in mine. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, closing his eyelids with my fingertips.
With the hopelessness dragging me down, there was only one thing left to do—give up. It felt wrong, but if my vision was right, giving up would lead me to William. He was all I cared about now.
“I’m here, Christoph,” my voice echoed against the tall factory ceiling. “You win.”
The cement floor made the place cold, and I rubbed my arms as the chilled air bit my skin. I listened in the emptiness, waiting for him to show. I knew he would.
I felt the air change, and sensed he was behind me. I could feel him, like a sixth sense that tells you when someone’s eyes are on you.
“Hello, Elyse,” he said.
It didn’t startle me as I was sure he intended. I only turned to face him. Another man stood at his side, a messenger, but my eyes never veered from Christoph’s. Being so close to him made my hands shake. Whether out of fear or anger wasn’t clear, but I tried to keep them still. Be strong.
“Here to make a trade?” he laughed.
“No. I’m here to surrender.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I don’t believe you.”
“Innocent humans shouldn’t have to pay the price for our conflicts.”
“I tend to disagree. After all, they’re the reason for our conflicts.”
My nails bit into my palms as I looked around at the loss of life, the brutal end these people had to face. “Why did you kill all of them? Obviously Luther didn’t set them free. Why slaughter them?” My chest ached. I’d failed.
His empty eyes moved to a body splayed beside him, and he nudged a boy’s arm with his foot. “They were . . . defective.” His voice was indifferent, as if he’d simply bought the wrong brand of human. “Don’t worry, though. They would have been eliminated regardless of Luther’s attempt. No need to carry the guilt.”
I didn’t see it that way. I should have saved them.
“If it’s me you want. You can have me.” I swallowed down the knot in my throat. “Just don’t kill anymore. Please. All I want is peace.”
“Peace always comes at a price, Elyse.”
27.
AT MY LOWEST POINT, all I had were the oracle’s words to keep me from breaking. Listen to her. I’d given up everything based on that advice, and put all of my hope into the idea that she was right. But as I lay in the dark alone, in a basement prison with no windows or light, what hope was there?
In the beginning I was strong. I memorized the room with my hands. There were stairs leading up to the ground floor, but the door was locked with no keyhole to pick. A thin lumpy mattress lay against the back wall, along with an empty plastic bucket with no handles. To the right I found an air vent in the floor. I tried prying it loose, but even if it had worked, the grate was no bigger than a shoebox with holes that fit my fingers just barely. At first I was confident that I’d plot my way out, but no matter how many times I circled the room, nothing worked, and soon the darkness closed in on me.
Solitude is a special kind of torture. It uses your thoughts against you, until your own mind is the one thing you’re most afraid of. After more time passed than I could keep track of, I drifted in and out of madness, reliving my regrets over and over until I was trapped inside myself.
One thing pulled me out of it—her.
If my belly hadn’t grown with the weeks, I would have nearly forgotten about her. Si
nce I’d been here, the baby had gone quiet. She didn’t share her visions anymore. The demon in my mind wondered if she was even alive.
I was crouched against the stone wall the first time I felt her move inside of me. It woke me from my thoughts and stopped my trembling. I straightened up, waiting for it to come again. It was a very subtle sensation, like the flutter of butterfly wings, but I had nothing else to concentrate on. It was that feeling that saved me from myself. After that I knew I needed to stay sane and steady. Whenever darkness threatened to take me over, I forced it out. She was my only reason for not giving up. I had to be strong—for her.
“Hello,” I whispered to her. I lay on the lumpy mattress, staring at a ceiling I couldn’t see. My voice sounded strange in the empty room, but it was worth a try. “How are you in there?”
I lifted my shirt to place my hands on my bare belly and was met with a gentle flutter from inside that made me smile. I’d never talked to her directly. A pang of guilt tightened in my chest. This was the first time I had truly acknowledged her. I was in denial before, like if I didn’t think
about her or talk about her I could put off having her long enough for me to be ready.
“I’m sorry, baby girl,” I said softly. “I never thought I’d be a mom.” My throat burned. “I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do.”
I pulled my shirt down, the fabric tight around my slightly rounded stomach. At least I wasn’t alone.
“We’ll get out of here,” I told her. “I promise.”
I never saw who swapped out my waste bucket and brought me food. Whoever it was never entered through the door. He was a ghost. My whole life I’d taken everyday things for granted, things like toilets and light, even comfort. Each night it got harder, until I felt like I might go crazy.
“Let me out of here!” I screamed after what seemed like the thousandth day of eating alone in the dark. I threw my fists against the locked door until they were sore and swollen. It was a last resort. I had given up after waiting in vain for the next vision, my answer, my way out. It never came.
I slid with my back to the wall and cried into my knees. Why had I been so naïve? I would never get out of here.
Then, as though my silence was the key, a sliver of light stretched across the floor.
“What did you expect?” Christoph said from the doorway.
I stood when I caught sight of him, my eyes squinting away from the brightness. My heart knocked against my ribs. I couldn’t speak. In my mind, I was strong. I would find a way to get information from him. But my gut didn’t agree. It clenched in the pit of my stomach.
“I hardly think these conditions are worthy of such a fit, but I suppose you could use a shower.” His eyes were oddly gentle. It had to be a trick. He gestured for me to step through the open door.
I watched him with suspicion, thinking he might reach out and grab me as I stepped cautiously into the hallway. I waited for the trap, but there was nothing. “If you try and escape, I will kill William and your friends.”
My eyes shifted, and I glared at him but said nothing.
“The washroom is down the hall to your left.”
The walls were lined with maple wood panels. Artwork decorated the space in what seemed to be someone’s vacation home. A cabin. There was a window at the end of the hall, but it was pitch black outside, no lights, nothing. As I moved toward it I fought the urge to press my face to the glass. Could I break it? Christoph lifted his eyebrows at me, as if wanting me to test him.
I glanced back at the window, but turned into the bathroom as expected, locking myself inside. My shoulders slumped, and I leaned against the door once I was alone. I didn’t see any options with Christoph watching so closely.
I saw myself in the mirror for the first time in months. I was a mess. Ratty hair, dirt-stained clothes and face, like a homeless child. My muscles were weak from inactivity, but my eyes were determined. I hardly recognized my face. The girl who stared back looked strong and unbreakable despite her frailty. Inside I was lost. I lifted my shirt to expose my belly. It was much bigger than I’d imagined now that I could see it in the light. I was grateful she was in there, protected and safe. No one could get to her.
I showered until the hot water was gone, trying to wash away the guilt and hurt, but all of it was stuck inside. It couldn’t be rinsed away.
I thought of the window, of getting us out like I promised. I needed to keep that promise.
On the counter there was a new set of clothes. They weren’t there before, and I cringed at the thought of someone being in here with me naked and vulnerable. Was I always being watched?
The sound of raised voices and bickering made me turn my head. I stopped moving and got quiet so I could hear them. The words were mumbled, but there was a woman. I pulled the jeans on quickly and whipped the black t-shirt over my head. I needed to know who the woman was.
The voices stopped when I opened the door, but as I reached the end of the hall, I saw Adrianna standing next to him. Her face was tight with anger, and she wouldn’t look at me.
“You know, I really want to hate you,” Christoph said. He was sitting at a table in the middle of the kitchen. The windows were black behind him.
“Go ahead,” I said, crossing my arms in defiance. “I hate you.” My words were strong, masking the fear he instilled in me.
He looked away with indifference. “You’ve put quite a damper on my plans.”
“Good,” I sneered. Although, I didn’t know what he meant. I’d failed. I hadn’t saved any of the humans.
“I’ve worked for years on that formula,” he continued, “and the only thing I needed was the mind-wiper. It’s the human memories that are the weakness. If I was working with a blank slate, I’d have complete control. They wouldn’t know any better. The memories influence their decisions. They feel guilt, and they sabotage the missions.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You know where she is, don’t you?”
Adrianna was watching me, and I tried to hide the wave of relief I felt. He hadn’t found our camp. Anna, Chloe, and the others were safe.
“Even if I did, why would I tell you?”
“See,” he said, “how can I hate someone who doesn’t know any better? You may think you know our world, that you are fighting for a moral cause, but you’re naïve. You haven’t been around as long as I have. You don’t know what humans are capable of.”
“I know what you’re capable of. Just because you’ve had bad experiences with humans doesn’t mean they are all that way.”
His eyes opened wider. “And just because your best friend is human doesn’t mean the collective masses won’t try and destroy you.”
“You don’t know that’s how it will go.”
“That’s how it has always gone.”
“I know more than you think. I know why you are the way you are, about your mother and father, about Nettie.”
The name threw him off, and I could tell he wasn’t expecting me to know that.
He tapped his fingers on the table. “Kara.” His lips tried to form a smile.
“It doesn’t justify your actions,” I said, making my point.
“I disagree.”
“Of course you do. Because I’m not the one blinded, you are. You’re blinded by hate. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“And what do you suggest? That we bow down, let them slaughter us willingly? That our race become test subjects, experiments for them to exploit?”
“That’s what you’re doing. You’re no better.”
He pulled a chair out from the table and pushed it in front of him. “Please sit.” He gestured. I stepped forward, sensing him opening up. Maybe I could get to him, convince him he was wrong.
“Sometimes you have to make hard choices,” he said once I’d taken the seat. “If it’s us or them, would you rather it be them? Would you have them kill us all? Because I assure you, they will try.”
“Not if we
present ourselves as equals instead of gods.” He shook his head. “They’ll never be our equals. You’ll learn that soon.”
I felt someone behind me before I saw the change in Christoph’s face. Something was holding me, and I couldn’t turn around to see who it was. “Thank you, Philip,” he said, before his gaze shifted back to me, cold and distant. “Sometimes certain things are necessary. To get the upper hand.”
I breathed in sharply as my body stiffened in a way that filled me with terror, in a way I never imagined I’d feel again. Though I was frozen still, my body trembled from the inside. My heart kicked at my chest like it was trying to bring me back to life. Everything in me feared what was coming. When Ryder’s son stepped into my line of sight, I seized up.
“Nice to see you, Stephan,” Christoph greeted him before continuing. “You see,” he said to me. “I’m not so naïve to think I’ll be able to stop a prophecy. I know what’s coming. You’ve made sure of that, but humans cannot win. Mark my words, there will be war between the races.” He shrugged, a smug smile stretching across his face. “A war I never wanted.”
He did want it. I could see the lie in his eyes. Suddenly it was all clear to me. It was exactly what he wanted. It was the perfect excuse to retaliate against humans, a real reason to kill them. It was his final solution, war, and I had handed it to him on a silver platter.
I thought back to the last world war I had been around for. I’d only been in my twenties. The memories were vague, but I remembered the aftermath. When news of the Holocaust had sunk in, when anti-Japanese sentiment still hung in the air. He hated humans that way. He wanted them eliminated.
“Your people have already started coming out into the open, Elyse. They weren’t sure what to do without you. Tragic.”
Another man stepped in front of me. I recognized him somehow, his dark gray hair and light skin. His eyes were wide and intense. They were trying to tell me something, but I didn’t know what. We held each other’s gaze for a moment, and I knew what was coming would be bad. I just didn’t know how bad.
“It really is fortunate that you’re here,” Christoph continued. “The oracle isn’t of any use to me dead.” Breath caught in my throat, the only part of me that could physically react. The oracle . . . dead. He spoke of it so casually I felt sick. A new sense of dread opened up in me like a black hole, stealing any shred of hope left. “Her blood really wasn’t working anyway.” His right cheek wrinkled as he smiled. “Then it occurred to me, I might have something far better to work with.”
Uprising (Children of the Gods) Page 25