by Angel Lawson
Shit.
“Welcome,” a robotic female voice says from above, and Astrid looks around. The fog is too thick. She steps out of the box and the ground beneath her feet is soft like dirt. She’s outside? “Testing commences in thirty seconds…twenty-nine, twenty-eight…”
Oh god, this isn’t a joke.
She tugs on her gloves. The crunch of dirt a few feet away catches her attention. The heartbeat races as fast as her own. Wherever she is, she’s not alone.
“Twenty, nineteen…”
The fog lifts and trees appear. Long vines and broad-leafed plants. Is she in the jungle? What the hell is going on?
She hears a zap and crackle to her left, away from the prior sound. It’s familiar and she turns to face it. The scent of sulfur tickles her nose, followed by the faint smell of roses and vanilla wafting through the air. She knows those smells, who they belong to, and what they mean to her.
She’s about to open her mouth and call out their names when the voice from above says, “Three, two, one…” and a buzzer blasts into the air. She’s not alone in here but she hasn’t forgotten the instructions.
There can only be one survivor.
They want her to eliminate her team.
9
Astrid
The blaring signal stops and Astrid tentatively steps away from her box.
Her box.
Five minutes ago, she never wanted to see the thing again. Now it’s her base. Whoever is behind this crazy game is already fucking with her head. She hears another zap and this time she doesn’t bite her tongue.
“Quinn?”
There’s a beat.
“Astrid?”
Her heart pounds with relief. She calls out, “To your right.”
He emerges from the fog and eyes her skeptically.
“What?” she asks. “Is something wrong? Well, besides this whole thing.”
“You real?”
She frowns. “Of course.”
He stalks towards her and touches her chin. A chill runs down her spine and he doesn’t hesitate, pressing his lips to hers. The same heat, the same intensity that’s always there arises. “Yeah, okay, you’re real.”
“That’s all it took?” she asks.
He licks his lips. “Yeah, that’s all.”
Astrid stomach flutters even in this insane situation.
Quinn continues, “They said it was a simulation. I wasn’t sure. It’s not the first time we’ve been manipulated like this.”
“Yeah, but where’s Owen? This isn’t his doing.” At least, she hopes not.
Quinn looks behind her. “I came out of one of those. One minute I was fighting on the streets in Crescent City, then the next—”
“Yeah, in the box. Same. Got it. You think the others are here?”
“Unless they got away, but whoever these people are, they seem smart.”
She nods. “I think they are too.”
The trees overhead whisper and he grabs her arm, both quieting. “My instructions said I have to be the sole survivor to win.”
“Mine too,” she whispers.
A wicked smile brightens his face. “Good thing you and I don’t follow the rules.”
She’s about to agree when the weird noise from the trees slips around her like a creepy, invisible noose. She instinctively crosses her wrists. Damn. No cuffs.
“I see they took your weapons too,” he said, pointing to his empty belt.
She doesn’t acknowledge him, too focused on the sound, then the movement coming from the trees. At first, she thinks they’re spiders, falling from the branches on a string of silk. Bodies black, faces covered other than a small slit revealing eyes.
“What the hell?” Quinn whispers, flicking his fingers. Electricity sparks from his fingertips.
The spiders—no, people—leap off the rope and fling toward her and Quinn, sailing through the air. Astrid squints.
“Are those ninjas?”
Quinn mutters, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
The attack comes like a dark sea; black and rolling like a wave. She and Quinn run before the first hits the ground, passing their boxes, eyes searching for a spot of safety.
They’re in the jungle, or something that looks like it, running past trees with thick, scaly bark. The tops spread into canopies. Twisted roots criss-cross the path. Broad-leafed bushes and the skittering sound of animals catch her echo and bounce around her brain.
Astrid has never lived outside the cement streets of the city. Trees? These are things in the park or out in the suburbs. Things in movies, but Quinn thinks faster than she does and races toward one with a low-hanging branch.
“You’re going to climb that?” she asks, following him.
“Only to get a minute to think.” He holds out his palm. “Like the ladder to the water tower our first night out. I’ll give you a boost.”
Water tower. Right. She can climb. City or jungle, it’s all the same.
The whisper of the ninjas pushes at her back and she doesn’t hesitate further. She runs and leverages her speed against Quinn’s strength, flinging herself in the air. The branch sways on impact and she grips the bark with her gloves. Quickly, she heaves a leg over and looks down for Quinn. He’s not following her but instead holding up his hands and igniting a full charge.
She watches, impressed as they descend and he manages to take them on one by one. His moves are fast—skilled. She knew, but damn, he’s freaking fast. She gets to a perch, her feet and hands on the branch, and waits until he needs her.
Yeah, Quinn is good, but this place is crazy.
He fights off the ninjas one at a time. He uses his whole body; kicking, punching, dodging, and the occasional zap when he lays his hands on an attacker. Six lay on the ground around him and he pauses to catch his breath, glancing up at Astrid.
“Comfortable up there?”
She smiles just as another wave of whispers comes through the trees. She grips the branch with both hands and swings over, dismounting and landing with a thud next to Quinn, wrists crossed.
What she sees makes her heart sink. It’s a simulation, she tells herself. Simulation. She glances at Quinn and despite knowing it’s fake, says, “I love you.”
He nods and charges the baton. A swath of black rolls from the jungle like a wave. “I love you, too.”
Then they fight to the death.
10
Astrid
The door on the box opens and bright light shines in her eyes. The familiar sounds of the jungle are gone. This time, there’s the hard surface of pavement under her feet. She blinks and shades her eyes until they adjust. She’s not in the wild anymore, that’s for sure.
No. She’s indoors, surrounded by the stale, oily air. The ceilings are tall. Metal, with long beams from one end of the room to the other. It looks like a warehouse. She blinks, wondering if she’s gone insane, but the voice has made it clear. This is a simulation.
“Fuck.”
Astrid can’t remember what happened in the ninja-jungle world, just that she didn’t win or survive. Maybe Quinn did?
“Quinn?” she says into the quiet. There has to be something here that wants to kill her. Ninjas? Vampires? An army of angels?
The sound of footsteps above catches her attention and she cranes her neck to the floor below. A lone figure appears in the middle of the warehouse. His shiny blond hair and green suit clearly visible.
“Owen!” she shouts. “Thank god.”
“Happy they trapped me in here?” he calls back. The smile on his face tells her he’s as relieved as she is, but the dark circles under his eyes imply a different story.
“No, but I’m happy you’re alive.” She starts to the metal staircase, running down the steps. Owen meets her at the bottom, pulling her into a tight hug.
“Is this your first time in one of these things?”
“No,” she says. “Quinn and I fought off some ninjas in the jungle.”
He nods. “Drac
o kicked my ass in the apocalypse. I mean, I don’t think he meant to, but…”
“Yeah. One survivor. I got the memo.”
He looks around. “So what do we think is waiting for us down there?”
Astrid doesn’t have to answer. Tall, rolling doors open on all four sides of the building, blasting sunlight into the dark space. Figures enter. Hundreds of them. Not sneaky. Not sly, but decidedly familiar.
“What. The. Hell?” Owen says, clenching his fists.
Astrid spins, realizing they’re surrounded. Not by demons or angels or vampires.
But by clones. Hundreds of identical faces, dressed in identical outfits, with identical eyes and devious smiles. The scene chills her to the bone.
Owen throws up a shield, the hum of his cloaking manipulation loud in her ears.
“There’s no winning this one,” he says, reaching for her to look him in the eye. She knows why. He wants to see her face one last time. Before diving into the onslaught of a thousand clones wearing both their faces.
“There’s no winning any of them.”
“So what’s the point?” he asks. “To prove ourselves? To die a thousand deaths? To watch each other die? Break us?”
She touches his cheek, wanting a lifetime with this man, not the brief seconds they really have. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.”
He nods and kisses her fast on the lips before dropping the shield, allowing the army to descend.
The door opens and the bright light glares in her eyes. Astrid washes down the mouthful of granola with water and drops the bottle on the ground. This is the sixth time the doors have opened. She’d lost five times. Or won? She has no idea what the score is in this crazy game.
She smells. She’s exhausted. She’s done.
Two tests ago, she and Draco fought drowning in a fast-rising river.
One test ago she was on her own, face to face with the ten-year-old version of herself. Doctors in white coats strapped them to chairs, injected them with poison and stripped them both of their memories, their abilities, and their life.
Today she’s determined not to play. Her resolve is confirmed when the fog vanishes and the simulation unfolds. Astrid swallows back rage and leans over the peeling, rusted railing and stares down on the narrow streets of The Swamp below.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Quinn says, leaning next to her. Owen and Draco approach from the other side, the metal scaffolding creaking from their weight.
“I guess fighting you guys, an army of clones, and then a version of myself as a kid wasn’t enough mind-fuckery for them,” she says. “They decided to go for the gut.”
There’s no doubt Astrid loves this place. Loves the people of The Swamp and all three men standing next to her. Why the people behind this are intent on destroying her is beyond logic. Is it for fun? A test?
She’s too tired to care.
Quinn throws his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close.
“I’m not doing it anymore,” she tells them. “I’m done.”
Their grim expressions tell her they feel the same. Draco though, surprises her. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, a slight breeze ruffling his hair. “And there may be a way out of here.”
“How?”
He crosses his arms, looking slimmer than usual after so many days of granola and lack of real food. His cheeks are gaunt, the gray of his eyes dull. It hurts her to see her men so worn out. “During every challenge we do the same thing. We assess the simulation, identify our competition and…”
“We fight,” Quinn says.
“We fight.”
Owen blinks. “What other option do we have?”
“We’re just pawns in the machine,” Astrid says. “Doing exactly what we’re told.”
“Yep,” Draco says.
Owen narrows his eyes. “What do you think we should do?”
His question is interrupted by the sound of people gathering below the water tower. A feeling of déjà vu rolls over Astrid as she looks down into the masked faces carrying anything they could grab for a weapon.
Draco rests his hands on the railing and stares below. “I think it’s time we break the game and get the hell out of this place.”
The crowd grows larger, banging against the metal supports of the water tower. People fill the streets carrying torches and wearing black masks. Astrid would give anything to have Casper in her ear right now, even if it meant having to listen to his non-stop comments about how sexy she is.
Not that it’s the worst thing ever, it’s just a little distracting in the middle of a fight.
“What does the simulation keep forcing us to do?” Draco asks, shouting over the voices below.
“Kill each other,” Owen says.
“Kill myself,” Astrid adds.
Quinn chimes in, “Messing with our heads. It’s hard to know what’s real.”
We eye each other warily.
Astrid thinks over what everyone is saying, closing her eyes and searching with her echo. Even blind, she feels her teammates. She senses the false reality of the people below. They don’t have heartbeats. They don’t breathe. She’s never noticed that before—not in the adrenaline of the fight. An idea comes to mind and she peels off her gloves.
“What are you doing?” Quinn asks, but Draco holds up his hand, giving her space.
She rests her hands on the railing of the water tower and shakes her head. “This. It’s not real. No more than anything else.”
“What’s not?”
“The railing. There’s no vibration. It’s hollow.”
She turns and places her hands on the cool metal of the faded blue tower. The words Crescent City peel beneath her fingers. Her eyes open. “There. Behind this—there’s life.”
Quinn watches her closely then strips off his gloves. He mimics her position and touches the wall. “You’re right. There’s a current running back here.”
“So the wall is real,” Owen says, eyes narrowed in thought. “And we need to get on the other side.”
Astrid smiles. “Yep. A doorway would work. Anyone know how to make one of those?”
Owen kisses her on the cheek and concentrates, focusing on the pale metal. The crowd below starts to chant, loud and distracting.
“Focus,” Astrid says, placing a hand on Owen’s back, pushing a wave of calm through him. He exhales, using his hands to crate the smallest of rips. Having no idea where they were meant he couldn’t just transport them anywhere. He needed a location and the one they needed was on the other side of that wall. The place they could hopefully get answers.
The three of them watch as Owen rips a hole in the fabric of time and space, the air around the metal wall shimmering. He spreads his fingers, widening it, and he nods, encouraging the others to pass through.
“Go. Fast.”
Feet rattle the ladder, the people in the simulation aren’t real but they could stop them. Draco takes the lead, fists balled, ready to fight whoever waits for them. Quinn follows, fingers sparked and ready. Astrid steps through, feeling the odd shift as her body processes that she’s in the middle of two different places at the same time.
“Come on,” she tells him, seeing the rioters coming. She has a feeling these people won’t run when they see who she is. They’ll kill her just like the others and they’ll have to start over once again. “Hurry!”
Owen drives through, crashing into her, closing the rip with the snap of his fingers. She falls backwards, landing into something hard and unwieldy. Owen’s weight hits her hard.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know,” she replies, getting her first look around. One thing’s for certain. They aren’t alone and wherever they are, she hasn’t been here before.
11
Astrid
“Who are you?” Astrid asks, the group of people standing in the small room. There’s no doubt they’re stunned to see them break through the simulation barrier. The room is filled with high tech. One whole wall is a
giant screen looking out at the world they’d just escaped from. Her hands clench. “Answer me.”
A woman steps forward. Her dark hair, roped with gray, is pulled back in a tight bun. Her green eyes are covered by thick-framed glasses. She’s wearing a white lab coat and swallows nervously. “That entrance was a bit more dramatic, and expensive, than I expected, but I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m Dr. Paige Monroe. One of the facilitators of the test.”
Test.
But that’s not the biggest shock.
“You’re Project 12,” Draco says.
His statement hits her like a load of bricks, but she has no time to react before the woman replies, “Yes, I am. We all are and, frankly, so are you.”
“No,” Astrid says, rubbing her eyes. “You kidnapped us. Again. You’ve been fucking with our heads for days—weeks? This is not happening.”
Dr. Monroe steps forward and Astrid hisses at her like a wild animal. The other lab-coats standing at their desks shift nervously.
“Astrid,” she says in a calm voice. “We’re not trying to hurt you. We just had to be sure, really sure, before we brought you in.”
“Really sure about what?” she snaps back. “That we were pliable enough for you? That we’re submissive and happy to do your bidding?”
“Of course not.” The doctor looked offended.
“Bullshit,” Owen says. “It’s always a game with you people. Pushing, testing, experimenting to see what we can do. Well, watch the fucking news if you want to see what we can do—we’ve been saving Crescent City and taking down your failures for a while now. It’s all on tape.”
Monroe nods. “We’ve been watching—don’t worry about that, but what we had to do was make sure you hadn’t been compromised.” Her gaze lingers on each of us. “Like some of the others—the failures you mentioned.”
Astrid’s mind was reeling. Quinn still hadn’t said a word. And Casper? Where the hell was Casper?
