Containment

by Caryn Lix

  Back in the main room, a dark foreboding settled over us. “Where’s Mia?” I asked Alexei, my voice hushed, as if frightened to disturb the tension.

  “Here.” Her response floated from nearby, disembodied and ridiculously creepy.

  For some reason, it made every muscle in my body tense. “Do you have to do that?”

  She shimmered into view, her face a furious scowl. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you find it unnerving? Does it make you uncomfortable when you can’t see me, Kenzie? Maybe I’m a harder target to shoot?”

  A wave of cold rushed over my body. I knew she hadn’t forgotten. “Mia, it was an accident.”

  “Maybe it was,” she returned, her entire body taut, ready for action. “But you’re still holding that gun. How long before you accidentally shoot one of us, too?”

  Cage’s arms constricted around me. “Mia, enough. For one thing, it’s a stun gun. For another—”

  “You shut up.” Mia stabbed a finger in his direction. “You lied to me, Cage. To all of us. I trusted you, I actually trusted you, and look where it got me.”

  “Off Sanctuary,” he replied coldly.

  I drew the stun gun and raised it, careful not to point it in anyone’s direction. “You all feel that way?” I looked at the others in turn. Imani met my gaze, her eyes warm and steady. Reed stared at me in confusion, as if he still wasn’t sure what was going on. Jasper and Alexei seemed to hover on the edge of forgiveness, but I still got nothing but icy hostility from Mia. Her words echoed in my mind: I actually trusted you, and look where it got me. Was she angry, or hurt? I didn’t think she really thought I’d target her. She was scapegoating me, using that as an excuse for dealing with her own emotional conflict. Well, I was no stranger to that myself, and I knew how to play along. “Okay,” I said. “Imani.”

  Her head shot up, confusion in her face. “But . . .”

  “You’re a good shot, and you’re just as defenseless as me without a weapon. And I trust you,” I said, glaring at Mia. What stung the most? She was right. I had lied. I’d shot Matt. Sure, Cage had swept me into his plan, but I was an independent functioning human being, and I could have told the truth at any time. I’d lied because I hadn’t trusted them. What right did I have to get angry when they didn’t trust me in return?

  And yet . . . somehow . . . I was angry. It stung. After everything, I still wasn’t one of them.

  Slowly, Imani took the stun gun. She’d fired it on Mars; I knew she knew how to use it. Sure enough, after examining it a moment, she tucked it into her waistband. “Thanks, Kenzie,” she said quietly.

  Cage gave me an encouraging smile, and so did Reed. Mia didn’t soften any, but at least I’d gained some ground with the others.

  “Stop arguing.” Rune appeared in the doorway. Her voice was so soft we barely heard it, but it cut through us all the same, drawing every eye in her direction. She’d stopped crying but stared at us, her gaze dull and listless until it settled on her brother. “I loaded the feed.”

  “Meimei, what’s on it?”

  “I told you, you should see for yourself.” She tilted her head and a hologram shimmered to life in our midst. Had she activated this holo without even touching the computers?

  I jumped as a dozen heavily armored men stampeded straight through me. Those weren’t stun guns in their hands, either. I’d seen huge rifles like that. Omnistellar manufactured some, in fact, but my parents never let me fire one. I didn’t even want to consider how Obsidian got their hands on that sort of weaponry.

  The security feed showed the view from someone’s helmet cam, giving the whole thing a surreal look, as if we were inside a VR game. The guards took up positions outside a sealed door. “Everything looks clear,” someone announced from ahead. “But we can’t get in.”

  Over comms came a voice laden with frustration. “I know. I’m not having any luck unlocking the system.”

  The woman who spoke first had even less patience than Mia. “Blow it, then. Or I will.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, the reply: “Copy that, Alpha Two. Stand clear.”

  The suited figure, who I now realized was the commander, gestured everyone back. The view lurched as the owner of the camera slid around the corner. A muffled explosion reached my ears, and the commander barked, “Let’s move!”

  The guards charged through the smoking remains of the door into a prison sector similar to the one we were in, but much cleaner and nicer, better maintained. Some sort of foam block surrounded most of the cells. I recognized it as a cheap soundproofing material. My dad used it to cover the basement walls on Earth when he and Mom set up a weekend shooting gallery. Here, it provided privacy for apartments.

  I barely had time to register this, though, as the guards charged through. They kicked open doors. My camera view illuminated a nicely appointed apartment. It was tiny, being a cell, but it contained decent furniture, some framed pictures, and a plush carpet.

  “Alpha One!” a voice barked. I jumped. It sounded like it was in the room with us—because, I realized, it was the voice of our camera’s owner. “You’d better see this.”

  The camera angled to reveal a long bloody streak marring the cream-colored carpet.

  The commander drew near, and I made out her worried expression behind her faceplate. “Similar situation in the other apartments,” she said shortly. “Let’s keep moving. We haven’t found any bodies yet. Whatever happened here, there has to be evidence.”

  My knees grew weak. No. No, there didn’t. Not if the bodies were taken. The aliens had taken everyone on Sanctuary, even my mom, even Rita, even though they weren’t anomalies. They might do the same thing here.

  A sudden scream sent me shooting to my feet, my heart pounding. For a moment I thought it came from directly behind me, but after a second, I realized it was part of the recording. I wasn’t the only one, either: everyone was either on their feet or sitting as tense as a steel bar.

  The hologram vid jerked shakily, as if the camera owner had experienced the same reaction as me. “Did you see that?” he barked. “Alpha One! Respond, please!”

  The commander’s voice echoed through the comms: “All units! All units! Report to—” Her voice cut off in a strangled scream.

  “Go!” someone shouted. The camera lurched forward, black-suited security guards in front of it, the feed a jumble of feet and arms and guns until it made me sick to watch, but I didn’t dare look away.

  Someone else screamed, a high, shrill wail that went on and on. My nails dug into the flesh of my palms. It was a human sound, not the aliens’ cry. We hadn’t heard the aliens yet. This might be anything. A rebellion. A gang war. Anything.

  A jumble of shouting filled the room, gaining in volume, in panic, in desperation. The camera swiveled left, then right, pitching like the nose of a shuttle on reentry. A blur of motion passed in front of us, and Imani shrieked, jumping and pressing her hand to her chest.

  “What was that?” screamed the man. “What the bloody hell was that?”

  “Retreat!” someone shouted. “Everyone! Get out of here!”

  “What was it? What was it? Did you see it? What was it?”

  A black-visored face filled our vision a second before its arm blocked the camera. “Get a grip!” its owner shouted. “And go! Move! Go, goddamn it!”

  The hologram shimmered into place and tottered as the guards flew down the hall at a dead run, back the way they’d come. Suddenly a claw shot into our realm of vision.

  This time, no one screamed.

  The reality of the situation settled with the weight of a death sentence.

  I sank to the floor, my knees giving way even as Cage fumbled to catch me, missing because his eyes remained glued to the hologram.

  We’d seen those claws before. Cutting into our own flesh. We’d pulled one from Mia’s side.

  “You see?” Rune said, her voice nearly a sob. “They’re here.”

  Now Cage reached for her, but Alexei arrived first, laying steadying
hands on her arms. Mia appeared beside him, for once stunned into silence, her face as pale and drawn as mine.

  The angle of the hologram changed as the guard stared at the claw protruding at least six inches from his chest. I reeled. “That’s too long,” I whispered. “Their claws weren’t so long.” I remembered every second on Sanctuary, every vivid, gory detail. I’d held one of their claws in my hand after it snapped off inside Mia’s abdomen.

  “Maybe they’re mutating too,” said Reed grimly.

  “Maybe.” Cage raked his hands through his hair. “Or maybe they’re different. A different species, or even . . . I don’t know. I need to think about it.”

  “You’re saying these things might be even worse than the ones on Sanctuary?” Jasper’s voice held an edge of hysteria. Something cracked, making us all jump. Jasper stared blankly at the arm of his chair, which he’d just snapped off in his hand.

  The feed fizzled and went blank.

  That left us staring at one another in the recesses of a new prison, surrounded by more alarm lights, and under the apparent threat of a new alien attack.

  One with the potential to be even worse than before.

  THIRTY-TWO

  “I CAN’T DO THIS,” REED whispered, burying his face in his hands. “Not again.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from snapping at him. Mia didn’t bother. “You never even saw the aliens on Sanctuary. It was me who fought them, me and Cage and Alexei and . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she glared at me, Matt’s name dying on her lips.

  I swallowed hard. “And . . . Matt,” I finished for her, meeting Mia’s gaze defiantly. “And Tyler. And my mother. And Rita. And a hundred other people we’ll never see again—”

  “And Kenzie,” interrupted Cage, his voice a dagger, his stare targeting Mia as if he could lock her in place. “Kenzie fought those things as hard as you did, Mia. Maybe harder. All of you seem to be forgetting that.”

  To my amazement, Mia broke eye contact, as if she’d realized she’d edited me out of her own traumatic memories. But although Reed ducked his head in embarrassment, I didn’t blame him. He had heard and seen enough to scare him. The same with Jasper.

  And Imani . . . Imani had choked on the slime they’d used in an attempt to mutate her, and her sister had died from the same process. But she wasn’t crying or screaming, only staring ahead with a horribly blank expression. “Imani?” I whispered, crouching in front of her.

  Her head shot up, and I recoiled in shock. It wasn’t fear or anxiety in her expression, but raw, utter fury. “They’re here,” she said, her voice steady. She drew the stun gun and considered it. “We’re going to need better weaponry. Something more than the security team had. Something with a hope of destroying those things.”

  “Imani?” I repeated.

  She met my gaze straight-on. “Those things killed my sister. They sure as hell aren’t going to kill anyone else if I can stop them.”

  Our eyes met and understanding passed between us. “No one else,” I agreed, and she nodded. Imani, at least, didn’t hate me. My heart rate slowed a few beats per minute.

  She rolled her shoulders and got to her feet. “We should move if we’re going to stop those things.”

  Well, if nothing else, you had to admire her courage. Part of me wanted nothing more than to crawl into one of these cells and hide. I swallowed that down and glanced at the others. “Can we work together on this? Or do I have to worry about getting stabbed in the back?”

  Alexei arched an eyebrow. “Do you have to worry? I think that should be our question.”

  “Lex, stop,” said Cage, exhaustion seeping into his voice. “We’ve been through this over and over. I’m not going to apologize for hiding what happened on Sanctuary. As for later, well . . . maybe we should have told you. It’s too late to do anything about it now.”

  “He’s right.” To my surprise, it was Reed who spoke up. He met my eyes and gave me a quick wink. “Kenzie’s proved herself more than once. So has Cage. They’re allowed to make a stupid decision.” He sighed when Mia shifted her glare in his direction. “Come on. Does anyone actually think Kenzie shot Matt on purpose?”

  Even Mia glanced down at that. An uncomfortable silence settled over us. I could almost see their minds racing, and I clenched my fists at the sense of judgment, at being on trial. This was what Cage had wanted to avoid. But ironically enough, it seemed like they were willing to forgive me for shooting Matt. Only Rune and Mia still seemed angry enough to shove me out of an airlock. Mia, I could take. Rune, though . . .

  If I’d followed my instincts and told them the truth as soon as we had escaped Sanctuary, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation? There was no way to tell. I had made a choice. Who knew how people would have reacted in the moment: knowing me less, trusting me less? Cage and I couldn’t change what we’d done. All we could do was try to make amends and keep moving forward.

  Mia examined me a moment, then sighed. “We don’t have much choice but to keep going together if we’re going to survive. We can argue about this later.”

  I heaved a sigh of relief. Mia might not have forgiven me, but if she said she was putting things aside for now, then she was.

  The others nodded as if that settled things, and Rune swallowed hard. She’d been cringing against the wall with her arms wrapped around herself, but now, with a visible effort, she stood and clenched her hands into fists. “If we want better weapons, we’ll have to get them from security,” she announced, her voice steady and strong and much more like herself. “That’s on the main level, where we met Grigori Danshov the first time.”

  “Can we get there?” Alexei demanded.

  “They’re under lockdown.” She flashed a tight smile. “Fortunately, that doesn’t mean much when you have me.”

  “Yeah,” Jasper agreed. “And apparently not when you have Kenzie, either.”

  I blinked. I’d been trying not to think about my powers. But maybe I should start. If we were going to survive this, we needed as many advantages as possible.

  “I want to help,” I said at last. I glanced to the others for support. To my horror, a veil of tears misted over my eyes. I blinked them away, but not before people saw them. Surprisingly, though, expressions of anger and frustration melted into sympathy at the sight. Slightly encouraged, I pressed on. “I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to control these new abilities, or how to . . . how to . . .”

  “Kenzie,” said Imani softly, “it’s okay. When we need you, you’ll pull through. You always have before.” The others nodded, even, after a moment’s hesitation, Mia.

  I squashed my weakness and forced my spine straight. “Thank you,” I whispered. Whatever I could do now, I was going to figure it out. But in the meantime, Imani was right: In times of stress, when I needed my powers most, they were there for me. I had to trust that. For now, it was all I could do.

  We hesitated, looking at one another across the room. “No one has to come,” I said at last. “Some of us are better suited to fighting than others. If you want to stay here, it’s fine.”

  Imani shook her head. “We’re not safe here, either. If those things are on Obsidian, we’re not safe anywhere.”

  “But once they’d done their initial sweep on Sanctuary, they seemed to prefer picking us off one by one to attacking in a big group,” Alexei pointed out. “Safety in numbers.” The others nodded, although no one moved, trapped in their own fear.

  I hadn’t planned on staying behind anyway. I’d merely wanted to give everyone else a chance. “All right. Then no sense delaying.”

  But still no one moved, as if to take a step would be to irrevocably commit to reentering the nightmare we’d so recently escaped.

  At last Mia heaved a sigh of dramatic exasperation. She cursed under her breath and, with no further ceremony, stalked toward the door. Alexei shot after her. Cage and I exchanged a glance, then ran to catch up. The others followed on our heels.

  Mia poked her head into the co
rridor, stun gun in her hand. I missed the heavy weight of my own, but I trusted Imani to take a shot if she needed to. Between Mia and Imani with stun guns, Alexei’s fireworks and Jasper’s ability to rearrange matter, and our foreknowledge of the aliens’ tactics, maybe we had an edge this time. Maybe we had a hope.

  Mia must not have seen anything, because she proceeded into the corridor and climbed the stairs. Our footsteps echoed in the uncanny silence. I glanced into the next prison area as we passed. It looked exactly like the one we’d just vacated. Where was everyone? Were we the last people alive on Obsidian? No. Impossible. The aliens had taken hours to work their way through Sanctuary, and this station was at least three times bigger. The survivors were probably locked away on the main floor with every weapon they could find. Alexei had theorized that they’d barricaded themselves somewhere. Maybe they were safe.

  Or maybe the aliens had killed them and left their bodies stacked where they fell.

  Or kidnapped them, taking them back to their ship. I didn’t know. I couldn’t know . . . at least, not yet.

  Which led to another problem: Grigori Danshov, who might shoot us himself. Or some of us. I glanced at Mia, wondering if there was a polite way to ask her to vanish without triggering her rage. The girl spent three-quarters of her time invisible anyway. Trust her to suddenly discover the joys of putting herself on display at the exact moment we most needed her imperceptible.

  We clambered up two more staircases and found more of the same. There could have been people in the farther cells, but we didn’t check. In fact, Mia moved so quickly we were almost running. Fear seemed to edge out her caution.

  I couldn’t blame her for being afraid, though. My legs and lungs burned, and adrenaline was about the only thing keeping me on my feet. We’d been awake for nearly twelve hours, running on almost no food or water, constantly fighting for our lives. Aliens or not, we couldn’t keep going much longer.