The door hissed open behind him. Even before she stepped out, he felt her presence, a familiar echo in his mind. Something else that had begun happening recently, he’d noted. Along with his increased vision, his psychic range had increased.
“Quiet out here tonight,” Lucy said. She moved up beside him. Her hair was wrapped in a loose turban, and she wore a beige tunic over dark pants, her feet shoved into worn hiking boots a size too big. She stuffed the ends with papers. He’d seen paper trailing out when she pulled them off.
“I was just checking the sensors,” he said.
She nodded. “This place hasn’t run so smoothly in ages.”
“I feel like I should be doing something to earn my keep.”
“You don’t have to earn anything. There are plenty of supplies, the hydroponics still function. They thought they would survive this.”
Her voice trailed off. In the moonlight, he saw her gazing off into the distance. A muscle along her jaw jumped.
“It must have happened quickly,” he said.
“I guess. One day it seemed like everyone was around and everything was normal, then the next day, Dad locked out most of the technicians. I remember hearing their howling echo in the hallway.” She shook her head. “That can’t be right. The entrance is soundproofed. I wouldn’t have been able to hear them. I probably imagined it. I imagine a lot of things.”
The air around him vibrated with her tension. He touched her arm, felt the coil of muscle tightened to breaking in his fingers.
“It’s over. They’re long gone.”
She shuddered, her arm jerking. He released her, waited while she took a deep breath and let it out. Took another. Finally on the third she sounded less like she wanted to sob.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I must be over tired.”
“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” he said. “No one expects you to find all the answers in the next few days.”
She stepped back to glare at him. “Right. I’ve only been working on this for ten years. Why should I ever make any progress? I’m not brilliant like my father.”
The blast of hostility almost made him stumble back but he forced himself to stand his ground. This was her defense mechanism. He could feel it. She hid her pain deep inside her rage. Knowing she could never match her father’s brilliance enraged her further.
“You survived. He didn’t.”
She sagged, her head hung. The turban flopped to one side. The end began to unravel. He stepped forward and tucked it back behind her ear.
“Come on, you’re probably hungry as well as tired. I’ll get you something to eat.” He took her arm and led her to the entrance. Her feet shuffled along the ground, kicking up dust clouds. Then she stopped and pulled her arm away. Bending down, she brushed at the ground to obscure her tracks.
“Can’t let them see the entrance.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. He bent beside her and helped her erase the tracks. But she kept working even after all signs were gone. Finally he grabbed her hands.
“Stop, Lucy, just stop.”
In the moonlight, her eyes were huge saucers. He saw a glint of tears on her cheeks. He brushed them off and cupped her face.
“Let’s go in now, Lucy.”
Her body followed after him as he guided her to the entrance. The sporadic lighting in the hallway highlighted the blank expression on her face. He tried to probe but felt only resistance. If he pushed too hard she might snap for good.
Forget the food. Rest was more important for her now. He took her hand and led her down the hallway toward her room. A simple single mattress lay on the concrete floor. A reader and several bead containers lay beside it, beads spilling out of the containers. He nudged them into a pile with his foot before letting her come into the room. Her knees buckled when her feet hit the mattress. Her eyes closed almost before she lay down. He unwrapped the turban from her head and let her hair spill out over the flat pillow. Her breath was deep. Her thoughts had the fuzzy edges of sleep. He pulled her boots off then left her covered with a sheet. A single soft glowglobe shone in one of the corners.
She would probably be hungry later, he thought. She often got up in the middle of the night to work in the lab. He’d leave her some food.
In the kitchen, he pulled together a stew of vegetables and beef. Sealing it into a self-heating bowl, he traced his way back to her lab and left it in the center of the gurney. His fingers traced the edges of the gurney. Brief memory flashes lit up in his mind. He pushed them away. He didn’t want to think about that time. Thinking about that time meant he had to think about now and he wasn’t completely ready for that either.
So instead he would occupy himself the only other way he had of avoiding his own thoughts - snooping.
He’d learned through his wanderings that Lucy used only a small portion of the lab’s facilities. She completely ignored the administrative sections in the center. Might as well poke around there until he got tired.
He managed to find the administrative section after only a few false starts. Not that he minded. He found more sections with flickering lighting and made a note to fix them over the next week.
Inside the office, layers of dust coated desks and chairs. He sneezed as the dust tickled his nose. He hadn’t thought to bring rags to clean up. Naturally Lucy had probably shut down the main ventilation to this section long ago. If he wanted to come back he’d have to set it to clear the air before he arrived.
Well, he was here now. He still felt too wide awake to go to bed yet. Years of staying alert most nights made it difficult to sleep any time before two am.
The closest terminal started sluggishly. The holo display was fuzzy. Possibly memory degradation or just simple mechanical failure, Peter thought. After ten years, who could blame it?
Soon he was paging through payroll schedules and attendance reports. Fiscal projects scrolled along the bottom of the display, cross referenced with projected budgets. Peter blinked at the mundane data. It was like a glimpse into the past. He could hardly imagine such a time when such esoteric data was important. Certainly the domed cities were concerned with supplies and productivity of the squads but this was completely different. Here he glimpsed a world where sick days and arbitrary quotas ruled. No one worried about vampires.
A wave of nostalgia gripped him. He remembered his mother complaining about her office while his father laughed at her. He worked freelance and didn’t have anyone else to answer to. Then as he worked late in the evening, his mother would laugh when she got to kick off her shoes and relax. Her laughter echoed in his mind, blending with the other memory of her, the one he couldn’t bear to think of. The scream as his father bit into her. The gurgle that followed. Her hand scratching along the wall, her nails painted a light pink, bending against the wallpaper, several snapping. Peter remembered thinking how upset she would be to have ruined her nails; she’d only just had the manicure a few days before. Her body slumped again the floor, her head tucked against her arm as if she was a sleeping bird. Then shudders wracking her body, arms and legs jerking. Her eyes opening again, spying him as he hid under the stairs. She’d reached for him with those hands, those broken nails, before Josh had grabbed him and dragged him away. Her shriek echoed in his mind, even as Josh had taken care of her.
The crackle of the holo display pulled him back. The image blurred. Definite deterioration in the projection mechanism. He tried adjusting it then felt the wetness on his cheeks. Not the holo display. When had he stopped being aware of crying?
He tried to take a deep breath. The dust filled his nostrils, sending him into a fit of coughing. More tears this time, but cleansing, not the burning agony of despair. What was the point of crying over her? She was lost to him so long ago. There was the here and now to contend with.
Here and now was Lucy. He had to help her hold on long enough to find the answer. After ten years she had to be close to some kind of break through but the isolation had made her unstable. He had to help her stay
focused, regain her sense of purpose. Maybe he’d even regain one himself.
The holo display blurred again but this time it was fatigue. Finally. He suppressed the urge to yawn. No more of that dust getting into his lungs, he’d probably already be coughing it up for days. He reached over to turn it off but the flicker of a name caught his eye. Loren Cerkasins. Lucy’s father. The name vanished from the display, replaced by attendance statistics. Cerkasins’ personnel file, Peter realized. He paged through the file, catching glimpses of other names. Lucy Cerkasins. Then another: Elliott.
Who was that? He tried to page back but the display flickered again. This time, the dim lighting flickered as well. Definitely some repairs needed to this section and not just in the ventilation. He’d have to unleash some nan-bots to effect repairs along the system, restore more power. Tomorrow.
He shut down the display and left the room, trying not to disrupt any more dust. It still left him coughing. Even his hands felt coated with dust as he held them up to his face. He couldn’t go to sleep like this. He made his way to a washroom and stripped off his clothes. Leaving them in a pile, he stepped into the vibe-shower. Waves tingled over his skin. It felt good and got him clean but he still missed regular water showers. No chance of that here.
His skin tingled as he stepped out the shower. His clothes lay in a dusty pile were he’d dumped them. He should toss them into the cleanser but it seemed like too much effort. The nearest one was five doors down. He’d probably need another shower after disposing of them. Should have dropped them off as he walked to the shower room, he realized. He was more tired then he’d thought.
The dim lighting in the hallway led him past Lucy’s room. He hesitated at the door, watching her sleep. She lay on her side, facing the door. Her hair spilled over the pillow. One hand lay upright near her face, as if warding off something scary. Her other hand curled near her chin, reminding him of a child sucking its thumb. How often had he stood in this doorway watching her sleep? How often had he felt her presence in his own doorway and opened his eyes only to see her slip away? How long would they dance around each other?
He stepped into the room, moving quietly so not to wake her. She lay still even as he pulled the covers back and slid in behind her. Drawing the covers over him, he hesitated. It was one thing to lie here with her, quite another to touch. His hand moved away from her shoulder and rested on the mattress between them.
Then her head turned, her hair brushing his nose. He felt her gaze. He thought of doorways, lifted his hand to pull her shoulder toward him. Her body followed. They stepped through each others’ doorways.
* * * *
He was alone when he woke up. The clock blazed out ten thirty. She’d let him sleep in. Yawning, he sat up, stretching, felt the muscles along his back uncoil. When had she left, he wondered. She hadn’t gotten much more sleep than him.
He took another vibe-shower but splurged and washed his face in water. The feel of it brought him fully awake, enough to remember he had no clean clothes in Lucy’s room. His own room was ten doors down, chosen in the awkwardness of the first few days. Would she want him to move closer?
Something to discuss later he decided, after something to eat, more repairs, whatever else needed doing. He donned a pair of rumpled pants and a tunic, then made his way to the closest kitchen. Only two of the fifteen automated cookers still functioned. He programmed in a light breakfast of toast and psuedo-ham. Even knowing the protein was nowhere close to being from an actual animal, he still enjoyed it immensely. After squad rations, cardboard tasted delicious.
He finished the breakfast in half a dozen bites then carried his coffee with him to the lab. Lucy was already working away, bent over her console, configuring madly. Tendrils of hair slipped out from her ever-present turban to caress her cheek. Her scuffed hiking boots tapped on the floor. He watched her for a moment, sipping the bitter brew. She looked up.
“You didn’t bring me a cup?”
“I’m sorry, do you want one?” He stepped back out the door.
“No, forget it. I had one earlier. Too much caffeine makes me jumpy.” She gestured him to return. He stepped into the lab.
“Another bright sunny day outside. Not a sign of rain,” she said. “In case you’re interested in the weather report.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “It’s a desert, it’s almost always sunny.”
“Makes it easier to dress for it. What are you doing today?”
“I noticed some areas where the ventilation and power is still spotty. It isn’t affecting the main areas but I should get them working, just to make sure the grid is intact. I’d like to get all the internal and external sensors hooked up.”
“Do we really need that?”
“Think of it as an early warning system. I’d like to know if someone gets in.”
A frown darkened her face. “Do you really think that could happen? The entrances are well hidden.”
“For regular eyes but the vampires have already been here once. A few of them escaped. They’ll probably be able to find their way back. I’d like to be prepared if they do.”
Her body stiffened on the stool. “Yes, you’re right.”
“It doesn’t mean they will come back,” he said. “It’s just a possibility.” He wanted to reassure her. The closed look on her face alarmed him.
She nodded, looking back at her console. Getting ready to dismiss him. He didn’t want to be dismissed just yet.
“I found a new section last night, an administrative office,” he said. She still didn’t look up. “It mentioned your father.”
“It would,” she said. “He had to sign off on practically everything.”
“Who’s Elliott?”
Her head jerked. Her fingers jumped on the console. The display scrolling equations squawked and flashed red. The light darkened her eyes, dilated the pupils. That had to be the reason for the harsh look, he thought. She glanced away toward the display, scowled at the mess she saw there. Her fingers skidded across the keys, frantically correcting.
Her tension crept along his skull, tightening the muscles along his back. This wasn’t her normal dislike of being distracted. For the first several weeks, he’d found her impatient with his questions. Having been alone for ten years left her with a well-developed desire for privacy and yet at the same time she’d sought him out, wanted him around. Her own confusion relaxed as she realized he wasn’t going to impose himself either way. Another nice thing about being psychic, he always knew just when to disappear.
But this intensity caught him by surprise. He hadn’t felt this much hostility from her since he and Josh had encountered her in the desert over the barrel of her gun. It echoed around his skull, clashing with his memories of last night. The contrast made him nauseous. He felt the psuedo ham churning in his belly.
“Lucy, what’s wrong?” He had to distract her, stop the waves of hostility that boiled over him. Acid burned in his throat. He’d never felt this intensity before. Was this residual from the vampire bite? Would he have to learn to protect himself all over again? Now his exile from the city was a relief. He couldn’t imagine being around so many people. The resulting onslaught would have driven him mad. He wasn’t even sure he could have handled being around the squad.
But now even Lucy was more than enough. His temples throbbed in pain. His heart beat in rhythm with it, his stomach surged accompaniment. He grabbed hold of the counter for support. Still she didn’t look up, concentrating on her display, her console. The hostility flowed off her in waves. He felt himself drowning in heat.
“Lucy, stop it.”
Her head jerked up. “What? I’m working. Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
The room darkened. He felt the tips of his fingers gripping the counter. His legs trembled. He felt himself slipping to the floor.
“Peter!”
Hands grabbed him, burned in his flesh. He opened his mouth to scream, felt nothing come out. Instead something warm gushed over him, acri
d and iron tasting, sticky and warm feeling. His throat contracted, swallowed. A blood lust rose up, blinding him to anything else. He felt his muscles clench and move. The hunger drove him. The world dripped red. He opened his mouth to bite, to shred. A black curtain dropped over him. He struggled against it, felt the darkness overpowering him. A howl filled his ears. He couldn’t tell if it was his own. He couldn’t tell what was real.
The darkness covered him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Just one more, Sami.” Josh slouched behind her as they rode the elevator down.
“I already bought you three death blasters, Josh. Anymore and we’ll be scraping your brains off the floor.” She watched the levels as they descended. “You can have another drink after I visit my Gran.”
He grumbled more protests but she blocked out his voice. His pain only reminded her of her own. Saying goodbye to Peter had been difficult enough, but burying Raj had been agony. How many times had they played chess together? She closed her eyes to stop the burning tears. Not the first squad member she’d buried but each one was another load on her shoulders, another debt she carried. How could she ever pay it? She didn’t know, she didn’t even know what or why she owed.
The elevator stopped, the doors slid open. She opened her eyes to the thirty-ninth level. The same stained worn walls as all the other levels. Cracked and yellowing tiles covered the floor. Stale ventilated air tickled the insides of her nostrils, almost but not quite making her want to sneeze. The same echoing sounds of people moving down the halls and congregating in the open chambers. Children laughing and running. News display scrolled along the display walls. Every level was the same multiple times over but only the thirty-ninth level had her Gran. Only this level was home.
She stepped out of the elevator and dragged Josh behind her. He stumbled once on a cracked tile then found his footing. He straightened as they walked. Maybe it felt like home to him too. Sami had dragged each of the squad down to visit her Gran numerous times before.
The Night Killers Page 6
