Variant: A Sci-Fi Romance (Variant Trilogy Book 1)

by J. Q. Baldwin

  The ground, soft and fluffy, puffed in clouds as I walked. As light-footed as I was I couldn’t help leaving a trail of boot prints through the substantial but silent forest. I doubted any presence had been there since the last bomb dropped and I also doubted that anyone would follow my steps for a long time to come.

  I’d discovered in that tomb the broken remains of a facility where either I, my parents or grandparents were bred like animals. I searched through every room, lifting debris and breaking locked doors, where the stench of death still lingered.

  I came upon the cages and the cold metal rooms equipped with steel tables, straps and instruments. My fingers traced the memories of pain and despair glazing every item like a lacquer, but whatever I could conceive would not compare in the smallest of measures to what had actually transpired in the soul destroying place.

  I had found it difficult to come to terms with my beginnings but I understood why perhaps, I’d been abandoned at the orphanage. It would’ve been nigh impossible for an escapee to raise a child when they themselves had been raised in such a loveless and pitiless home.

  I didn’t visit the orphanage while I was there. No point. Ana wouldn’t have been granted a grave. She’d have been incinerated, which was custom in the majority of countries. I felt no desire to relive a sad, but tiny part of my past.

  From my trip I’d brought back with me only one holo-doc that hadn’t been completely eroded. I’d spent days in the lab at home retrieving the information encrypted, scrambled and embedded in it. It contained a list of genetic signatures. A few similar to mine.

  I had blood relations. Real family. I had no idea what had happened to any of them or if the codes actually resulted in births or if the document was simply a recipe. Though it was logical to assume that at least a percentage of the ‘recipes’ had been followed to completion.

  The device I lightly traced with my fingertips now held something important. Something I’d been searching for. I could feel it thrumming through my blood. Once I read it the information would be wiped. Once I read it I couldn’t re-read it. Couldn’t savour it. So I savoured it now.

  I let it lay against my chest, long enough for the small metal cover to warm against me, before turning the pad over and tapping the file open, knowing Spartan’s intuition was to be expected.

  The main file held no notes but two attachments labelled: Medical report, dated two weeks ago and a Sector Guard’s report dated a day later.

  I tapped the Sector Guard’s report. If the report went above the sector and had entered the federal radar Spartan would have had to take it to Onyxeal instead of handing it to me, so he was - technically - within code of our policies. I was cognizant of the boundaries he brushed against. I kept that perception close at hand as I read because Onyxeal was not the only entity Spartan mislead routinely.

  The murder victim, male, mid-forties, had been discovered in his home by staff. COD - Blunt forced trauma: fist-like indentations, skull crushed. Injuries sustained and contributing to death; punctured lung, ruptured spleen. Post mortem noted left hand crushed and shattered right femur with size 12 boot imprinted into the right thigh.

  Life lapsed at least 18 hours prior to discovery.

  No witnesses. No drone footage.

  It gave the man’s address, occupation etc but I dazed over those just committing them to memory without effort as my mind was busy re-running the COD.

  All I could think was: Swaine, another like him. Not good. Catastrophic.

  I opened the Medical report, assuming it related to a similar brutal attack from this unknown Variant.

  My own face stared back at me.

  Shock whacked me and I should have fisted my caustic heart palpations, but I was too thrown. Too confused.

  Battered and severely swollen - marred - I still easily recognised myself.

  My nose was shattered, blood crusted over thick despite the effort of someone to wipe my nostrils clear for air, although my busted and swollen lip almost suffocated the airway anyway.

  My crushed eye socket caused a sense of loss to fill me. Without sight I’d never escape Carne.

  A mish mash of black, purple and yellow mottled my entire face, neck and shoulders.

  My eyes were closed. Unconscious. I hoped.

  The photo included a full body interactive view of my corpse lying on a hospital gurney. Another sunset of bruises and lacerations spread out like a butterfly over my chest. Hand prints encircled my arms as evidence of some violently intimate embrace. Even the epidermal ridges from the palms of my abuser were seen in blotchy lines.

  There wasn’t a spot that didn’t have current or healing wounds.

  I saw my death.

  The woman in the photo was my exact copy. It wasn’t me. Logically I knew that, but to see myself, so violently beaten, so utterly broken. Well, I didn’t know what to do other than stare and to struggle against some building emotion or energy that rose like a beast inside me.

  That primal fear forced me to scan the photos in minute detail before it was wiped from the file. I willed myself to look at it without the emotion, stemmed it from seeping out. I focused my eyesight in, onto the tattoo lining the side of the body. From the armpit down I recognized my own encoding. Until I reached the thigh. The genetic signature held a slight anomaly to mine and it didn’t hold part of Carne’s – which mine did.

  It wasn’t me. Nearly identical, but not me.

  I read the report.

  It was assumed the woman was a domestic abuse victim. Not uncommon. What was uncommon was that after such extensive beatings she was still breathing.

  She. Was. Alive.

  Alive enough to wake before any treatments could be administered. Alive enough to break out of the hospital naked at a run like a reanimated corpse, misshapen and monstrous, before anyone could stop her.

  I blinked as I read the location after the terrible footage played: Community Hospital, Burrow 3 Adelaide.

  The device beeped as it expired.

  A virus attacking the files made the photos of my twin distort and pixilate before corrupting completely. Brevity snuck in.

  I had a twin. After that fact sank in questions formed in a rush like data flying down a holo-screen, never pausing, only glitching at hiccups.

  Did she know our parents? Who was the Variant who’d beaten her? No human could inflict so much bodily damage and have it last long enough that it took more than twenty-four hours to heal.

  Had she been so close to me all along?

  Her connection to the murder was disturbing. I inviolately hoped any family I found would live oblivious to the darkness I’d witnessed throughout humanity. Obviously her attacker and the murderer were one and the same but why associate herself with someone like that? How was she linked to the murder vic? A murder victim that had enraged a violent Variant. The TOD and her admission to Emergency were very close to colliding. It meant she’d either been there at the time of death or had caught the tail end and tried to escape the altercation that landed her in the hospital.

  Had the unknown Variant abducted her from the hospital?

  My head was a flurry of information trying to connect the dots but, like a holo-screen it kept repeating: Error, error, error.

  Slow, I counselled my out of control brain.

  First things first, it would be pointless going to the hospital now. It’d be hard to delete her records on a quiet night. Better to go during a rush. I’d scout the hospital tomorrow. Besides she was long gone. I wouldn’t find her there. Also, I’d search the murder victim’s home for any leads to the murderer. As much as I’d like to rush head first out into the night I had planning to do. Searches, including the murder victim’s address, the company he worked for, and any other reports that I could hack in the Sector Guard’s site. Surely these weren’t isolated events. I was adept at the usual hacking for government sites but I’d have to enlist Jobe if I encountered anything classified.

  As I worked I wondered about my twin and the life
she’d led so far. She obviously needed help. I wasn’t some missionary though – come live life like me, my way. My life was as complicated as anyone’s but if I could do something, I would. Had she been here looking for me? Did she know about me? Or herself?

  I’d learnt fairly early on what made me different but could still remember a time when I didn’t. I could still remember a time when I didn’t have a family that loved me and, at times, indulged me.

  Chapter Seven

  The jet trip was long. I behaved myself though. I didn’t want to be a menace and I didn’t want to give them reason to take me back. So I stayed in my seat for the five-hour flight across the globe. I kept my hands in my lap, my ankles crossed and kept my mouth closed. Children should be seen and not heard.

  I really liked Ava and Ven. They forever asked if I was hungry and I always was. The whole trip I never once felt hurt hungry though. I tried all new foods even lollies. Ava said my metabolism could process it quickly enough though I would need better food once home. I’d not understood half of what she’d said but I guessed it meant they were a treat.

  That didn’t matter. I’d never have another lollie if I could see Carne instead. I was so excited it became hard in the last hour of the flight to sit still.

  “Miss? Do you need to go to the bathroom?” the flight attendant had asked nicely when she noticed my barely stifled wriggles.

  I didn’t reply. I knew she was Normal. I did not know what I could and couldn’t say to normal people so I thought it best not to at all. That personal rule would hold me in good stead throughout my life growing up.

  “She’s fine, thank you,” Ava responded for me, then asked me herself if I needed to. I shook my head in the negative.

  We landed at Adelaide, South Australia. Ava told me that Australia was one of the most unharmed nations, since it had been mostly forgotten during the world war. The capitals had been destroyed but Australia was a big country and was in a better state than most. I would be safe at our new home in Lonsdale, SA.

  As soon as the aircraft hit the tarmac I could feel Carne. He was so close!

  “He’s here, he’s here, Ava!” I bounced in my seat, coming to life and nearly climbing over Ava to the window.

  “He’s here, Sweetheart,” she laughingly agreed, surprised at my outburst. “But you have to wait just a little bit longer and keep your harness on until light goes off. You see?” she pointed at the red ‘Harness Fastened’ sign above the curtain.

  Carne, I’m here!

  I know, Deli. I picked you some flowers. The prettiest Delilah’s Orchids ever. I planted them all by myself, just for you. Wait till you see Deli!

  From Carne’s mind I could see the pink, purple, orange and white in his hands. Carne would ruin them if he held any tighter to them. I could’ve cut his tension with a knife he was so wound up. But then so was I. We were so much apart of each other that, even then, we fed into the others emotions.

  Ven carried our luggage and Ava struggled to hold me as we approached the main terminal. Carne was popping up and down, his caramel curls bounced with him as he tried to get a better view of our approach.

  A man as large as Ven held Carne’s hand, and even from that distance, I heard him caution Carne for patience.

  And then I was there.

  Standing in front of my lifetime friend. His amber eyes, tilted just slightly at the edges, proving he was Ava’s son, twinkled. His honey coloured skin was warm as he reached out and grabbed me to him. I’d never felt such an overwhelming sense of home.

  No more dark, Deli. I promise, he spoke only to me.

  He pulled away slightly so he could look down at me. With his thumb he smeared my first fat tear rolling down the side of my nose and across my cheek. Deli, he said, I’ll take care of you.

  I know, Carne. I bent and pressed my nose to the flowers and inhaled deeply.

  The man beside Carne knelt down at my eye level and I brought my face away from the silky flowers. My hand squeezed Carne’s anxiously.

  “Hello, Delilah,” he shook my free hand. “My name is Troy. I’m Carne’s dad. I’m very pleased to have you with us finally. Our little gypsy girl.” He ruffled my hair and grinned, laugh lines crinkling.

  Troy had soft wheat blonde hair and hazel eyes. Everyone had such bronze skin; it looked a lot like mine. I was glad they did. Maybe they wouldn’t call me Marime.

  Troy as Carne’s Dad confused me.

  “How many dads do you have?” I asked Carne as we were being ushered into another black hover vehicle.

  “Two.”

  “Oh.”

  Lonsdale used to be an industrial estate. Maybe an epoch ago oil refineries and large amounts of hover cars were produced from industrial units but that was a long, long time ago. Now the suburb was filled with dilapidated factories, vandalized and covered in graffiti, a few squatters and a lot of stray animals. But the farther our hover craft travelled the cleaner and more golden the landscape got until we ended at a large set of wrought iron gates.

  My ears picked up the soft buzz of a camera as we pulled up and Ven raised a holo-screen on the windshield and tapped it with his fingers. The gates opened slowly before the hover car jerked forward. I craned my neck to see it close. It closed just like the orphanage gates. I breathed deep, willing myself to trust Carne.

  I can’t wait to show you your new room, Deli. I helped make it just right.

  What colour is it, Carne? I hoped it wasn’t grey.

  It’s not grey Deli! He nudged me playfully. You’ll see, he promised cheekily.

  The vehicle zipped along the drive, shuffling the gravel below. Ting-ting sounds pecking at the underside. It was a soothing little song that focused my calm as the great stone mansion loomed ahead. Like a mountain shaking snow against a backdrop of a very few silver-green ancient eucalypts, it stood. Blotches of brilliant red shrubs of bottle brush and fuzzy yellow blooming wattle bled around the compound.

  Turrets and towers pointed out the four corners of the manor. Quaint attic windows jutted out to reach sunlight along the tiled roof and arches. Even etched and worn it made an awe inspiring sight. The ground floor supported the building’s height with stone pillars, while full height arched glass windows let in sunshine. French doors and laced white fencing wrapped around terraces on the second level. Three stories of circa 2230 Victorian mansion made a grand image. It looked a castle from a fairytale I’d only vaguely heard about.

  My eyes travelled upward and upwards until the hover car was under the entryway receiving area. As the door released with a soft pssh, the front entry doors swung wide. A small firm woman with working arms and a fresh blue apron hurried down the stairs to greet us.

  The woman grabbed Ava to her. “Oh, Lovie, I’m glad you’re back,” then her face went mock stern. Her eyes and body language still glittered with warmth and welcome. “There won’t be no need for any more trips for a while now, will there?”

  “Goodness no, Lyndie. You wouldn't believe what we’ve had to survive on the past week.”

  “Lucky I have lunch on then, looks like you lost weight on that trip,” Lyndie tsked. She clucked like an old hen when in fact she did not look past forty.

  Lyndie let go of Ava to strangle in turn Ven, Troy and Carne. Carne got extra special treatment with the cuddles and pats and pinches on his cheeks even though he’d only been gone for the morning at most.

  Eventually she got to me. As much as I was curious and not the least frightened of Lyndie – I knew she hadn’t the strength to hurt me, just as I knew if she tried I would be way too fast for her - I did not want her physically touching me. I had no choice in the orphanage. Though most realised I did not wish it, some went out of their way.

  Here in this new place Carne had said if I didn’t want lights out I wouldn’t have to. I would not be slapped and I most definitely wouldn’t have to eat lumpy cold porridge. So I decided I didn’t want people touching me.

  Previously, if the other kids had touched me, just to get
my attention or whack me as I walked by they would tease and taunt me with the name ‘TPK17.’ Nalin, an older girl from my dormitory had overheard my telling Ana-bird that that’s what I was. Carne said he was the same; that we matched. I’d never matched anyone from the orphanage, and I did not want Lyndie touching my steel hard cheeks.

  So as she neared me I took a step backwards, her step faulted but then continued. I cocked my head up to glare at her into stopping. There was a sudden scent cloying the air around Lyndie. My nose twitched and I sniffed the air, confused. It wasn’t quite scared, like the smell of children under the closet but it was near enough.

  I never liked that smell and I didn’t want anyone smelling like that because of me. I let my eyes wander quickly to the others around me. Ava was between Troy and Ven. Troy held Ava’s hand and Ven had a hand on her shoulder, they felt… worried.

  Worry strung knots in the pit of my belly.

  Carne I didn’t need to look at, I could feel him. He was bristling like a dog about to bite. I let my hand find his before he tried to step in front of me again.

  Lyndie had stopped a few feet away.

  I still didn’t want her to touch me so I pulled both my hands and one of Carne’s behind me. “Good afternoon, Lyndie.” I said politely.

  She tried her best to smile while wiping at her apron. “Welcome home, Delilah. I baked a special dessert for you, would you like to come inside to see? I couldn’t decide what to make so I made trifle, which has just about everything, come and see, honey.”

  Ava came forward out of the grip of the two men standing guard at her. Carne relaxed and pulled me forward at a run. He laughed gleefully. “I want to show you everything Deli, come on!”

  “Whoa, slow down you two,” Troy came out of nowhere to grab Carne. “I thought we were to have lunch first?”

  “Aww Dad. I wanted to show Deli her room! She thought it would be grey, it’s not grey is it Dad?” Carne asked excitedly.

  “It’s certainly not grey,” he agreed. “All right you show our little gypsy her room then both of you best wash up for lunch. You have T-minus ten minutes and counting.” Troy pressed a few buttons on his watch. “Synchronize, son.”