Crimson Return (Fall of Venus)

by Quinn, Daelynn

  Crimson Return

  Daelynn Quinn

  Copyright © Erin Meredith 2013

  All Rights Reserved

  Prologue

  Dear Drake,

  To say I miss you is like saying the summers have gotten a little warm. The world has gone to hell and beyond since you died. A virus was developed and released by three very rich, very powerful people that they are calling the Trinity. It has destroyed nearly every living species in the animal kingdom. They blamed the southern region of Deimos where you were deployed, but it’s clear now that the Deimosians had nothing to do with it. Now I find myself wondering whether the war was even legit, or if it was simply a ploy set up by the Trinity to point fingers.

  Evie and I were both very fortunate and survived the fallout because we carry the genetic double mutation that gives us immunity. Mom and dad didn’t make it. But if your soul still exists on some metaphysical plane you probably already know that. Evie and I were abducted and taken to live at Crimson State Penitentiary (although they call it Crimson Survivor Refuge now, as if that makes it any less of a prison). Glenn was there and he became one of them—Enforcers, they call them, the ones who side with Crimson and keep the prisoners in line. Needless to say, we are no longer engaged. But I knew something was amiss and I managed to escape and take Evie with me. We are both safe now.

  Speaking of Evie, Drake I don’t know how to raise her and its making me a nervous wreck. How can I go from being the fun aunt to a mother for her? I care for her and love her like a daughter, but I’m so scared I’ll do something wrong and put her in danger—like I did with Lex. I could never forgive myself if anything happens to her.

  On a brighter note, the virus and our captivity at Crimson brought Marcus and I together. You’d like Marcus. He’s a wonderful father figure for Evie and treats me like a goddess. We’ve been living at the COPS headquarters for three months now and the three of us are a happy family. I wish you were here with us, but it’s probably best you’re not.

  If mom and dad are with you tell them I love and miss them.

  Love,

  Pollen

  Chapter 1

  My eyes narrow and my senses open up to the pulse of energy ahead of me. I can’t see him, but I can feel his presence. I can almost hear his heartbeat and the quiet inhale of his raspy breath. My finger tightens around the trigger of the pistol in my hands, even though the handle is slippery from the sweat glazing my palms.

  The tree that guards me is narrow, barely wide enough to hide my body, but that doesn’t matter. It’s my turn to pursue. It is Yoric who must run and keep hidden.

  A stirring in the trees above me tears my attention away from my prey. It is Timber, a fitting name for a girl who loves to climb trees. Her short, ashen hair and muted gray clothing blend in so well with the tree bark it’s nearly impossible for anyone to see her. She nods her head and signals me to move forward. I move ahead and stiffen at a cracking noise as I step on a twig. I remind myself to be lighter on my feet. There’s a rustling about ten feet ahead of me, too unnatural to be the warm gusty breeze on this mildly blustery day.

  The overcast sky kills any chances of seeing shadows among the trees. I haven’t seen the actual sun since we’ve been here. In fact, I can’t remember the last time the sky was cloudless. Even sunny days carry a thick reddish haze in the sky. Seems like air pollution has gotten worse since the virus, which is strange considering there aren’t as many people around to cause it.

  I inch closer and closer, gingerly placing my toes to make as little noise as possible. My own thumping heart bursts up into my throat at the sound of an explosive POW from behind me. The shot just barely grazes my right cheek, leaving a thin streak of cobalt blue upon my skin. I turn back and fire two rounds, which miss their target, but Timber is already firing at Jansen, who is now on the retreat. A splatter of red coats his back and he lies face down on the ground.

  My attention turns back toward Yoric, who is now fleeing and within sight. I shoot at him and miss. Two more shots manage to hit a tree and a thorn bush. I curse at myself silently. I have one round left. I’ve got to make this count. I’ve found in my training that I’m a great shot when standing still. But on the move I can’t hit a target if it was standing three feet in front of me doing a happy dance.

  Unfortunately for me, Yoric is running and I have no time to stop and aim. He enters a small clearing and I know this is my only chance. I raise my pistol and charge forward, pulling the trigger just as my toe catches a protruding tree root and I land on my chest with my arms extended forward.

  I raise my head in defeat. Yoric stands above me like a grisly giant, carrying an impish grin on his face. A splash of red drips down the sleeve of his army green shirt and onto his bulging bicep. Some clumps of long flaxen hair have come loose from his ponytail and hang clumsily over his baby blue eyes. He squats down and snatches my gun, which I dropped during my fall. After checking the magazine briefly, he stands up and shoves the gun down the back of his pants.

  “Looks like you’re unarmed, sweetie. Better luck next time,” he says as he pulls a gun from his thigh holster. I thought he was out of rounds, but I was wrong. He pulls out some blue bullets from his pocket and begins loading his magazine.

  Without giving it a second thought, I roll over and leap to my feet. My speed and experience being chased are now working to my advantage. I look back and see him chasing me, but I dodge left and right, evading the two bullets he shoots my way. Yoric is an excellent shot, but not a very fast runner, and I am able to put a good distance between us.

  I find a large oak to hide behind while I catch my breath and compose myself. Sitting with my back against the trunk I unstrap my holster from my leg and unwind the rubber band from around my ponytail. I made my own holster shortly after I began training here at Celadon Botanical Research Center, CBRC or Ceborec for short, headquarters of the Committee for the Oversight of Planetary Salvation, or COPS.

  Residents are required to train in weapons combat and self-defense in case of an incursion by Crimson Enforcers. We were introduced to several different types of weapons; everything from a wide range of firearms to simple daggers for hand combat. I found that I had a knack for using a slingshot. But since slingshots won’t do much damage, I was encouraged to take up firearm training primarily and use a slingshot as a back up. So, with Marcus’s help, I built my own holster from molded leather and acrylic to act as a slingshot frame, complete with a foldout wrist brace. I use the elastic from the slingshot as a hair band so that if I am ever captured and my gun confiscated, I will still be armed. And since it is a primitive weapon, I can use just about anything I can hold as a projectile.

  I quickly slide out the recessed forks until I hear them click into place and attach the elastic sling to the holster with snap-in rivets. I have a few extra bullets in my pocket so I load one of them into the sling and turn to face my pursuer. But he is not there. My eyes shut instinctively so I can refocus my senses and listen. The faint sound of rustling leaves can be heard, but not near me. He must have doubled back to where Timber was in the tree.

  Although I’m sure I’m in the clear, I peer around the tree to ensure nobody is around before running tree to tree to make my way back to Timber.

  In the distance Timber is gracefully climbing down the maple. She makes tree-climbing look so natural. But beyond the tree I spot that familiar scruffy blond hair peeking up over a bush. Timber is facing my direction but before I can get her attention, a shot rings out and she is down. Yoric approaches her and bends over to whisper something in her ear. She swats an arm at him and misses. He stands back up, proudly grinning, and places one boot upon her back to hold her down.

&n
bsp; As he stands there, reveling in his victory, I take aim. Squinting my eyes to narrow my focus, I pull back the pouch of the slingshot, holding the red pellet in place. The gust of wind blows from the west, adding an air of suspense to the moment. I release the sling and within a second, Yoric is on his back, red paint splattered across his chest.

  “Damn!” he shouts, kicking his feet on the ground.

  Timber climbs to her feet and brushes the leaves off her clothes as I approach them.

  “Nice shot, Pollen,” she gloats cheerfully.

  “Thanks,” I say. “And thanks for covering me. I didn’t even hear Jansen behind me.”

  “Yeah,” says Jansen stepping out from behind a tree. “I have twinkle toes. Ballet may not be manly, but it’s definitely got its advantages.” Jansen used to be a ballet dancer before the planet went to hell. He danced for a big company in Tarnov, one of the major cities in North Cythera known for its support of the arts. And by the look of him ballet definitely has its advantages. He is not much taller than me, but his small frame is extremely muscular. I swear he hasn’t got an inch of fat on his whole body. If I were fighting hand-to-hand combat, I would definitely want Jansen on my team. I just hope he never gets hit in the face—his features are just too pretty to mutilate.

  “Perhaps, but I had the advantage over you this time,” laughed Timber.

  Yoric gets up to his feet and studies the red splotch on his shirt. “Man, I would have won if you hadn’t cheated!” He glares at me.

  “Cheated? How do you mean?” I ask lowering my eyebrows inquisitively.

  “Only one weapon allowed, remember? That’s the rule. And since I took your weapon,” Yoric says as he pulls my pistol from his pants and drops it on the ground, “you had to have brought another one. Therefore you cheated.”

  I pick up my pistol and dust it off, while Timber picks crinkled leaves out of Yoric’s disheveled ponytail. “I didn’t cheat. There are no rules against fashioning your own weapon upon disarmament. In fact that’s what any skilled soldier would do. I simply crafted a slingshot out of my holster and hairband. You could have done the same.”

  “I’d have to agree with Pollen this time Yoric,” says Jansen.

  “Dude, you’re on my team,” shouts Yoric.

  “Sorry, man. She’s right,” Jansen responds.

  Yoric presses his lips together in frustration. He really wants to say something but can’t seem to find the words. His agitation eats at him and he waves his arms around, pushing Timber’s hands away from his hair.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get them next time,” Jansen reassures.

  “Damn right we will!” Yoric declares as he storms away.

  “He’ll be okay,” Jansen says. “Good game today.” He holds out his right hand in a friendly gesture. Timber takes it first and then I follow.

  “Do you guys want to meet up again the day after tomorrow?” asks Timber.

  “Sure,” replies Jansen, “we’ll meet you at the armory at two.”

  Jansen runs ahead to catch up with Yoric. I fasten my holster back on my thigh and nestle my empty pistol in it. As Timber and I walk back to the facility, I wrap the hair band back around my ponytail.

  Timber is my best girlfriend here at Ceborec. I sometimes see Lynx, my old roommate from Crimson, here every now and then, but she was hired on in the aerospace engineering department, helping to design the Earth shuttle, and it seems like she’s always working, so I don’t get to spend much time with her. I met Timber on my second day here. She was working in the clinic when Evie, Marcus, and I went to get our medical evaluations. She has a nurturing quality about her and she made me feel human again after the ordeal at Crimson. We’ve pretty much been best friends ever since. Whenever I am not with Marcus or Evie, I usually spend my time with Timber, who has turned out to be a great training partner.

  “That was awesome,” says Timber. “Did you get any shots with the gun?”

  “Just Yoric’s arm. I really need to get in some more kinetics practice at the range. My coordination sucks.”

  “You’ll get better. Maybe you can practice that with Marcus tomorrow. I’m sure he won’t mind being pummeled with paint pellets. Hell, the way he feels about you I’m sure he’d take a few real bullets.”

  I laugh nervously, “Well, I won’t let that happen. What are you doing this afternoon?” I ask.

  “Well, I was going to help out at the clinic, but I called in this morning and they said it’s really slow. I may just catch a movie or something. You got any plans?”

  “Not really. Just hanging out with Evie while Marcus trains with Nicron.”

  “Why don’t you two join me?” Timber asks. “Maybe we can go bowling or something.”

  “Sure, I’d—” I begin, but I am interrupted when Evie comes barreling down the hill and squeezes my legs in a hug. Evie just celebrated her fourth birthday. I can’t believe how much she’s grown just in the past few months. She looks so pretty wearing a frilly yellow dress and her hair neatly brushed. On her left temple she still bears the tattoo of the infinity fly as a reminder of our imprisonment at the Crimson Survivor Refuge, but her light brown locks frame her face and cover it up nicely. Sometimes she asks me about the tattoo. I tell her it’s a stamp to make her look pretty, like makeup, and that she never has to wash it off because it’s there forever. She seems to accept that cheerfully.

  “Pollen!” My eyes draw up the hill to see Marcus, the love of my life. His shoulder-length auburn hair flows gently with the breeze, reminding me of the men on those silly romance book covers. He carries a large blue cooler, with a red and white checked blanket draped over his shoulder. Moments like this were once rare and hard to come by. But now they are more frequent. My life feels perfect and complete.

  Chapter 2

  Evie’s arms stick to my legs like tar to a roof shingle. I gently peel them off and jog toward Marcus, swinging my arms around his neck and greeting him with a quick kiss.

  “What’s this?” I ask. “I thought you were training tonight.”

  “Nicron bailed on me. Sounded like he was hung over. Anyway, Evie wanted to have a picnic and I thought it would be nice to enjoy the outdoors while we can. We’ll be underground in a few weeks, you know.” I’d almost forgotten about that. The temperatures have been on the rise in the past month, but I’ve been so focused on my new life here that I barely even noticed. Summer begins in about six weeks and we’ll be moving into the bunkers to keep from roasting in the unbearable heat. Last year, the highest recorded temperature almost reached two hundred degrees. I’m sure it will be worse this year with this cloud cover to trap the heat in.

  “That sounds good,” I say. “But only if Timber can join us.”

  “Of course,” Marcus smiles. “I only brought three meals, but we have plenty to share.”

  I pull the red and white checked blanket off of Marcus’s shoulder and hold it out, allowing the breeze to lift it into the air like a waving flag. Timber takes the opposite side in her hands and together we lower it to the ground, pulling out the corners to flatten out the wrinkles. Evie is the first to jump on and find a spot for her to sit.

  “Can Timber sit next to me?” asks Evie.

  “I’d love to,” replies Timber in a child-like squeal. Marcus sets down the cooler and begins handing out sandwiches wrapped in brown paper and apples. Evie splits her sandwich in half and gives the other half to Timber.

  “I love PBJs!” says Timber toward Evie. “I remember my mother used to make peanut butter and jam sandwiches. She used to make her own byrchberry jam from the bushes in our yard.”

  Unfortunately, the deep purple byrchberries are in short supply these days due to the infestation of infinity flies. There are two byrchberries in the greenhouse below, but I’ve heard that the scientists are struggling to keep them alive. The plant could possibly go extinct very soon. The infinity flies lay their eggs under the leaves of byrchberry bushes and when the larvae hatch, they burrow into the shaft of the plant
, eating their way down to the root and the plant dies. The infinity fly is a bane to most farmers since they are nearly impossible to eradicate, and they are symbol of death to most plants, although byrchberries are among their favorites.

  Now, however, it has become a symbol for life, for survivors of the virus. All the survivors, i.e. prisoners, at Crimson had the infinity fly tattooed on their temples to identify them. The ink contains a chemical that activates when exposed to high levels of electromagnetic radiation, causing short-term memory loss. Marcus and I lost our memories after we escaped Crimson the first time, but we were captured and taken back, before we escaped again. Here, at Ceborec, only four of us bear the tattoo: Marcus, Evie, Lynx, and myself.

  Marcus digs out a bottle of dry white wine from the cooler and pours me a glass. Lucky for us Ceborec has a huge stash of wine and they even grow a vineyard in one of the underground greenhouses.

  “Can I have some?” Evie asks. Marcus and I give each other a questioning look. We both know children shouldn’t drink alcohol, but I remember my dad giving me sips of beer as a child, so I figure it can’t hurt.

  “Sure, why not?” I say handing her my glass.

  Evie takes in a big mouthful, scrunches her face in disgust and spits it out all over the blanket, spraying some on my gray cargo pants.

  “Evie!” I laugh. “Oh well, I need to take a shower anyway.”

  Marcus wraps his arm around me, squeezes my shoulder, and leans in to sniff my neck. “You smell fine to me,” he says before delicately kissing my neck. I wince at the tickle of his plush lips and push him away playfully.

  “Not with an audience, babe. How was work this morning?” I ask, abruptly changing the subject.

  “Good,” he replies. “We finished framing yet another level today.”

  Shortly after we arrived, Marcus was hired as a construction worker in one of the new bunkers they are building a few miles away. It’s supposedly a “top secret” project, so he doesn’t even know for sure what he is building. We’ve discussed some ideas, like a military complex or a secret bunker for the leaders of COPS in case we are ever attacked. Or possibly another launch pad for a spacecraft. Either way, despite the secrecy, he’s happy to be back at work and people here are good to us.