Night Whispers: The Complex

by Calinda B

  “Menial work, I’m afraid. No one will want to hire personnel who’s been fired.” He lets out a sigh. “This is a great position to have here on the Complex. One of the best, actually. I chose my team personally,” he says, with that damn tender voice he uses when it suits. “But if you screw up again. I’ll have no choice but to let you go.”

  “I understand,” I say, keeping my eyes pointed downward. I blink rapidly, trying hard to hold back the tears. “Can I go now?” My voice cracks.

  “Yes,” he says, getting to his feet. “You’re dismissed. Let me walk you back to the Uni-Bosk. I need to…”

  “No!” I blurt. “Just open the door. Please.”

  I’m barely keeping it together. I don’t want him to see me sob.

  He presses a button on his desk and the door swooshes open, revealing my escape.

  I hop up and race into the hallway, without looking back, searching for a quiet place to get my shit together. The door to the WD is to my left, and I dart inside.

  I stimulate the Uni-chip in my palm, contacting my brother, expecting to leave a message.

  “Yeah?” he says. His image shimmers before me. “What’s up, sis?”

  “How are you able to answer the phone?” I ask.

  “I’m on a break.”

  “Can you get me something to stay awake?” I ask. “I’m desperate.”

  His voice lowers. “Where are you? I hope you’re somewhere no one can hear. This place is bugged from top to bottom.”

  I can barely hear him he’s talking so low. “If I heard you correctly, yes. I’m safe. Can you? Please.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” he says. “Now hang up.”

  I disconnect the call, scanning the ceiling and walls, searching for signs of being watched or listened to. I’m pretty familiar with spy devices but the Complex probably has undetectable ones.

  “What a dummy,” I say, hoping to divert my listeners. “I’ll make an appointment with Uni-med.”

  I don’t care what I have to do. I’m going to find a way to stay awake and keep my goddamned prestigious job. If Reve can cope, so can I.

  Chapter 12

  The one thing my brother’s on time for is food—until tonight. He’s late. Hours and hours late. I’ve called and left so many frantic messages, his mind must be about to blow up. I’m worried sick, unsure of what to do.

  Use the Uni-chip to call a friend perhaps?

  Oh, right. I have no friends. My brother is my everything.

  I’ve chewed my nails to the quick. My gaze keeps flicking to the time display, hovering in the air above the front door. It beams in bright red, translucent letters like a warning written in blood. Five-fifteen. Six-twenty. Seven-nineteen. Eight-twenty-nine. If I don’t get to bed soon, I may as well stay up until rise and shine time—four a.m.

  At nine-nineteen, my Uni-chip vibrates. I jab my life line before the sound vibration has time to fade.

  “Reve! Where are you?”

  There’s a long pause and then, a familiar translucent image says, “Uh, no. It’s not Reve. It’s Thras.”

  The unwelcome voice collides with my eardrum. “Oh! Hello, sir…I mean, Thras. What can I do for you?”

  Please don’t tell me I forgot to turn something off or left something out or…I had such a shitty day.

  “I know it’s late, but would you mind meeting me in my office? I have an idea. Something I want to share with you. Only you. I’ve decided to take you off the evening detail for setting the fertilizer timer and put you on another task.”

  Oh, no. More preferential treatment.

  “I…I…should I say thank you?” I stammer.

  He laughs. “Wait until you hear what the assignment is before thanking me.”

  “I don’t know. I’m worried about my brother. He was supposed to meet me for dinner hours ago.” I taste blood as I gnaw on my fingernail.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I heard there was a problem in Uni-Station Negative-One. He probably stayed late to help with the repairs.”

  “No, he would've called,” I say, but my words are drowned out as Thras continues to talk.

  “This will only take a few minutes but I need to do it in person. I’ll wait for you.” He disconnects, fading from view.

  I wonder what happened to his date tonight? Maybe they felt sorry for me and schemed together. Maybe Naazira will be sitting in his lap when I get there and they’ll be all lovey-dovey. My stomach writhes like a knot of baby snakes.

  “Gah! Quit being an idiot!” I say to myself. “You hate the man.”

  I hastily scrawl a note for my brother and pocket it. Grabbing my shoes and jacket from the tiny entrance closet, I exit my apartment. Even though this place is climate controlled, they let the temps fall at night—it’s probably to keep us in our apartments.

  I plaster the note on the outside of my metal door in a manner that’s pretty obvious. Drunk or not, Reve should be able to see it. Then I beeline for the Fastrans.

  As I approach the lift, I spy a sign stating it’s out of repair. “Damn.”

  I’m hit with the twisted energy of some kind of Meta behind me. I whirl around.

  A short, muscular, bearded alien approaches. His face is pinched and withered like a dried cat. His stride is a kind of side to side wobble, like he’s making his way across a boat in high seas.

  My heart pummels my ribcage, like a convict trying to get free. I don’t know what kind of Meta he is, but he gives me the creeps.

  “Is everything all right?” he asks. His blue-gray eyes are flecked with red, similar to Daylon.

  Is he an incubus? Has he come to this floor to mess with my dreams?

  I press my back against the broken elevator. “I’m fine. Really. No problem.”

  “This Fastrans is broken,” he says. He raises his hand and points.

  I flinch like he’s going to hit me.

  “I know.” I smash my back into the metal door.

  His frown deepens. “I can call for someone if you need me to.”

  My head whips side to side. “No. I’m fine.”

  He scratches his withered face, inclining his head to the side. His eyes disappear behind slits of flesh. “Okay then. Head down the stairs to District Four. Take the south Fastrans. Where are you off to at this late hour?”

  Does he want to follow me? Chase me? Is this a trap?

  “Uh…Uni-Bosk Twenty-Three,” I say. “My boss needs to see me. He’ll be worried if I’m not at his office in ten minutes.”

  “I see. The name’s Shict, by the way.” He extends his hand.

  I stare at it like it’s a demon viper. My palms flatten against the Fastrans door.

  He shakes his head and drops his hand. It falls like a lead weight by his side.

  My eyes dart about.

  Shict nods. “That’s the shortest way, then.” He squints. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m certain. Never better. Thanks for the info.” I slide away from him and hustle toward the stairs.

  “Good luck,” he calls.

  I’m sure I’ll need more than luck.

  The District Four south Fastrans dumps me right in the city center, nowhere near Uni-Bosk Twenty-Three. I have to find a way to get to Thras’ office. I blink. I’ve never been here at night. It’s dark in places, brightly lit in others.

  I’m slammed with energy the minute I step from the lift. It’s like a torrent of need, desires, greed, want, and hustle coming at me from every direction. Every kind of Meta is out, laughing, talking, arguing, scurrying to wherever they need to get to. Humans race past, too, looking grim and purposeful. I guess not everyone needs to get up at four in the morning.

  Come on, come on, come on, Sakhi. You can do this.

  I claw my arms, trying to rid myself of the goo of Meta and Human energy. I scan my surroundings. My gaze lands on a familiar landmark, Uni-grocery Twelve. I put my head down and hurry towards it. Just past the grocery, there’s an alley. Reve pointed it out to me on one of
our errand runs. I’m pretty sure this will cut my trek in half if I take it.

  Reve. Stabs of pain needle my heart at the thought of my brother. I hope you’re okay.

  I jet for the mouth of the alley, seeking escape from the onslaught of energy. Once I enter it, the energy assault lessens. I relax, leaning against the concrete wall to catch my breath.

  It’s a narrow passage, barely two people wide, and only if they’re slender. Like any alley in any city, it’s dirty and dank, lined with the city’s filth. It’s cool and dark, however, and doesn’t reek with disturbing energy.

  A group of gray clad people approaches, pausing at the entrance.

  I shrink into the wall, wishing I were a shadow.

  “You fucking blood-sucker,” a raspy voice shouts. “You stay the fuck away from my wife.”

  “Keep her satisfied, Human, and she won’t wander,” a smooth baritone voiced male answers.

  “Why you little shit,” the Human yells.

  I draw deeper into the passageway. I let the darkness hide me while grunts, the dull thwack of fists against bone, and other sounds of fighting take up air space a few yards away. I know I should scurry away like a rat, but I’m frozen, just like my dream.

  Shouts and tromping boots clatter along the sidewalk. The blue blast of a segif goes off at the alley entrance.

  Get out of here! Come on! Go! I hurry in the opposite direction, head down.

  Up ahead, there’s a body sprawled, knees bent, blocking my path. A streetlight illuminates his torso with a sickly, yellowish beam of light. The rest of him is hidden in shadows.

  A hopeful thought floats from my mind like a helium balloon. Maybe it’s Reve, passed out from drink.

  I approach with quiet stealth, drawing on survival skills honed in the streets and alleyways of Wreston.

  The chest rises and falls. He’s alive, at least. I also know it’s not Reve because this fellow’s energy is ugly and sharp, battering me with tornado-like waves.

  I glance in the opposite direction. The fight is growing into a riot. I can’t go back.

  I swallow, my limbs trembling from the wind of fear.

  There’s only one way out.

  Holding my breath, I swing my leg over his form. My foot lands on the ground. Almost there. I quietly lift my back leg, placing my hands on each side of the wall to steady myself.

  A hand shoots out and strong fingers curl around my ankle.

  I shriek.

  “Let me go!” I bring my captive foot down with as much force as I can muster. I grind my heel into his ribcage.

  “Shit,” the man yells in a garbled voice.

  I yank free and stumble, my knees colliding with concrete. Scrambling to my feet, I sprint toward the light at the end of the passage.

  He’s behind me, on his feet, moving faster than his inebriated state should allow.

  Before I can reach the street, he tackles me.

  I fall like a two-ton Smuntine block. My breath explodes from my lungs like a detonated bomb.

  “Got you, you little bitch.”

  Ice crystals bloom along my spine. I know that voice. The man pinning me to the ground is Paki Tchepikov.

  Chapter 13

  My breath returns in a huge, rasping gasp. I try, without success, to buck the beast from my back. He’s far too heavy. I try to claw myself away from Paki’s talon-like grip, yelling for help.

  Paki grasps my hips and wrangles me on my back.

  Crack! My head thuds on the solid ground. Shooting stars circle my vision.

  He straddles me, settling his bulk along my thighs. “Well, well, well, what have we here,” he slurs. He slurps the spit spilling from his mouth and wipes his mouth with his arm. “You’re out late. Shouldn’t you be in bed, my sweet?”

  I struggle, trying to wriggle away from him. “Get off of me, you bastard.”

  He grins, pinning my wrists over my head.

  “I like this position,” he says, leering. “For a start.”

  He rocks his hips, grinding his rigid hard-on into my leg.

  “I have a meeting,” I say, like a dumb-ass, as I writhe to get free.

  As if that will entice him to let me go.

  In the shadowed alleyway, his face appears more sinister than ever.

  “Is it that time already again? My mistake. I thought we already met today.” He laughs. “Time sure flies.”

  I lift my head and spit. The juicy wad splats on his chin.

  His cruel face hardens into brittle fury.

  “I despise human spit,” he says, releasing one of my wrists. He wipes the sorry blob from his jaw, his expression ugly. “Unless it’s coating my dick.”

  I prepare to let loose again, but he crushes his slimy palm against my mouth. I scream into his nasty, horrible skin.

  He stinks of booze and the foul-smelling chem-soap from the WD.

  He grinds my skull into the unyielding ground. “You better start acting nice to me. You being out this late, assaulting an officer, isn’t going to look good in your record. It’s a violation of your probation and there will be serious repercussions.” His face contorts into an ugly leer. “Unless…” He grins and taps the side of his head like he’s had the best idea. The fingers smashing my face release me and he goes for his pants, tugging them down. “We could make this all go away.” His half-hard cock, grotesquely misshapen, like a gnarled tree root, hangs free.

  He lets out a heh, heh, heh kind of laugh.

  I scream. My cry is drowned out by sirens and shouts at the other end of the alley.

  Paki fumbles with the waistband of my black Uni-pants.

  “No, no. No, no, no,” I shout.

  “Oh, yes.” He grins.

  A street light at one end of the alley shatters, glass tinkling to the sidewalk. Then another. And another, until the passage is pitched into darkness. Only a glimmer of that sickly yellow light shines from the end of the alley closest to me.

  Metas and Humans continue to yell and fight. Fists strike flesh-covered bone, making sick thuds and cracks. Blue segif flashes burst like lightning bolts, then dissipate, followed by the whomp of falling bodies.

  I continue to scream, shouting curses I didn’t know I knew. I want my brother to rescue me.

  Reve, where are you?

  Paki backhands me. “Shut the fuck up. It’s either this, or you’re going to jail. We have measures in place here for dealing with criminals.”

  Measures? What kind of measures?

  Gritting my teeth, I grab his hand, forcing his fingers backward.

  “Fucking bitch!” He yanks his hand back and lets loose another stinging slap.

  It strikes my face with a loud crack. I’ve got to get away from this asshole.

  A strange, high-pitched keening explodes from my throat. Reve’s right. I hate it here. I hate being among Metas. I’d rather be in jail on Wreston than on this horrid planet.

  Paki frantically tears at my clothes.

  Twisting and fighting, I scream again.

  He lands another blow to my cheek.

  Tears rain from my eyes. This can’t be happening, can’t be happening.

  Boot heels strike, the sound ricocheting through the alley.

  I lift my head to look.

  Paki’s hands curl around my neck.

  My Wacher bears down, squeezing hard.

  Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. The little stars in front of my eyes turn into fireworks.

  I rake at his face, somehow managing to draw blood.

  “Fuck!” Paki yells.

  The footfalls quicken.

  Paki’s head whips around to see who’s approaching.

  “Help! Reve?” I cry. “Is that you?”

  He’s hooded, completely obscured by shadows and dark clothing. He lets out an unearthly roar and dashes toward us. Wordlessly, he hauls Paki off of me, yanking him to his feet.

  Paki whirls to face the man.

  “You,” he exclaims.

  The attacker says nothing
. Instead, he torques back his arm and slams his fist into Paki’s jaw.

  Paki’s head whips to the side, spraying blood and spit along the stream of a deep groan.

  The blood spatter paints my pants.

  “Fucking hell,” Paki says, shaking his head like a wet mongrel. He shoves my rescuer, pounding into him like a wild bull.

  The attacker grabs Paki’s shoulders. Paki tries to pull away. The cloaked male positions his rigid fingers in front of Paki’s neck and strikes like a cobra.

  Paki gurgles, chokes, and then coughs out a mouthful of blood.

  Fists fly, fast and vicious. I can’t tell who’s hitting whom.

  My head rings. It aches with such an excruciating throb I know I’m going to pass out. I attempt to get to my feet but nausea gets the best of me. I lean over my knees and wretch. Once finished, I stagger a few steps toward the street.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Paki growls.

  My head’s spinning. I’m so sick, in so much pain, I could curl up and die. But I’ve got to get free—for Reve, if for no one else. I will my legs to move.

  Footsteps crunch behind me. I stumble, catch myself and then speed up.

  More footfalls sound. A grunt follows, and then a thud. A horrible groan echoes through the dark, narrow passage, braiding with the riotous sounds on the street.

  I glance over my shoulder, squinting. All I can make out are two dark figures, one standing over the other, pummeling him with blow after blow.

  A chain zings through the air and strikes the fallen male. Whoever’s attacking the other is in a blood-lust craze.

  No sound emerges from the downed man, but the attacker persists. The chain whips through the air, clanging as it lashes the downed body and strikes the ground. Over and over and over he strikes.

  The attacker finally relents in his assault. He drops the chain, leans over his knees, and draws in huge gulps of air. With each breath, he seems to grow larger. With each inhalation, his body begins to glow. It’s beautiful, providing a hopeful contrast to the ugliness all around. It’s a brilliant green glow, like the new leaves of spring.

  Is it you?

  My head’s still spinning. The ache in my skull intensifies. Little sparkles dance in my eyes and turn into huge white lights. I can’t do this. Can’t take it. This level of violence is like war. I never want to experience war again, for as long as I live.