All I knew was pain.
Wretched, involuntary spasms lifted my body out of itself, before slamming me back in. My eyes definitely rolled in terror then.
Vulnerable. I had never truly felt what I did now as Keyes strolled toward me as if the blue glow coddled him on his way. He squatted somewhat.
I missed chunks of time.
My jaw locked. Time continued to flip channels on me.
His eyes roved over me.
I did nothing but jackknife in another spasm. I found my neck kinked to one side, my view fighting to look up from his standard issue glossy boots.
“Watch.” Keyes nodded toward Tynan.
“You’re new, you should know what happens without the shot you’re due for this time next week,” Keyes said, staring me up and down casually.
“Filthy, I’d rather not deal with you rejects so take note what happens if we decided not to.” The simplicity in his voice was chilling. Had I ever gazed past people that way?
I thought they’d sit pleasantly in the HV outside the cell but they moved off.
My hearing tracked the vehicle as it hummed off. Tynan still gurgled.
Before the guards arrived I had anticipated violence, torture, at least some reprimand for Tynan’s condition. Not the complete antipathy or the sinking realisation that those obscure blue lights offered my gaolers more than a physical barrier. I hadn’t needed to feel their disgust and ambivalence to sub-species suffering, but I had, the moment Keyes entered the cell with us.
His nose scrunched while they’d debated the benefits of letting the rubbish die before the camera. Some must be worth their organs but Tynan was not. He was hardly the worth the fuel they bickered about as they left. I could only assume why he’d been kept.
Assumedly I had been fed whatever addictive drug was killing Tynan with withdrawals. My instincts said I was not affected; however I was in full blown fantasy land as my body followed the pulses of forever.
I was not a reject.
I unlocked my jaw.
I was not a reject, but my status as one kept me alive right now. So as the pulse continued and my suffering slowly eased despite it, I let my body continue to scatter about as if I was still as consumed. It took an eternity for the light show to stop. I was exhausted, shaky and a swallowing a thick sandpaper tongue.
Keyes and Cal slid an easy power over me. The entire situation had. I shook and shed it lest I came to believe we were the filth they trod on.
Tynan twitched, small but constant muscle contractions that forced sweat to bead and cool his bluish tinge further. He was dangling by a thread. Questions would be raised if he died.
If he died, I’d killed him. A reject. An unwitting soiled junkie in his condition through no fault of his own, assumedly, if my own captivity was an indication of how one became a permanent resident here.
The hidden prisoner said a reject was the best I could hope for. Anything else might be dangerous. Well, more dangerous. I’d found where the donated organs were stored - happily, in those that wanted to keep them. Yes, anything more than a reject was potentially a harvest.
I began to hope my initial flight or fight could be blamed for the sudden unleashing of strength. I was doubtful as I curled in on myself and the brightness became simply painful instead of searing. Tynan had beaten all others. I’d killed him, or at least weakened him enough to initiate early onset withdrawals.
The other prisoner hid still. The cavern in my psyche had shrunk to the size of a box and promised to constrict the more I batted at it, but with the possibility of harvest, knowing my telekinesis or at least a slight electrical interference could be achieved to hide my efforts momentarily from the cameras, what choice did I have? Escape or rescue were the only ones, and they took survival.
Ven’s team had spent months tracking this very facility. Carne’s invested interest might find me sooner but I had to stay alive for that. And every one of my organs was worth exorbitant amount that regenerated with each new regrowth if they’d ever figured out that fact. Yes, there were many things worse than being viewed as a reject and I’d discover them if I didn’t escape.
Copyright Notice
Variant
Book One
©J.Q. Baldwin 2018
Chapter One
Superhero? Hardly. Humanitarian, I’m not. Soldier, maybe. Delilah Gracer, Soldier – yeah, that worked. It still felt inadequate somehow. Honestly, I barely considered myself a part of humanity. Created by them, yes. One of them, No.
A twenty-first century geneticist proclaimed: so far there had been three distinct stages of medicine in our history. One: the germ theory which brought about the prevention of disease and pestilence through sanitation. Two: vaccination. Three: Well, that age began when a Japanese physicist declared the natural progression from cloning sheep was the production of cloned organs and genetic manipulation. He hypothesised that someone, nearing fifty in his time would, with medicinal assistance, live until the ripe age of one hundred and fifty - a grand but horridly foreign idea to most back then. He guaranteed that thereafter we would see the emergence of a new of Homo Sapiens Sapiens – Homo Sapiens Variance CC ; a new breed of stronger, smarter and healthier humans.
I did not feel too smart today.
If I could warn the past I would tell them that technology only advanced enough to eventually destroy itself. My time was not some grand utopia of clean lines and bustling economies. No. I walked through the mists on the grimy streets that had little to do with the cold and more to do with lingering atomic ash, where public transport whales cluttered the underbelly of my city like bloated carcasses.
Our world crumbled and people walked with their heads down. People who’d shutter themselves inside when trouble arrived like some cliché western, and didn’t care to know their neighbours let alone the rest of the world.
I didn’t care to save the crumbling remains of our world either. I was simply a third generation, engineered human with a few debilitating abilities, trying to find my own little place among the depressed throng of others, and I’d moved in to it early last week.
It was dilapidated. The whole apartment complex slanted to the right, noticeably sinking due to bomb explosions and unstable foundations. The open parking garages below barely covered head height, the building had sunk so far. Puddles of polluted water on cratered concrete tinged the air in a foul musk but my second floor, one bedroom unit was all mine for thirty Interancies a week - Our international currency. I compared our currency and government to my new dwelling: broken and corrupt.
My new dwelling - home, if I ever got used to calling it that had everything I needed. Oh, the water and gas shorted out, and the wiring was faulty but those were nothing a girl couldn’t fix with a little determination. I had a sardine small balcony with a pot plant drooping and grey in the corner, desperate for a new owner, and a magnificent view of a brick wall. Beautiful.
I plonked onto my ratty couch, splaying myself luxuriously before wrapping my childhood orange, pink and gold Indian ruggie around me. My mind quietly worked on whether I had made the right decision. He would find me eventually. My fight for independence hadn’t even begun yet. Was I deluding myself into thinking I could not feel panic slick icy waters down his spine this very moment?
No.
I can do this, I promised myself.
“Del Flower. You. Can. Do. Thi -”
Banging fists pummelled my front door instead of chiming the intercom. Was the electricity playing up again today? Startled out of my pep talk, I concentrated. It wasn’t the movers. I snorted a breath of derision. Movers. I had only brought one bag of clothes and one box of keepsakes. I’d edged my way out of home like backing away from a predator. I held a shaky treaty with Onyxeal and I didn’t trust them entirely not to rescind, fixing fate.
I sat up then, and bent over to scrutinize the shadows under the door whilst sliding a dagger from my boot but re-thought that when the conversation outside screamed ‘neighbours’. A
nd I was one part ready, another part…
“She’s only just moved in. You’re such a nosy bitch, Lolly.”
“It’s called polite not nosy, I’ll have you know and she’s been here nearly two weeks!” Lolly sounded like she had her hand on her hip, hissy in indignation. I had heard them of course since I’d arrived but I had been carefully skirting any interaction. Had I always been so anxious? I did want ‘normal’, didn’t I?
“Why, I can’t see a fruit basket. You hiding one under the girls?” the male half of the pair cracked sardonically.
“Argh, you’re a dick Marsh!” I heard a mock slap. “And no, nothing more could fit into this bra, let me tell ya.” Her shadow shuffled under the door - Lolly re-adjusting ‘the girls’.
More banging.
I’d been alone at Onyxeal. No, not alone. Lonely. Isolated.
That was past.
If I ignored them maybe I’d never have to deal with people here, but that wasn’t what I wanted from life. Lolly? She had nosy down to an art and it kind of endeared me to her. It had been a little cat an mouse game keeping a step ahead of her every time she’d tried to catch up to me in the building. She ran like a baby goat. More quirky than a lamb and had a little hop to her.
Flaws were relatable and I had many. I told myself once again, ‘I am out, I am out. I am entitled to a life.’
I slid the door open halfway. I assumed they were the type to barge right on through if not stopped. I left one foot holding the frosted carbon fibre door, while I took in the appearance of my new neighbours.
Lolly, seemed momentarily shocked, taking a step back, then hand on hip, inspected me as well.
Lolly was big breasted. I understood the statement now I was up close, about fitting nothing else in that bra. Layered in so many clothes though, it amplified the size of her chest two fold. Still, I was surprised I even had a chance to be dumbfounded by her boobs because her cacophony rainbow clothing exploded like a supernova, blinding me; indigo bleeding into orange and lime green strips of material hiding her slight pot belly. Beaded bangles, leather bracelets, and twenty necklaces of all kinds hung heavy around her throat. The overall picture: a highlighted bohemian princess.
Crucial first moments passed while my pupils contracted, zooming in at the detail I was trained to recognise, though her inverted face had already sparked my recognition last week. Intrigued, I stared into each thread, each new texture; sparks flying off the gold tassels dangling from her vest, midnight silver webbing laced hip to ankle on sunburnt tights.
“Like what ya see Sweetness?” Lolly asked with a smirk.
I was staring at my new neighbours boobs and thighs.
“Yes. Can I feel? Might have to buy some. Small is over-rated,” my eyebrow raised as I calmly shifted my bangs from my eyes.
I wondered if her smirk meant she’d been convinced I had romantic intentions because of my fascination with her boobs. Did she find such attentions offensive? Or was it a joke? Perhaps she used sarcasm to hide her insulted emotions. I decided to go with joke. I was treading water here. I really should have interacted with my peers during my sojourn at high school.
Profile a person, check.
Interact, no.
Marsh burst into laughter, banging his palm on the sad, peeling wall he’d been leaning against. “Oh, I like her,” he thumbed at me. Lolly harrumphed, folding her arms under her chest.
“Quick come in then, I’ll get my pants off!” I cracked.
Lolly disentangled her frown into a pretty lilt. “Not necessary, today Neighbour,” she assured me.
I shucked. “Well, what can I do for you today?”
As I felt awkwardness second guess my playful response to my neighbours I revised Ava’s advice on the difference between missions, life, and personal relationships. Primarily, the fact that I was entitled to them. It simply began with that ability to relate to another person.
I shared Lolly’s triangle face shape. The regular population rarely exhibited the supplementary facial recognition processing function that recalled faces like mine. Studies showed other face shapes were much more accessible to memory. And the lack of this additional processing system made our shared face shape as difficult to recall as a sign you passed, at speed, a decade ago. So our shared face type was, I believed, a subtle evolutionary jump.
I was notably more diminutive than the pretty pout and fluro flag before me though. Not child-like, but unassuming and small in a crowded, parsimonious world. My dark bangs and feathered lengths forged an unrecognisable face into even further obscurity. It was the world I felt most comfortable in.
I had spent the last six months travelling the globe before finally deciding to formally become independent and I’d fallen into the throng of humanity easily then with no fear of how to interact on a personal level - probably because I’d felt no reason to interact personally. That difference now became stark. Here. With neighbours. But I would learn. I would become a chameleon in this world, like the last, lest he find me, lest I never get this chance again.
Marsh was dressed in a simple navy tee, reproduction denim shorts that advertised more than hid muscled thighs, and runners. In clothing, the two friends were universes apart. And again I struggled to understand the personalities as a neat pairing although, Marsh, I decided was likeable in that puppy-dog-eyed kind of way: easy, trusting nature. He was certainly not unfortunate looking and had, scarred hands – hard working hands that reeked of the luxury, pine. I suppose I liked his first impression too. Like a rebel, or a eupho junkie or a cadet, he was a much simpler creature than Lolly.
“Welcome party,” Marsh apologized, holding up a plastic container I assumed to be synthetic alcohol. He should apologise. I could smell it from where I stood; tangy and watered down with mud.
“In that case...”
Spartan had threatened to not let me escape. I expected he watched me enter the building the first day in fact, but even with him weighing me, interpreting my every move I would trust his honour - and his arrogance – with my location, if not my guaranteed faux pas as I found a semblance of normalcy here with humans.
I let my foot grind along the floor, away from the door after they’d entered.
“That’s one heavy door stop ya got there Sweet,” Lolly noted as she sashayed past me into my apartment.
I made no comment and was simply glad my heavy foot, concealed in military style shit kickers, escaped any attention.
The two made themselves comfortable on my couch without being told. I found it strangely charming they were raised without strict manners. I found their naivety troublesome however. Quite possibly Lolly and Marsh were not the sharpest knives in the practice dummy or they were unnaturally trusting. I told myself I was not paranoid, simply suspicious by nature.
“This is Lolly,” Marsh pointed to the superhero.
I guess that made him the sidekick.
“Take no notice of the charm, she’s a bitch to live with,” he told me half seriously with a glint of affection in his eyes.
“And this is Marshall -I’ve got a big dick – Slade,” Lolly backhanded him across the chest.
“You’re just jealous I won’t give it to you,” Marsh replied grinning. “So you got a name, Neighbour?” he asked, turning that grin on me. I wasn’t fooled and felt relief that perhaps this would simply be an encounter like many others at the barracks.
“Delilah,” I said simply.
“Like the flesh eating orchid?” Lolly grimaced like she imagined one growing up her spray-on tights.
“Carnivorous yes. Flesh eating, no,” I corrected, slightly insulted folding my own arms.
“I think it’s pretty,” Marsh winked.
“Don’t even think it Marshall Slade,” Lolly scolded. “You leave the girl alone. No deflowering,” she pointed her finger at him.
“Where would you get an idea like that Lolly?” Marsh protested light-heartedly, gleefully.
“Tell me if he comes on to you, Delilah, and I’ll cu
t it off him while he’s sleeping,” Lolly smiled evilly at Marshall, her fingers scissoring the air.
“You would too, wouldn’t you, Tart?” Marsh eyed her warily, the moniker some sort of strange endearment off his tongue.
She took it as such, her face softening with affection.
“You better believe it Mister.” Lolly flicked her mermaid hair.
“The last girl he duped was calling for a month, blaming me for his indiscretions,” she whispered to me, incredulous.
“So, got any glasses Delilah? We’ll get this house warming party started,” Marsh pronounced, holding up their gift.
“Ah, no. Well I don’t know,” I admitted.
“It was supposed to be furnished but I haven’t had a chance to do much…” I looked around the sparse living room. Truthfully I had exactly one cup and one plate with utensils and that came from my own survival pack. That was not information I thought prudent to mention.
“Not to worry, I’ll race over to our apartment and grab some,” Marsh offered, leaving for the door.
“Get the good ones,” Lolly called as he pressed the door’s button.
The door slid open and Marsh barrelled out. And then bounced off the chest of the man on the other side.
“Oomph,” Marsh landed on his arse. “What the, sorry, man, didn’t see you - ” his voice loitered in the air as he looked up. And up.
I snapped to attention.
Spar-tan, I said in my head instead of aloud to fight off the dogged training ritual.
I stood at ease, purposefully belligerent.
Lolly came around me and bent to gather Marsh up off the floor, nervously glancing between me and my guest as her butterscotch tresses curtained her face. Marsh brushed Lolly off to stand alone. Her smile was slightly hurt, it slipped for a moment, but I understood. I’d seen men of all kinds try to stand next to Spartan; tried and failed.
As thick and solid as a hundred year old tree, he stood. Tattoos travelled his throat from clavicle to clavicle in a chunky collar. Unerringly still, he glared at my company is if trying to shoot fireballs out of his mad eyes. There was a sparkle in them that was not quite happiness and Marsh visibly flinched then stepped backwards, as one would from a deranged soul.
Variant Evasion: Trilogy (Variant Trilogy Book 2) Page 13