The Gender End

by Bella Forrest

  Ms. Dale rolled up the sleeve of her uniform, a knife already clenched between her teeth. The bite mark was visibly red and swollen, and Ms. Dale, barely flinching, ran the knife over the top of it, opening it up. Immediately a thick yellow pus ran from the wound, tinged red with blood, and I felt an urge to gag as I watched it.

  “That’s never a good sign,” Ms. Dale muttered as she grabbed the kit from my hand and opened it up.

  “You know, I couldn’t be certain the intruders down below were you, especially after Maxen gave that delightful little speech about coming to take me down. And you were so clever about overcoming the locks and the cameras that I never would’ve known… until this last one, that is. It was forced open in such a hurry that the cameras were overlooked. And imagine my surprise to see you, my dear annoying Violet.”

  A chill ran down my spine as I heard Elena’s voice, and I turned, feeling considerably exposed for such a small room. Morgan reached out and touched my shoulder, and I turned to see one of the workstation screens lit up with Elena’s face looking out expectantly, a cruel smile playing on her lips.

  “Elena? Can you hear me?” I asked, taking a moment to steel myself before moving in front of the screen. I looked over at Ms. Dale, and she nodded, mouthing the words “keep her busy” at me as Morgan cleaned her bite wound.

  “I can indeed.” She smiled, her teeth gleaming unnaturally white on the bright screen. “Are you alone?”

  I considered lying, but then realized that she must’ve seen us in the airlock. Were there cameras in this room?

  “I’m with Ms. Dale and Morgan.”

  “I saw that you brought Morgana. Come to seek revenge, little sister? Kill Ms. Dale and Violet, and I’ll let you come back home. I’ll even let you see Sierra.”

  Morgan gave me a look, her face reflecting how repugnant she found that idea, and I smirked.

  “She can’t come to the terminal right now,” I said sweetly. “I’ll give her your message.”

  Elena’s smile grew wider. “Is that all of you?”

  “It is. Viggo is back home trying to stop the boys from killing everyone.”

  “Liar,” she replied, and the screen changed, showing me a picture of Viggo and Owen battling against something to close the door, while Thomas lay on the ground behind them, his hands on his stomach, as if he’d been shot. They’d just managed to shut the door when the screen cut out, and Elena was back.

  “Where are they?” I asked, unable to stop the cold swoop of terror that had sunk into my stomach at the image.

  “Oh, Violet, like I’d ever tell you that.”

  Ms. Dale waved her hand at me, and I looked at her. She pointed two fingers at her eyes and then pointed up toward the ceiling, and I nodded at her.

  “So, uh… Does this mean you’re watching us right now?” I asked, letting out a breath through my teeth, my terror turning into anger. I made a crude gesture with my finger and held it up to the screen.

  “I am,” Elena replied smoothly, without even a quirk of her lips. If she knew what my middle finger was doing, she gave no sign of it—and I’d tangled with Elena enough at this point that I knew she wasn’t expressionless. I would take a gamble on the fact that she couldn’t see me. In fact, I was already doing it. I felt a cold smile come across my mouth and nodded silently at Ms. Dale, giving her a thumbs-up. She hopped on top of a workstation and pressed the tip of her knife into a screw holding one of the roofing vents in place. I sighed when I realized where we were going next, and turned back to distracting Elena.

  “I showed you that so you can understand something. I hold the cards—at any moment, I could open the doors to the observation lab you’re in, or he’s in, if I wanted to. I could come to you, if I wanted to. You are finally at my mercy, and it is very tempting to open all the doors inside and let the specimens eat you. But honestly, I do so love this idea the best.”

  As she spoke, Viggo, Thomas, and Owen flashed onto the view screen again. The two men were hunched over Thomas, frantically trying to stem the flow of blood that I could now see seeping out from Thomas’ stomach. There was no sound, but Thomas’ mouth was moving, as was Owen’s. Thomas was wide-eyed and scared—I could see it plainly on the screen—his hands shaking as he tried to say something to Owen. My heart began to rebel in my chest, and the cold sensation in my stomach was back… I had almost thought Elena was playing that video to trick me, but this… This felt real. I felt tears forming in my eyes and prayed that Thomas was okay, that Viggo and Owen would patch him up and get him out of there.

  As if she knew my thought, Elena continued to talk as the video played.

  “I’m going to make you watch your friends die one by one, Violet. First Thomas, then poor Ms. Dale. She won’t be long for this world—not after that green fly bit her.”

  “Is there an antidote?” I asked, looking over to where Ms. Dale was handing the now freed grate to Morgan. She looked over at me, and I gave her a thumbs up, motioning for her to head up.

  “Oh, Violet,” Elena breathed wistfully, an amused smile on her lips. “There is, and I do have some. But you? You have nothing I want.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I said. “Because I have the egg. The real one. Right here with me at this very moment.”

  “You’re a liar,” Elena said confidently. “Eyewitness reports said you blew it up with my sister.”

  I smiled. It was unfortunate Elena couldn’t see it, all my rage and worry for Thomas’ wound, from being stuck here negotiating in this lab of horrors, scrolling across my face at once.

  “There were two.” I bit out. “One was the first prototype in Mr. Jenks’ lab in the Facility. The second was the real one. I gave your sister Tabitha the fake and blew her up with it.”

  Elena went quiet, her face thoughtful. That might be the only reaction I was going to get when she realized I had had one up on her all along—but it was so, so worth it. After a moment, she looked back at the camera.

  “Go into the airlock,” she said. “I want to see it.”

  “I knew you didn’t have cameras in here,” I said, perhaps a bit petulantly. But it was worth the annoyed expression that drifted across her face. “And no thanks—you’ll lock me in there.”

  “I won’t strike any deal unless I can see that you have it.”

  I hesitated, and saw Ms. Dale helping Morgan up into the vent, sweat dripping down her forehead.

  “I’m going to prop the door open,” I said. “One minute.”

  I moved over to the airlock door and pulled it open, wedging one of the chairs from the workstation into the opening. Inside the chamber, I held up the egg toward the camera for a moment, slowly moving it around so I could change the angles. After a few seconds, I lowered it and stepped back into the lab.

  “Satisfied?” I asked as I thrust it back into the bag.

  “What are your terms?” she asked, and I wondered if I was imagining that her voice was colder, darker than before… that she knew I’d had her fooled.

  “Sierra, and the antidote for Ms. Dale. First aid for Thomas. Safe passage for all of us.” I stated the demands while Ms. Dale pulled herself completely into the vent.

  “Fine. I’ll send a warden down to retrieve—”

  “No deal,” I said. “I’m dealing with you, and we’re dealing here, in the lab. The creatures in this place will keep us all honest.”

  “I’m not going down there—that place is suicide.” Her face looked rather smug at the thought. “There’s a lab close to you. Lab 3C in the level above. Go out this airlock and look for a ladder leading up in the next cavern. You’ll have to find it after that, but I haven’t released anything on those levels yet. I’ll come down, we’ll do the exchange in the airlock, and, as a gesture of queenly goodwill, I’ll even let you leave unscarred.”

  I highly doubted that, but then again, I had no intention of meeting Elena at Lab 3C. At least, I had no intention of being where she expected me to be—so I guessed we were dealing on the same lev
el.

  “Fine,” I replied.

  “If you try anything, I will know,” Elena added, and then the screen went dead. Her warning echoed in my ears as I climbed up onto the desk and held my bag, the egg back inside it, up to the vent. I was waiting for Ms. Dale to grab the bag, but also, I needed an excuse to take a moment before climbing through another vent.

  OceanofPDF.com

  35

  OceanofPDF.com

  VIGGO

  I kicked a spider that suddenly appeared looming over Thomas, sending it flying, and grabbed Owen.

  “We need the code!” I shouted as I shot another spider shimmering into view.

  “One… three… three… eight…” Thomas wheezed, his bloodstained fingers reaching up for the door. “I can… get it.”

  “I got it,” Owen said, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. The door clunked as the locks released, and Owen began spinning the wheel while I covered our backs. The spiders were still coming, in greater and greater numbers, and I knew that if I didn’t do something, we’d never get the door shut—I had no idea how many more were out there.

  Grabbing at my belt, I shouted, “Grenade!” and hurriedly removed one, pulled the pin, and tossed it into the room at the approaching spiders. I knelt down and shielded Thomas’ eyes as the flash grenade went off behind me, the white phosphorus light flashing red behind my eyelids. I gave it a second before I opened my eyes and turned to look over my shoulder. The spiders were wobbling around, mostly visible and clearly disoriented, and I pressed the advantage.

  I grabbed Thomas under the armpits and began to drag my friend through the gap in the door as Owen fired rounds at the closer spiders. I pulled Thomas in and set him down as gently as I could, though I could see him wincing, and moved to help Owen close the massive door. The door swung inward slowly—too slowly—but the spiders were still stunned. We had time.

  I reached the door and began to pull, straining against the weight to make it close faster, when a hairy leg slid in through the ever-narrowing gap, hitting me in the knee. It didn’t hurt, but my knee folded up under me, and I fell, thrusting out my arms to catch myself. Still, my chin struck hard on the door, my teeth feeling like they were going to be jarred out of my head, and I fell to my knees.

  Looking around, dazed, I saw Owen yanking on the door, trying to close the gap as the hairy legs scrabbled to pull it back out toward the lab. He had let go with one hand and was firing at the legs sticking through the gap, blocking them from moving. Two more appeared, higher up, and Owen dropped his gun with a yelp and grabbed the door with two hands, pulling against the combined strength of the two arachnids—and losing as the gap grew wider.

  I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the wheel, pulling hard. The door resisted for a second, and then there was a sickening crunch, and I felt something hot spray against my arm and neck as the airlock slammed closed. Owen broke away as soon as the door was closed, moving toward Thomas while I turned the wheel, sealing us in. There was a click as the door sealed tight, but relief was impossible to find.

  Turning, I saw Thomas panting hard and Owen kneeling over him, hands pressed to the wound on Thomas’ stomach, trying to staunch the blood still flowing from the wound, fast. I dropped my bag and tore it open, searching for the first-aid kit that had shifted to the bottom of the bag.

  “Tell me what to do, Thomas,” Owen said, his voice holding a frantic edge.

  Thomas continued to pant, clutching at Owen’s hands, his eyes wide, terrified, tearing up.

  “I knew this would happen,” he stuttered out, each word punctuated by a short gasp. I felt the hard case of the first-aid kit and pulled it out, my fingers suddenly feeling nerveless.

  “Shut up, Thomas,” Owen told him. “You have to save your strength!”

  “Eighty-six percent probability,” Thomas nodded. “I knew it. I tried to warn you… tell you… the code.”

  “No!” Owen said, spotting the kit I was holding out for him and snatching it. “Dammit, Thomas, you weird little man, don’t give up!”

  “Bag… Notebook… Instructions,” Thomas wheezed, ignoring his friend’s protests. His face was brimming with unconditional affection as he looked up at Owen, the edges of his mouth curling up in a sad smile. “Thank… you… for… being… my friend.”

  Then his breath gave out, soft as a baby bird, and he went still.

  Owen stared at him, the first-aid kit hanging open in his hand.

  “Thomas?” he rasped, his voice breaking.

  My heart suddenly felt like it was trapped in the vice-hard grip of one of the berserk wardens we’d fought at the plant, stuttering in my chest. Owen shuddered and leaned over Thomas, his breath coming in gasps.

  “Thomas?” he said again, emphasizing his name more.

  “He’s gone,” I said, hating myself for saying it. God, how my heart ached. Thomas was gone, stolen from us by Maxen in a cowardly act. It had been senseless, cruel, and vicious—nothing worthy of our friend at all. It took everything I had not to break down and cry, to remember the mission… If I couldn’t keep going, this all would have been in vain. Centering my thoughts around that, I was able to build a dam between my heart and the flood of emotions threatening to break me down.

  I leaned over and pulled Owen against me, hugging him for a moment or two. The man sniffled, and then jerked away from me, his face hopelessly lost.

  “Everyone I love is dying,” he croaked.

  “Not true,” I told him, my voice strong and certain. “You know that’s not true.”

  Owen sniffled again, and then took a deep breath, pushing the mountain of pain back and nodding, the clarity that came into his eyes frightening.

  “Maxen.”

  It wasn’t a request, and his jaw was set, a searing hatred burning in his eyes.

  “Okay,” I said with a nod. “Grab Thomas’ bag.”

  I stood up and moved over to the other side of the airlock, hitting the button to detoxify while Owen grabbed Thomas’ bag and handheld.

  “We left that lock pick thing outside,” he said, pulling out a little green notebook and opening it up as the chamber began to filter out the toxic air. “Hopefully he has a backup, or we’ll be trapped in here.”

  “We won’t,” I said, watching the light that indicated contamination levels. “We’ve got semtex.”

  “Fun.” Owen studied the pages. “He really thought of everything,” he whispered, his resolve clearly threatening to break again.

  I looked over at Thomas’ still form, felt the dam in my heart buckle and then hold, and nodded.

  “He was good at that.” My voice came out harsh and wounded, but it didn’t change my resolve.

  The light turned green, and I cranked the wheel, tearing the door open. I stepped in, Owen behind me, and quickly closed the door. The lab beyond was fairly small, yet identical to the last ones—workstations in the middle, screens around the outside edges, dark and deserted. I moved through it toward the only other airlock door in the room. I saw the outer door hanging wide open through the small window on the inner door—a clear sign that Maxen, useless as he was, had come through here. I looked at Owen, and he studied the airlock before we moved into it and he pushed a button.

  The door started to swing closed, gears whirring to turn the wheel and secure it. We waited impatiently, seconds ticking by. Once it was shut, we opened the inner door and waited for several more seconds. As we waited, I realized we hadn’t even stopped to take our masks off—not that it ultimately mattered.

  “We need to find a ladder up,” Owen said. “The upper labs are where we can find the master terminals, according to Tho—his notes.” He sniffed again, and let out a slow breath. The light went green, and I opened the next door, pushing through. Owen tucked Thomas’ notes and handheld away and stepped out behind me.

  It was another contaminated study chamber. The mist was less thick in this room—whether it came from the expansive size of the room, or the fact that the stream here was a much
smaller trickle than in the other rooms we’d seen, I didn’t know. What I did know was that this chamber’s ceiling was almost forty feet up, and there were several palm trees growing huge inside. Tall grass filled the chamber, taller than me, and I could see the grass moving, hear it rustling, all in the dimly lit chamber.

  I took a few steps forward and saw the slightly bent grass where Maxen had pushed through just a short time ago, and nodded to Owen.

  “Be on your guard,” I told him, and he nodded, his gun already in his hand.

  We pushed through the grass, following his trail. It was impossible to move silently—the grass was too thick and tall to prevent it from making noise as we passed—so I moved quickly instead, trying to keep an ear out for anything approaching.

  There was a chittering sound, like someone coughing softly several times in rapid succession, and it was greeted with a gurgling yowl from the other side of us, somewhere ahead. We froze for a second, and then Owen said, “Run,” in a low, urgent voice.

  I waited for a single heartbeat, and then ran, tearing through the grass.

  “That’s the sound the Goliaths make,” Owen shouted from behind me. “They are lizards—well, like a cross between a serpent and a lizard—and they’re incredibly dangerous!”

  Everything in here is. Before I could turn that thought into words, a dark shape crossed overhead, and without thinking I fired at it. It landed with a thump somewhere in the grass behind us, and I continued to run. I heard something thrashing through the grass, moving in tandem with us, angling toward us—and then, through the waving and shifting grass, I saw Maxen.

  He spotted us, his arms pumping, hair plastered to his sweat-drenched forehead, and then veered ahead, sprinting like his life depended on it.

  Behind him, something large and low to the ground raced by with a serpentine swish, legs barely touching the ground, the rustling of the grass marking its passage. There was a sudden break in the grass, and we returned to mossy terrain. The transition was so sudden that I almost slipped on the soft slope, barely catching my balance. I slowed in compensation, but Owen raced past. I steadied myself and looked up, seeing that he was aiming for a ladder at the top of the hill.