by Ana Calin
“Oh, no, we’re going all the way, asshole!” I could only hope he heard me. I wanted him to feel the fear. To be in the victim’s skin. I could not let him live. I would not let him live.
“I’ll fucking suck the life out of you!” I screamed.
He fell to the ground with me, wriggling like a stabbed snake, but went smart enough to move his hands from my wrists and grab my shoulders. He rolled over me. Applying more strength, I pierced his eyeballs with my fingernails, but just a moment later something made of fur knocked him hard from my hands. He flew to the side, followed by more stripes of fur that leaped after him. I got up on my buttocks and squinted through the blizzard. Though I didn’t see anything, I did hear his cries and faint animal growling. Wolves, those strings of fur were wolves.
For some reason fangs felt more threatening than the rusty chain that still coiled around my ankle, more threatening than the man’s sadistic glare, than his blows. I got up to my feet, slowly walking backwards, careful not to make any sudden moves. The wolves could still have been very close. I bled, which placed me far down the food chain and would make them put up a fight for my flesh.
I dragged my leg with the heavy chain until one wrong step sent me stumbling backwards. My body smashed against rocks. I fell down an endless slope, blow after blow hard in my ribs and crack after crack loud in my ears. I didn’t even get to feel any pain. It all stopped with a knock to the back of my head, and light began to close in on a small moon. That face again. Those eyes. The brightness fizzed in them like flickering neon, and I was sure this was it. My muscles relaxed and my lungs gave out one last, resigned breath as those words filled my head – “You need me.”
Chapter Six
Whispering somewhere close. If I was dead, I wasn’t alone. I felt warm and so very comfortable, all that whispering, as if somebody were careful not to disturb.
Then I must’ve fallen asleep and dreamt, even in death, and it felt anything but nice. I was small, so small, a bee in a jar. And I tried to get out, but the glass was slippery, with nothing I could grab. Every time I tried to reach up, my palms would leave traces of blood down the jar. Instead of fingernails, I had pus. I screamed a sharp scream like a train whistle, then pushed hard on my hands. And then my eyes were open, though heavy, so very heavy.
I sat up, sweat trickling down my forehead and neck. The room seemed warped, like in a dream, my skull burdensome as if it contained rocks. I dropped back on pillows that smelled of disease, and something stung my arms. My body grew heavier and heavier, sinking in the mattress like a pile of steel. I realized I wouldn’t be able to lift myself again, it had been only a rush that my body wouldn’t sustain again anytime soon.
A sweet, pained voice spoke close to my ear. “Alice, baby, you’re awake. Thank God, you’re awake.”
English. I now knew Mom leaned over me, her lips pressing on my temple and forehead. I tried to open my eyes again, but I didn’t find the strength, my lids swollen.
She held my hand, I now felt it, aware again of the life that flowed feebly through me. A slow pulse in my chest, like a lazy clock. Tick – pause – tock. Tick – pause – tock.
Among sobs, Mom began telling me the story of the Sleeping Beauty. It had been one of my favorites as a kid, and her voice brought back the oldest and sweetest memories of pink pajamas and Judy the Monkey. Memories as distant as how and why I’d ended up feeling as beaten and finished as I did. My mind filled with only the image of a prince with beautiful, sculpted face and long raven hair, the girl slumbering in a high, ivory tower, and the taste of cotton candy mingling with that of blood.
The story came to a forced end when two men walked in – I could tell they were men by the deep voices that didn’t manage to keep their conversation to the mere level of whispers.
“I won’t leave her under your wing alone.” The man’s identity flashed in my head – Dad.
“You’re being unreasonable, Tiberius,” the other man warned in a commanding voice. Probably as commanding as his person, since he called my dad by his first name – very few called the great Dr., PhD., a-pile-of-titles-in-biochemistry-I-can’t-even-read Tiberius Preda by his first name.
Images of a rusty chain and strings of fur crossed my mind’s eye like sharp lashes. Then the fall, the knocking and cracking of bones.
“I can take care of her at home,” Dad said.
“That’s not a good idea.”
Among wretched sobs Mom whispered, “She has woken up, Tiberius. She was up on her hands, she opened her eyes.”
The shuffle of fabric told me Dad hurried to my side. Hands checked the catheter. Hospital, doctor, IV lines . . . reality caught outline. How on earth could I have survived? The leaden sensation all through my body prevented me from moving or making a sound, and a ton of sedatives and painkillers must’ve been keeping me numb to pain, but my brain activity took off like a rocket.
“She’s regaining her strength fast,” Dad said, and bent close to my ear. “Alice, do you hear me? Are you awake, sweetheart?”
Regaining my strength felt far from the truth, since I didn’t find enough to moan, let alone answer.
“She fell asleep again,” Mom lamented, as if I were more dead than alive. “She fell asleep, my poor girl.” She caressed my hair, tickling my temple.
“You should get some fresh air, Jen. You look and sound scared, and that’s the last thing she needs.”
Mom took offense, it was obvious in her higher-than-usual pitch. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my baby, barely out of a cold ditch.”
“Go, Jenna.”
“No way.”
“You’re an emotional wreck. I promise, I won’t stand in your way when you come back, but go come to grips first.” Dad sounded severe – that kind of severe that used to sew my lips together years ago.
I sensed Mom linger in the doorstep before her steps faded down an echoing hallway. I still couldn’t understand why she put up with Dad’s brashness. Once she’d said it was for my sake, but that hadn’t kept him under the same roof with us anyway.
“I’ll leave you with her,” the other man – probably my doctor – said calmly.
“No, don’t. Close the door, we need to finish our talk.”
“Not here. Not now.”
“I won’t abandon her with you, lad, and I don’t want you doing anything behind my back to force my hand.”
He can force Tiberius Preda’s hand?
“I won’t take action without your knowledge”, the doctor said. “But I won’t back off either.”
“I won’t have her in your custody. That’s my final word.”
“Let’s talk about it later, some other place.”
“Some things can’t wait. Have you seen her blood count? It’s so good it’s frightening. After hours in the cold and everything she’s been through, not even a bladder infection. She fell down a precipice and not a broken bone. This is not normal. Besides, she’s always been a fragile kid.”
There was a trace of discontent in Dad’s voice that baffled me to the marrow. If I was doing so well, what was there to be urgent about? And why was I hooked to IV? And why ask my own doctor if he’d seen my blood count?
“She won’t remain this strong. But either way, she remains in danger,” the doctor said.
“What if she doesn’t come back to normal at all? Leona Ignat, her blood count looks just as staggering, there’s still no change …”
Leona. Flashes of the last moments at the cottage came at me.
“BioDhrome’s our priority now, Tiberius. They won’t stop here.”
They know about BioDhrome?
“No, BioDhrome won’t stop here. Especially if Alice’s blood count doesn’t come back to normal,” Dad said.
“It will. The gas effects always fade. It causes the body to regulate its chemistry so that it can become a fighting machine, the best version of itself, this is no secret to you. But the effects are temporary. Alice will be the fragile kid you know again, but they�
�ll still hunt her. They took special interest in her.”
“The effects of the gas might wear off after a while, but the experience will never go away. The experience is powerful and, combined with the gas, it can make the effects permanent. I don’t want her . . . forgive me, but I don’t want her ending up like you. I don’t want her to become an Upgrade, Damian.”
Damian! Excitement pulsed through me, but outside I remained still as a corpse. For whatever reason, my body wouldn’t respond. What the heck am I on?
“BioDhrome did much more with me than they did with Alice, Tiberius, you know this. She’s far from an Upgrade. Her values will normalize. You’ve seen George Voinescu’s results—his liver’s already a mess again from all that drinking. The healing wasn’t permanent.”
Hold on. How come Dad and Damian know each other?
“Alice might be soft and frail,” Dad said. “Not naturally violent, like you, but she is in a difficult place. She could get permanent effects from the gas.”
“You have only yourself to blame for her being in a difficult place,” Damian said. I felt my veins frost. “She ran away from everything you represented, she was desperate enough to want and marry some loser just to be rid of your name.”
Pause. Both in Dad’s breathing and mine.
“The truth hurts, doesn’t it, Tiberius? With all due respect, you can’t help your daughter.”
“How deeply did you two bond, boy, that she told you all of this?” Dad hissed. It was easy to imagine him pointing a rifle at my handsome barbarian.
“She talked. I listened.”
“Did all that listening get her in bed with you?”
Oh, no, no, no, Dad, please don’t!
“Have I not proven my loyalty?” Damian’s voice went a frequency lower, full of reproof. “I wouldn’t disrespect you like that. I only got close to Alice in order to protect her, like you requested.”
Requested?
“So can I rest assured that you haven’t taken a special liking to my daughter, Damian?”
Another pause, this time in Damian’s response and in my breathing again. He hesitated. Good God, he hesitated . . . Was it a good sign? Was he reluctant to admit that he liked me? Damian’s reply lagged for seconds, but when it came, it was velvety and clear. “Alice is a gem, I must admit. Sweet in appearance, sharp in wit and loving as an angel. But she’s your daughter.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, lad. It’s just . . .” Awkward pause. “You’re not good for her. It’s not your fault that they did this to you, yet . . .”
“I get it,” Damian cut him off.
The air was so laden that I could almost hear Dad nod. “I can’t risk you and Alice getting this close again.”
“We won’t get close again. But she’s in great danger, Tiberius, and I’m the only one capable of protecting her.”
“Thank you for watching over her, but you can’t help her anymore.”
“This is irresponsible of you, Tiberius.”
“Respect and loyalty, Damian, if I may remind you,” Dad retorted. “Do not go behind my back.”
“No. Not behind your back.” With that, Damian closed the door behind him.
A chair raked the floor as Dad pulled it close to the bed and sat down. I opened my eyes, and Dad’s face appeared through the blurry shield my eyelashes made. I couldn’t help myself.
“What did BioDhrome do to Damian Novac?” I demanded.
Chapter Seven
I paused and swallowed painfully. My throat felt dry. “How do you know Damian?”
“Does your head feel heavy? Your whole body? Lift your right hand,” – as if he didn’t hear me this time either.
“What did they do to him, Dad?”
“Is breathing difficult? How about talking?”
“Damn it, Dad!” – No difficulties – “Answer me!”
The door creaked ajar and Dad’s face sprang over mine. His breath steamed my cheek as he whispered, “Play along. Breathing is difficult, Alice. Everything hurts, no matter what.” Then he straightened up to face the visitor.
A mind-blowing surprise to see the person interested in my wellbeing this time was Hector, the bearded singer with aquiline features. Only when two men in POLICE jackets followed did I realize he wasn’t there as brother-in-pain, though. His frown and suspicion-filled eyes measuring Dad from head to toe already spoke of a strict inspector or something, but as he flashed his badge my mouth still popped open.
“Your wife kindly told us that Miss Preda is awake,” he croaked, low and controlled, as if he hadn’t been there with us, as if he’d only just read the case facts in a file that got slapped on his desk. What movie is this?
“She’s still weak.”
“That’s okay.” Hector adjusted his attitude to match Dad’s aristocratic demeanor, clearly mocking.
“Later, Agent Varlam, I must insist.”
“Time is precious, Dr. Preda, given the circumstances. Surely you understand.”
More of this back and forth “I insist,” and “So do I,” until Dad was left with no choice, the two officers framing him on each side. With silent threat on their furrowed brows they grabbed Dad by his arms. Offended, he jerked from their grasp and whisked his suit, giving me a reassuring, “I’ll be back with you as soon as the hawk’s out. Don’t let him pressure you.”
With that the officers ushered him out, and Hector took the chair by my side. Up close he looked roughly used as well despite his facial hair that did something to hide the signs. His lips were split, a cut with stitches presided on his forehead, not to mention that one eye was already turning from blue to black, so it couldn’t be just in my head – he’d been there with us, he’d taken a gulp of dread and violence as large as I had.
“What is this?” I managed, unable to hide astonishment.
“Isn’t it obvious? Agent Hector Varlam, at your service.”
“Jesus, Hector!” Memories of lilt guitar tunes spun in my head. “You were there with us. You lived it all first hand, what? Why? Why are you here?”
“Now, now, take it easy, babe. I don’t need you to recount what I already know. I need to find out what happened after you played decoy and got almost everybody out of the cottage.”
“How do you know I played decoy?” I didn’t wait for the answer though, other questions pressing against this one like a crowd against a door. “And what do you mean almost everybody?”
“There have been fatalities, I’m afraid. Marius Iordache and a few others didn’t make it. I hate being the one to deliver the news.”
“Jesus Christ!” One particular memory lit up – the Wretch, coughing out blood and grunting.
“Alice, please.” Hector lowered his voice and face. “This isn’t easy on my side of the barricade either. But we have to keep a cool head and recount the facts while the whole thing is still warm. If too much time passes, the brain begins editing broken pieces of memory.”
“How long have you been on this case, Hector? How long have you been chasing BioDhrome?” I didn’t even think of beating around the bush. If he’d been undercover it was because he already knew, no doubt. He decided to be straight-forward about it, too.
“Quite a while – six years, to be exact.”
“So, you didn’t get them in six years, and now you want me to believe that my account of a fight in the woods will make the difference?”
“A fight? Is that what happened?” He looked at me with raised eyebrows but no genuine surprise.
“I have a feeling you know more than you let on.” Like he did that I played decoy.
“The rescue team did find the body of a villager close to where they found you. But I seriously doubt you were the butcher.”
“I wasn’t. It was wolves.” But I had a feeling he knew that, too.
“Humor me. Tell me what happened.”
I did. Short sentences, only facts – struggling to push the gate shut in the face of all emotion. Hector listened, eyes down at his hands taki
ng notes on a small notebook.
“You were the only one attacked, you know,” he murmured when I was done, without lifting his head. “The rest of us ran and ran, spurred on by rage and bloodlust. The rush began to fade once I reached the woods, and by the time I reached the village in the valley I was dead tired, my lips and fingers frostbitten. I didn’t find a soul in the village, Alice, it seemed completely deserted. I was the first to find refuge in the church. Soon the others joined, your friends Leona Ignat and George Voinescu included. All usable paths turned out to lead to that village like a fuckin’ maze. The church was the only friendly-looking place, all houses looked like coffins.
“Interestingly enough, the only one who managed to escape that maze was Damian Novac. He came in last, hours later, not alone. He’d found the military base deep in the woods, some miles from the village, and brought help. How he made it there remains a mystery. Like so many things about him.” At this point, his eyes shot at me. “He was here with your father, wasn’t he?”
“So is this it? Is this why you’re really here and pretending to be bonding with me? To find out what they talked about, compare my version to the one they give you?” I proved unable to hide the contempt in my voice. He’d been shadowing Damian for years, and yet here he was, squeezing information from me.
“Damian Novac is dangerous, Alice, you must understand. I have reason to believe he’s working for a powerful criminal organization. I don’t have proof, since the guy is damned shrewd, given, but I’ve been around him for six years. Six. That’s enough time to feel things, if not know them.
“I’d studied Novac before this mission, monitored his every move, adjusted my personality to get under his skin. We became friends, or so I thought. He always remained detached and secretive. Still, one thing slipped, by chance actually – his friendship with your father. I discovered it when I saw him emerge from Dr. Preda’s private booth at the Marquette . . .” He went on carefully here, “The booth where Svetlana danced for him, you understand? For your father. I’m sorry, Alice. I really didn’t want to tell you this, but I need your trust.”