Calico Descending

by Keri Lake

  “It’s an olfactory binding. You carry some of his DNA inside of you, so what he smells is familiar. A match for him.” He threads his fingers together, holding them up in demonstration. “It’s like two puzzle pieces coming together perfectly. Very comforting to him.”

  “He didn’t seem comforted.”

  “Well, many of them reject the binding. They tend to be suspicious. Wary. It’s something of an animal instinct that keeps them alive.”

  If this is true, there’s no reason I should be alive. As he said, everything about me was a threat.

  “Why are we not permitted to use their names?” It’s undoubtedly not their real names, because no one in this place is called by their birth name. For most, they’re nothing but a number, including me.

  His lips tighten to a flat line, and he rests his palms against the desk. “Allow me to show you.”

  Spinning away from me, he tinkers with the screen behind him, turning it momentarily black, before a new image pops up. This one in motion.

  “This was recorded just two weeks ago. Cadmus is one of the three Champions, like Valdys, who has never lost a fight.”

  “Fight?”

  “We condition them by pitting them against the mutations. The failed human trials who are … let’s just say, no longer human. They’re very hardy. Difficult to kill. So we keep them contained, which, in turn, makes them quite violent over time. Should we become compromised at some point, the Alphas are our only hope of survival against them.”

  These men are trained to throw themselves into the path of a deadly predator? No wonder they’re pissed.

  I lift my attention back to the screen, where a young woman enters a room, with a bit more grace than I did, carrying a tray full of food. She sets the tray onto the floor, and backs away, crossing her hands over the front of her. Something about her seems vaguely familiar to me.

  Seconds later, the shadows come to life, as a large figure emerges and steps toward her. Deep inside my belly, a sickness churns, recalling why he chose to show me this video. To show me what happens when we speak their names. Moisture gathers on my palms as I rub my hands together in my lap, the fluttering in my chest making me all too aware that I’m nervous for what’s to come.

  The male crouches down to the floor to sniff the food, then jumps to his feet, and accosts her. As she was no doubt instructed, she doesn’t move, hardly even flinches while he seems to smell her. At this point, her meeting is far more composed than mine. Once he seems satisfied, he backs away from her, into the shadows once more. I’d almost believe she was far less nervous, if not for the trembling of her hands and rapid rise and fall of her chest. She glances back toward the door.

  “Go on,” Medusa says, prodding her along like a shepherd herding her toward a wolf.

  “Hello?” Fingers fidgeting, she steps closer to the shadow. “I’m Neela.”

  The name strikes a chord of familiarity, and a flash of memory zips through my brain. Bright lights. Sterile scents. The terrified expression on her face. Hands clasped together.

  Except, this girl seems far more demure to the one inside my head.

  “I … understand you’re my Champion.” The sound of her voice snaps me out of the memory. Another glance back at the door, and she’s scratching her arm, clearly growing more uncomfortable with this strange encounter. Her face scrunches, as she sets a hand to her stomach, drawing on my memories of feeling the need to puke during my first meeting. “Cadmus?”

  Blackness slams into her, knocking her backward, and my heart catches in my throat. The beast pins her to the ground and tears away her clothes. In seconds, his wide, massive back is flexing and moving in the indisputable motions of sex. The girl screams, and her hands flex and ball at her sides, as if it’s the most excruciating pain she’s ever felt.

  The phantom sounds of her screams echo inside my head. Images zip through my mind in rapid succession. Memories of those screams blaring through my head.

  Doctor Ericsson pauses it, just as armed Legion soldiers enter the onscreen room. When he turns around, brows winged up, he doesn’t seem particularly disturbed. Not nearly as disgusted as I am, when I think how stupid it was for me to make the same mistake.

  “She’s the first and only subject to use their name … aside from you.”

  Shock squeezes my throat, strangling the question slamming against my brain. What happened to her?

  “It seems to affect them differently, and we’ve not had the luxury of wasting subjects to test each Alpha’s specific trigger.”

  “Is she dead?”

  “No. She’s alive. When she’s fully recovered, we intend to try again.”

  “You plan to put that poor girl through that again?”

  His eyes narrow on me, and it’s then I remember that this is a man who can easily decide my fate with the snap of his fingers. If he’s so inclined, he could make me the experimental subject. “That poor girl has been given as many special treatments here as you, and I’m certain you’ve been here long enough to understand what a blessing that is.”

  I do. I’ve seen plenty of girls in the recovery room, who were wheeled off after testing and never seen again. Others end up in yet another experimental wing, where they’re impregnated and forced to birth third-generation babies. Those are the ones my sister cares for, and from what I understand, many don’t make it past the second trimester. The ones who do might as well be dead, too.

  “Once binding happens, what then?” This place doesn’t seem to be in the market for happily ever afters, and if it’s pregnancy they’re interested in, they’d have wheeled me to obstetrics with the others by now.

  His lips stretch into a grin that leaves a sinking feeling in the pit of my gut. “That’s the most interesting part of all of this. Through happenstance, we found that Alphas can become very attached to a particular female. To the extent that they become far more agreeable.”

  “How so?”

  “History books are probably of no use to you, being illiterate, but well before your time, centuries ago, there were what were known as whipping boys. Are you familiar with that term?”

  “It’s fairly obvious that they’re boys who were whipped, I think.”

  “Yes, well, they were boys who were whipped for the transgressions of their prince. See, back in the times of royalty, no one wanted to punish the prince when he stepped out of line. So, a whipping boy was assigned. And this child grew up with the prince. They became quite close. Like brothers. But when the prince behaved poorly, it was his dear friend who suffered the consequences, which, in turn, helped keep him in line.”

  “So, these Alphas … you’re using them to keep females in line?”

  He tips his head, that mirthless smile wider than before. “No, my sweet girl. You will be used to keep him in line. To help train him. You see, Valdys, Cadmus, and Titus have all proven to be very efficient against the mutations. But when it comes to raiding hives, they’re less agreeable.” He shrugs his shoulders. “That’s the consequence of using men who were never trained nor born to be soldiers. We’ve had a number of them escape during raids. Some we’ve had to destroy on the spot. It becomes very costly. An inefficient use of resources.”

  “Then, why use them to raid hives, if they’re so valuable?”

  His eyes narrow, as if I’ve reached my question limit for the day, and he clears his throat. “Because the rebels have banded with a number of hives. Led by one of our stray Alphas. Legion officers are being picked off like ticks on a savage. We lose more with every raid.”

  “So, you’re going to use me to keep him in line.” It’s not a question. It’s a ridiculous statement looping inside my head.

  “Yes. Just doesn’t appear to be effective using them against each other. Seems it requires a new variable.”

  A laugh bursts from my chest, and I glance over at Medusa. She doesn’t so much as smile, which makes me laugh harder. “I don’t know if you missed something in the video, but he wanted nothing to do wi
th me. He tried to kill me.”

  “And he could have. In fact, by all accounts, he probably should have. You broke nearly every rule. It was disastrous.” He leans forward, entwining his fingers again. “But he didn’t. He let you go.”

  “Which I’m guessing was code for I hope to never see you again.”

  “He doesn’t have a choice, I’m afraid. And neither do you. For the next few weeks, you will spend hours alone with him in his cell. You will talk to him. Provide companionship to him. You will make him look at you as something more valuable to him than his freedom.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  Gaze sliding toward Medusa and back to me, he reclines back in his chair and kicks his feet up on his desk. “The chances of an Alpha mutating during transformation is about fifty percent, and of those, only half make it through training. Let me just impart that the Alpha is far more valuable than our female subjects. Why else would we have chosen you to keep him in line?”

  Chapter 5

  Four years ago

  * * *

  The muscles in my legs burn, my exposed skin red and swollen from the unforgiving sun. The throbbing inside my skull shoots through my eyeballs, and I have to squint so hard to block the blinding sunlight that my eyelashes flutter from the effort.

  “Cali … I can’t.” Bryani stumbles behind me and falls to the dirt. She clambers back to her feet and stumbles after me again. “I’m so … tired. And thirsty.” Her voice has gone hoarse, proving the point.

  Three hours of walking, and we’ve not come upon a single hive.

  The heat stirs my irritation, while my head tells me I’ve failed my sister. Perhaps she was right to want to stay back in the abandonment, where we took shelter yesterday. At least we’d have shade there, and we could’ve searched for a source of water.

  The Ragers would’ve eventually come back, though. They’re like dogs when it comes to sniffing out prey, and, I suspect, they’ll track us down eventually. Some have such keen senses, they can pick up scent, just like a bloodhound.

  “Please. Just … let me rest. A couple seconds.”

  Halting, I turn around and find her clutching her stomach. “If you rest, you’ll never get up again.” I double back, until standing alongside her bent form, and slide her arm behind my neck, helping her straighten. The added weight will not only slow me down, but will burn through whatever energy is left in me. The alternative is waiting to pass out here and waking to Ragers feasting on the two of us.

  We have to keep moving.

  “Do you see the mountains up ahead, Bryani?”

  “Yes.”

  “We only need to make it there. We’ll take shelter in the rocks.”

  “I feel so dizzy … and my stomach is … sick.”

  “You’re dehydrated and exhausted. I promise, I’ll look for water. Just a bit more walking.”

  A lazy nod, and she pushes forward, taking me along with her. “Just a bit more.”

  By the time we reach the mountains, the sun is hidden on the other side of it, offering some relief. The cool shade is a balm to my burned skin as I pull Bryani up onto the jagged rocks. One by one, we climb higher, until we’re maybe twenty feet off the ground. It’s at this height, I find a crook in the rock, where I set her down to rest. She needs water. We both need water soon.

  “I’ll be back. Stay hidden here.”

  She nods and rests her head against the wall of stone beside her, drawing in long, labored breaths. Sometimes, dew or rain collects in small pools on these mountains, especially in the shade. It’s not typically enough to sate our thirst, but will certainly give some measure of relief. Climbing higher will give me a better lay of the land, and perhaps I can scope out a nearby hive.

  The mountains give way to a flat clearing of a small canyon within, and my eyes zero in on a plant. Where there’s vegetation, there’s water. I rush toward the small patch of prickly pears, my heart soaring inside my chest. I did it. I found food. If my mother were here, she’d give me a prideful smile and tell me I possessed the instincts of my father, who always managed to forage food for us.

  Inside the satchel is a pack of matches. The same matches we used to set fire to the building across from us, in order to distract the Ragers the night before. Careful to avoid the needles on the pad of the cactus, I strike the match and hold it to the fruit, singeing away the glochids. Back at our hive, we carried special gloves, made of animal hide, to rub away thorns, but in our panic to get ahead of the horde, we didn’t think to grab a pair.

  More vegetation catches my eye, and about ten yards away is a bigger patch of the cactus fruit. I scramble toward it, singeing away the needles, and pull my knife to cut them off, stuffing the fruit inside my sack.

  Another object floats in my periphery, and turning my head brings me staring back at what must surely be a mirage. Beneath a low hanging rock, shrouded in shade, stands a small tinaja filled with water. My hands tremble as I tug my canteen from my satchel and scamper across the rock to the edge of the pool. Water bubbles around the canteen as I fill it, and when I sip the cool fluids, they practically sizzle on hitting the dryness in my throat. I choke and spit water from drinking it too fast, but I fill it again and guzzle the fluids once more.

  A crackling sound stiffens my muscles. I look past the pool toward the walls of the mountain. Could be a critter.

  Or a wildcat.

  Not likely a Rager this high up.

  With urgency, I fill the canteen a third time, eyes scanning my surroundings, and hustle back down the rock to where Bryani still lies propped. Passed out, I guess, since she doesn’t move or wake at my approach. Trickling water over her dry, cracked lips, I rouse her awake, and her eyes nearly popping out of her head, she reaches for the canteen, greedily sucking the fluids down. She pauses to take a breath, and drinks more.

  From my satchel, I grab the fruit and slice it in half, offering a piece to Bryani. We pop the fruit from it’s thick peel and shove it into our mouths. The sweet taste explodes against my tongue, and I tip my head back, closing my eyes while I savor it, then spit out the seeds. Nabbing a second fruit, I split it open, sharing it with Bryani again, who giggles at what I presume are purple stains on my teeth, as hers are stained, too.

  After five fruits, the hunger from before no longer gnaws at my stomach. “We’ll pack more to take with us and fill our canteens.”

  “Why don’t we just stay here?”

  I look past her, scanning the rocks. “I heard a noise on the other side. Could be a wildcat.” Though, I’m guessing a large cat would’ve sniffed us out by now. Probably just a small critter. Still, I can’t help the feeling that something is watching us, and with the sun not yet horizontal in the sky, we have time to find shelter.

  Bryani pushes up on her own, and seems to stumble less as she follows me up the rock to where I found the tinaja. She races toward the pool of water with all three canteens clanging at her side, including the one we took from mother’s pack, and fills them up. Still keeping my focus on the surroundings, I burn needles and pack a few more prickly pears.

  When something hits the back of my neck, I freeze, letting out a whoosh of air I’m certain Bryani won’t hear over her giggling and splashing in the water.

  “Well, well. What do we have here?” The sound of a man’s voice in the thick of the desert is about as terrifying as hearing the clicking sounds Ragers make when they’re excited. It’s a warning that something bad is going to happen.

  Bryani’s scream snaps my attention toward the tinaja, where another man points a gun at her.

  “Please. Don’t hurt her. You can take me. Do whatever you want, but please don’t touch her.”

  “Take you? Already got a woman. A real woman, with some meat on her bones. The hell would I want with you?”

  Confusion hits me, rendering me momentarily speechless. I’ve been taught that every man who stumbles upon a young girl in the desert is a potential threat.

  “You two are trespassing on priva
te property here. This fruit. The tinaja. Belongs to my hive.”

  “I’m sorry. We were … hungry. And thirsty. We’ll leave.”

  “I’m sorry, too. Can’t let you go now.”

  “We don’t belong to another hive. We did, but we left.” I don’t tell him we were hit by a horde, for fear he’ll shoot us for possibly being infected.

  “Why’d you do something stupid like that?”

  “They were cruel,” I lie. “They beat us.”

  “Don’t look like you’ve suffered much, ‘sides not eating.”

  My eyes skate to Bryani, who sits cross-legged, while the man stands guard beside her, his gun lowered.

  The pressure lifts from the back of my neck, and I turn to see the man stuff his gun into a holster. He’s probably midforties judging by the slight baldness, slim build, unlike his beefy friend across from us. “Get up.”

  Maybe he’ll take us to his hive. They don’t seem hostile. Just protective, which is pretty much the norm.

  I don’t protest as I push to my feet, nabbing my pack off the ground.

  “Nuh-uh. Your belongings stay.”

  The idea of leaving our sacks behind doesn’t sit well, but still, for the sake of shelter and possibly more food, I do as he says.

  We follow behind Baldy, down the other side of the mountain, while Beefy brings up the rear of the group. A camp made up of a few dozen tents, arranged in a circle at the foot of the mountain, looks to be their hive. My heart soars at the sight of it. At the thought of having a home. And people again. Lots of people, from the looks of it, as they move about, performing various tasks of cooking and hanging clothes, sharpening tools and skinning animals that’re trussed from tree branches. Probably the biggest hive I’ve seen in a long time—mostly men, of course.

  I glance back to Bryani, who follows behind, and smile, though she doesn’t return the gesture. The pinch of her brows tells me she’s feeling uneasy. Cautious. Perhaps I should, too, but I’m so desperate to make things right for my sister, I won’t allow myself those thoughts.