Shattered Lands

by ALICE HENDERSON

  “Maybe he used to be one of us.”

  “He still is. Let’s just leave him.”

  Reluctantly, Byron lowered the rifle. He nudged the man with the toe of his boot. He didn’t stir.

  They all started down again.

  Before long they reached another blocked stairwell, but were able to pass through the door into a hallway. The entire floor was comprised of two huge exec offices. They each had their own cocktail bars and medpods, collections of antiques, and slide-away beds that folded into the walls. They passed through to another stair, and continued to descend. H124 stopped halfway down the next set of stairs, listening. “What is that?”

  Everyone paused. “I don’t hear anything,” Raven said.

  Rowan pressed his ear against the wall. “Wait . . . yes, I hear it, too. A scuttling sound.”

  She placed her hand against the flat surface. “Is this an exterior wall?”

  Raven checked his PRD and the old PPC tower blueprints that Willoughby had provided. “Yes.” H124 pressed her ear flat, hearing a scratching on the outside of the building. “I think it’s—”

  A deafening explosion wracked the stairwell. She grabbed on to the railing as a huge chunk of ceiling crashed down right next to her. Then another one hit her in the back, pinning her facedown on the stairs. She thrust her elbow up, shoving it off. Pushing to her feet, she tried to assess the damage. She coughed in the billowing dust, and brought the back of her arm to her mouth. Her ears were ringing. She looked up to see a small hole in the side of the building. The stars glimmered beyond. The hole was only a foot or so wide, but in no time a grey set of claws snaked through. Green eyes stared back at her, reflected in the beam of her headlamp.

  As more dust settled, H124 took in her surroundings. The ceiling and a portion of the wall had collapsed, blocking her off from Rowan and Raven. On the stairs above, Byron coughed, waving away the dust, trying to peer through the billowing cloud. She stared down over the railing. The stair was completely blocked, and she saw no sign of the others. “Rowan!” she shouted. “Raven!”

  She heard one of them cough below.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes!” came a muffled reply. “But we can’t get through to you.”

  She moved down a few steps and started digging through the rubble, moving aside ceiling tiles and chunks of interior wall. Above her the things scratched and clawed, attempting to widen the hole.

  Byron rushed down to help her, heaving debris out of the way.

  The stairwell door slammed open above them. Malcolm appeared, holding a detonator. His smile faded to a scowl when he saw them below. “You were all supposed to die!” he shouted.

  He scurried down the stairs, brandishing his knife, and Byron stood up, unslinging the rifle from his back. But Malcolm was too quick. As he flew down the stairwell, H124 rose, spinning to face him just as Byron grabbed Malcolm’s hands. She was reaching for the rifle on her back when suddenly Malcolm’s hand came free in the struggle. He went off balance, driving the knife forward. H124 tried to step back, but found herself too close to the wall. She felt the knife sink into her side, a burning sensation that pierced her insides.

  “Noooo!” Byron shouted. He regained his hold on Malcolm’s arm, and twisted his hand violently. H124 slumped to the ground.

  All the while, the night stalkers clawed through the weakened wall with furious energy. One already had its head and shoulders through. H124 stood, unslung her energy rifle, and focused it on Malcolm. She was about to fire when something hit her back, sending her sprawling. She spun as claws dug into her shoulders, flinging the beast against the far wall.

  Byron grabbed Malcolm’s knife hand, wrenched his wrist, and seized the blade. He drove it right through Malcolm’s throat, stabbing him over and over. Blood spattered his heat suit.

  The night crawler zeroed in on her again, just as a second one squeezed through and leapt down. Her emitter wasn’t making a damn bit of difference. Then she looked down. The device wasn’t blinking. The explosion had broken it. She snatched it off her suit, shook it, pressed the power button. Nothing. A third night stalker crawled through the opening. They closed in on her with a snarl.

  “We have to get upstairs!” she shouted. “Get past the door!” Byron threw Malcolm’s body aside, sending it tumbling down the stairs. The night stalkers leapt on it, growling and tearing into his torso. Scarlet sprayed the walls as Byron and H124 backed up the stairs. But two more night stalkers pushed through the hole, instantly spotting them.

  “I don’t get it,” Byron said. “How can they see us?” He looked down at her emitter. “Yours isn’t blinking!”

  “I know.” Another slinking beast snaked its head through, then dropped down. The creatures lunged up the stairs. Byron fired off a few rounds, nailing a few, but more kept surging forward. They stared at her, ignoring Byron completely.

  Taking her by surprise, Byron shoved her to the side. She flew against the far wall, and the night stalkers swarmed over him, ripping into him.

  “Byron!” she shouted, then looked down at the flashing light on her chest. He’d slapped his own emitter on her.

  She lifted her energy rifle and fired repeatedly, sending the night stalkers skittering on the landing. She couldn’t crank it to the lethal setting as long as Byron was in physical contact with the creatures. It would kill him, too. She reached the stairwell door, and kicked it open. She blasted the night stalkers, one shot after another. Then she dialed it up to the lethal setting and hit the ones away from Byron in the stairwell, before focusing her fire on the ones pouring in through the hole. When the stunned creatures fell away from Byron, H124 sucked in a breath. His heat suit had been torn open, his torso eviscerated. She could see the exposed lining of his stomach, the wet glistening of a rib. Blood pooled beneath him in a thick stream. His face had been shredded. His head slumped forward, and she could hear blood bubbling in his lungs. But he was breathing. She quickly grabbed the collar of his heat suit and yanked him through the door, slamming it shut behind them.

  The floor contained more luxury exec offices, so she prayed one of them had a medpod like the others. The slice in her side burned as warm blood trickled down, her left leg slick and wet inside the suit.

  She dragged Byron down the hall, skirting around fallen cabinets and large decorative vases that had shattered long ago.

  She left him for a moment to run into the first office, and was thrilled to see a medpod in the wall. It was fitted with a theta wave receiver and manual control, but neither had power, nor did the medpod. She had to use Dirk’s workaround. Panic threatened to seize her, but she forced herself to breathe and still her thoughts as she took the power cell out of her PRD. She tore off the panel in front of the TWR, and inserted the cell. She held her breath, waiting for it to power on. A green indicator light flashed, and she sent the message for it to open the medpod. It beeped, and the medpod wall panel slid away, allowing the pod to lower itself down.

  She tore the power cell out of the TWR and inserted it into the medpod. But it didn’t power on. It wasn’t strong enough. Dread filled her heart. She stood there, blinking, then ran back to Byron. She tore the PRD off his wrist and darted back. After pulling out its power cell, she daisy-chained it to her own. The medpod blinked, then whirred, and all the lights came on. She gave a gasp of joy and raced back to Byron. He lay on the floor, completely still, a lake of blood pooling around him. Grabbing his collar, she dragged him into the office, and started unlatching his heat suit. It was hell to get off, stiff and cumbersome, but she managed to pull his body free.

  Then she propped him against the wall, threw one of his arms around her shoulder, and hefted him to his feet. She couldn’t hear him breathing. She staggered over to the pod and lifted him in, straightening his body as the glass closed.

  It started scanning him, instantly sterilizing his wounds. The surgi-laser wen
t to work, repairing his torn tissues and organs, mending his skin. His pulse, so weak, was barely a blip on the display. The pod sampled his blood, and created a synthetic to tide him over. It injected him with it, and slowly his heart rate grew stronger.

  H124 stood with her hands against the glass, watching his face. The surgi-laser repaired his damaged cheek and forehead, mended the wound in his throat. He started to look like his old self, and his breathing normalized.

  She returned to the stairwell door, making sure it was still closed. For an added precaution, she dragged over a heavy display case and jammed it against the door. The cut in her side screamed in pain, resisting her every move. She then made a circuit of the floor, checking the other stairwells and barricading them.

  The door to the exec office had been jammed open sometime in the past, and she couldn’t close it.

  When she returned to the medpod, Byron was still undergoing surgery. Feeling the wet, warm blood, she shucked off her heat suit and lifted her shirt to examine the knife wound. It was deep. She tore off part of her sleeve, wadded it up, and applied pressure. Then she slumped down next to the medpod, keeping an eye on Byron’s vitals. She couldn’t call the others without her power cell, so she waited, gripping her side. The slash burned, but she tried to tune out the pain.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there, her mind going over the events, hoping against hope that the others were safe.

  “It seems as if I owe you,” a familiar voice sounded. “Again.”

  She looked up to see Byron sitting up in the medpod, staring down at her.

  She got to her feet, wincing in pain. Red lines ran along his face where the surgi-laser had done its work, but he looked well.

  She smiled. “And I owe you.”

  His eyes dropped to the blood-soaked sleeve she had pressed to her side. “We need to get you in here.” He struggled to get out, his face twisting with discomfort. She knew that medpods worked wonders, but you still had a lot of healing to do on your own afterward.

  As he got out, the glass door sealed shut, and the pod disinfected itself. When it was finished, Byron pressed the lid release again, and helped her inside. As the glass sealed over her, she removed the crusted rag from her side. It scanned her, the familiar green light sweeping over her body. Then it administered a numbing agent to her side, and went to work sealing and cleaning the wound.

  As it worked, she watched Byron through the glass, who stood peering in at her. She gave him a sad smile. When all was done, the lid opened, and Byron helped her out.

  The pod cleaned itself and retreated into the wall. They removed their power cells and put them back into their PRDs.

  “I’ll let Raven and Rowan know we’re okay,” she said, bringing up a comm window.

  Rowan’s face came into view, dusty and sweaty. “H! Are you still stuck on the other side? We’ve had no luck digging. There’s just too much debris.”

  “Don’t dig,” she told them. “There’s a horde of night stalkers on the other side of it. We barely got out of there. Byron was hurt bad . . .”

  “Where are you?”

  “On the floor above. I put him in a medpod up here, but we’re fine now. How are you two?”

  Raven came into the picture. “We’re fine here. Little knocked around, but nothing serious.”

  “And the sled?”

  Raven nodded. “It wasn’t even hit.”

  She let out a sigh of relief.

  “Are you hurt?” Rowan asked.

  “Nothing too bad,” she lied. “My emitter’s broken.”

  Rowan’s eyes went wide. “Damn.”

  “I’m not going to be able to get out of here while it’s still dark.”

  “Then we hole up and wait,” Raven said.

  “What caused that collapse anyway?” Rowan asked.

  “Malcolm,” H124 told them. “He came after us again. Had a detonator.” The image of Byron stabbing him repeatedly played through her head. “He’s dead.”

  Rowan clenched his jaw. “I should have just killed him.”

  “We’ll get to a safe place, wait out the night,” Raven told her. “We’ll let Gordon know the plan.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, and they said their goodbyes and signed off.

  She moved to the couch and sat, her side protesting, but the pain was much less sharp, so she could almost ignore it. Byron sat beside her, and together they surveyed the burning city below.

  “What a strange place,” he said quietly.

  A particularly bright fissure glowed red and gold, illuminating the smoke above it.

  “I’d say we could get some sleep, but there’s no way I’m falling asleep with those things outside the door.”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “Yeah, me neither.” His green eyes flashed. “I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

  She met his gaze. “Why did you do that?”

  She could feel his intense stare all the way to her core. “Why did I give you my emitter?”

  She nodded.

  “I couldn’t stand there and watch those things hurt you.” He paused. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You have this singular purpose, this altruistic bent that’s almost alien to me. Since the first time we met, I’ve felt this connection to you. And now here I am, alive when I should be dead, fighting to see this vision of yours through to the end.”

  He brought up his hand, rifling his fingers through her hair at the back of her head. A flutter of pleasant chills washed over her, and she stood up, suddenly unsure. Byron matched her movements, shifting to stand in front of her.

  His eyes locked on hers, and he drew close, bringing his arm around her back. The scent of his breath was inviting, evoking a visceral response. He pulled her into him, their bodes flush. The warmth of him spread over her, every part of her tingling. His green eyes locked on hers, his gaze penetrating, burning.

  A conflict rose up inside her. His lips were mere inches away, but she held back. She remembered the night they met, lying together, the feeling of his body against hers. “I . . .” she began to say.

  “Yes?” The scent of his warm skin made her feel strange, drunk. “I sort of have this thing with Rowan.”

  He pressed against her, hips touching hers. “I know. But you’ve fought by my side. My pulse races at the sight of you, ever since our first night together.”

  “When you tied me to you in your bed?” she breathed. She meant it to sound funny, take him off guard, but instead he drew closer.

  “Yes. It took me by surprise. I could feel you next to me, not just your body, but your spirit, burning away in the darkness.”

  Her eyes wanted to close, to breathe him in, to bridge the distance, but she tried to resist. “But Rowan . . .”

  “You don’t owe him anything. Is there a reason you can’t be with me?”

  His lips brushed hers, and the feel of them made her eyes close against their will. “I don’t know . . . I don’t know anything about this kind of thing. It’s all new for me.”

  “If you don’t feel anything, just tell me,” he breathed, his lips grazing hers again. Her head started to spin. She felt intoxicated, her lips on fire, every part of her surging with a strange desire.

  His hands felt strong on her back, and his fingers moved up into her hair. She sighed with pleasure at his touch. Then his lips met hers, pressing sensuously, his kiss fiery and passionate, sweeping over her.

  She felt herself starting to melt away, to sink into him. His arms pulled her into him. He kissed her deeply, his tongue enticing her with completely new sensations. His hips moved against hers, eliciting an unfamiliar longing, her heart pounding in new places. She felt dizzy, and ached for him to touch her.

  She went off balance, but he held her close, kissing her now with so much fire that she felt a primal desire to sink her fangs into him. A g
rowl came out of her throat, low and erotic, and his eyes flashed in response. They staggered against the wall, his hands roaming over her, making her moan.

  She opened her eyes and met his gaze, unsure of what came next.

  She heard something then, a scrabbling at the door. She turned to see another pair of green eyes—this one much less inviting—peering into the office.

  A night stalker had breached a stairwell barricade. They froze.

  Her heat suit was within reach, so she lifted it so the emitter faced out. The beast crept into the room, moving its head, mouth open in a snarl. Its gaze swept the room as it entered, lifting its snout and sniffing.

  She and Byron remained still as it approached, eager tongue licking its lips. When it got within two feet, it shook its head and backed off, moving away. It continued to lope through the office, sniffing, and finally left.

  Byron exhaled. “That was close.”

  “Byron,” she whispered, pointing at the office door. More luminous green eyes appeared. The creatures slunk into the room, snouts lifted, hissing and snapping at one another.

  They approached Byron and H124, but she clutched the heat suit closer, hoping one emitter was enough to protect both of them. Right now, pressed together, they might seem like a single object.

  Two of the night stalkers approached, breathing them in, then shook their heads as the emitter grew too intense. They backed off a little, though they knew something edible stood directly before them. They looked to one another, making otherworldly whining noises.

  Byron put his arm around her as dozens more entered the room, closing in on them, confused, but aware of their presence. The emitter was working for now, but if it failed, they were both dead.

  In time the night stalkers sensed the futility, and filed out of the room. Byron turned to her. “We need a safer place to hole up. If this thing fails . . .”

  H124 thought about the expanse of city, of ferrying the spacecraft section across the unstable ground, of the gases that might corrode the clean skin.