Light Play: Book One of The Light Play Trilogy

by N. D. Hansen-Hill

  Sterner frowned and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He wasn't sure what to say. “Jason's with Rick,” he finally admitted.

  “You found Rick!” Cole said excitedly. He finished climbing the steps, and plopped down on the landing. “What about Simon?” he panted.

  “I don't know—” he said again. If he said too much, Calloway would want to hightail it after them. In Sterner's mind, that was a lousy idea. As far as he was concerned, it was time to march back downstairs and surrender to whoever was on the lower levels.

  “You don't know much, do you?” Cole said. He watched Eric's expression in the reflected light but couldn't judge what he was thinking.

  Cole pushed himself to his feet. “Which way did they go?” he asked. He glanced down the dark hallway. “Did you hear any more from Simon?” He took a few steps, and spotted Rutgers lying on the stairs.

  Cole stooped down, and Sterner shoved a flashlight into his hand. “Do you know him?” Sterner asked quietly.

  Cole flicked the light on the other man's face. “He's not Simon, if that's what you mean. But he might be one of the bastards from the helicopter. He's wearing the same kind of clothes.”

  “The bastards who shot you?” Eric asked.

  Cole nodded. “Yeah. And Simon.” He looked at Rutgers’ face again, and saw him flinch. “He's alive.” He glanced up at Eric. “Shouldn't we give him first aid or something?”

  “I'm not taking off his suit. You can, but warn me first. So I can leave.”

  “What the hell's wrong with you?” Cole asked. He looked at the light Eric had given him. “Isn't this Jason's?”

  “Yeah,” Eric replied slowly.

  “Which way did Jason and Rick go?” he asked. “And why didn't Jace take his light?”

  “Look, Calloway,” Eric began. “I think we should come back. With reinforcements.”

  “What are you trying so hard not to tell me?” Cole asked angrily. “That Denaro took them? Is that it?”

  “No,” Eric Sterner admitted with a sigh. “According to your friend Jason, it wasn't Denaro at all—”

  “Then what the hell happened?” Cole interrupted.

  Eric went on as though he hadn't spoken. “It was Richard Lockmann.”

  * * * *

  The world around him went black, and for a moment Cole thought his flashlight had gone out. Then he became aware that Eric Sterner was holding his head down between his knees, and that he'd somehow gone from a squatting position to sitting, with only a residual bruised feeling in his rear end to let him know how it had happened. “Stay put,” Eric ordered. “Just breath deeply until you feel better.”

  “It's a mistake—” Cole blustered. Although the thought of Rick as a vector had crossed his mind—hell, he'd even asked Jace about it—having it brought out in the open made him feel like a traitor.

  “Shut up and breathe.”

  Cole shrugged him off. “I'm fine. What happened to Rick?”

  “Why don't you ask Rick yourself?”

  Cole heard the smile in the familiar voice. “Rick?” He peered past Sterner into the dark.

  Eric Sterner looked at Cole as if he was crazy. “Do you want him to get you, too?” he asked, a little wildly. He stood up and stared intently into the dark beyond his flashlight, the gun quivering in his shaking hand.

  At the sight of the gun, Cole reacted instinctively. “That's Rick!” he yelled, and lurched upwards, head-butting Sterner in the buttocks. Eric Sterner had been prepared for a frontal attack—not a rear one. The gun went off, and Sterner tripped over Rutgers’ legs and on to the landing.

  In the next second, Rick was at Cole's side. Somehow, in that space of time, he'd also purloined Sterner's gun. “Jace said you took a bullet, too,” Rick said, concerned. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Cole replied. He reached up, hesitating only slightly, and took Rick's hand. Once on his feet, he decided that if Rick was going to contaminate him, it was too damn late to worry about it now. He gave Rick a big, brotherly hug. “Damn good to see you, Rick.” There was a catch in his voice. Suddenly, he remembered Simon—and hearing him scream. "Simon—” he began urgently.

  “—is okay,” Rick finished for him. He frowned. “At least, I hope is. Jace is with him now.” He explained, “His shoulder's really messed up, Cole. We've got to get him out of here.”

  “Touching reunion,” Eric Sterner's voice was grim. “How many people do you intend to infect, Lockmann?” he asked.

  Rick suddenly realised why Jason had been acting so strangely. I should have recognised the signs, he thought. After all, I saw enough of it upstairs.

  Yet Jace hadn't said anything, nor had he resisted Rick's efforts to get him clear of the man on the floor.

  Rick smiled. Here was old Jace thinking he was being exposed to God-knows-what—and yet he'd given Rick the benefit of the doubt. As had Cole. It made Rick feel remarkably good. He gave Cole an enthusiastic clap on the back.

  “Ouch,” Cole said.

  “Hey—you're bleeding!” Rick said anxiously.

  Sterner had been aiming the light down the hall. He was sure he'd heard something in the distance. He flicked it back in Lockmann's direction now. “Are they down there?” he asked. “I heard something.”

  Richard Lockmann's smile faded. “Move!” he commanded. "Now!"

  “What the hell—” Cole complained. “I just—”

  “Cole,” Rick explained. “It's Denaro!”

  Cole blanched whiter than he was already. “Lead the way,” he said. He watched in amazement as Rick reached down and pulled Rutgers up, then balanced him on one shoulder. He remembered how Rick had been just a few days ago—barely able to stand.

  With his other hand, Rick grabbed Cole's good arm and took a lot of his weight. “You okay?” Rick asked Sterner anxiously.

  “Fine,” Sterner mumbled.

  “Then follow us. Try to keep up. I don't want to have to come back here—not until I'm ready.”

  * * * *

  The gunshot carried where even the men's screams had not. Hylton's group was now on the same level, and the shot, coming as it did out of the darkness, made more than one person sweat with fear. The pungent aroma of sweat mixed with an even stronger scent of urine. Someone had really lost it when the clap of the shot hit their ears. Hylton had a feeling it was Sacchara. But, at this point, Steven Hylton couldn't care less about the state of the other man's trousers, as long as he kept his voice down. For a while there, Sacchara had been muttering incessantly. It had taken Vizar's threat of a bullet to shut him up.

  * * * *

  Tazo Raeiti heard the gunshot as a muffled coughing sound. But to someone with his background and experience, there was no doubt as to the true nature of what he was hearing. The noise had obviously come from somewhere on the stairs or the next level. Raeiti and his companions moved swiftly down the steps. If they could catch up with Vizar's group, they could monitor the situation.

  His mind ticked away, weighing their advantages and already stealing those they didn't possess away from the others. Raeiti and his group were navigating very nearly in the dark. Their flashlights were strung out along the stairs, and jiggled up and down with body movement. There'd already been one trip and near-fall, and Raeiti suspected Giltser had sprained an ankle.

  Tazo grinned. Giltser knew better than to complain, or openly favour his injury. If he were left behind, it wouldn't be to recuperate.

  Vizar, however, would have plenty of flashlights. He wouldn't go to deal with Denaro in the dark. And Raeiti was convinced, that no matter what Vizar had told the DSO, that the man still intended to confront Denaro. Genetechnic was liberal in its objectives and approach, but conservative in the use of its resources. Daniel Vizar wouldn't want to waste the resources at hand, and he knew he had Tazo Raeiti to back him up. Plus, a little bonus in the form of the DSO. Raeiti considered the remaining DSO people bait for Denaro, so that maybe she'd have finished feeding by the time he got there. By the time Lockmann had done
his blood-letting act. By the time Raeiti and his people needed to end the situation.

  Shaine was trailing by the time they negotiated the next landing. Raeiti, still intent on moving rapidly down the stairs, was so engrossed in his thoughts and plans that he wasn't prepared when he ran out of stairs. He rammed right into the wall.

  Shaine flashed the light his way. “End of the line,” she sniggered.

  Tazo rubbed his forehead and nose and glared at her.

  No more stairs. That meant Vizar was on this level.

  And—more than likely—Denaro. Raeiti sucked in a breath. “Watch yourselves,” he warned the others quietly. “Denaro's here—somewhere.”

  Shaine had moved forward, to match Raeiti's pace. At his words, she faltered, and dropped half a pace behind him. No need to be so eager to take the lead.

  Raeiti smiled sourly. He had no intention of being the first to find Denaro. He was leaving that for Daniel Vizar and his pet mutant—Lockmann. The only thing Tazo Raeiti wanted was enough of a force left to take over from Hylton once Denaro was dead.

  * * * *

  Denis Rodrigal had hated the dark ever since he'd been a kid. He crouched against the wall now, trying to make his mind go beyond his fear, and concentrate on what he should be doing. His feet wanted to go back upstairs, but he couldn't leave Lockmann down here alone.

  The dark was the worst of it. I think I could take anything, as long as I could see it coming. He knew that wasn't necessarily true, but sitting there in the dark, with only the shifting, coiling blackness around him, it sure sounded good.

  He didn't know how Lockmann could navigate so well in such minimal light. When the interior power had been cut, the exterior lights were wiped as well—like someone had taken the master power switch to the building and turned the entire thing off. With the aid of the outside lights, it would have made it easier in those few corridors that had windows. I would've stuck to those, Rodrigal decided.

  What can I do to help? Not much, crouched here.

  I can turn on the lights. How?

  Everything in this place seems to be controlled by computers.

  But if there's no electricity, there's no operating power.

  Unless I can get my hands on a portable.

  Rodrigal tried to think. Had he seen any laptops or portables upstairs? No, nothing on the desks, and he'd been through a lot of their cupboards and cabinets.

  No, there was something else he'd seen. Something written.

  It took him a minute to remember. Level four. Denaro had been housed on four. It was a notation on a memo, that had been left in one of the drawers. There should be a full lab there. Computers. Medical equipment. That kind of thing.

  Plus Denaro was here—on this level. At least, according to Lockmann. That made downstairs—or upstairs—anywhere but here—suddenly seem a whole lot more attractive.

  Rodrigal moved toward the stairs, and descended, feeling his way. One level, and he'd be there. Then he'd damn well find a way to turn back on the lights.

  * * * *

  Simon groaned, then bit his lips to stop the noise.

  “Like mummies, Simon?” a voice asked.

  Simon's mind was still foggy. A familiar voice. Who?

  Deft hands layered gauze across his shoulder, and seemed to be cinching it down. Simon couldn't help it. The painkillers Jace had given him seemed to have worn off. He groaned again.

  “Just like a mummy,” the voice went on. “Can you move your fingers, Simon?” it asked. “Simon, open your eyes and look at me.”

  Simon opened them, but he couldn't focus.

  “Wiggle your fingers,” the voice commanded.

  “I told you he was a sadist,” another voice said. Simon was confused. It sounded like Cole. “He cinches the guy up like King Tut, then orders him to move.”

  “Help Rick,” Simon muttered. “Can't do it alone—”

  A hand gripped his. Something about the heat and vitality of it told him it was Rick's. “I have lots of help, Simon.”

  Simon's eyes finally focused. “Give me the light,” he ordered. He took it in his left hand and shone it briefly on Rick.

  “Cut it out!”

  “He needs some light,” Simon said. Someone in the background tried to hand Rick a flashlight, but Simon said impatiently, “Not that kind. Energy.” Simon asked him bluntly, “What else?”

  “Water,” Rick admitted, glad that Simon, at least, understood.

  Simon tried to nod, grimaced, then said, “Can someone here do that for him?”

  No one moved.

  “If you don't, he'll go into a coma.”

  Jason grabbed Rick's arm. “What's he talking about, Rick?”

  “That virus I had brought a few little extras with it.”

  “What kind of extras?” Cole asked. He sounded frightened.

  Rick turned the flashlight on to his own face. His crystalline eyes reflected back the light. He was so lean now that the shadowy planes in his face gave him an oddly alien look.

  “A few plant genes,” he admitted. With the light in his face, he couldn't see beyond, to their expressions. In a way, it was a relief. If they were scared of him, he didn't know whether he could take it. “It kind of complicates things,” he added, keeping it simple.

  “I don't believe it,” Cole said. I don't want to believe it—Since the beginning, all Cole had wanted was to get things back to the way they'd been.

  Rick handed Eric Sterner the light.

  “Complicates things?” Jace asked.

  “He won't tell you, so I will,” Simon said. “His metabolism's all messed up. Don't give him any sugar, but lots of water—”

  “What about the virus?” Sterner interrupted. He couldn't believe they were sitting there discussing things so calmly, and hadn't even brought up what was—to him—the most important issue.

  “I'm not contagious, if that's what you mean,” Rick told him.

  Eric Sterner looked to Simon for confirmation. “It's true,” Simon said. “In fact, Rick's the only one who's recovered. The only one with antibodies.”

  “What does it do to you?” Cole asked. He was still having trouble with the changes in Rick. “I mean, are you okay?”

  “Great,” Rick said.

  Simon snorted in the background.

  “Hold still,” Jason warned him. To Rick, he asked, “What's this about light?”

  Rick was silent. The idea of jauntily saying “I'm photosynthetic” was abhorrent to him. I'm a mutant. His high energy had helped to compensate him for the emotional trauma of his mutation. But his friends didn't have any compensation. Nothing to make them accept the change in him. Nothing to keep them from being afraid.

  Simon had seemed to accept it, but Simon was different. Simon had seen a lot of the seamier side of life. He doubted that anything like an accidental mutation would be as startling for Simon as it was for Jason or—Cole.

  “I need a drink,” Rick said. In the next moment, he was gone.

  * * * *

  “Now you've done it,” Simon muttered. “Damn you, Cole.”

  “What?”

  “He's having a hard enough time coping with it himself, and you get all weird about it. He can't help what it's done to him.”

  “Maybe we can get someone to help him. You know—put him back the way he was.”

  “He's lucky to have survived this long,” Simon said grimly. “If you ever see him again, try at least to pretend to act normal.”

  “What do you mean—'if I ever see him again’?”

  “Rick's not contagious, but Denaro is.” Cole still looked confused. Simon, impatient, said, “Don't you get it? Rick's the only one with antibodies—the only one who can stop Denaro.”

  “I'll take your suit—” Jason began, but Simon shook his head.

  “It doesn't stop her. She'll go right through it.” Jace looked disbelieving. “It's on video, Jace. Ask Rutgers, when he wakes up.” Simon was frustrated. He tried to get up, but he just didn't have
the strength.

  “Lie still, Simon,” Jace told him.

  They had to know. “She's crazy, Jace. Her little out-of-body phantom has already tossed Rick across the room—and he wants to give her a goddamned transfusion, to see if he can bring her back! She'll kill him—” Simon was practically sobbing with frustration, “—but the damned fool doesn't care. If he lives, he thinks he'll be a freak, or imprisoned—or dissected—a little piece at a time. What's worse,” Simon gasped, “is that he's probably right—”

  Cole pushed himself to his feet. “I won't let that happen. Not to Rick.”

  “How're you gonna stop it, Cole?” Simon asked bitterly.

  Phillip Rutgers spoke for the first time. “Lockmann has no idea how unstable his system is right now. What time is it?”

  Sterner looked at his watch. “Going on eleven.”

  “Has he been drinking much water?”

  “Not that we've seen. Why?” Jason asked.

  “When he's metabolising properly, he needs to drink copious amounts to thin out the sugar load. The problem is, I don't think he's metabolising enough.”

  “What'll it do to him?” Jason asked.

  “His respiration is abnormally low. I think it's compensated for by the amount of oxygen fed into his system when he's exposed to light. But, in the dark, he's using up anything he has in reserve. And there's so much damage to his lungs, that he couldn't take a deep breath even if he wanted to.”

  “So he'll pass out?” Jason asked.

  Rutgers nodded. “That's what I think. His body will try to protect itself by going into a coma; almost like hibernation. He already did it once.”

  “His lungs are damaged?” Cole asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes. The virus left massive scarring.”

  “So he'll never be normal again?”

  Phillip Rutgers gave him a thin smile. “If you mean, can he go back to what he was, the answer's a pretty definite no. If he's going to survive, he's going to have to learn to accept his limitations. Just like anyone else who's recovered from a serious illness.”

  Cole nodded. “What about this ‘hibernation’ thing? Will he always have that?”

  “Rick keeps talking about storage systems. He thinks Denaro possesses some energy storage capacity that he hasn't developed yet. He's hoping he still will.”