Night Whispers: The Complex

by Calinda B

  When I find it, it’s jam-packed with unconscious individuals, each in recovery mode. I scan the beds until I find Thras. Relieved, I hustle to his side. My hand lifts to my mouth.

  “Oh, Thras,” I whisper. “What happened to you?”

  Pale and lifeless, his chest makes subtle movements, at least indicating he’s alive. He looks like he’s been swallowed up, digested, and regurgitated from the belly of the Complex.

  I want to touch him, but I’m hesitant. This isn’t a thing, I reason. I’m only wanting to offer comfort. I bite my lip, flexing my fingers. Finally, I place my hand on his shoulder.

  A jolt of electricity shocks me. I yelp, snatching my hand back. I stare at him, trying to rein in my galloping thoughts. This can’t be. Is he the same green glowing man who saved me? And the man who conjures the lotus blossom in my dreams? I gingerly touch his cheek. My finger zings with sizzling heat, the same heat I experience in my dreams. I stare at him, jaw dropped. Thrasyllus Blüthe is the man who rescued me from Paki. He’s the man I’ve been dreaming.

  I’m in love with Thrasyllus Blüthe.

  As if he heard my thoughts—or maybe my wildly beating heart—his eyelids flutter open. A sweet smile spreads across his face.

  “Sakhi,” he says.

  “I know who you are,” I say, brushing my hand against his jaw, savoring the potent connection.

  “I’m glad,” he says, turning his head to kiss my fingers. “Please don’t run.”

  When his lips brush my skin, I shiver. “I won’t.”

  “Thank gods.” His eyes close briefly. When he opens them again, he says, “I wanted to tell you at dinner.” He pushes himself to sit, wincing. “Get my clothes, please. My shirt. Over there.”

  My eyes scan to see his clothes folded on top of a Smuntine table. I scurry to retrieve the shirt.

  When I hold it out to him, he says, “Turn it inside out. There’s a pocket stitched on the inside, at heart level. Retrieve what’s inside. Quickly, please. I’m afraid I’m still under the influence and a nurse will be in here any moment.”

  My gaze slides toward the door and then, satisfied, to my task. I swiftly do as asked. I find the pocket and slip free a silver circle. My fingers start to tremble. It looks like the one I have, only in much better condition, polished and gleaming.

  “It’s an ancient symbol. Our people came from Earth, too. Metas and Humans have lived together for thousands of years,” he says.

  “What kind of…” I bite my lip, fearing the answer. “What kind of Meta are you?”

  He holds my gaze for what feels like lifetimes. “I’m a psionic vampire. I feed off the energy of others.” His gaze turns to one of challenge, willing me to reject him.

  “I see,” I say, my heart clattering about inside my ribcage. “What does a…are you the one draining Humans?”

  “No. I only sip. With you I…” Now he bites his lip. “I cleanse. I can sense the gunk of others and I take it from you, a little bit at a time.” His mouth parts and his eyes grow tender. He waits for me to gather my thoughts.

  “I see,” I say again. My mother’s words fly into my mind. Follow your heart. I push away my judgmental thoughts. I can do this. “What about Naazira? Do you and she have…” I swirl my hand between us. “You know, a thing?”

  “There’s nothing between us but a friendship. I know she wants more, but…” He shrugs. “Her people are powerful healers. I’ve sipped from her, is all.”

  “You used her,” I say flatly.

  “Befriended her,” he counters. “But with you…I couldn’t let you see how I felt. I had to cloak my feelings around you. I was afraid your prejudice would drive you away from me. But still, I protected you.”

  “Protected me from what?” I ask, confused.

  “Paki. He’s the one who stalks you in your dreams. He’s a dark psionic. He feeds on misery and rage. Fear and helplessness. He’s the one who drained my wife.”

  Chills erupt along my scalp. “Oh, gods. He drained my mother, too. And killed her,” I whisper.

  “I thought as much.” He nods. “He’s hunting you, love. He’s hunting us both. I’ve tried to keep you safe in your dreams. I tried to kill him, both here and in the ethers, but…” His mouth settles into a grim, determined line. “He’s strong.”

  “What can I do?” I say, my heartbeat becoming a gallop.

  “We can deal. Look. A nurse will be here any second. I’m surprised we haven’t seen one yet. Read it,” he says, his eyes glistening. “Read what’s in your hand…while we still have time.”

  “Out of the mud comes…” I frown. “It’s an unfinished sentence, like mine. I have the same thing.”

  “And so our destiny awakens,” he says, with a pain-strained smile. “Look at the back. Turn it over.”

  I do so and see an exquisite lotus blossom, artfully detailed. “Out of the mud comes a lotus blossom?” My forehead puckers with confusion.

  “What do you see when you look upon a lotus?” he asks, his eyes shining.

  “I see…” I think a moment. “I see beauty. I see wonder. When I looked at the symbol you conjured I felt hopeful, like I could get through the madness that surrounds us. My heart stirred when I gazed at it. My heart’s been closed for a long, long time.” My eyes moisten with tears. I reach for his hand. When our hands connect, the voltaic connection feels even more powerful than before.

  “Mine has, too. Want to know what I see in the lotus?” he asks. Before I can give my assent, he says, “You. I see all the wonder and possibility and beauty of you, Sakhi. I see an exquisite creature, her feet planted firmly on the ground. She folds into herself each night, cleansing her petals and unfolds each morning, ready to face the day. And she’s beyond beautiful.”

  I’m utterly speechless. Tears continue to track down my face but this time, they’re tears of joy.

  “I love you, Thrasyllus Blüthe,” I finally manage.

  “And I love you, Sakhi Borren. From the moment I rested my gaze upon you, I knew you were the one.”

  “I can’t make all the pain of the past go away,” I say, clutching his hand. I kiss his fingertips. Have I ever been this overjoyed? I doubt it.

  “Nor can I erase yours,” he says, drawing my fingers to his lips. “But together…”

  “He’s over there,” a stern voice booms from across the room.

  We both look up to see the Climintra, dressed in their usual red, striding toward us, weapons raised.

  “Thrasyllus Blüthe,” the Intra leader states. “You’re under arrest.” He whips out a nasty looking spiked handcuff, securing one end around Thras’ wrist.

  Thras immediately begins to fight, his one free arm landing a few choice blows on the leader.

  “You’re going down, Blüthe,” the leader roars, his arm shielding his rapidly bruising face.

  “What are you doing? He was assaulted. He’s badly injured. He’s not the one you should be arresting,” I say, trying to push the guard’s hand away from my dream lover.

  The leader attaches the other end of the handcuff to the Smuntine bed frame.

  “Oh, he’s our man, I assure you. Or, should I say, he’s our Meta. He’s the one who’s been draining the life out of Humans.”

  “You’re wrong!” I cry, reaching for Thras.

  Without further comment, they wheel him from the room, their boots striking the floor with angry determination.

  I’m left standing gape faced, wondering what the hell to do next. It definitely won’t be cowering in fear. I’m going to rise from the mud with love. That’s a power greater than violence.

  Chapter 25

  Adrenaline jolts through my bloodstream in buckets. I run from the recovery unit room, trying to keep up with the Climintra, who march Thras away from me.

  “Stop! Where are you taking him?” I shout.

  “Get her out of here,” the lead Intra commands.

  One of the red-clad males grabs my arms, wrenching me around and hauling me in a different dir
ection.

  “Let go of me, you bastard!” I try ineffectually to peel his iron grip from my upper arm.

  I’m dragged down a corridor.

  When we get to a service exit, he forces the door open, setting off a shrieking alarm. He shoves me outside.

  I fall to my knees, skin scraping sidewalk. I race for the door to the hospital, only to find it locked. Without thinking, I head for District Five, apartment six-hundred.

  When I arrive, I pound on the door with my fists even though I know my moniker, Citizen 22395, is being announced inside. “Reve! Let me in!”

  When the door glides open, I practically fall inside.

  “Cool your Jetter, sis. What’s up?” Reve says. “Whoa.” His eyebrows lift. “What happened to you?”

  “We were assaulted. At a restaurant. Thras…they tried to kill Thras,” I pant, trying to catch my breath. “And now he’s been arrested.”

  “Good riddance, Meta scum,” Reve says, smirking.

  “Shut up,” I snap. “Let me in.”

  “I, uh…” Reve says, his eyes sliding back and forth.

  “Let me in.” I shove him out of the way. I barrel into his tiny apartment, make my way to his sofa, and collapse on it. “You’ve got to help me…I don’t know what to do.”

  “This isn’t a good time, sis,” Reve says, leaving the door open. He limps to a kitchen chair and stands next to it, glancing around his room in an all too suspicious manner.

  I squint. “Why not? You’re the only one I could turn to. It’s not like I made friends here.”

  “I’ve, uh…I’ve got things to do. You’re going to have to skedaddle.” The tic in his eyebrow begins to dance.

  Suspicious, I cock my head and stare at him. “What things?

  “Errand shit. You know. Sorry, but…” He shrugs.

  “I’m tired, Reve. And scared.” I take a long, deep breath, finally beginning to recover from my sprint to get here. “Oh, gods. Everything’s a mess.” I let my head fall back on the couch, landing on my bruised skull. “Ouch!” I turn to the side. And my eyes land on a black uniform sticking out from underneath the sofa…a black uniform with red letters and the words “Out of the mud comes power.” It’s written in Reve’s handwriting. The paint looks wet, like he just added that. I yank out the material. “You son of a bitch, Reve. You’re part of the Obliterate gang.”

  I bolt to my feet.

  “I can explain,” he says, unable to meet my eyes.

  “What’s to explain?” I stalk across the floor to where he stands, and forcefully jab my finger into his chest. “Were you the one who stabbed Thras?”

  “No, I…” His face twists into a snarl. He grabs my hand and flings it away. “I’m sick of the Metas. I’m doing the right thing. We want the planet cleansed of Meta filth. They screwed us before, and they’re screwing us again.”

  “You freaking asshole! You could have killed him! You could have killed me!” I’m livid, shaking with rage.

  “No, I made sure you were okay. I made them promise not to hurt you.” He gets to his feet, wincing. Now he towers over me. “I refuse to let the Metas do to us what they did before. No more,” he yells, spittle flying from his mouth.

  I wipe his spit from my cheeks and lean in. “You have no idea what you’re doing. They’ve suffered as much as we have.” My anger becomes lancing pain, stabbing my heart. “I don’t know you anymore, Reve.”

  “Yes, you do, sis. We’re doing this for the good of the planet.” His face mirrors mine, now, appearing distraught. His eyes moisten.

  “No. What you’re doing is for you. Move, I want to leave,” I say. Tears begin tracking my face.

  “No, Sakhi, we can work this out,” he pleads.

  “Let me out!” I scream. “I need to leave! Open the goddamned door!”

  When he powers it open, I jet from his room, my legs pumping frantically.

  “Sakhi, wait!” He limp-runs after me.

  I hurry to the Fastrans. I enter the lift and repeatedly punch the close door button.

  “Wait,” Reve yells, as the doors sigh shut.

  I make my way to the city center. Stumbling down the alleyway where I was attacked, I crouch and curl into a ball. I’m back to living on the streets. But this time will be different.

  Chapter 26

  Over the next few days, the Climintra hunts me like Zapper tracking-bots, those deadly machines used in the war to gun down targeted individuals. I’ve heard my name blasted through the Uni-propaganda news feed. My picture beams from Uni-screen displays. Apparently, I’m an accomplice in the crimes of Thrasyllus Blüthe. And I despise Paki Tchepikov. That man has destroyed everything I hold dear. And he only wants to make it worse.

  The only thing I’m an accomplice to is worrying about the man, hoping he’s okay. My mind is constantly flooded with thoughts of him. Our connection grows stronger by the second, like a throbbing, pulsing life-form, even though he doesn’t appear in my dreams.

  But I’m a freaked-out, frightened, wanted woman. I can’t go back to my suite. Instead, I slink through the shadows of the Complex, moving swiftly, head down to keep from being recognized by that blasted overhead eye in the sky.

  I’m also starving, my stomach hollow and screaming, which has my attention at the moment. I haven’t eaten since yesterday. And yesterday I barely ate at all.

  Huddled in the dark alley behind Uni-Gourmet Forty-Nine, the place where my latest nightmare began, I can smell the food-waste some Uni-waiter guy just threw in the bin. I swallow like a mongrel, my mouth filling with spit.

  Go back inside, stupid Uni-waiter.

  He’s propped against the wall, smoking, illuminated by the light issuing from the back door.

  My stomach lets out a loud growl. I know, I know. I suck at stealing food, I silently tell it. Every attempt yesterday ended in nearly being caught.

  The Uni-waiter finishes his smoke, but he simply stands there, staring at nothing.

  I inch closer, sticking to the shadows of our artificial night. Go! The scent of food is making me crazy inside, like I’d kill to eat right now. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea. What’s one less Complex drone? When I scan the alley for a weapon of some sorts, however, I come up empty. And anyway, me, kill for food?

  When the guy finally slips inside, I ghost-walk toward the waste receptacle. I have to pass the back door, which has been left open. Food smells billow from the restaurant. My insides howl.

  Kitchen staff are silent as they bustle around the kitchen. The clink of glasses and plates being sanitized, and the tromp of footsteps is the only noise coming from the back of the restaurant.

  I take a deep breath when I’m in line of sight of the kitchen. Pressing my back to the shadowy white walls of the passageway, I sidle sideways. A loud voice blasts through the doorway.

  “Hey! Get that shit out of here. That’s not fit for a Lorn coyote.”

  Another guy says, “What is it?” There’s a pause, followed by, “Oh, gods, this looks awful.” Some sort of wretching sound is made.

  The first guy laughs. “That’s our kitchen’s finest. That’s what the idiots who dine here eat. At least the Uni-food stores sell stuff resembling food.”

  I can’t move. I stay glued to my spot, sweat dripping from my brow.

  A louder, more distant voice bellows, “What’s going on back there? Get to work!”

  A Uni-waiter steps through the doorway, holding an outstretched white packet by two fingers.

  I’m certain I’m going to be discovered, shadows or no shadows.

  The guy lifts his head. He stares in my direction. He squints. His mouth falls open. He squints harder.

  But then a voice from inside says, “Get rid of that shit and get back in here, Dimon! We’ve got work to do.”

  Dimon glances over this shoulder, saying “Yeah, yeah,” and then shuffles to the waste bin. He tosses in the food packet, takes a quick look once more in my direction, and disappears back in the kitchen.

  I hu
stle out of the line of sight of the door.

  I’m at the trash receptacle, about to open the lid, when I hear, “I thought I saw someone out there.”

  “Out where?” the other guy says.

  “In the alley,” Dimon says. “I couldn’t see really well but it looked like a chick. What if it’s that woman they’re hunting for?”

  “What if it is?” first guy says. “They’ll find her. I want to get out of here. I’ve got things to do with someone. She’s waiting for me. Waiting for me. Catch my drift?”

  “Lucky dog,” Dimon says. “You know you’ll be punished if you get caught.”

  “Fuck that shit. The Uni are full of bullshit rules and you know it. Get busy. And shut the back door. If the boss-dick sees it’s open, he’ll string us up by our balls. ‘Uni-cost tracking starts in the workplace,’” he says in a deeper voice.

  Hiding next to the bin, I hunch low. The door slams. And it’s quiet again in the alleyway.

  I lift the lid of the bin, peering inside. Avoiding the slimy, oozing packet Dimon just tossed in, I pull out remnants of what looks like food. My gaze lands on a couple unopened containers of Uni-nourish. Crap nourishment never looked so good. Quickly, I make a pocket out of the bottom of my uniform top and shove as much food and Uni-nourish as I can inside.

  The back door bangs open.

  I let the bin lid slam and sprint away from the restaurant, clutching my grub.

  “I knew I was right,” Dimon calls. “You’ll never escape. Don’t you know? There are eyes everywhere.”

  Yeah, yeah, I think, echoing his earlier words. They haven’t caught me yet. I’ve got food to eat. I found a good place to hide and sleep. And, believe it or not, I’m actually feeling like I accomplished something by stealing this Complex chow. I’ve got no one watching out for me and there’s something about it that feels righteous and true, even if I am a hunted individual.

  I reach the Uni-sewer cover and pause. It’s only fitting that the place I found to escape prying eyes is in my brother’s world here on the Complex—the world of Human and Meta waste. It’s on a street where the lights haven’t been replaced yet, so it’s pretty dark. I lift the cover and slip into the stinking bowels beneath the city. It makes me gag. Balancing my food bundle in my uniform, I one-hand it down the metal ladder into the shit-hell where my brother works—the level known as Negative-One.