“We were in the dark, and it smelled like meat. It smelled like sweat, too. And we were all pressed in close together.”
“Where?” Coil asked.
“There was a metal door in front of us. Big. The vault door downstairs.”
“Noelle’s room,” Trickster said, an instant before Dinah put the pieces together.
“How many of us, pet?”
“Everyone here was there,” she looked towards the soldiers.
“Is she in there?”
“She was. Yes.”
Coil turned and swept her up in his arms. Her skin crawled at the contact of her body against his. She didn’t say or do anything about it, in part because she wasn’t able, too sick, hurting too much. The other reason was because she had seen the numbers shift each time she flinched away from his touch or made her disgust known. Little differences. He was angrier with her, more curt, if she pulled way, if she complained about it.
There was safety in the numbers, in following the rules she set on herself. It kept her power in order, it ensured Coil was tolerant with her, and it meant she didn’t have to go without her candy for even a short time.
Coil took the stairs two at a time as he descended to the ground floor, Trickster, Oliver and Sundancer hurrying after him.
“You,” Coil called out, not even bothering to recall the employee’s name, “The vault door. Open it. Squad leaders, organize your groups!”
There was a faint crash in the distance, and a vibration rippled through the complex.
“Pet, the chance that Crawler kills us, now that we’ve undertaken this route?”
“I don’t. I can’t.” Her head hurt so much.
“Try,” and in his hard tone, she heard the unspoken threat of having her candy taken away.
She did. The scenes had no order to them. They were all jumbled, and trying to pull some semblance of order and sense into them was like thrusting her hands into fire and razor blades, thrusting her mind into fire and razor blades. A long groan of pain was drawn from her throat, and the strength went out of her body.
“You’re killing her!” Sundancer gasped.
“No,” Coil said, as if from a place far away. ”I’ve had her use her power to check. This may be miserable for her, but she can’t die from it.”
Coil touching her, that overpowering phantom smell, the fear, the nausea…
“I need to barf.”
Coil set her down and held her by the wrists as she leaned forward to cough up mouthfuls of bile. Her stomach was already empty of food.
“The number, pet?”
Sundancer bent down to hold her, so her shoulders weren’t being twisted with her arms held behind her by Coil.
“Three point one percent,” Dinah gasped out.
“Reassuring,” Coil said. The vault door opened before them. ”Trickster? Would you announce our imminent arrival to Noelle?”
“Yeah,” Trickster sighed. ”Fuck. I hate to do this, but can I get a number?”
“Trickster!” Sundancer admonished him, sounding horrified, “You can see how much pain it’s causing her.”
“It’s important. Kid, what’s the chance that Noelle kills us?”
There was another series of crashes, closer.
Dinah shook her head, “Please. I just want to put everything back together. Every time I use my power, it all falls apart and it hurts.”
“Pet, it’s the last question we’ll ask you tonight. I promise,” Coil said.
So she did. She reached for the number. It can’t kill me. It doesn’t do permanent damage. It just hurts. It’s my brain telling me my power shouldn’t be used to find answers like that.
The words she used to convince herself did little to soften the pain that came with digging for a number once more. She screamed, and tears flowed down her face as she sank into Sundancer’s arms, screwing her eyes shut.
“Nine point eight percent,” she managed. Was she being carried? They were venturing inside, past the first of the two heavy vault doors. How much time had just passed? Where was Trickster?
“That’s good information to have, pet,” Coil said, from somewhere near her. ”Squad leaders. As you gather inside the containment room, I want you organizing your troops into ranks, your backs to the door. Weapons need to be locked, loaded and ready to fire. Be sure to equip the laser attachments and battery packs. Don’t venture any further than ten paces inside.”
There were affirmative responses. Dinah could hear guns cocking.
Another crash, the closest yet. The sound of rubble and concrete falling echoed through the underground complex.
“He’s here,” Coil said. ”Last people inside, hurry. Close the first door.”
Dinah opened her eyes. They were in a concrete room with steel girders at set intervals, as if forming a cage against the inside of the room. It smelled like meat that had gone bad.
The second vault door slowly swung closed as the last few stragglers slipped through the gap. Employees, technicians, people in suits, some soldiers. They packed in close at the end of the room closest to the door, their bodies pressing against her. Three fifths of the chamber were left unoccupied.
And on the other side of the room – darkness. Trickster was emerging.
“How is she?” Coil asked.
“Scared. Hungry. She said she didn’t get her meal tonight,” Trickster answered, his voice quiet.
Coil folded his arms. ”She did. I personally observed the delivery. I suspect she’s needing more food as of late. Unfortunate we find this out now.”
“She asked me to turn out the lights on this end of her room. Said it would be easier if she can’t see us.”
“Do it,” Coil ordered. He strode over to one of his squad captains and spoke in the man’s ear. Dinah thought she might have overheard something about night vision goggles. She closed her eyes, as if it could help shut out the pain that continued to tear through her skull.
The pink of the light shining through her eyelids turned to black as the lights went out.
“I’m sorry,” A girl’s voice whispered in Dinah’s ear. Sundancer?
Dinah tried to answer, but her voice came out in a croak.
“I’d help you if I could, but I can’t, you understand?” Sundancer whispered to her. She had her arms around Dinah. She smelled like barf, but that was Dinah’s fault. ”It’s not just that my friends and I are in a bad spot, or having to help Noelle, or even that I don’t think I could save you on my own… We made a promise to each other, when everything began. Fuck, it sounds so stupid, sounds so lame, when I say it like that.”
There was a crash nearby, the sound of metal on metal.
Then a massive impact against the vault door made the room shudder.
Sundancer kept talking, as if oblivious to the ongoing attack. ”When you’ve been through hell and back again with a group of people, when you’ve all lost everything, and you collectively stand to lose more? I- I don’t even know what I’m saying. Maybe there’s no justification for letting you go through what you are. I just… they’re all I’ve got. I’m sorry.”
Dinah reached up and fumbled around until she found Sundancer’s hand. She didn’t have a response, couldn’t speak if she’d been able to think of what to say. She just held the hand tight.
A series of hits collided with the metal door. A roar rattled through the air, painfully loud despite the muffling effect of the intervening wall. It was a roar heavy with frustration and anger.
There was the sound of guns cocking. She almost missed it in the midst of the steady, relentless crashes that came from the metal door.
“I’m so hungry,” a girl’s voice echoed through the chamber. She’s close.
“I know, Noelle,” Trickster answered. ”Just a little while. Let’s go back to the other side, away from these people.”
Noelle sounded like someone who was very, very tired. ”Can’t wait. Can’t wait at all these days. I can smell them.”
She wants food
as badly as I want my ‘candy‘, Dinah thought. The difference is that she can and will take what she wants, even if it means eating one of us. I don’t have that power.
God, her head hurt. Worse, she knew this was the calm before the storm. Her head would hurt more with every passing hour until she wanted to die.
“You can hold on,” Trickster said, his voice gentle. ”You don’t want to come any closer than that. You know what your power does. None of us want that.”
“No.”
“And these guys, as good as they are, I can’t be positive that one of them won’t shoot you in a moment of panic. We don’t want that either.”
“I’d live. Don’t want to, but I’d live.”
“You would. But would I? Would Oliver and Marissa, if you went berserk? They’re in here too.”
Sundancer spoke up, calling out, “Remember the promise we made together.”
Noelle didn’t reply. The silence lingered, punctuated by the heavy blows on the metal door, echoing through the concrete chamber.
“Come on, Noelle. Let’s go back, before you or someone else here does something they’ll regret,” Trickster urged.
The banging continued.
“Come with me, Krouse? We can talk alone?”
“That sounds good,” Trickster said.
Dinah felt the tension in the room ease. The pain in her skull didn’t get any better. She set about the tedious task of trying to reorganize the images in her head. Building a house of cards in an unpredictable wind. Every time the numbers changed, what she’d started to sort out fell apart.
She’d have to wait until a period of calm before she made any real headway. The passage of time would help as well. Then it wouldn’t be so painful to use her ability.
She got caught up in the painstaking operation, and it was some time before she realized the banging had stopped. Still, the gathered people in the room waited. Just in case Crawler was bluffing them, waiting until they opened the door.
Long minutes passed before Coil gave the order.
Dinah was blind. Her power too fragile and painful to use, so she couldn’t see the future that awaited them outside the door. Her heart pounded in her throat as the door was opened. The first squads moved out, fanning through the complex to find if Crawler was lurking in some corner of the underground base. They returned and gave the all-clear.
Emerging from the gloom, she squinted in the face of the flourescent lights. Claw marks gouged the outside of the solid steel of the vault door, each at least half a foot deep. The catwalk had been torn down at one side of the complex, and innumerable boxes of weapons and supplies had been crushed or scattered across the floor.
“Candy?” she asked. ”My head hurts.”
“You can have your candy, pet. Go to your room, I’ll call Pitter in and send him to you.”
With her armed escort, she headed to her room. She collapsed gratefully on her bed.
She knew she’d regret it, but she used her power. She had to know. It would be one more use, to hold her over, and she would stop using her power for the next few days, at least. Weeks, if Coil let her.
She clutched her covers and bit her pillow as her head erupted with pain. More than half of the groundwork she’d so carefully laid in place over the past hour fell apart as she pulled the scenes into two groups. Minutes passed before she had her number.
31.6%.
More than four percent higher than it had been yesterday.
Thirty-one point six percent chance she’d get to go home someday.
11.g
A teenager with a red streak dyed into her dark hair strode down the street in rubber boots. Three hours past curfew, alone.
She drew a smartphone from the pocket of her jacket, then set to untangling the earbuds. How did the damned things always get so knotted together? They were like Christmas lights. Not that she’d ever untangled Christmas lights, but she’d heard how Christmas lights got tangled.
Popping the foam-covered buds into her ears, she began thumbing through the music as she walked.
J’adore-
Sweet Honey-
Love me, love me, you know you wanna love me…
Love me, love me, you know you wanna love me…
Her head nodded in time with the beat, and she slipped the phone into her pocket.
She supposed she could have bought something to coil up the cord of the earbuds, or replaced the music playlist instead of deleting everything that didn’t appeal. It wasn’t like she didn’t have money. It was an option. What stopped her was the fact that she had a pattern going. Everything she owned and everything she used day-to-day was stolen. The shirt on her back, her shoes, the music, her laptop. She kind of wanted to see how far she could get before she caved and actually bought something.
Love me, you?
Love me, true?
Her boots splashed as she danced a little circle, murmuring the words. The light drizzle had wet her hair, and she pushed it back out of her face, stretched her arms out and let the raindrops fall against her closed eyelids.
It wasn’t as though she was in a rush.
She’d walked long enough for six songs to start and finish before someone stopped her.
“Miss. Miss!” He was barely audible over her music.
She turned and saw a man in military gear, forty-something, his face heavily lined. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, he had a short buzz cut, a bit of scruff on his cheeks and chin, and his face was beaded with droplets of water. She pulled out her earbuds.
Crazed, kooky, cracked, crazy,
Nutty, barmy, mad for me…
The crooning sounded artificial coming from the earbuds that dangled from her hand, nasal.
“What’s up?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m excellent.”
“There’s a curfew during the state of emergency. I don’t want to scare you too badly, miss, but there’re rape gangs, murderers and human traffickers on the street. All people who would prey on a pretty young woman.”
“You think I’m pretty?” She smiled, stepping closer.
“I have a daughter about your age,” he replied, smiling tightly.
“That doesn’t answer my question. Do you think I’m pretty?” She stepped even closer, ran her finger down his chest.
“Yes, but-” he paused, gripping both sides of her jacket. He pulled the jacket together, then did up her zipper all the way to the top, around the heavy box that dangled around her neck. ”That’s all the more reason for you to be careful, understand? Do you have a home or a shelter you’re staying at?”
She didn’t reply. Her brows knit together and she undid her jacket and stepped away from him.
He went on, “I can give you directions to the nearest shelter if you want. It’s new, just a little ways up Lord street here. There may be space.”
“I’m staying with some people.”
“Do you need directions?”
She didn’t reply. She studied him instead.
“If you’re willing to wait, I can give you a ride when I’m done here. I’ll get relieved in five or ten minutes, but we could talk in the meantime. You can sit in my jeep, and you’ll be dry.”
She hesitated. ”Fine.”
The man led her back to his jeep. She sat in the passenger seat while he stood outside, his eyes on the surroundings, occasionally exchanging words with the person or people on the other end of his walkie-talkie.
After a few minutes, he climbed into the driver’s seat. ”The men who were supposed to take over the watch are late. Something about fires downtown.”
She nodded.
Crazed, kooky, cracked, crazy,
Mental, dotty, whacked, loopy…
“Do you mind turning off your music?”
“I like it,” she said. ”I hate silence.”
“Well, I’m not about to deny someone their coping mechanisms. Where do you live, or where did you live, before the attack?”
“Out of t
own.”
He raised one eyebrow, but he kept looking out the windows for possible trouble. He put the key in the ignition and started the car so he could use the windshield wipers. ”Sounds like there’s a story there. People don’t just come into town at a time like this, and if you were just visiting, you would have evacuated already.”
“Oh, we’re visiting because it’s a time like this,” she smiled.
“Thrill seeking?” his voice hardened. ”That’s not only stupid, it’s disrespectful.”
“The people I’m staying with? They’re the Slaughterhouse Nine. I’m one of them.”
“That’s not funny.” His voice went hard, any gentleness gone.
“It’s really not,” she agreed with a smile.
He went for his gun, but he didn’t get that far. She closed her eyes for a moment, listened for the music that came from his mind and body. The jangling, dissonant noise of alarm, the throbbing percussion of mortal fear, every part of his body shifting into fight or flight mode. The underlying notes spoke to his personality. His love of his family, his fear that he was about to leave them behind, anger towards her, a momentary anxiety that he was overreacting. She grasped this in the fraction of a second.
Reaching for that mortal fear, she wrenched it. When that wasn’t quite enough, she pulled at it and twisted it until everything else was squeezed into the far edges.
He screamed, throwing himself as far away from her as he could get, his weapon falling between the seats.
Crazed, kooky, cracked, crazy,She twisted other parts of his emotional makeup until he was compliant, adrift in apathy, obedient. ”Stay.”
Nutty, screwy, mentally diseased…
He stopped retreating. He was still breathing hard from his momentary panic, but that would pass.
She leaned towards him and ran her hand along the top of his head. It was like rubbing a toothbrush, spraying minuscule bits of water onto the wheel and dashboard.
“Good.”
He stared at her. There was fear in the look, and she didn’t have the heart to erase all of it. A little was good.
“I want to drive. Switch seats with me.”
He nodded dumbly and climbed out of the jeep. She made her way over to the driver’s seat, then waited for him to climb in before she peeled out.
Worm Page 135
