Chrysalis

by Brendan Reichs

  I glanced at Ethan, barely visible in the moonlight filtering through the canopy. He felt my gaze and looked over, frowning his impatience. I understood. This was the kind of task you wanted done with as soon as possible. Lurking behind a tree to snatch a stranger in the dark was not something that got easier over time.

  “This is taking too long,” I hissed, unable to keep silent any longer.

  “Shut up, you idiot.”

  Okay, then.

  As if summoned by our voices, a light blinked once, twice, then went dark. I tensed, fumbling the syringe from my pocket. Uncapping the needle, I nearly dropped the thing before steadying my hands. I went as still as I could.

  Muffled footfalls. A softly whistled melody. I crouched, ready to spring.

  A shadow passed between the oaks.

  Ethan moved like lightning, the canvas bag sliding over our victim’s head with a whoosh. There was a strangled cough, then Ethan had his arm around the person’s windpipe and the sound cut off with a sickly gurgle.

  I leapt forward, looking for a soft spot to inject. But it was black on black and I couldn’t see the target, and didn’t want to miss. The victim’s elbow slammed into Ethan’s gut. He wheezed painfully, and his grip must’ve loosened, because the stranger managed to whirl and get a knee up, striking between his legs.

  Ethan’s turn to gurgle.

  The target sprang backward, but hadn’t realized I was standing there, being useless. The needle jabbed through a thin black sweater, the force of our collision depressing the plunger. Then the syringe was ripped from my fingers as the stranger spun. Something smashed into the side of my head.

  Lights. Stars.

  I fell to the ground, felt a booted foot connect with my ribs. I heard a string of harsh words but understood none of them.

  I gasped as more pain exploded in my kidney. I rolled away, trying to protect myself, when my victim-turned-attacker crashed down on top of me, knocking the wind from my lungs.

  “What the hell?” Tack growled, joining the fray. He was grappling with the stranger on top of me.

  I still couldn’t breathe—and was beginning to worry they’d smother me before I could crawl free—when Tack grunted and toppled backward, holding his face.

  The target lurched up and took a running step toward the camp, then fell.

  “Haaapp,” a voice slurred. The figure crawled another step. Collapsed. Lay still.

  I was spread-eagle on the dirt, panting, listening for pounding feet. Nothing. Our mark hadn’t called out until it was too late. Ethan was gathering himself with a string of not-so-silent curses.

  Tack grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me up. “Let’s go, you morons.” Together we managed to lift our somehowsuccessfully-subdued prisoner. Ethan slung the unconscious form over his shoulder. I grabbed the legs. Tack led us into the woods.

  We hustled in this awkward chain for what seemed like miles, until Tack pushed into a gulch shielded by pines on three sides. We dumped our prisoner on the ground and collapsed in a row, our backs against exposed granite, breathing hard and grateful not to be moving.

  I rubbed my temple. Coughed and spat.

  “What the hell?” Tack whispered finally. “You guys got your asses kicked.”

  Ethan shoved me roughly. “Noah stood there like a damn statue. Why didn’t you stick him?”

  “I couldn’t see anything!” I protested, checking my jaw to make sure it was in the proper place. “We only had one syringe. I didn’t want to inject a duffel bag or something.”

  Tack slid his pack off with a groan. “Hands down, that was the worst ambush ever attempted. I’m stunned you two didn’t tackle each other.”

  “Piss off, Thumbtack,” Ethan growled. “All you did was blink a flashlight. And I think you punched me at the end there.”

  I began to laugh.

  It started slowly, but soon I couldn’t stop, my stomach aching as I tried to muffle the sound. Ethan and Tack turned to stare at me, then they began chuckling too. Soon we all slumped over in fits of muted laughter.

  “We’re the . . . worst . . . commando squad . . . in history,” I gasped, unable to breathe.

  “I think I did hit Ethan.” Tack wiped his eyes as he sat back against the stone. “My bad.”

  “It’s not our fault.” I giggled moronically. “Who knew we’d attack a freaking ninja. That guy moved like a snake.”

  “True story.” Ethan covered his eyes with one hand. “My balls. Oh dudes, it’s not even funny. My balls right now. I fought an X-Man and lost.”

  We cracked up again. We’d botched everything, but somehow accomplished the mission. Good enough.

  A moan snapped us to silence. I glanced at our prisoner, who’d rolled over and was now lying faceup. Ethan and I each grabbed a limb while Tack scrambled for rope, but it wasn’t necessary. The stranger went boneless in our hands.

  “Punch him again if you have to,” Ethan muttered. “He deserves it. We gotta tie this psycho to a tree before he wakes up and kills us all.”

  Tack powered his flashlight, its yellow beam illuminating our captive’s face.

  We all reared back in surprise.

  “Oh, man,” Ethan said. “We definitely can’t tell anyone about this.”

  “Never,” Tack agreed. “Not a soul.”

  I just nodded, my mouth hanging open as Tack kept his light on our prisoner.

  On her glossy lips, and delicate, upturned nose.

  15

  MIN

  “What a moron,” Sarah grumbled.

  “Smart enough to capture us.” I sat on the bed, pressing both fists to my cheeks. “So they really did cause the cave-ins. How in the world did Toby learn to do something like that?”

  Sarah was pacing the length of the tiny chamber. Had been for over an hour. “Toby’s not bright enough to make a box of mac and cheese by himself. Obviously these strangers helped.”

  I shook my head. “Why are they giving him what he wants? What could he possibly offer in return?”

  “Us,” Sarah said darkly. “He gave them enough help to cut off our stores, divide the group, and raid the village. But my gut says he’s being played, too. They won’t really put him back inside the Program. They’re using him. What we need to figure out is why they attacked us rather than making peaceful contact. Who are these people? Where do they live? What are they planning to do next?”

  “I can’t even guess.” I slammed a fist on the bed. “And now we’re trapped like rats. Sarah, they gave Toby guns. This is a disaster. We have no way to fight back.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Sarah stopping pacing and took a deep breath. She walked over and placed her ear against the door. Sarah held still a moment, then nodded to herself. “I didn’t choose this room out of sentiment. Help me move that trunk by my desk.”

  It was an old wooden crate, well sanded and painted forest green. Heavier than it looked. Sarah grabbed the far side and together we lugged it into the bathroom. She hopped on top of it and reached for a small panel in the ceiling that was nearly invisible in the dull white paint.

  “I always have a back door.” Sarah pushed up on the square, then let it swing down. “Stay here and close the bathroom. If anyone checks on us, tell them I’m not feeling well. Say it’s a girl problem—boys can’t handle that. I’ll crawl into the office wing and let you out when the coast is clear.”

  “How long will you be?” I asked, embarrassed by the tremor in my voice. I didn’t trust Sarah, but I didn’t want to be alone either.

  “It’s easier for one person to sneak around than two.” Sarah pulled herself up through the ceiling, then looked back at me from inside the vent. “I’ll go as fast as I can. If Toby comes back, bash his head in with the toilet seat. He deserves it.” Something moved behind her eyes, but I couldn’t read it. “If you hear an alarm, just get out any way you
can.”

  “An alarm? What?”

  But Sarah was already gone. I stared at the space where her head had been. Then, heaving an exasperated sigh, I climbed up and pushed the panel closed. I debated whether to drag the trunk back into place. Decided not to. If someone searched the room, it wouldn’t take them long to figure out how Sarah had escaped, but I might need a quick exit.

  I closed the bathroom door and collapsed on the bed. Stared up at the ceiling.

  For the first time, I really thought about what it meant that other people were alive.

  It meant my father must have lied.

  Logically, there was no other explanation. If the Earth truly had been ravaged by Nemesis, then a million years wasn’t nearly long enough for human life to re-evolve. But it was also way, way, way too long for humanity to have survived under cataclysmic conditions. Either way, time made these strangers’ presence impossible. Yet here they were.

  That left two options.

  Either we weren’t the only class preserved by Project Nemesis.

  Or Project Nemesis was a lie.

  Maybe Earth had never been in danger. Maybe the planet wasn’t destroyed.

  Maybe my father played me one last time before he died.

  That answer made the most sense, but my instincts rejected it. I replayed every conversation I’d ever had with him. They felt genuine. Why would he lie about any of it? He’d had all the power. Deceiving me at the end would’ve served no purpose. At least, none I could fathom.

  And yet.

  There were strangers outside the door.

  I rose and put my ear against it like Sarah had. I heard heavy treads as someone walked by. Muffled voices. It sounded like there were more than a few people inside the complex. How would Sarah draw them away from the living quarters?

  I tested the knob, found that it turned in my hand. Slowly, I cracked the door.

  Kyle Homling was sitting in a chair across the hall, spinning a pistol in his hand. He looked up and saw me, then smiled. “Back inside, Min. Toby said not to get rough with you two, but he didn’t leave instructions about a breakout attempt.”

  I snarled, wanting to charge forward and tear him to pieces. Kyle had lived in Home Town since the beginning. He was a traitor. “How could you?” I hissed.

  Kyle laughed. “Whatever. I got bored. Toby promised I could have a gun.”

  I slammed the door shut, shaking with rage. Then I squeezed my ears. “Focus.”

  No locks, but a guard. Others moving around. I went into the bathroom and dragged the trunk back to its original position. If someone discovered Sarah was missing, I’d say she slipped past Kyle. It would serve him right if he got pounded.

  I sat down in the desk chair, weighing options. Kyle was a scumbag, but he’d been formidable inside the Program. I wasn’t sure I could take him even with the element of surprise. I thought briefly about trying to seduce him, luring him into the room, but rejected the idea. I couldn’t sell it. I wore my hatred on my face.

  There was nothing to do but wait.

  * * *

  • • •

  I awoke to a blaring siren.

  My elbow jerked, and my head nearly smacked the desk.

  I shot to my feet, disoriented and gasping. Feet pounded in the hallway.

  I ran to the door and cracked it. Kyle was standing beside his chair, shouting questions at that meathead Tucker as he barreled through the doors to the office suite.

  “Kyle, what is it?” I yelled. “What’s going on?”

  “Stay in there!” he barked, red-faced and reaching for his gun. “You and Sarah better not even think ab—”

  There was a crunching sound. Something roared from the direction in which Tucker had disappeared.

  My eyes widened. “Kyle, that—”

  The double doors exploded inward with an avalanche of black liquid. Tucker and a boy I didn’t recognize were washed into the living quarters.

  Kyle froze, raw panic on his face.

  Our eyes met. His hand reached out.

  The flood swallowed him as I yanked the door shut.

  Liquid surged under the door frame as I ran to the trunk and pushed it back into the bathroom. I leapt on top as the outer door buckled and flew open. Grimy water began filling the unit. With shaking hands, I popped open the panel and dragged myself up inside.

  I was in a narrow crawl space running left to right. With no understanding of where I was going, I chose the direction away from where the torrent had come from. As I scrambled through the darkness, I heard the gurgle of rushing liquid, fizzling electronics, and screams of terror.

  The lab complex was flooding. I was trapped inside it, with no way out.

  Calm down. Do the next thing. Don’t freeze up.

  I scrambled along the crawl space until I hit a solid steel wall. My mind gibbered as I realized the way forward was blocked, but I felt around in the dark. There was a ladder next to me, leading down instead of up. I nearly moaned in despair that it went the wrong way, but remembered the ventilation shaft. It terminated underneath the lab complex.

  One level down.

  I swung onto the rungs and began to descend. I thought of Sarah for a moment, but there was nothing I could do. I didn’t know where she was or have any way to help her. A seal must’ve given way, and water was pouring in. I shouldn’t have been surprised. A million years of rust and wear had met the pressure of an entire lake. It was inevitable that the flood would force its way inside.

  And I’m lucky enough to be here. Can’t stop winning.

  I shoved that aside. I had to get down to the maintenance level, locate the vent, and climb out of this deathtrap before the water found me. Just the thought of that inky, suffocating flood paralyzed me with fear. I didn’t want to die that way. I didn’t want to die at all.

  The rungs marched downward. I went as fast as I could. A catwalk appeared, but before I could even step off the ladder, a stream of dirty liquid began raining from above. I was running out of time.

  I raced along the catwalk, trying to get my bearings. I needed to pass from under the living quarters to beneath the regeneration lab. If I was going the right way, the correct hatch should be somewhere just ahead.

  The lights along the catwalk flickered. My heart skipped a beat.

  To be down here, stumbling in total darkness. My hands shook at the thought.

  I entered a vast chamber and reached a ladder. Peered up. Was this the one to the lab? There was another ladder twenty yards farther down the catwalk. I was scanning for the vent hatch when a thunderous crash echoed across the room. A curtain of water began pouring down the other ladder. Cracked and dripping blade drives sloshed to the catwalk in a heap.

  Suddenly, I knew exactly where I was. Above the second ladder was the chamber housing the MegaCom. The water was gushing from there.

  With a cold horror, I realized what that meant.

  The MegaCom must be flooded. Destroyed. Our lifeboat was dead for good.

  Spinning, I desperately scanned the walls. There! One hatch among several hung open in what seemed like the right place. I couldn’t be sure, but I was out of time to be choosy.

  I’d taken two steps toward it when something heavy fell from above.

  It landed on the catwalk with a wet thud. Almost against my will, I crept a few steps closer. The lights blazed once, then began to flicker erratically before dimming to almost nothing.

  Too late. I’d seen the body, and recognized Toby’s round, knobby head. Water was hammering down on him, then draining to the power plant level below us. Soon the flood would fill that space and fritz out everything that ran on power. We’d never repair it.

  I froze. I could leave Toby. No one would know. He’d never be a problem again.

  I shot forward and grabbed his legs, pulling him out from undernea
th the next waterfall. I had no plan, no hope, no idea what I was doing. But I couldn’t leave anyone like that. Not even him.

  I managed to drag him back to the other ladder, but my arms were already shaking. There was no way I could pull him up through the hatch. I glanced around frantically for some way to make a sling.

  More water exploded from above, raining down in a dozen new places.

  The lights died. I screamed in the darkness, hands scrambling until I clutched a nearby rung. I couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t help Toby, and maybe not even myself.

  With a shriek of frustration, I released him and worked blindly along the wall. Found the hatch and crawled into the opening beyond.

  I left Toby there. I left him to drown in the dark at the bottom of a hole.

  * * *

  • • •

  The chute led up and up and up, with no end in sight.

  I was shivering. Soaked. Arms abraded and raw. I scuttled blindly, with no idea whether I was climbing the right ventilation shaft. If I’d chosen wrong, I’d be trapped against a solid metal screen at the top until the water boiled up and drowned me at last.

  Then I remembered the rope. Heart in my throat, I ran my hands along the bottom of the chute. Something slick and thin slipped through my fingers. I nearly collapsed in relief, then gripped it tightly.

  Climb.

  A dim square of black.

  No bigger than a stamp.

  Pinpoints twinkled all over it.

  It grew larger as I dragged myself upward.

  The moon appeared.

  A soft breeze found me.

  I began to weep as I reached out of the silo and slithered into open air.

  Something grabbed my hand and I screamed, thrashing like a hooked fish.

  “Min, it’s okay! It’s me!”

  A lantern ignited.

  Sarah’s face appeared.

  She ripped off her sweatshirt and shoved it over my head, began rubbing my arms and legs for warmth. “You made it,” she whispered. I heard both relief and disbelief in her voice. “I knew you could do it. I knew it. I was right. You’re stronger than the others.”