Inside the Darkness (The Human-Hybrid Project Book 2)

by Farley Dunn

  And there was nothing he could do. It was about to happen whether he wanted it to or not.

  AIRMAN VANG stepped through the door, hesitated a fraction of a moment at the unexpected companion riding along, and nodded before turning to face the door. He was followed by a tightly built man with thinning hair and delicate features. His arms looked like they could bust bricks. Jantzen made the introductions as he inserted his passkey and pushed the button for Basement 1.

  “Airman, I believe you’ve met our newest young man. Second Lt. Wilder, meet Garik Shayk, a recent participant in our studies.”

  “Shayk.” Wilder nodded, acknowledging Garik. He glanced at the bandaged arm before turning to the front to stand by Airman Vang as the doors silently sealed them in.

  “That’s the one that went off on himself?” Wilder.

  “Yes, but the runt has ears like a bat. Can hear you across the room.” Vang, subvocalizing, but perfectly clear to Garik.

  “Didn’t know they were using bats. Thought that was too much of a Dracula thing.” Wilder visibly shivered.

  “Timber wolf. They hear almost as well.”

  “So, no Dracula, but werewolf is fine. Whatever floats their boats. Mongrels, each and every one.” Wilder chuckled.

  “Got that right,” Vang replied.

  The door opened, and the two stepped out without acknowledging the two people standing behind them. Garik shook his head in amazement. Vang should look in a mirror. That’s where he would find a mongrel, as if he would even know what one was.

  “Garik?” Jantzen stepped forward and turned when Garik didn’t move.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Garik wanted to smash the wall, but he had tried that, and now look at his arm.

  “Okay.” Jantzen frowned. “I introduced you. Lt. Wilder’s first name is Ron. I was assured you knew Airman Vang.”

  “No. What they said about me. Why did you let them say that? I’m a person, not a mongrel, a werewolf thing. Why didn’t you tell them to shut up?” Garik felt his world tightening, his focus narrowing, the heat of his anger rising in his face.

  “You heard all that?”

  “I’m not a liar. You’re telling me they didn’t say it?”

  “No, I’m telling you I didn’t hear it. What else did they say?”

  “That you don’t use bats because it would make people think of Dracula.” Not exactly, but that’s what they meant.

  “Okay, that’s a near quote. Your hearing’s better than I thought. I wouldn’t share that ability with just anyone.” Jantzen placed a finger to his lips and smiled.

  “But why would they say that with me right here?”

  “Because they thought you couldn’t hear them. That’s a pretty good trick you have, so don’t give it away. Am I making myself clear?”

  “Like your arm?” Garik started to put his hands in his pockets again, looked down at his bandaged one, and didn’t know what to do with them.

  “I didn’t hide that very well, did I?” Jantzen laughed. “You’ll feel better with food. I’m serious about how well you hear. No sense in giving away all the good stuff.”

  “Sure.” Garik touched his lips and zipped them. “Can I get nachos?”

  “Sure. And if they don’t have them here, I can order from Chow Down. See? We get everything down here.”

  “Except a passkey.” Garik whispered it, looked at Jantzen, and was convinced he didn’t hear. He was learning. They were teaching him, and like he had said once before, if he ever got in the Tower, he could Houdini himself out.

  Give him time, and he’d be gone.

  GARIK DIDN’T get nachos. He learned the cafeteria wasn’t always open, and he didn’t want to wait on Chow Down, so Jantzen used his passkey to enter the kitchen, and they found fruit and pie and helped themselves.

  Eating did help, though it did nothing for Garik’s life that had been torn away. Basement 1 was overrun with military types and people who looked like everyday workers from Bay City, and Jantzen explained that some of them were, and many of the military personnel were housed on this level, and most of them had no reason to visit the lower levels. When asked why Vang and Wilder were down there, Jantzen shrugged, suggesting they might have been there to observe Garik, and now they were through. Garik thought, good. He wouldn’t have to see them again.

  They bypassed Basement 2 and went directly to Basement 3 after eating. Jantzen had someone he wanted Garik to meet, Hector. When the doors opened, Garik was surprised. Basement 2, where his quarters were located, was spacious, with high ceilings, and it seemed it would make a nice place to live, if it weren’t a prison. Basement 1 had been almost like outside, with an enormous ceiling. He understood why the climbing wall could extend so high up. Basement 3 felt diminished, like the weight of the entire Corona Tower was pressing down on it, stunting the walls and eating away at the headroom.

  Jantzen pointed out how each basement level was smaller than the one above it and the sections that were truncated in comparison to those above. But without any real reference points except his room, the climbing wall, and the elevator, the explanations didn’t stick. So what if the top basement level had parking that extended another three blocks in that direction, and this floor had only a blank wall? To Garik, it was all impossibly large, and the comparisons were like comparing Jupiter with the sun. When you could fit a million earths inside, all sense of scale was rendered purposeless.

  Hector Mascari made more sense. When they entered his massively overcluttered apartment, Garik understood immediately what he had been paired with. He boasted a stiff but sparse mustache, light down over his body, and a very pointed face. He was exceptionally friendly and seemed to take a liking to Garik, shaking his good hand and sniffing of his bandage.

  “Very good, very good,” Hector had muttered to himself after shaking hands. “Nice boy, friendly boy. Must come visit again.” He had moved to the sink, and as he was talking, he scrubbed his hands with hot, running water and soap.

  After their visit, once they were back on the elevator, Jantzen casually asked Garik, “What about Hector? What could you tell about him?”

  “He had a lot of stuff.”

  “Fair enough. I should be more specific. He’s a failed hybrid—”

  “Obviously.” Garik pictured the man sniffing his bandaged hand. “He’s rat, but he’s too much rat, right? That’s why he’s a failure. You got too much of what you wanted.”

  “Good guess—”

  “Not a guess. The hand washing gave it away. Rats aren’t dirty at all, not unless we force them to be.” He almost felt sorry for the ones he’d discovered nesting under his aunt’s refrigerator, except for the way they’d eaten the wires, forcing him to replace the compressor and causing Arik to come down on him hard.

  “Okay, then, not a guess. And yes, getting the correct ratio of DNA has been a challenge, although we’re better at it now. Why rat, though? Why would we choose that?”

  “They survive everything, better than almost anything else. If the world ends, the rats will still be here, and they multiply quickly. They’ll be everywhere.”

  “Close.” Jantzen chuckled. “Cockroaches would survive better, but we haven’t attempted that, yet.”

  “Please say you won’t.” A cockroach man. It boggled the mind.

  “Okay. Then I guess I shouldn’t suggest that we might have already done worse.”

  Garik cut his eyes to him hard. What did that mean? He pictured what he and Marisa had seen on Basement Level 5. Was that what he meant? He was certain he would soon find out.

  ― 7 ―

  THE NUMBERS glowing beside the elevator door shifted from three to two, and the muted steel box eased to a stop like a well-oiled piston. The door released with a ding and began to slip aside, revealing where they had started.

  Where Airman Vang had invaded his life and stomped on his day, Garik thought, as he felt his eyebrows crease into a frown. He watched Jantzen pocket the ever-present passkey and nod to hi
m to exit the elevator.

  “Back to my cell?” Garik relaxed the lines in his forehead to hide his irritation. Jantzen Hefferly might be part of his inquisition team, willing to keep the handcuffs on like everyone else, but he hadn’t been mean to him—or barked at him when Garik had expressed his opinion. That was a strong plus in the man’s favor.

  “Remember? Rachel checked you out to me, like at a library.” He grinned and chuckled. “I don’t have to check you back in until I’m through with you. Are you ready for me to be through with you?”

  “Back into a room with four walls and a fake window?” Garik made a disparaging sound with his lips, very near to spitting, which he might if he wasn’t inside this very fancy moving box of a floor carriage. He lifted a hand to run through his hair, a familiar gesture from before. When his hand met only the remnants of the curls he’d once worn, it reminded him of everything else that had changed about his life. He glanced around the wood-lined metal box, so nicely finished-out and luxurious. Elevator roulette. Which floor next? Pick and choose, B1, B2, B3, or! Drum roll . . . B5! He had no idea what was on B4, except for the hospital, and only because he had CUT OPEN HIS HAND AND LANDED THERE.

  Okay, met Marina there, and that had been a surprise. At least now he knew, and when he escaped, he could let Marisa know.

  “So, you’re a go for more adventures?” Jantzen stood patiently, backlighted by the overhead fixtures lining the ceiling outside the elevator. The doors, blocked by his arm, moved as if they wanted to close, dinged, then became flush against the sides once more. Jantzen seemed to be genuinely considering what might interest Garik.

  “Amy, is she one of your experiments?” She had done the red route, by Devon’s account. The humiliation still stung, and he could feel the final grip he had reached for slipping through his fingers once more, then falling, only to be caught by the safety line.

  Amy hadn’t needed her safety line. He wondered what she was like. Perfect, like everyone else in this place.

  “Amy is someone you will enjoy. I can check if she’s available. She lives on your floor.” Jantzen nodded his head toward the corridor where a giant B2 testified to the location.

  “Okay, if it will keep me out of prison.”

  “A pretty nice prison.” Jantzen turned right, and their feet began to eat up the distance. The corridor was especially spacious after coming from Basement Level 3. He shifted his sleeve, touched his watch, and said, “Rachel, locate Amy for me, please.”

  Garik didn’t hear a reply, but he didn’t expect to. His companion likely had an earbud in, which is what he would wear, if they ever gave him his watch back.

  JANTZEN HEFFERLY and Amy Howe together were like a flashbang grenade, stunning Garik to the possibilities of what the research in the Corona Tower basement was capable of.

  Walking down the corridor from the elevator, Jantzen had touched his ear, paused, and said, “That’s fine. We’ll meet her there,” and he turned to Garik and said, “Want a ride?”

  Garik glanced back down the corridor to where the elevator was barely visible, and he said, “Perhaps. I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Sorry.” Jantzen shrugged. “I’m throwing a lot your direction on your first outing. This is a big place. Amy is in the gaming center, about five blocks away, if we count by the city above us. We can walk, but if you want a ride—” He let the offer hang in the air.

  Garik returned Jantzen’s shrug, and the man walked to a wide door, slipped in his passkey, and it clicked, thump, thump, and released. Inside were Segways, Onewheels, a Hovertrax, and others. Even a golf cart, and everything was neatly lined up and plugged in.

  “Don’t they overcharge? They can’t get used that often.” Garik touched the handle of the Segway, rocking it back and forth, and knelt at the Hovertrax, wondering if he could control the bright red and black device.

  “Safety overrides on the chargers. You might like this.”

  Garik turned to see Jantzen holding something that interested him even more than the Segway or the Hovertrax. “A ZBoard!” It was an electrically powered skateboard. He recognized it instantly, even though he’d never seen one in real life, and had never hoped to ride one. He reached for it, set it on the floor, and stepped on it.

  “You’ll need this.” Jantzen held out his hand, and in his palm was a black remote control. “Do you need me to—”

  “No, I won’t.” Garik cut him off. “ZBoards don’t use them. I’ve read up on these and watched online instructional videos. I know how this works.”

  “That’s right. The remote is for one of the other types. Anyway, I’m on a Segway.” Jantzen thrust the remote onto a shelf, pulled a Segway from the line, and stepped on it. With a whine, it propelled him through the door. Garik pushed off, like a regular skateboard, and he grinned as the board began to carry him along without any effort at all.

  With their exit, the door behind them began to swing silently closed. When it connected, the lock secured the devices left inside with a firm double thump.

  “Cool,” he murmured, no longer interested in the door. Finally, something good about this place, something he could actually do. Too bad Muhammad wasn’t here to see him. He was certain he would be jealous as a green bean next to a ball of falafel wrapped in flatbread.

  The gaming center arrived entirely too soon. Garik hardly noticed the way the corridors opened up, the walls turned into individual building fronts, and people began to appear. The sensation of riding the powered skateboard seemed to peel away the fog of despair that had dogged him all day.

  The gaming center was a wide doorway into a darkened, flashing cauldron of activity. Jantzen stopped his Segway just outside against a honed steel and bright red wall and stepped off. He waited for Garik to join him, indicating a rack with several other mobility devices.

  “Should we lock them up?” Garik was just noticing the people, and several, although not most, were using various powered devices like theirs.

  “Everything belongs to Corona Corporation. Nothing to steal. Leave it and follow me.”

  Garik had expected the gaming center to be a warren of electronics, with virtual platforms, old-style digital arcade games, and even role-playing games. Well, yes, it had all that, but that was just scratching the surface. The real trick was the people.

  To Garik’s eyes, every other person inside was hybridized, and they were doing the coolest things ever!

  “IS THIS how you people train?” Amy had joined them, and Garik leaned in to talk over the noise of the gaming activities around him—birdlike screeches, the crash of what looked like bowling balls and the fur-covered creatures yelling as they dodged them, a table of drinks knocked over when a hybrid with what must be wings tried to leap into the air and failed, others with extra digits, and a few mutations that Garik didn’t know how to describe.

  “Training is a floor down, for those of us who need it. We come up here to challenge one another. Besides, it’s fun.”

  Amy was petite, especially compared to the hybrids filling the gaming center, and more than he had expected—having completed the climbing wall even though she had only done the easy route, she insisted on telling him. Her hair was streaked yellow and brown, a fashion choice, Garik assumed, and her eyes sparkled with green.

  He also noticed a slight buzz when she talked—and then there was her left arm. It was slightly shorter than her right. That hadn’t kept her from being effervescently friendly when she was introduced to him.

  Her big eyes and tiny jaw and mouth gave her an insect-like appearance.

  “Don’t people get hurt sometimes?” He watched the bird-like man climb off the floor. He didn’t seem bothered, and his companions brushed broken glass from him.

  “Sometimes,” Amy said. “That’s part of the fun.”

  “See there, Garik.” Jantzen touched his arm, and he pointed to an elevated ring, like those used for boxing. “This person might interest you. Watch the man in the leather duster.”

  A m
an and a woman climbed over the ropes. Lights throbbed overhead, in purple, red, and yellow. Music thumped, and Garik could feel it through the floor. They didn’t wear any boxing gear that he could see. Then the man pulled off his duster and revealed incredibly long arms with an extra joint in his forearm. He snapped one arm around, flexing it in a way no normal arm could flex, and suddenly he held a knife.

  “How did he do that?” Garik had seen his arm move, but the knife? It hadn’t been there, and then it was.

  “I’m cheering for Alyna.” Amy raised her short arm and called out, “Hoot! Hoot! Alyna!”

  “She looks normal—” Garik shot Jantzen a question with his eyes.

  “Not quite. Watch.” Jantzen twirled his finger for Garik to turn his face toward the ring.

  Alyna pulled off gloves, flexed her hands, and she unsheathed massive claws.

  “Komodo dragon,” Amy breathed. “I should have been so lucky.”

  The crowd throughout the gaming center had slowly focused on the two participants in the ring. Now that their weapons were exposed, repeated chants calling their names began to swallow the thumping music.

  “Is that the man you asked me about earlier?” Garik nudged Jantzen with his elbow. The noise had grown deafening, and they could hardly speak and be heard.

  “Justin Kurtew. What do you know about him?”

  “Nothing. Dr. Jamie was called away because of him.”

  “I’m not surprised. He’s up from Three. He knows not to bring blood, but with this crowd, who can tell?” With the chanting, Jantzen had become hyper alert, and his eyes scanned the crowd. “Amy, can you help me look?”

  “I have been.”

  Garik looked at her, studying her eyes. She was still focused on the ring and occasionally cheering for Alyna No-Last-Name. In Amy’s eyes, Garik caught something else. Each large eye was filled with green crystal structures, each one reflecting something slightly different, as if she could see a hundred different images all at once.