Daughters of Death (Postmortem Anomalies Book 2)

by Josiah Upton

  Tran is the last one out of the Lock. All other humans are dead, dying, or worse. Krecker closes the door, sealing off the smell of blood and the screams of terror.

  Chapter 48

  Genny

  Once outside of the Lock, Krecker shoots out the camera. If Headquarters has a live feed of all Facility surveillance, then he just skewered the eyes watching us. Which means he’s still working on a plan to get us out of here.

  When he knocked me off of Caesar in the Lock, my Rage was pumping at full blast. I was ready to kill him for letting my father’s murderer get away. What stopped me was him saying my father’s name, along with Dalton’s, and the name of that mythic, shadowy organization that Gibbs mentioned, Z-15. Turns out they were real, and they tasked him to get me out.

  “So what’s the plan now?” I ask him.

  One of the two larger containees snarls and grabs Krecker by the throat, pinning him to the wall. “There’s only one plan: Kill all meatsacks in here, and strip their bones clean.”

  Tran shrieks like a frightened mouse, and attempts an escape. The other big guy knocks him down with one arm, and lays a heavy foot on his chest. He coughs, gasping for breath.

  “Stop!” I scream, smacking the first one on the back of the head. He drops Krecker, and turns to me, scowling. I might be stronger than I was as a human, but this Hybrid is huge. I back up instinctively. “He’s trying to help us. He said so out there.”

  “I’m only trying to help you,” Krecker says, pointing at me with one hand, while the other massages his neck. Then he points at Zaul. “And you.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Zaul asks. The other Brains Club turn their attention to Krecker. Not to kill, but to listen. He’d better convince them quickly.

  “A few days ago, someone from Z-15 contacted me,” Krecker explains, standing up. “It’s a hidden resistance group, specializing in Hybrid Reanimate extraction from containment facilities. I never thought they actually existed, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “Resistance group?” I ask. “I thought they were a black market organization, looking to make a profit. I heard they were almost impossible to pay.”

  Krecker shakes his head. “The money doesn’t go to them, it’s to pay off people like me: containment officers willing to risk everything to get a Hybrid out of a facility. When you do that, there is no going back. The APA will find out, and your life is over. You use the money to start over.”

  “So, Dalton gave the $500,000 to Z-15, and they gave it to you, to get me and Zaul out?” I ask. “I thought it would have taken more cash than that.”

  “I don’t know the details of who gave what to whom,” Krecker answers. “They just supplied me the names to tell you, so that you would trust me. And normally $500K wouldn’t be enough for even one extraction, let alone two. But my career was already over, after Director Ortega found out what Caesar made me help him do to 1822.”

  “Don’t blame that on Caesar,” Zaul growls, coming right up into Krecker’s face. “You watched while he cut me open. You hung me over the Juicer on a crane!”

  “And what was I supposed to do?” Krecker asks. “You saw what that man is capable of! Did you really expect me to stand up to that level of psycho, for an Ugger?”

  “Why did Robert Ortega let you back in?” I ask, interrupting the argument. If Krecker really does plan to get us out of here, I can’t afford the Brains Club tearing him to pieces.

  “Z-15 contacted him, too,” Krecker replies, shaking his head. “Or, he contacted them, I’m not completely sure. But he was in on the extraction – though I doubt he took any money for it. He probably felt guilty for Caesar killing your father. The plan was to get you and Zaul down to the tunnel between the facility and HQ. I’m the one escorting the Brains Club through that tunnel every month anyway, I have the clearance, so no one would think twice of me bringing two containees down there. In the middle is a hatch that opens up to the street, where a transport truck would wait.”

  He sighs. “That was supposed to happen today, but then all this shit went down.”

  “You heard what Schutzhorne said,” Quinn comments. “Everything that happens in front of a camera has been seen by Headquarters since the beginning. You think he overheard you and Robert talking about this plan, and sabotaged it?”

  “We never discussed it within the Facility, only at my house,” Krecker responds. “But because of that surveillance feed, he knew Genny was in the Lock the whole time, before he sent Caesar in here to set off this mess. He would have seen Ortega and I getting her out, and me bringing her and 1822 down to the tunnel, so… Yeah. The plan was screwed from the beginning. Not to mention, I wouldn’t have been able to get Loverboy away from his Lust Lounge romp.”

  “So don’t mention it,” Alice says. We make eye contact for a brief moment, then look away. The chaos in the Lock momentarily distracted me from the truth of Zaul’s relationship with her. The lull in the action now brings it to the forefront of my mind.

  “So I’m guessing we can’t just pop out on the street and ride off into the sunset now, can we?” the smaller male Brains member asks.

  “The door to the tunnel,” Quinn says. “Only Schutzhorne could have opened it during lock-down. My guess is his exploded guts are digesting in Hybrid stomachs right now.”

  “Yeah,” Krecker affirms. He points to the door behind us. “And don’t forget the twenty or so Perma-Lock Uggers enjoying their own reward room in there. You saw what they were like. Certified killers, rapers and eaters – even when medicated with Mortetine. They’re the monsters of monsters. There’s no way in hell I’d go through them to reach the elevator. The only other way out is through the front. But like you said, we’re in Lock-Down. Only the APA can open that door.”

  “So basically you’re saying we’re screwed?” I ask. He nods. The slight glimmer of hope I felt when he shot out the camera has now been vaporized.

  “No,” the little guy says, stepping away from the wall. “We’re not screwed. You are.” He pokes his finger at Krecker. “It wasn’t any of us that killed Schutzhorne. Caesar and his underlings did that. We just got stuck in the middle of it. Are you guys forgetting Schutzhorne’s video? As insane of an idea that it is, the APA actually wants us. Alive. We can have a job, a home. Recognition for our service.”

  “Are you suggesting we turn ourselves over, Ezra?” Quinn asks. “And become the APA’s military slaves?”

  “It’s better than what you had here for the last fifty years, Q,” Ezra retorts. “And waaaay better than going down with this meat sack. His psycho boss just killed the man who offered the deal. Just maybe, if we surrender quietly, they’ll still take us. I say we tie Krecker up in a chair, leave him at the front door with Tran, and wait in the Common for the cavalry to arrive. Before you know it, we’ll be landing on sandy beaches, flexing our muscles to foreigners in between hot meals.”

  “I agree,” Alice says timidly. “It’s the best option.”

  “So we’re going to take a vote on this?” I ask, feeling the urge to slap her in the face. For almost sleeping with Zaul, and for the audacity her and the small fry have to willingly join the enemy. “I will not work for the organization that ordered my father’s death. People who fed Rigg Rage pills, so that he could tear apart the only good human that was in this building, all for their own interests. You don’t think we’re disposable, too? That we won’t be manipulated?”

  “Fine,” Ezra says. “If your ego won’t let you take the only sensible way out, then put up a last stand with Krecker here. But I’m going to live. Walt, Rich – are you guys with the winning team?”

  “It’s not going to work,” a wheezing voice says from the ground. Walt looks down, apparently having forgotten his foot was still on top of Tran. He lifts off, and the doctor rubs his chest as he sits up. “There’s no way out of here.”

  Krecker steps to him. “What you mean, Doc?”

  “Project Graystorm,” Tran says. “The proposed plan to convert all
containees into a Hybrid military force. Schutzhorne had been pushing it for years – decades – but never got full approval from the Director and others in New York. To be honest, it was always on the verge of complete shutdown. It was too risky, the Director thought. Not enough practical application. The one thing that turned the tide on it was you.”

  Tran is looking my direction. I swallow loudly. “Because I’m different.”

  Tran nods. “The original plan was for Higher Functioning Hybrids to take on officer roles within the Graystorm Force, but the APA Director didn’t believe they exhibited enough self-control. Not even the most intelligent of them, like Zaul or Quinn.”

  “Hey,” Rich grumbles. “What about me?”

  Tran ignores him. “But when Schutzhorne saw you, and the incredible restraint and memory retention you exhibited, he knew you were the key. He promised the Director he could manufacture more Hybrids like you. The Director tacitly agreed.”

  He shakes his head. “And now, Schutzhorne is dead. He failed – gloriously. All of it was captured for the HQ to see. Project Graystorm is most assuredly dead. Now comes the next step that Schutzhorne was pushing back against for so long: Protocol R7. Phase one of the protocol is complete containment lock-down. The APA will storm the Facility, and every containee, regardless of gender or threat-level, will be stuffed into those Lock cells. Ten, fifteen a piece. It will be standing room only. You’ll practically suffocate.”

  “And what’s phase 2?” I ask. Somehow I feel like I already know the answer.

  Tran takes a long moment to look at all of us. Like it actually pains him to say what he’s about to say. “Once approved, complete Hybrid Reanimate extermination. Nationwide.”

  A collective weight seems to settle on all of us, a crushing dread that there is no hope for Hybrids, and the only one there ever was died when Caesar murdered Schutzhorne.

  “What about the officers?” Krecker asks. “And you?”

  “For the few officers with a squeaky clean record, they’ll be out of a job. But for you and a great number of your colleagues… Imprisonment. You saw the surveillance footage. There’s enough evidence of illegal activity to put you away for many years.

  “And the same goes for me. Some of the experiments I’ve conducted over the years weren’t exactly… ethical. Schutzhorne kept a very in-depth private collection of all surveillance, both here and in the headquarters, to be released to New York in the event of his death. It was an insurance policy, in case anyone had any ideas about taking him down.”

  “So, if we can’t sneak out, and we can’t join the enemy,” Ezra says, “then we fight back. Wait for the doors to open, and take out as many as we can. Krecker said there’s a transport truck, waiting out on the street. We run.”

  Tran laughs bitterly. “They won’t come through the front. The Director has already seen what happened in the Lock, and has a small army of agents waiting to come through the tunnel. If he hasn’t gotten approval for phase one of Protocol R7, it’s only a short matter of time before he does. We’re trapped.”

  But something tickles my brain, triggered by the desperate act of Krecker letting out the containees in the Lock. I remember the frightening story of Dalton’s father trapped in the facility with the power out. “The doors are electromagnetic. Could you turn off the power, and open up the front?”

  “Sure,” Krecker grunts. “But HQ still has eyes on us. Once they see us going that direction, they’ll re-route the agents there. And most importantly, cutting the power will disable the Shock Box.”

  I look at him, confused. Surely he doesn’t expect me to know what that is.

  He sighs. “A large black column in the control room. It sends and receives frequencies, with a range large enough to cover the Facility and HQ. Everytime we hit you Uggers with a buzz, the command is first routed there, which then sends a signal to your collar. The Shock Box is how we’re able to fry every containee, all at once. The problem is, with it shut off, there’ll be nothing to stop the containees from the male and female Commons. Between a building full of hungry, horny Uggers, and a team of agents ready to shoot on sight, I’ll take the agents. Trust me, you will too.”

  “Then that’s the solution,” Zaul speaks up. “It solves both problems at once. It opens the door, and keeps the APA from shocking the Common populations. Actually, we can just turn off this Shock Box, let the containees out, then cut the power for the doors once we all get there.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Zaul?” Ezra asks. “Mass chaos isn’t exactly a solution.”

  “You said they’ve got an army,” Zaul replies. “And that’s the only way we get out of here. We need one of our own.”

  Chapter 49

  Zaul

  Thumb’s eyes flick between me and the yellow line that separates us. He’s been doing this for nearly a minute. I’m not sure if he’s contemplating what I’ve just told him, or if his Rage is silently brewing at the fact that he’s stuck in the Common while my male co-members and I are relatively free. He always despised the Brains Club, but especially after our brawl last week.

  “What?” he asks abruptly.

  So it’s more difficulty in comprehension than jealous resentment that plagues him.

  Ezra groans, and steps forward. “You know those sirens that have been going off for the past thirty minutes? That’s bad. Big, bad men are coming to put everyone in the Lock. And then, they’ll kill all of us. So if you want to stay alive, we have to work together. We’ll turn off your collars, and we fight our way out of here. You get that?”

  “Don’t bother,” Rich says. “Only dignified men like ourselves can subtract the intricacies of such a verbose memorandum… uh, conglomerate.”

  “Have you been reading the dictionary again?” Walt asks. He holds Benson, the only officer left behind in the Common, by the throat. He was so focused on the crowded cluster of Hybrids barking violent threats across the yellow line that he didn’t notice us approach from behind.

  Daah comes to stand by Thumb. His weathered, gray face looks tired, as if death may be a welcome escape from his decades spent in containment. Years without the priveleges that more intelligent containees like Quinn have enjoyed. Daah grips the collar around his neck, and the weary eyes in his deep sockets move back and forth, searching for words. “You... stop collars. Then, we fight, with you? You want us… kill, humans?”

  I breathe deep. That’s not what I said, but that’s what inevitably will happen. When the agents come through those doors, and we fight back, many of them will die. Limbs will be removed. Throats will be ripped from necks. Flesh will be devoured. The Rage and Hunger of several hundred Hybrids will be let out to play. It goes against everything I’ve desperately clung to for the last four years, everything that Gibbs taught me. All that Genny had hoped for me. But there is no other way.

  And I can’t control the depths to which the other containees will plunge, but will I be able to hold myself back? What will stop my jaws and teeth when I take the life of my first human? What will Genny think of me if I lose control?

  Who are you?

  “Zaul,” Ezra says, breaking my thoughts. “Daah wants to know. And to be honest, I think we all do. It’s going to be a bloodbath, isn’t it?”

  I grimace. I can’t believe I’m leading the charge on this. “We do what needs to be done.”

  Thumb grins. “Not so weak, One-Eight-Two-Two.” He raises his gravelly voice. “We help kill humans! We escape!”

  The rest of the containees in the Common roar in jubilation.

  “This only works if you listen to me!” I shout, and the commotion dies down. “Just like in the maze: if you stop, the agents will get you. But this time, it won’t be a shock. You won’t miss out on food. You won’t go to the Lock. You will die. We keep moving. You put the agents on the ground and you keep moving. There is no time for a feast.”

  I stare at them, meeting as many white eyes as I can. I’m not sure which of them understand my words, and
which are just caught up in the moment. But what I’m about to say needs to be said. “You are Hybrid Reanimates, not monsters. You can think, you can feel, you can decide. And just like humans, you can choose to be good, or you can choose to be bad. So what kind of Hybrid are you? Don’t be who they say you are. Be better. Prove to yourselves that we deserve to live. That we deserve to exist.”

  When I’m finished, the Common stares back at me in silence. It feels like I’ve just thrown my words at an unmovable steel wall.

  “Nice speech,” Ezra says. “Do you think it will work?”

  “Not really,” I say, then address Thumb again, my voice lower. “If an agent puts down his gun, you leave him. Don’t kill him. If you do, we will kill you. Understand?”

  “Yes,” Thumb says. “Promise.”

  “Good. Tell everyone that.”

  As Thumb turns to spread the word, the image on the tablet in Ezra’s hands shows a familiar face, communicating from the other side of the Facility. “This is Quinn. The Fem-Com is on board.”

  “And what is the plan for female/male containee interactions?” Ezra asks me, with the tablet microphone turned off. “A full-scale Lust orgy won’t be very beneficial to our breakout.”

  “Hopefully that won’t even be an issue,” I say.

  The plan is for the males to move toward the tunnel to the HQ, while the females head for the front entrance. The APA will see this through the surveillance, and divide their numbers to cover both ends, reducing their forces to a manageable level for each of our teams. Krecker suggested this, because all of us trying to leave through one door will compact us in the narrow hallway, making it easier for the APA’s completely intact squad to pick us off.

  But with this plan comes the consequence of splitting up the Brains Club, and the possibility that I will never see Alice again. The future hangs in such a fragile state. What’s right in front of me is surviving this escape, making sure I can get myself and as many others as I can out of here alive. But somewhere in the distance, in the remote possibility that this works, is the uncertainty of where I will end up, and who will be there with me. I don’t know where Alice fits into that.