But no one could argue she wasn’t good at her job. Sure enough, almost a dozen unopened MedAid Kits had been discovered along with a few cases of pemmican substitute. Although they hadn’t found any weapons, the rations alone more than made up for the trip. All four of them had grown complacent, too busy joking as they stashed their find in the Hummer to stay alert. The rations packed first, Anton had been walking out of the door with half the MedAid Kits when the Feeders had descended on them.
“I think we can make it to the Hummer!” yelled Gemmel.
“We need those Kits!” Sean yelled back. “At least some of them, we’ve got two pregnant chicks back at Sigma.”
Sienna’s gun clicked empty. “I’m out!”
Gemmel threw a clip to her without taking his finger off the trigger. She reloaded her M&P .22 and fired off a few shots. It did very little except to slow the Feeders’ advance. Not prepared for this type of fight, only Gemmel and Sean had explosive rounds. A few bullets didn’t do much to a Feeder; you had to render it inert.
“I’m out,” came Sean’s voice over the sound of Gemmel’s gunfire. “You got the Mossberg on you?”
The stubby, pistol-grip shotgun flew over to Sean along with an attachment of ballistic buckshot. Gemmel tried his best to lay down some kind of suppression fire as Sean loaded. Sienna took the opportunity to gauge their distance from the Hummer. Fifty yards seemed a long way off.
Suddenly there was an explosion and short, barked scream. Sienna spun to see her brother collapsed back, blood streaming from his face. The world went quiet as she watched a few drops of red spill from his forehead onto to dirt. Quiet, slow and red.
“Sienna!” bellowed Gemmel.
Sprinting behind the garden wall, past Gemmel and firing above him blindly, she slid next to the prone form of her brother. Immediately she saw the smoking remains of the Mossberg. It had jammed, backfired and torn into Sean. Her hands trembling over him, she considered how lucky they were that the sixty year old gun had lasted this long. Projectile weapons, antiquated and dangerous! Jaw clamped so hard her teeth hurt, she finally turned Sean towards her to examine the damage. Most of his right ear was gone and the injuries to his eye looked extensive. Blood was flowing freely and he was out – but still alive. It didn’t matter. Unconscious, with damage this severe, he wouldn’t be able to tap his bioelectrics and heal himself. Not unless…
Sienna positioned herself to see over the wall. Fifty yard ahead sat the Hummer, only another twenty to the half-dozen MedAid Kits lying beside the mutilated body of Anton. Between all that sat three rusting car shells, the broken remnants of a picnic table, something that might have been a fountain once, and near thirty Feeders. It would be impossible.
Impossible, unless she damned herself.
Carefully cradling Sean’s head, she moved him closer to Gemmel. He glanced back twice, grief painted all over his wide face. Anton had been a friend, but Sean was like a brother.
“He’s alive,” she said as she began pulling weaponry off Sean’s body and setting it beside Gemmel.
“Not for long,” he growled back.
Sienna pulled the last two M&P .22 clips from Gemmel’s belt pouch and sat the empty XM8-MOD next to him. Pocketing the two clips, she checked her own ammo, and did a quick inventory on Gemmel’s. He’d be out within minutes.
“We’re dead if we don’t get out of here,” Sienna said in a flat voice. “We won’t be able to get Sean to the Hummer, and he won’t survive without a Kit.”
“Cheery,” replied Gemmel.
“And you’re almost out.”
“Yep.”
Sienna paused. “I’m going to get the Kits and the Hummer.”
Gemmel looked away long enough to drill through her with his eyes. “Are you fucking crazy? There’s no way you can get there, let alone make it to the Kits!”
“Not without… help,” whispered Sienna.
Gemmel blinked in confusion, but Sienna had already backed away before he could piece it together. Her fingers trailed across her Servant and tapped into the strongest T-Net connection she could find. Their surrounding environment, the atmosphere itself, was saturated with data. Data that could be manipulated through a Servant, the ever-present digital multi-tool, and through it now, manipulated by humanity who broke open the secrets of bioelectricity. Slapping her palm against the Servant’s screen and the raw feed she had opened, Sienna began leeching.
“No! What are you doing?” screamed Gemmel, forgetting the Feeders in despair.
Sienna felt the energy synthesize into her own physiology, her body adapting to the foreign power. It felt like a star going nova, like her molecules had tripled in size. There was a momentary, gestalt clarity, and Sienna found herself enlightened, if only for a nanosecond.
“Cover me,” she said, before vaulting over the wall.
She could see herself, like watching it on a live feed. But, not quite. No, she could see everything that was going to happen, and could then see her reaction. Possibilities, probabilities. And her reactions were exquisite. Sienna was aware of her movements, a graceful fluidity she had never possessed before, as well as the awkward, jerking motions of the Feeders. She danced between them, soared over them, twirled between the space of bullets Gemmel rapidly pumped out. Her own gun fired, almost as an extension of herself, knocking back Feeders into Gemmel’s targeting or to assist her own progression. Another shot, then another. Sienna’s foot landing on an exploding torso, propelling her up as her other foot caught the next one in the face.
The Feeders, once Leechers, once human… their eyes and mouths followed her. Dense, black entropic maws that absorbed even the residual light, they were only conduits for the all-consuming drive that dictated hands and feet that jittered after. Frail old women, muscular young men, small children – they had each succumbed to the addiction and had spiraled into the final stage. A bullet found all of them in some way. Hers slowed them down, Gemmel’s took them out. Damages to the shell were irrelevant, Feeders only fell once destroyed.
Sienna watched herself, watch her environment. Her hand found a head, flipped and landed. Gun up, two more shots. Out, and new clip loaded. Backing up without needing to look, she moved up the hood of a car. Higher ground. Sensations overlapped with images running into her system. The Hummer was ten yards off, the Kits only another twenty after that. She felt the paths the bullets would take, knew where the dwindling Feeder horde skittered. M&P .22 out, she fired a series off to her left while her knee took out one the right, her heel another. Off the car and running. She was faster, both in body and mind. Sienna didn’t even realize her arm had erupted out and disabled a Feeder until she was several paces past it. A single glance at the Hummer and she was gone. Only two more Feeders were between her and the Kits. Four shot up the front of the torso, and she was off her feet, legs wrapped around the head. One more shot down with a twist and the head came tumbling down. Sienna kept running.
Sidestepping what used to be the bulk of a morbidly obese man, she popped two in each of his knees. Legs useless, it clawed after her. Dropping down the MedAid Kits, she switched out to her last clip and scooped up three to her chest. Looking back and breathing heavy, Sienna could feel the brightness swimming behind her eyes. She had almost burnt through her leech and four Feeders had come lurching back in her direction. She and Gemmel had killed half of them, but even a handful were still too many.
Shifting on the ground, her toes hit against something. There, besides Anton’s bloody carcass, sat a fully loaded XM8-MOD. Sienna smiled and clicked off its safety.
Clutching the Kits, she felt the weight of gun as she raised it, but it seemed distant. Two shots, a third as she ran towards the Hummer. A Feeder spun and she pumped it with another explosive round. Two were down as she made it to the vehicle and tossed the Kits in the back. A few more shots as she climbed behind the wheel and started it up, putting it into gear. The last Feeder appeared at door just as the muzzle came up into its face.
Sienna
hit the gas pedal two seconds after she pulled the trigger twice.
The hummer barreled through three more in the fifty yards back to Gemmel and Sean. The last six or seven were trying to scurry over the wall and Sienna tossed Gemmel her gun as she collected her brother. Using the last bits of reserve energy she had, she picked Sean up and carried him to the back of the Hummer. Her door slammed shut with Gemmel’s up front.
“Go!” she screamed.
Peeling out, Gemmel took out another Feeder under the tires. Sienna felt a glimmer of the remaining few Feeders disappearing behind them as the extra energy worked its way out of her system. Like she was running on fumes, she broke open one of the MedAid Kits and pulled out a set of wraps. Bandaging Sean’s head after dosing it with steril, she gave him a shot of otics and a shot of dren. Unconscious, he wouldn’t need the phine until he woke up. He could take care of that himself.
Sienna fell back against the seat, Sean’s head in her lap, when she realized Gemmel was stammering her name.
“Sienna, Sienna, fuck… Sienna, fuck…”
“Gemmel?”
“Yeah! Yeah?”
“I hope we don’t run into any resistance, ‘cause I’m gonna pass out now…”
“Sienna?”
Her eyes were already closed, already out.
“Fuck!” Gemmel bellowed to unresponsive ears.
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DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 17-04-24
There was light and there was sound, but it was all lessened. Almost muted. She was swimming, the surface of her consciousness so close. Synesthesia tried to drown her, an endless ocean of visceral data. Something shifted, a thicker current. So close…
Sienna woke with a start. Letting a small groan escape, she reached up to massage her aching head and found her right wrist cuffed to the bed. She groaned again, a sound closer to a curse. Sigma-8. The sensors had picked up on her altered bioelectrical signature. While still out, they had locked her in the TransWard. The “Transition” Ward – for Leechers.
A quick tap into herself and survey told her she was fine, no grievous wounds or permanent damage. None except to her life. Maybe even her soul.
A flash of movement behind the screen. A skinny brunette was striding past, purposely averting her gaze. One of the nurses. Kelsey? Carrying two of the MedAid Kits.
“Kelsey?” Sienna called out.
The nurse froze, her eyes still straight ahead.
“Kelsey, is… is my brother…”
A pause. Then, “Sean will be fine.”
“Kelsey? Kelsey!”
The brunette’s head spun, her disgust clearly displayed on her face. All except the eyes. There, there was fear.
“Can I just…”
“You’re a Leecher. Leechers don’t get requests,” she spat back.
As the nurse scurried from the room, Sienna considered the statement. Nope, no requests. All she would be given was a single choice. Exile or death. The death would be swift and painless. The exile would, quite probably, be the opposite. There was no rehabilitation from leeching, one time and your destiny was rewritten. Almost ten thousand times, that new fate had the same ending.
“I will fucking shoot you in the face!” came a familiar bellow.
Sean stormed over, his pistol still pointed back towards the door and whoever had tried to deny him access. Half his head was still in wraps, but his one uncovered eye gleamed with anguish. Not hesitating, he stepped closer to the bed.
“The council is convening tonight. What can I… is there anything I can do?”
Fighting back tears, Sienna said, “I just want…”
“She wants life! A spark! Anything to feed her hunger!” came a shriek.
Sean calmly cocked his gun, hand never wavering, eyes never leaving his sister.
“I would like a mirror.” Sienna’s voice even sounded small to her.
“Done. Anything else?”
Her face ready to fall, she said, “Your forgiveness?”
“Fuck that!”
Tears exploded.
“There’s nothing for me to forgive. You saved me, Sienna. You did this to save me.”
Sean stomped off, barking more threats as Sienna sobbed what she knew might be her last human tears.
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DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 17-04-24
She didn’t get it. She didn’t look any different, didn’t feel any different. Shouldn’t she? Shouldn’t everything be painted in hues of hopelessness now?
But no, same fair-olive complexion. Same short, choppy white-blonde hair hanging into her light grey eyes. Same tiny ears that stuck out a bit, slopped button nose and too-wide mouth. Still around five and a half feet, one hundred and fifty pounds. It was almost cruel, almost a mockery.
Sienna knew she was on the pretty side, but the mirror hadn’t been for vanity purposes. She had become convinced that some sign, some physical marker, would’ve made itself visible. A scarlet letter, a mark of the beast, something! But there was nothing. While reason and experience told her there wouldn’t be horns or anything, it felt wrong. Mostly because she didn’t feel changed in the least.
The TransWard was long and narrow, able to accommodate up to ten new Leechers. With only the hum of machinery and the glare of the overhead lights, it seemed like a giant sterile coffin. All whitewashed brick, outdated military tech, everything utilitarian in both purpose and design. There was nothing around her that contained any energy, nothing with current or animation. The Sigma-8 Council didn’t want any recently converted Leecher finding a fix and going Feeder.
She wondered if she’d get the shakes, the jerky movements that were beyond her control. “Ionic Displacement,” she had once heard, physical symptoms that manifested in a mix of diseases found from the previous century – Lou Gehrig’s and Parkinson’s. Would she develop The Seeps before she went Feeder? Molecular breakdown that resulted in a fun series of open, oozing wounds. A pretty-picture combination of leprosy and ebola.
“Screw it, I think I’ll become a Mancer when I grow up,” Sienna choked out with a forced laugh.
A door opened at the end of the TransWard. Sean came down to her bed, four heavily armed attendants with him. Solemn grey eyes, the same as hers, spoke before he did.
“It’s time to go.”
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DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 17-04-24
“You will not endanger this encampment because of your own sentimentality. We’ve all lost someone, Mr. Doyle.”
Speaker Henry Ridge stood before the assembly, his mouth puckered in disapproval. Behind him, the other Speakers of The Council all looked equally bitter and dismissive. Speaker Angelica Bachmann sniffed and shook her head.
“I don’t see why we even continue this farce. We should simply terminate the Leechers as they descend upon our fair home.”
“This is my fucking little sister!” roared Sean.
Up on the dais with the other five Speakers, Bachmann snorted imperiously. Wearing the blue cloaks of their office, they literally looked down their noses at Sean. Gemmel stood behind him, quiet and staring at the ground. Off to the right, well illuminated, stood Sienna surrounded by six armed guards. Each gun was trained on her torso, her hands now cuffed behind her back. The guards had drawn a name on who would have to re-cuff her.
Sienna stared up at the night sky, the stars almost visible again in the section. She wished she could be on one of those other planets, a faraway rock orbiting a distant star. Anywhere else. Anywhere she didn’t have to hear her brother plead with these people or see Gemmel so defeated.
“I’m leaving,” she said suddenly, a little too loudly.
“What?” Sean spun on her.
“I don’t believe…” Speaker Ridge began.
“No. No, I don’t care. I’m leaving. If you don’t want to give me a gun, that’s fine. No food? That’s fine, too. My Servant would be nice, since we onl
y have three times as many as we have warm bodies.”
Everyone gaped at her.
“I put my life on the line for this encampment for, what, two years now? I leeched to save my brother’s life. Hell, I even snagged the MedAid Kits. Just give me my Servant, and you’ll never have to deal with me again.”
Speaker Bachmann stepped forward, shaking with rage, a death sentence on her lips.
“Enough!” came a voice from behind the dais.
The bright yellow lamps from behind the high glass made a silhouette of him, the wooden ramp creaking under his slow steps. There was exclamation from elsewhere in the depths of Sigma-8, but no one paid attention. The white robe shined pristine, as if it contained its own source of light.
Lecturer Russell hobbled passed the others, and pointed at one of the guards. “You there, find her Servant. Get her two pistols and a rifle. And a provision pack… now!”
“Lecturer Russell,” screeched Speaker Bachmann. “Must I remind you that this is a formal Council session?”
“No,” growled Lecturer Russell. “But I may have to remind you that, as long as I take breath, I have executive veto on this Council. I see exactly where this ‘session’ is going. Whatever this young woman is now, we can not allow our fear to blind us to what she was.”
The bent old man climbed down off the dais and came closer to her than anyone else besides Sean and the one guard had since her return. “Good luck, Sienna Doyle. I’m sorry our ways must be so.”
“It’s… it’s okay, sir. Thank you.”
Sean said something low and dark. He repeated it. “I’m going with her.”
“No!” Sienna exclaimed, as the Council broke out in shrill argument.
Sean, not missing his chance, walked right over and embraced his sister in hug.
“I hereby revoke asylum,” he said above Sienna’s head loud enough for everyone to hear, crushing her to his chest. “And invoke Exclusion Protocol Four.”
4POCALYPSE - Four Tales Of A Dark Future Page 2
