I lie here, listening to the thumping of my throbbing heart keeping time with the painful stabbing in the back and side of my head. Every pulse ripples through my skull like the enthusiastic wave of fans at a stadium. Who needs a clock when I’ve got my own personal ticker of pain to count down the seconds?
I close my eyes again and focus more intensely on the pain, hoping it will harden me, making whatever future torture they have planned for me more bearable. It hurts, yes, but I try to make peace with it. I press my head back harder into the steel table, intensifying the pain. I wince and then push it back again. I continue the pattern, each time lasting a few seconds longer. Eventually, a pleasurable numbness takes over and the pain is hardly noticeable.
The hammering in my head comes back with a vengeance when a buzzing rips the silence and the table begins to tilt forward. My eyes shoot open and daggers pierce through them into the back of my skull.
As I tilt up, the wall and floor in front of me rise up into my field of vision. Three huge rectangular screens buzz with an iridescent glow on the curved wall. I hadn’t noticed it when I was staring at the ceiling, but the room is round and nearly empty with just some chairs stacked around the perimeter, all of them empty apart from one. One chair holds a stack of clothing. My clothing. I try to look down to see what I’m wearing, but my head won’t budge. However, the chilly draft suggests I’m in a hideous medical gown, open and tied in the front.
A single Enforcer stands against the wall. He is a bulky man clad in the infamous blue uniform, but it’s different than what I remember when I was here before. The jumpsuit looks the same, but now there’s a helmet with a translucent blue visor. A tiny red light shines from the left side where the visor meets the helmet. I wonder if it’s some sort of technological gizmo and what purpose it serves. The Enforcer seems to be listening intently. Perhaps a communication device?
“Affirmative.” The gruff voice bounces off the walls in the chamber, and the Enforcer moves behind me, out of my range of vision. I hear some clicks and the screens in front of me flicker to life.
Each of the screens displays the bust of a different person. On the right, a woman in her fifties. Her tightly pulled back ginger hair is thinning and her face appears gaunt, but she has clearly made an attempt to look healthy with too much makeup. On the left screen is a middle-aged man with a strong, square jaw. His hair has been buzzed almost to the scalp, leaving only a dark shadow on his head. His thick eyebrows form a straight line dividing his face from his forehead and his beady eyes seem to poke deep holes into me.
And I recognize the face of the white-haired man in the center screen—the face of Crimson—Edgar Wisecraft, oil tycoon. He looks thinner and sicklier than he did in the video introduction they showed us when I arrived at Crimson. I assume the other two are Marge Rosenfritz, queen of the biotech industry, and Frasier Trident, head of the largest weapons manufacturing firm in the world. They must still be hiding out in their bunkers, living off of stockpiled canned food.
I shudder when the awareness punches me in the gut. I am being directly addressed by the Trinity—the powerful trio who programmed the release of the virus that devastated my world. The three people who murdered billions of innocents, including my own parents, and sentenced my brother to a life of torment in an underground dungeon.
I notice a tiny red light between each of the screens—cameras focused on me. The three sets of eyes bear down on me, and what little confidence I had when I awoke has diminished. I feel like the kid who skipped school, and now I have to answer to the truant authorities, only this is much more formidable.
“Welcome back to Crimson Miss McRae,” Wisecraft starts, in a gleefully satisfied tone, making me think they’ve been searching for me since our escape. Why me? I’m nobody. Certainly I’m no more valuable to them than any other survivor. Why would they target me in particular?
Noting my silence, he continues.
“I hope you’ve been treated,” he pauses, emphasizing the next word, “appropriately on your journey back to your new home.” He smiles sadistically and I notice Trident’s shoulders bounce in a silent chuckle.
I’m not sure if it is fear or anger pulsating through my veins, or maybe both. I find my voice.
“What do you—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Wisecraft interrupts sharply. “You will not speak until you’ve been cued to do so. You were given much too many freedoms here during you last two stays with us. You will not have those privileges now.
“Miss McRae, you pirated an exceptional acquisition from us and that has caused us some serious complications.” Acquisition? I never stole anything. I simply rescued Marcus and Evie. Wisecraft seems to acknowledge the puzzled look I must be carrying.
“Perhaps acquisition was an improper term for you to comprehend. You took our favorite genetic test subject before we had completed our measurements.”
Test subject? My mind races back through my memories of all those blood tests they inflicted on Evie. They took so much blood from her she had this semi permanent ghostly complexion and was always tired. Then I remember something Glenn said. Apparently, Evie’s genotype has some unique properties. I don’t know exactly what they are, but the scientists are very intent on extracting some portion of her DNA. Evie is the ‘acquisition’ they are referring to? We really are all just lab rats to these monsters.
“Evie,” I murmur, as the discovery sinks in.
“Bright girl,” says Wisecraft. I’m not sure if he’s referring to Evie or me. “So what are we to do about this? Marge, perhaps you could shed some light on our dire circumstances.”
I glance over to the screen displaying Marge Rosenfritz. She glares directly at me, her position not as rosy as Wisecraft’s.
“Miss McRae,” she says in a smooth, almost hypnotic, voice that clashes with her haggard image. “Evie’s genes are to be an integral portion of the vaccine we are developing. Not only does she have the double mutation for the HDD-374 virus immunity, but we’ve discovered some other special properties as well, that could be very promising for the long-term health and reproduction of our species. Without her genes, this valuable vaccine can not be made and these properties may be lost forever.”
“But you already took her blood,” I snap. “More than enough from the look of it.”
“Her blood has been through extended trials of testing. We simply do not have enough left for the production of a vaccine. However, your condition may negate the need to recover Evie.”
My condition? Is she referring to the pregnancy? I’ve been in denial about it for so long, despite the overt ballooning beneath my gown. All those times I said I didn’t want this baby, that I wished it would just go away, dissolve as my maternal protective instincts take over. I do want this baby. They will not take him from me. They will not hurt him.
“Yes, Miss McRae. We had initially intended to bring you back to make an example of you. But this is much more convenient. You share some of Evie’s genetic code. And with this being the first post-virus pregnancy we are interested in seeing what other unique properties this child’s genetic map have in store for us. You will undergo an amniocentesis to determine whether your child’s genes have the same unique properties as Evie’s. If so, we won’t need her after all.”
“No, I won’t cooperate,” I growl through my gritted teeth.
All three faces smirk. “Your cooperation won’t be necessary, Miss McRae,” Wisecraft snickers. “As you can see, you are in no position to deny us access.” I writhe my arms and legs, trying fruitlessly to escape my bonds.
The heavy door to the round chamber opens and a scarlet-haired woman wearing a white lab coat enters, pushing a cart full of medical instruments and a blank monitor. My breathing quickens. They’re going to do this now? My pulse accelerates and the thumping in my head drowns out the words that Wisecraft continues to speak.
The vertical table I’m restrained to shifts backward, tilting back to the horizontal position I woke up in, while th
e woman in the lab coat prepares a long empty syringe. The needle is exceptionally long and sharp. I wouldn’t say I’ve ever been afraid of needles, not since I was a child anyway, but the sheer size of that thing causes a hot wave of nausea to blanket me. I close my eyes to try and erase the image. I imagine the hill just inside the training arena, where Marcus and Evie met Timber and me for a picnic all those months ago. I remember the happiness, the serenity, I felt being there with them. Then I see a redheaded lady with a big-ass needle. No! I attempt to shake my head from side to side, trying to escape the vision.
Next thing I know I feel the gown open over my belly. A warm gel and the familiar pressure of an ultrasound wand glide across my abdomen. Then, without warning, a puncture in my abdomen and the needle is thrust deeply into my uterus. I shriek, unable to contain the pain internally. The shrill sound echoes back to me. Don’t they even use an anesthetic? No. Not for me anyway. I imagine the vainglorious looks on the faces of the Trinity. They’re loving this.
“Hold still,” the redhead says firmly as I writhe beneath her. “Hold still and it won’t hurt as much.” Somehow the words eventually reach my brain and I try to control myself, taking deep unrestrained breaths, but my muscles are still tensed up in knots. My fingernails dig into my palms as I curl my fingers into tight fists. Even my toes curl under, forcing a charley horse that might be agonizing if I weren’t so distracted by the pain in my belly.
After an eternity that probably only lasted a minute and a half, the needle glides out. I still feel the aftershocks of the sting it left behind. The redhead drops the syringe filled with clear yellowish liquid onto the tray and wipes my belly with a dry cloth, putting a bandage roughly over where the needle had been.
And then, as if she were nothing more than a room service attendant, the red-head wheels the cart out of the chamber.
The table zips back up so that I can see the horrifying faces of the Trinity again. I close my eyes. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing the terror in my eyes when I look at their smug faces.
“As you can see Miss McRae,” the weasely voice of Wisecraft begins, “we always have the upper h—” The sound cuts out abruptly. I hear the Enforcer behind me pushing buttons frantically. I open my eyes but blackness envelops me as if they are still closed.
Chapter 25
I shift my eyes in every possible direction but all I see is eigengrau blackness. The exact same shade of black everywhere. Not even a sliver of light filters in from under the door. After about a minute, there’s a brief electrical snapping sound, and the yellow emergency lights at the edges of the floor flicker on.
“Yes?” the Enforcer appears to be talking to himself, but I know he’s addressing a voice inside his helmet. “I’m with a prisoner right now. I don’t think I should—Okay. Yes, sir. Be right there.” The Enforcer opens the door to the chamber and glances back at me to make sure I’m secure. The restraints are still locked in place; I’m not going anywhere. Then he disappears into the dark corridor, slamming the door behind him.
I twist my hands around inside the solid steel buckles holding them in place. They’ve made some drastic improvements to this place since I escaped. The old leather straps that held me in place before would have made it too easy to escape again. Maybe if I scrunch up my fingers tightly I can slide them out. With my hands free I might be able to get out of this thing. I try to slide them out, using slow increasing pressure, scraping the skin around the base of my thumb and the heel of my hand. No dice. The opening is just too narrow and the metal will not give.
Hopelessness creeps into the open sores at my wrists and slithers its way through my veins. Will I never escape this hell? This is the third time I’ve been here, maybe it’s just meant to be. No. I can’t let myself think like this.
Wait a minute. The blackout. The Enforcer’s abrupt disappearance. I wasn’t sure before how long I was unconscious, but now I know it has been two days. The attack was planned for Liberation Day. Our soldiers must be here. That means Marcus and Glenn are here somewhere, too. Maybe they’ll find me, I think optimistically.
What are you, insane, Pollen? Maybe it’s the crazy pregnancy brain giving me this false hope. They don’t know I’m here. They think I’m safe with Timber and Evie at Ceborec. Why would they even think to look for me here? Glenn will be looking for Drake. I can only hope that he’ll stumble upon me on the way.
Time passes. I’m not sure how much. I’ve already counted the twenty-eight chairs stacked along the walls at least fifty times, more or less. I’ve tried every way imaginable to writhe my hands out of their cuffs. I’ve even tried to wriggle my head out of the vise to keep my neck from getting stiff.
My memory keeps shifting back to the amniocentesis and I recount the pain. I can feel a bruise forming under the bandage. I hope the needle didn’t hurt the baby—my son. I’ve got time on my hands now, maybe I should think of a name. No. I can’t. What if the Trinity takes him before I even have a chance to hold him? I can’t bear the thought of forming a bond with him, then losing him, just like Lex. It would be easier for me to go back to the way it was before and just hope that he’s never born. What kind of life does he have to look forward to anyway? No, he can’t be born. It’s the best way. The only way.
The door squeals as a dark figure slowly slides it open. It abruptly stops, then starts again, and continues like that as if the opener is trying desperately not to be heard. Like the old days when I used to sneak out of my house to meet Glenn. Our back door was squeaky like that, but was the only one I could sneak out of without getting caught.
“Pollen,” the figure whispers. The raspy female voice sounds familiar, like someone from my past.
“Help me,” I whisper back.
The figure strides in quickly, but silently. It’s another Enforcer, dressed in blue, but not wearing a helmet. As she approaches, my eyes widen and a flutter of joy ripples through me.
“Respa,” I say, a little too loudly.
“Shh.”
“You’re one of them now?” I ask, trying to sound curious, rather than repulsed. My eyes focus on the mark of the Trinity, just next to her cinnamon brown iris.
“Shh. I’m getting you out of here.” Respa disappears behind me. In a few seconds, the cuffs open up and my body slides down. It feels like ages since I’ve stood up and my legs buckle under me, throwing my body to the frigid, tiled floor.
Respa grips my under my arms and pulls me up, grasping my arm over her shoulder.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask.
“Quorian. He saw them bring you in. Good god, have you gained weight?” she huffs.
I take her hand from around my waist and stretch it around onto my belly. “I’m pregnant.”
“Holy shit! You and Marcus?!” I feel the biting stab of a dagger pierce my heart. I’m grateful that I can’t tell her the whole complicated story right now. Even if there were time, I don’t think I could handle it without having a nervous breakdown.
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, we don’t have time for it now. Congratulations. Let’s go.”
“Wait, where are we going?”
“To the Web. All hell has broken loose up top. This is the only way to get you out of here.”
I struggle to free myself from Respa’s grip, ripping my body from her arms. My legs are strong enough now to hold me up on my own.
“No. I have something to do first.”
“Oh no, Pollen. Not again,” she warns, shaking her head.
“Respa, my brother is here in solitary. I’m not leaving without him.”
“I can’t break him out.”
“Why not? We’re going to that level anyway, right?” Surely if she cares enough to help me escape she must have some compassion for my only brother.
“Yes, but the doors down there are secured, even during a power outage. The only way to open them is to launch a system override. If I do it, they’ll know it was me from my handprint.”
“So come with us,” I plead, searching her eyes for some weakness in her stance. “Glenn did and now he’s on our side. In fact he’s up there right now, fighting with the others.”
“I can’t,” she says, defeated. “They admitted that Glenn was a mistake. That they handled him wrong. When they gouged his eye out, they also took out the tracker. So when he escaped they couldn’t track him down. Pollen. I’m an Enforcer now. If I try to escape, not only with they find me easily, but I’ll put your people in danger. I can’t do it.”
We stand in silence as I try to invoke a plan from the recesses of my vibrant imagination, but there’s nothing I can come up with that doesn’t put Respa, or my friends, in more danger.
I swiftly throw my dirty clothes back on as we talk and strap the empty holster to my thigh. The gun is missing, of course, but if I can find something to use as a projectile I can convert it to a slingshot.
“Where do you launch the system override?”
“You won’t be able—”
“Where?!” I snap.
“In the main security control room. It’s two floors down from here. But I don’t see how you’re planning on doing this. You need handprint identification.”
“Okay, just let me go here. I’ll find my way down there on my own,” I say.
“Pollen, you need me to get you into the Web.”
“Just point me in the right direction and I’ll figure something out. Like I said, I’m not leaving without Drake.”
Respa sighs deeply, agitated, and walks me to the door.
“You know where the rotunda is, on the main level?” I nod, recalling the huge atrium with the domed glass ceiling that I passed through during our last escape. “Right now we are about eight stories below it. You won’t be able to use the elevator obviously since the power is out. Go right out this door. Follow the corridor around until you reach the fourth hallway. Follow that and then you’ll see another hallway on the right. The stairs are at the end next to the elevator. You won’t need to be ID’d to get in, but watch out for other Enforcers. And don’t rat me out.”
Crimson Return (Fall of Venus) Page 19
