“Come on,” he said, pulling her down the hall.
“H-how do you know this?” she asked as they passed more of the vegetative elderly rooted into the plants. Bioluminescent flowers, hanging from support beams, cast eerie shadows over their expressionless faces.
When he remained silent, she worried. Did I make him mad?
As they passed into a quiet hallway lined with spiny plants and glowing orange flowers, he finally answered in gruff tones: “I’ve worked under a very powerful Virid elder for the last fifteen years.”
“You protect him?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you need to get back to him now?”
She regretted asking the question as soon as she saw his fists flex and muscles bulge, blanching the many scars that crisscrossed his back.
“Do you think I, or any of my kind, wants to serve the other denoms?” he said, turning to her, his cool green eyes piercing straight through her.
Frightened of his tone, she took a few steps backward until she stood underneath Akoto.
Sulo turned over his forearm, revealing the symbol of the Virids branded into his skin. “They can try to indoctrinate us, murder our families, torture us until we’re stripped to the bone, but we will never be their servants.”
Sen heard something more buried between his words; a horrible loss, something that strained each syllable and stole his breath. Despite her fear, a greater need prompted her to ask the obvious question: “Then why stay? Why not join the Shadowless in the outlands?”
The bully bear Shifter, intimidating in size and presence, bent forward a little bit, as if someone had kicked the wind out of him. Instead of answering her question, he ground his teeth together and looked over his shoulder. “Let’s get going; this place isn’t going to stay quiet for long.”
Keeping close to Akoto, Sen followed Sulo down another hallway lined with flowers and undulating stalks. Something didn’t feel right. Why aren’t there any guards?
It made sense that some of them would have left to join the fight, but not all, especially in an institution.
Sulo went over to the abandoned nurse’s station and tore through the desk and file cabinets. As he tossed charts and flung around papers, countless questions burned through her mind. How could anyone hurt someone like this? she thought, turning around and around, still trying to absorb all the ghostly faces and limbs infiltrated by pulsating roots. Why would they keep all these Outliers alive like this? What are they doing to them? Would my parents have sent me here?
The last question sent shivers down her back.
No, not her father. He wouldn’t stand for such a disgrace. She’d be better off dead than—
Akoto grunted, offsetting her balance so she had to hold on to his face to steady herself. “Hey!” she said, giggling as he drowned her in a sloppy lick to the face. “Stop that.”
Sulo found whatever he wanted and leapt over the desk. “I think this is him; room A95,” he said, jangling a key in one hand, “down that hallway. Hurry.”
Fear squeezed down on her fragile hope. “Are you sure? My father said he…”
The rest of the sentence died at her lips. ...killed himself.
Not that her mother ever confirmed the story, but she didn’t deny it either. And knowing how she felt now, after finding out the awful truth about herself—being shadowless, a lowly Outlier—she garnered enough bleak insight into why someone would choose such an irreparable path.
“You can’t believe everything other people tell you, Sen.” When she didn’t reply, he sharpened his tone: “You want to turn back?”
“N-no,” she whispered back.
“Good. Then keep up.”
Sen followed along, Akoto padding behind, as Sulo led them deeper into the East wing. The glass ceiling disappeared as Sulo unlocked a series of red-marked doors, replaced by a roof of barred sequoia-oak and corrugated metal.
That’s not right, she thought. Virids didn’t use any kind of metal in their architecture, only organic material, and the occasional use of natural rock formations and other landscape phenomena. Or at least that’s what the pompous Virid proctor at her school used to drone on and on about at some of the interdenom lectures. “The pride of the Virids, the most harmonious, God-favored denom of them all,” she could still hear him saying. “We live in true accord with nature, celebrating only what she intended.”
“Hold up,” Sulo whispered, stopping her in her tracks. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed Akoto’s concerned growl, or the two figures at the end of the hallway. With some of the bioluminescent flowers raked from the walls, she could only make out their hunched outline, and the oblong shape of their arms.
Sen looked at the doors to her left and right. A90, A91.
That means that those things are right outside my uncle’s door.
One of the bioluminescent flowers sputtered overhead, enough to give them a glimpse of the bodies lining the end of the hall. Patients, tore apart at the limbs, lay in decaying, bubbling heaps.
Clinging to Akoto, Sen whispered to Sulo: “You think my uncle—?”
He made a slicing motion across his neck, indicating for her to shut up, but she couldn’t help herself. Memories of the battle near the Spires—of the rot, the disease, the inhuman attackers—the terrible whisper beyond the dying woman’s lips—“save me”—or any of the carnage they had witnessed made her pull on Sulo’s arm. “Let’s find another way.”
“There isn’t any.” Sulo eyed the knife on her belt. “You’ve got to fight.”
He didn’t wait for her response. With a furious roar that transformed him from man to bear, Sulo dropped down on all fours and charged, his body cracking and expanding with each step toward the two dark figures at the end of the hall. In the heat of his charge, the sound of his thumping paws echoed off the metal walls, rattling stone tiles and shaking the sensor flowers blooming on the walls.
“No!” she screamed as the bully bear swiped at the darts shooting out from the shadows. Within seconds his roar turned into a fading guttural sigh, and he collapsed against the wall, several feet away from the two figures, next to the dead patients.
Akoto tried to paw her back, beneath him, away from danger, but Sen wrestled her way in front of him and ran to the bully bear.
“Stay away from him,” she shouted as the two figures moved toward the bear with rickety steps, as if walking on broken bones.
Even when she caught sight of their mangled faces, she didn’t stop.
Are those—?
But as she tripped over a mushy, severed limb, her brain made the connection.
Nurses—oh God—the nurses—what’s wrong with their hands?
(Those aren’t hands—)
In the far reaches of her memories, she recalled her mother telling her about the more advanced Virid healers, how some of them could sprout roots or other plant appendages from their hands in order to physically connect to their patients. But what she saw—jagged stems with hollow, pointed tips instead of fingers, dripping with a black, viscous fluid—portended less palliative intentions.
Something whizzed past her face, grazing her ear. Terrified, she dropped to her hands and knees, taking cover behind Sulo’s massive body.
“Akoto!” she exclaimed as her companion, only a step behind, went bounding past her, his teeth bared, hackles raised.
The nurses continued their assault, shooting darts from their mutated fingertips. Instead of Sen, then concentrated their attack on Akoto, as he closed the distance between them with each long stride.
“No!” she screamed as his footsteps faltered, and he slowed.
Seeing him drag his paws across the floor, his head getting lower and lower to the ground, she snapped. Springing out from behind Sulo, she ran straight at the nurses. She didn’t care about their colorless faces, or the way their mouths were frozen open in a scream. The blood splattering their cream-colored aprons and prim hats, or the fatal wounds cutting across their throats didn’t
register, only the whimpering cry of her best friend.
“Stop hurting him!”
As she cut in front of Akoto, putting herself between him and the assailants, darts punctured her arm and thigh.
Sulo’s command arose out of the stinging pain: “You’ve got to fight.”
Sen cringed, but at the same time, remembered the feel of the worn leather grip of Nya’s knife in her hand.
(But I can’t—)
Nya’s same harsh demand resurfaced: “You’ve got to fight!”
As she remembered the practice session, the knife, hot against her hip, lit up like a beacon in flaming hues of red and orange.
Nya’s face appeared in the shadow, blue eyes livened by violence. “Fight back.”
This isn’t right, she thought as her eyelids grew too heavy to hold open.
Gritting her teeth, she focused on the rattling stems of the nurse’s fingertips, and the steaming breath pushing out of the holes in their chest. Their faces ballooned out, then twisted in on themselves, as they reached out for her with mutated hands.
Poison. They’ve poisoned us.
Thoughts pulled apart, turning to wisps of smoke. Her arms and legs became distant things attached loosely to a wooden core.
Must… fight… or we’ll all… die…
A hardened fingertip raked her cheek, then pressed into it, piercing the flesh.
Akoto, she cried out. In the distance, she felt her left hand grip the fur of his chest. Help me.
Fire poured through her left arm and up into her neck and head, burning away the fog blanketing her thoughts. Her eyes flew open, wider than she could stand. Taking in the faces of the nurses before her, she saw past their tortured faces and grisly flesh, into a dark space that shouldn’t have existed.
“Save us.”
Still pierced by one of their fingertips, the fire moved from her head, funneling through her cheek and down through the nurse’s fingertip. She roiled alongside it, her mind stretching across impossible boundaries, bombarded by sound and light.
“What’s happening out there? Where did all the guards go?”
A woman, no older than thirty, with auburn hair and light green skin looked back to her, eyes wide with fright. Patients, peeking out their doors, looked to them for guidance.
“You stay here; I’ll go look outside.”
“No, I’ll go with you.”
Incredible pain lanced through Sen’s cheek, and she cried out, but couldn’t pull away as the next scene unfolded.
“Who’s that?”
The other woman leaning out the window pointed to the dark figure slinking through the bushes, crooked fingers stretched out in front of him.
“I-I don’t know,” she said, trying to make sense of anything—the putrid smells, the screams and cries echoing out across the courtyard; the way the bushes and trees cracked and fell apart as the shadowy figure neared.
“Look!” the other woman cried, pointing to the missing guards writhing on the ground, their combat vines wrapped around each other’s throats.
“Get away,” she said, trying to pull the other woman inside the nurse’s station.
But when she looked back, bloodshot eyes gazed at her, and black-tipped fingers wiggled in her direction.
Sen resisted, trying to free herself from the awful feeling invading her body. An unseen force stole the breath from her lungs, drained all the blood from her face and limbs. Even as she tried to pull away, she couldn’t escape the caustic fingers digging through her sternum to seize her heart.
The violation didn’t end there. Left only with pain, she could not recall enough to remember who she was, or what other purpose she had as a terrible voice whispered out across her mind, erasing all but her animal fear: “Ennari.”
Sen bucked back with a scream, freeing herself from the connection to the decaying nurse. In the confusion, she lashed out, kicking the nurse in the chin, sending her crashing into her companion.
“Get away from me!”
Light exploded from all around her, inundating even the darkest corners of the hallway. In that brief moment, Sen saw the two nurses, their faces no longer mangled, but pinched in confusion as she stood over them. With tears in her eyes, one of them reached out to her, black streaks fading from her mutilated limbs, whispering words Sen could not hear.
What did I just do?
The light vanished. Everything wobbled and swayed. She couldn’t tell the floor from the ceiling, or how her feet ended up over her head.
Akoto…
As the world spiraled away, she used the last of her strength to reach out for her friend, not letting go of his coarse fur, even as her mind pulled apart.
Chapter 16
Nya ducked behind a fallen gray oak, batting the smoke from her face. Dead Virids, putrefied plants and twitching bird-eaters lay strewn about the yard in steaming piles. Up ahead, flames and black smoke chugged out of two of the four clay and wood structures comprising the central Sanctum buildings.
“Fire’s spreading,” Kaden said, pointing to the third building starting to smolder. Squinting, Nya could make out the prisoners slamming themselves against the barred windows, trying to break free before the fire consumed the building.
Out of the corner of her eye, Nya caught Sahib grinding his knuckles into the tree bark. She waited longer than she wanted to, just to see if he would say it. Even after his initiation into the Chakoa, he held on to undesirable emotions, making him a liability to the clan. Outliers couldn’t afford compassion, especially not bleeding hearts. However, after a hunting expedition with Sho a year ago, the boy came back shaken—and changed—no longer willing to throw himself away for anyone but his clan.
Don’t suggest we save them, too, she thought. Or I will cut your throat right here.
Sahib didn’t look at her, his eyes fixed forward, awaiting her command.
“Side entrance. Stay alert,” she said, climbing over the tree and heading for the cloister connecting the third and fourth building. Hugging the moss-covered wall, she ran toward the string of guttering orbs over a birchpine door, keeping an eye out for any movement. Kaden and Sahib stayed close behind, weapons drawn, covering her blind spots.
What’s this? she thought as she tested the brass door handle. Locked. Even worse, reinforced metal plating secured the frame and backing, making it impossible for any Virid—or any of the other favored—to manipulate or destroy. Sanctum guards must really want to keep their prisoners from escaping.
Examining the nearby windows and exterior structure didn’t give her much hope. From what she could tell, wood and plant material just served as a veneer for a metal superstructure.
Kaden racked the back of his axe against a barred window. “Thought those greenthumbs hated metal.”
“Yeah, it’s a load of shy’t,” she mumbled, running her hands along the walls and slats, trying to find some imperfection that would allow them to break through.
“Nya,” Kaden whispered, alerting her to the movement down the alleyway.
Nya signaled for the other two to mimic her as she pressed herself against the wall, trying to keep out of sight.
“Whoa.”
Nya smacked her hand against Sahib’s chest and threw him a dirty look for breaking silence. But when she saw the gross disfigurement of the Virid soldier’s face, she had to keep herself from exclamation.
Another infected, she thought, her insides tightening. She didn’t like the way his eyes roamed in their bloodied sockets, or the way his yellowed skin shriveled together like desiccated fruit. He dragged his right leg across the ground, the foot crunching down at an odd angle, making her aware again of her own ankle injury.
Uckkk… She didn’t like the black sludge spilling from his mouth, or the open wounds across his neck. If not for the competing smoke, her nose and lungs would have been filled with the dead animal stink she’d now come to associate with the dark liquid. Rotten bastards.
As Nya paced out when to spring out of her hi
ding spot and finish the Virid, Kaden nudged her. She didn’t look back until he grabbed her elbow, lowering her sword. Before she could yank her arm back, he drew her attention to the keyhole above the door handle.
“We need him alive,” Kaden whispered.
Nya didn’t understand what he meant until she examined the keyhole closer than before.
It’s not meant for regular keys, she thought, seeing the rim of green plant scrapings lining the inside of the hole. They snake in their combat vines to manipulate the inner cylinder.
“Shy’t,” she muttered as smoke pumped out from the adjacent building and other Virid soldiers, battling each other in the front yard, screamed past the alley. Every passing second counted. Killing is so much easier.
“Hide,” she said, shoving Kaden and Sahib back around the corner.
“What are you—?”
Before Kaden could finish the sentence, she pressed the blade of her right sword against her left forearm and pulled back. Biting pain streaked up her arm, but she pushed it aside and embraced the adrenaline rush that charged her senses.
The infected solider paused, tipping back his head and emitting a ravenous cry as she pressed her bloody arm against the door, saturating the keyhole.
“Come on,” she whispered, staying as long as she dared before retracting her arm and dashing around the corner.
“Hurry,” she said, shoving her lacerated arm into Kaden’s face. The warrior looked at her in confusion but didn’t hesitate to apply the staunching herbs from the pouch on his waist belt. As soon as he finished, she ripped one of the yellow flowers from a supportive trellis and rubbed its pollen along the wound bed.
“What are you—?” he started.
“It’s attracted to blood.”
“But he’s a Virid.”
“Not anymore.”
The infected soldier hissed, lurking forward with excited gurgles. Nose upturned, he sniffed the air and pinpointed the blood smear on the birchpine door.
“K’thei,” Sahib whispered as the soldier pressed his face against the keyhole, snorting and lapping at the stain with a withered black tongue.
Outlier Page 15
