Oculus (Oculus #1)

by J. L. Mac

  Rendered speechless, I hold tightly to the seat beneath me as my mind reels, thinking back on the last few days.

  “Now, bite me again and you’ll regret it,” he threatens as he pulls me to my feet and guides me to the other side of his office and through the door that Krause and Flynn used to leave me in here.

  “My quarters are back here. Let’s go.”

  “Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee.” - Herman Melville, Moby Dick

  I’M HANDING CADE A PACK of dried potato slices when terror rips through me. It’s like a thousand jagged shards of glass driving deep into my brain. My hand crushes the pack, blasting Cade in the face with a cloud of pulverized spuds. I ignore his cry of surprise, the questions he calls after me, the shouts from the other members of the Junior Resistance. Without hesitation, I sprint away from them toward the source of my agony.

  Iris.

  Something’s wrong. She is in trouble, and I’m out here delivering groceries to a bunch of fucking idiots. Her terror spikes and I hear her voice in my head.

  SIC! I NEED YOU!

  Adrenaline courses through my veins and I abandon all attempts at stealth. My heart is pounding in my chest by the time the compound’s concrete wall comes into view.

  Normally, I’d wait for a gap in the patrols, scale the wall quietly, and slip like a ghost to the other side.

  There isn’t time to sneak in. She needs me.

  Leaping up, I catch a handhold halfway up and rapidly scale the wall. The two security guards standing above hesitate for a split second in bringing their guns to bear on me. My left hand snakes across their throats, dragging the blade of my knife smoothly through their skin. I slip beneath the arterial spray of their blood, catching the railing of the stairs to stop my rush. Flipping in midair, I slam my feet down onto the steps on the inner wall, barely slowing down. By the time the bodies above hit the floor, I’m on the ground running toward Iris.

  Angry cries ring out on the wall as guards who witnessed my violent passing react. Shots ring out and the whiz of bullets fills the air. Someone hits a panic button and an earsplitting alarm begins shrieking. Ahead of me, a five man security patrol comes out from behind a building, their eyes going wide with surprise. Before they have a chance to fire, I’m in among them. Grabbing the first man by the throat, I swing around him using my momentum to break his neck. At the same time, I kick out both of my feet, dropping two others with solid blows. Jackknifing my body, I stab the fourth man through the eye. The fifth manages to get a shot off as I smash my fist into his face. Bones crack, and he drops limply to the ground.

  Springing away, I race ahead into the compound. Screams sound as people catch sight of me, likely due to the blood coating me now. Citizens flee inside, seeking shelter behind the flimsy wood of their front doors. I’m running in the open, so it’s no surprise when the next attack comes. My enhanced senses let me hear the click a split second before the round goes off. Throwing myself behind a building, I roll behind cover as a fifty caliber round destroys the ground I occupied just a moment before.

  I hear the sniper chamber another round. I’d spent several days mapping out all the security posts, so I know he is two buildings over, in the second observation point from the wall. It is unacceptable for him to remain in position. His presence has already delayed me by seventeen seconds. Pulling my pistol, I lean around the corner and fire a single shot. The sniper has far too much confidence in his cover. He overlooked his one vulnerability, the fact that he needed to be able to see to shoot. I hear the glass of his scope shatter a moment before his body strikes the roof.

  I can feel Iris, calling for me. I taste blood. For the first time in years, I feel afraid, but not for me. Time is running out.

  The streets are deserted, other than the echoing of the alarm. I move as fast as possible, dodging the outgoing groups of security. It’s inevitable that I’ll be caught on camera, I’m taking almost no precautions against it. Tearing a shirt from a clothesline I pass, I wrap it around my head, fashioning a crude mask. I hear a rising wave of noise from back along my trail. Security is closing in on me. I needed to get to Iris.

  Barely controlled rage flows through me like fire. Someone has Iris, and they’re scaring her, hurting her.

  I know where she is, straight ahead, in the heavily fortified security building. The safest entrance is a sewer outlet near the back of the building. Then a careful advancement through the connecting service crawlspaces until you reach the nexus of ventilation ducts. By doing this you can reach the center of the building without being discovered.

  I don’t have the time for safe. Iris doesn’t have the time.

  Without slowing, I go straight for the front door.

  Most corporate security offices are surprisingly easy to get into. That’s because of the false sense of security that they operate under. How often do the sheep charge madly into the wolves’ den? The look on the guard’s face at the front desk is comical. I kill him with a sharp blow to the front of his throat, crushing his windpipe.

  The heavy automatic shotgun I find behind the desk feels good in my hand. Twenty heavy shotgun shells are expended between the front door and the back of the second floor. Two go into the skulls of hulking brutes that I stop for twenty seconds to personally stalk. I’m not sure exactly why I do it. I just know that destroying their oversized craniums brings me a hell of a lot of joy.

  I abandon the shotgun when it clicks empty, using it to break the skull of an overly exuberant guard that tries to grapple with me. When I kick the door from the hinges, I already know what I’ll see in the room.

  Iris.

  Standing over her, his shirt hanging askew, is Ingram. The overconfident prick didn’t even taken the alarms serious. He’s too busy trying to rape my woman. Bad move on his part.

  As I come into the room, it’s like Ingram is moving in slow motion. His gun never even clears the holster. I grab his hand, twisting the gun, then jerking his arm. He blows a round into his own crotch. Stripping the weapon from his hand, I throw it aside. This bastard needs to understand, before he dies, exactly how much pain the human body can endure.

  My hands move with practiced ease, combining combat attacks with torture techniques I’d been taught during my training at Talpa. Improvising, I create a new form of martial arts on the spot. Just to tear Ingram apart. Selectively, I break bones to amplify his pain. A rib just above the left lung. His right forearm. Left jawbone. Left foot, right kneecap, pelvic bone, right shoulder.

  Blood flows across the floor, pooling around us. Iris shrinks back from the noise of my entrance, but I know she can feel me there. Ingram desperately tries to shield himself with his smashed appendages and croaks out something that sounds like a plea. Glancing down at the spreading pool of blood, I calculate he has a few minutes of life left in him. Crushing his hands, I let him drop with an agonized shriek to the ground.

  Iris is standing, her back pressed against the wall. She edges along the surface, not away from me, but from the blood spreading across the floor toward her. I have no idea how she knows it’s there, but she does. Grabbing the sheet from the bed nearby, I quickly wipe the collected blood from my hands. Her naked body is covered in goose pimples, and the sight of her leaves me breathless.

  “Sic? Is that you? Tell me it’s you!” Her voice catches, and I sense the waves of uncertainty and the barely controlled terror rolling off of her in waves. Grabbing a blanket, I wrap her in it. I need to move fast, and to do that I have to carry her. Still, I don’t want to get any of the blood on her.

  “Yes, Iris. I’m here.” Iris gives a cry of relief and collapses against me as I pull her into my arms. Sobs wrack her as I step over the mewling form of Ingram, kicking him harshly in the head as I pass. “I need to get you away from here, to a safe place.”

  Shouts come from the front of the building, and seconds
later an alarm begins to sound in the building. Running down the back stairs, I take a corridor that I know holds no cameras. This is the Security Chief’s private entrance, so no surveillance is allowed here. I’ve scouted this path before, in case I needed to execute Ingram quietly. My instincts have served me well. Turns out my prep work had unforeseen rewards.

  Outside the back of the building, I make my way through the streets, avoiding security patrols. Iris has quieted, and a feeling of calm contentment radiates from her. I want nothing more than to get her out of the compound, but as I near the perimeter, I realize this is no longer an option. The security service has abandoned most of the interior to man the wall. They’ve broken out the heavy guns, and mounted them at intervals. I can see at a glance that their overlaid fields of fire cover all the approaches.

  At the base of the wall, large, heavily armed security patrols move alertly, scanning the area. I’d hoped with Ingram dead that his people would be in chaos long enough for me to escape. It seems I’ve underestimated them, and they’ve trapped me inside. Cradling Iris in my arms, I slip away, trying to think of a good hiding place. The shack is out of the question. The second I’d struck openly, that location had been compromised.

  “Take me home, Sic. I want to go home.” Her voice, thick with sadness and fear, strikes me with monumental force. Before I even realize what I am doing, my feet turn in the direction of her house. For a moment, I hesitate, and then I realize that taking her home isn’t such a bad idea. If I can keep her father from turning me in, we might be able to hide there until things quiet down.

  Her house is ominously quiet, and no light shows in the windows. I take her in through her bedroom window, checking every corner of the house after I deposit her on her bed. Pulling the shades down tight, I risk a light so that I can better see Iris’s wounds. My breath hisses out between my teeth.

  Dark bruises are visible on her arms, legs and inner thighs. I force myself to remain calm while I scan her naked form. There are no signs of actual rape, but the damage shows that the bastards might have if she hadn’t fought so hard. Retrieving a washcloth and bowl of water, I gently wash her. As the blood and sweat are wiped away, my inner calm begins to return. Taking a soft towel, I dry her body. Pulling a warm nightgown on over her head, I manage not to wake her as I settle her beneath the covers. Once Iris is seen to, I turn my attention to the house. Quietly, I slip out her door, closing it behind me.

  It doesn’t take long for me to search the entire place; it’s empty, and there is no sign of her father. When I return to her room, Iris is still asleep. I want to sit next to her, to crawl into bed beside her and hold her, but I know I can’t give in to that desire.

  I crawl out the window and check the surrounding houses. People are huddled inside all of them, but I don’t see her father. I wonder at his absence. He did not seem the type to leave Iris in the security’s clutches. My skulking is rewarded when I hear one of the neighbors talking about her father.

  “I still can’t believe what Ingram did to Dr. Tierney. What is the world coming to? First that crazy jackbooted thug beats a level one geneticist with impunity, and now there’s some sort of Resistance attack penetrating the walls of the compound?”

  Ignoring the rest of the conversation, I make my way back to Iris. Her empty house now sickeningly makes sense. Dr. Tierney had evidently not taken Iris’s arrest lying down. I could almost picture him, full of righteous anger, striding boldly into the security building. Supremely confident in the value that The Corporation put on his extensive skills would fuel such a strategy. Foolishly, he thought he was protected from Ingram, and in reality he should have been. I wonder what had happened to make Ingram lose control and strike Tierney…to beat him badly enough that he isn’t in his home. The only thing I can think of that would keep her father from her side is incapacitation. I feel my stomach drop as I realize how Iris will react to this news.

  “IRIS.” SIC’S WARM HAND BRUSHES against my arm, rousing me from sleep. “Iris, wake up.” I mumble my protests and try to roll over. “Iris, I have some news about your father.” That bit of information sends a lighting bolt of awareness through me and I bolt upright in my bed, sending painful reminders though my head and body of the damage that the agents inflicted on me.

  “Easy,” he whispers soothingly with his hands on my shoulders.

  “Did you find out where he is?”

  “Yes. I overheard some people talking. He’s in the hospital. Ingram beat him.”

  “Oh my god. I have to go. I have to get to him. Is he okay? I need clothes,” I splutter frantically, fighting against emotion.

  “Iris, you have to stop for one second. Calm down.”

  “Calm down? I can’t! He’s all I have!”

  Sic says nothing in response and I feel bad for implying that he’s nothing to me because that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s a stranger and an old friend. A guardian and a ghost. A lover and a murderer. A forbidden acquaintance and an inevitable fact. He’s the foundation of my confusion and the root of my clarity. He’s my beginning and my end. I can feel these things deep in my gut, just as a person vaguely recalls the feel of their ear pressed to their mother or father’s chest, a barely-there memory, but an absolute truth of something that happened long ago. The reverberation of the parent’s voice only resonates for a brief moment but the familiarity and the comfort that it brought stays long after the memory of being there in that place fades away.

  Sic is that person, that place for me. I don’t know how. I just know.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just,” I begin, unsure of how to explain my crassness.

  “I understand.”

  “Do you? Do you have parents?”

  “Yes. No. I did. I had Anna.”

  “I’m sorry.” I slip my hand beneath my mattress and feel for the worn spine of the braille book that my father gave me as a child. It’s the only one that I have. The book falls open to where the photo of my father is and though I can never see it, it has always felt important to have, important to keep.

  “This is my dad,” I say quietly as I gingerly hold out the old photo with turned up corners.

  “Your father,” he murmurs breathily. “This is your father?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course,” he mumbles to himself. It’s difficult to miss the solemn tone in his voice.

  “What?”

  “I recognize him. This photo. Anna had a picture of him. Younger, but it’s him.”

  “What? I’ve never heard him talk about anyone named Anna.” Sic says nothing to clear up the matter and the mountain of questions I have only seems to grow.

  “Sic, I have to try to sneak in to see him. Can you help me?”

  “You don’t have to sneak.”

  “What? I’m an escaped criminal suspected of sedition.”

  “No. While you were asleep I overheard your neighbors talking. They aren’t looking for you. They’re looking for me. I don’t think anyone knew you were being kept at security for… questioning.”

  “But, how?”

  “You were never being charged, Iris. Ingram just wanted you there to,”

  “Oh.” I cut him off before either of us has to think any further about Ingram. Thoughts of him make me sick to my stomach. Thoughts about what nearly happened, what would have happened if Sic hadn’t shown up, sends a chill right through me.

  “Don’t think about it.” Sic demands and just like that, I lay that demon to rest. For now. I don’t have time to think about anything else. My father has been hurt and needs me.

  “Sic, we have to talk. I-I’m so confused. I don’t understand what’s going on. I still don’t understand you—us. Any of this.” Sic pulls me to him, and wraps his arms securely around my back, quelling the emotional turmoil building within me.

  “Go and come back as quickly as you can. I’ll read Anna’s letter to you and we can try to figure this out.”

  “Okay.” I quietly dress and move
carefully, being sure not to bump my sore extremities on anything. If I’m this sore today I cringe to think what I’ll feel like tomorrow. I can feel Sic watching me. He’s the quietest person I’ve ever been in a room with and it takes focus for me to hear him breathe.

  I imagine that he has been this way out of necessity just as I’ve honed my useful senses out of necessity. He’s from The Dark Lands. Survival skills, adapting, and playing at your strengths likely isn’t a choice. It’s a requirement. I can’t imagine what his life has been like out there beyond the walls of the compound.

  “You’ll be here?” I ask as Sic presses the handle of my stick into my palm.

  “Yes. Unless you plan on getting into some trouble.” It’s only a guess, but his attempt at joking seems forced but endearing. The palms of his hands cup my face gently, careful not to hurt the side that I’m certain is probably pretty unsightly. “There and back,” he whispers with his lips brushing lightly against mine.

  “I will.”

  The scanner at the hospital drones like normal, but right now the sound of the robotic voice is grating. My head is throbbing. My cheek feels swollen. The skin at the cap of my shoulder is sticky with the makings of a fresh scab. My hip feels quite tender and I don’t think I’ve breathed deeply since Sic plucked me right from the Devil’s grasp.

  “This way, Miss Tierney. Doctor Tierney is awake and has had quite a few visitors.”

  “Visitors?”

  “Yes. Corp officials. A Mr. and Mrs. Brighton I believe.”

  “Mhmm,” I hum while wondering what Fenra officials have been to see my father. “How is he? I mean, his injuries?”

  “Well he’s quite bruised. We are most concerned with his loss of consciousness after the incident. I’ll tell Doctor Rayford that you’re here. He can come explain his injuries to you.”