True North

by L. E. Sterling

  I nod, numb, and watch his broad back stride quickly toward the living quarters door.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I call out, my voice breaking slightly. I curse myself for pushing it too far, for breaking character, and pray that he will take it in stride. People hear what they want to, after all.

  His hand freezes on the doorframe. He turns back to me, an unfathomable look on his face. “Maya dorogaya,” he drawls. My dear. “What has gotten into you?”

  But I shake my head, find myself stepping toward him, my whole body quivering. “You don’t have to do this. Please.”

  Resnikov steps forward, almost as if he’s unsure of himself. And there’s something to the way he looks, as though I’ve pierced through the thick armor of his heartlessness. Not me, I remind myself, Margot.

  “We’ve been through this, dorogaya.” His voice scrapes along my skin as he reaches out and caresses my cheek with a soft finger. “Dorogaya,” he says again, his fingers tracing over the skin of my cheek, “krasavitsa. You are so beautiful, do you know that? I am the luckiest man in the world. But we are doing this, Margot. You and I. Our children will grow up in a world where cures and miracles exist.”

  I can’t help it. Hot tears leak out, my throat closing and opening like a fist. “There are already miracles in the world, Leo. I’d as soon they were free and available for everyone.”

  A shadow crosses his face. “But that is not an option, Margot. Is it?” Iron coated in silk. His hands tighten in my hair for a moment before he lets me loose. I nearly stumble back. And then he’s quickly to the door, opening it with just the wave of his hand.

  One-way security, then. That will come in handy, I think as I sag to my knees in relief. I sob, trying to catch my breath, my wits. My body feels as though it’s been hit by electricity.

  I’m distracted then by a pinch at my wrist. I look down in wonder. Something niggles at me. I look up. And stare into a mirror reflection of myself, dressed in pants and a blouse, tousled auburn curls falling to her shoulders.

  “Some love scene, little sister,” says the mirror. “I never knew you were such a fine actress.” A smile breaks out over the reflection’s face, an echo of my own.

  Margot.

  23

  I can barely stand, but I manage to stumble to my feet and run to her. We don’t need words, Margot and I. Quiet-quiet, as we’ve always been, we take inventory of each other.

  Margot touches my hair, longer now. I tap at her cheek, feeling its echo on my flesh. Sound and well. Her arms come around me, and we both flood with the feeling of completion. Lock and key. Blood and bone. My sister and I are one. And in that instant, all the pain and the fear I’ve endured is worth it. I’d risk a thousand more soldiers if it meant my sister and I never had to be apart again.

  “What the Holy Plague fire are you playing at, Margot?” I say when I can speak again.

  “Shh,” she says. “Not now. Is Storm here?” She glances expectantly over my shoulder at the door.

  “No,” I whisper. “It’s just Jared and me. And a new friend who’s hopefully waiting for us outside.”

  Margot keeps her beautiful blue-gray eyes locked on me. “We need to be careful,” she tells me, so serious it breaks my heart. “He’ll never let me go.”

  “What have they done, Mar?”

  She shakes her head. “You mean Father and Mother?” Margot tips her head back, an angry scoffing laugh darkening the room. “Don’t you know?”

  My sister’s beautiful face twists into an ugly mask.

  “We’re their greatest investment. We were born for this, all right. But not for whatever those witches thought. You know what we were born for, Lu?” And now I see it, the storm of tears welling up in her eyes. “We’re cows. Genetic cows. Cash cows. Call it whatever you want. They made us so they could control the whole world.”

  My body goes numb. “What do you mean?”

  “They have a word for it, you know. Korova. Cow. That’s what the soldiers call me when they think he can’t hear.”

  I’ve never heard my sister sound so bitter. “Margot,” I say, wanting to comfort her.

  But for the first time in our lives, Margot shakes me off. “No. We need to go. Now.”

  The grim look in her eyes gives me chills. But when she touches her arm, then mine, I know she’s okay. I know my sister’s mind as well as I know my mind. And she has something to show me.

  “Take me, then.” I tell her. Two minutes later, with a hastily stuffed backpack, we set off.

  The massive room smells like oil and antiseptic, airless and fetid at the same time. “What is this place?” I whisper in our special way. Margot taps her wrist. A warning to stay silent, stay vigilant. Guards could be near.

  A few seconds later, she turns back to me, takes my hand in her own identical fingers. She leads me a few paces beyond the dark silver corridor marked with glaring biosafety hazard signs.

  “Promise you won’t freak out,” she says under her breath.

  I nod, but she seems to hesitate a second longer. “Margot,” I bark.

  She snaps out of it, leading me around a corner. We don’t have to crouch any longer. On either side of us loom huge machines. They run in rows down a room as large as an airplane hangar. Machines that push up toward the vaulted ceilings, then back down again.

  I clasp her hand tighter. Tap one finger. Margot turns and taps the side of her face beside her eye. Watch carefully.

  It must be a factory of some type, though it’s quieter than any factory I’ve ever seen before. Polished metal throws off reflections here and there, making me think I’m seeing things. Cold white plastic with dark-red serial numbers crown row after row of conveyor belts, bolts, and arms.

  A machine like a Splicing gun bears down on tray after tray of what looks like micro-wells. The gun pokes down into the wells, seeding something microscopic before lifting up again. It repeats in the next tiny hole, over and over again, repositioning itself like a flamingo about to feed.

  Margot calmly walks me past this strange marvel and over to a machine that spits out coated bottles of liquid. I can’t see it but I know there’s a trick here. Is the splice-gun material going into the tall vials?

  Margot’s eyes are huge in her head. “Where is he?” she asks, meaning Jared. I shake my head, unable to speak. Vial after vial pushes into carrying trays, which are then dipped through a liquid-nitrogen vat, coming up frozen.

  “Margot, what are they doing?” I don’t recognize my voice, a strange rumble.

  She doesn’t answer, though. Just lets loose my hand and threads her way through a gap in the machinery, cutting across the massive production floor.

  I follow Margot to the other side of the factory. Light from a small control room spills out across the polished cement floor. She motions to me before pressing herself against the wall. I do the same, watching her carefully for clues. We are there for I don’t know how many painful heartbeats when something brushes up against my arm. I jump, barely holding back a squeaked scream. A hand flings out and grabs the back of my head, another flying across my mouth.

  And I glare into a remarkable pair of emerald eyes.

  Margot nods at Jared just once, as though she expected him, her face drawn and pale. She points at the window and Jared nods, giving me a wicked smile before leaning down to my ear.

  “Now behave yourself, Princess.” His breath tickles my ear. “There’s a team of those fake True Borns posted right outside.” I suck in a breath, my whole body quivering. A heartbeat later he’s released me. I stumble back toward the wall.

  Jared leans across me, leaving a trail of hot awareness across my body, and taps Margot’s arm. He gives her some sort of signal I can’t see, but I can feel her nod. Jared’s body coils like a spring as Margot holds out her finger. A jolt of blue light coats her hand and a door lock light turns green.

  The door slides open. A feral scream rips the air beside me.

  And chaos is loosed in the form of Jar
ed Price.

  Margot and I flatten ourselves against the wall as Jared pounces past us into the control room. In the space between heartbeats, a wet sound cuts off the terrified cry of whoever sat in that booth. A pulsing alarm blares through the room, making me jump. I try to grab onto Margot, but she keeps her face turned toward the door. Then, like a shadow, she slips into the control room.

  “Margot,” I call after her, my voice drowned out by the shrill siren. “What are you doing?”

  She returns a second later, looking haunted. Jared appears behind her, a dull gleam of satisfaction coating his face along with fine droplets of blood. He takes his T-shirt and wipes his face. Only, the blood smears. I stifle a gag and follow my sister, who breaks into a run down the length of the production floor.

  Jared stays behind me, grabbing my hips and holding me up when I threaten to stumble. We reach the small door just as Margot has slid it open with her DNA, and we follow her into another long room.

  Only this room is different.

  This one is filled with row after row of glass canisters, at least ten that I can see. Each foot-wide glass canister rises at least six feet in the air. “Margot,” I call out, but she disappears around a corner. As if she’d hear me over the alarm anyhow, still blaring and clearly wired for every room. Someone will come for us soon. In the meantime, I watch as something whirs from the black pumps that seal the top of each. It sounds like a pump, but the canisters are so thick with murky liquid that I can’t quite make out what’s inside until I step closer and see the hazy outline of a tiny skull—

  Babies. They’re making babies.

  My mouth flops open as Jared slams into my back.

  “Oh my God,” I say, feeling sick and crampy all over. I sway to the side, feeling the world tilt crazily on its axis. Jared says nothing, just pats my back and looks like he could rip the room in two.

  “Margot. That way?” He points to the right. I nod when I hear a man’s voice yelling from that direction.

  “Hey, you can’t be here— Wait, don’t touch that!”

  Jared leaps around the corner, fingers sharpened razors. A bloodcurdling scream comes from someone, but I can’t tell if it’s Jared’s or the guard’s. A gun discharges, the sound tinny and musical. It cuts into one of the glass canisters, which explodes into a million pieces. Thick, mucous-like pink fluid spills out onto the floor, along with the contents of the jar that lands in a tiny, unmoving heap. The air quickly becomes saturated with a smell I’ve never experienced before—a cross between the sea and the iron-tinged scent of blood.

  I know I need to move, need to get Margot. But I’m frozen to the spot. Special children in a world where children would be special. Because it’s finally occurred to me just what these babies are.

  These are the fruits of what was stolen from Margot in the Splicer Clinic.

  Her eggs. Her babies. Being harvested for their DNA.

  Time stills, and though I must be imagining it, my ears fill with the sound of a ticking clock, each tick as heavy as a drumbeat. I walk forward slowly, careful to step around the tiny bundle of flesh on the floor. I reckon I know better than to try to revive it or comfort it. This baby is already dead—if it was ever really living.

  Margot screams, but I still walk calmly, slowly. Shock, I think to myself. This must be what it feels like. As I turn the corner, Margot is locked in the embrace of a tall, thin giant of a man.

  Haven’t I seen this giant before? I question my sanity and blink. But no—it is the same figure, or one remarkably like the one Jared killed in the Splicer Clinic all those months ago.

  But he was dead, my mind sorts out logically. Dead, but the image of Richardson and his doppelganger, Resnikov, floats past my eyes.

  They’re doing far more than DNA extractions here.

  A tall man with absurdly large muscles in a dark shirt and a neck the size of a tree trunk has Jared poised above his head. He hurls Jared onto the floor, and I hear a giant crack as Jared hits. I jerk forward, not sure what I’ll do yet, but my feet hit something in the way.

  The body of a guard lies on his side, white eyes unstaring. But locked in his hands is a gun. And a gun is something I can use.

  I wrench the barrel from the dead man’s fingers. They’re tough and stiff. I have to snap one back to free the trigger. The gun is heavy as I strap it around my neck and look behind me to make sure there are no guards swarming there. It smells like fire.

  I raise the gun, checking the safety, and stare past the metal hinge with one eye closed. “Stop,” I say, but through the chaos, no one hears me. “Stop!” I yell, just as Jared is thrown again, this time against a pipe. It cracks with a resounding boom! and hisses steam as Jared slumps to the ground.

  The muscle man turns, grinning. I hit him while he’s still taking his first step toward me. Always so sure the girls won’t fire, aren’t they? my mind whispers crazily. He’s spun by the bullet, a hole opening in his shoulder as my arm turns numb. I want to drop the heavy gun. But I know that if I do, we’re all doomed.

  The giant stalls, Margot between his hands like a little mouse. I aim for his head.

  “Let her go.” I still feel as though I’m swimming. The world is tinged with that surreal sensation that comes from being underwater.

  Jared stirs, and I see the muscle man lunge for him, despite his wound. I fire once again, this time missing him on purpose.

  “I won’t warn you again,” I yell.

  Jared gets up and shakes it off. The giant stares at me, an expression of bemusement on his face. “Same.” He points a long finger at me. “Same.” He points at Margot. His teeth are too short, in places missing altogether. When he speaks, the words tumble out childishly, as though he’s just learned to talk.

  “That’s right. And you do not want to hurt her. Your boss will be very angry.”

  Muscle Man whispers urgently at the giant. I turn the gun on him and fire into his leg. The recoil knocks me back, but I keep my feet as the man screams and falls.

  Jared is suddenly before me, a trickle of blood oozing from his nose. He gently pulls the gun strap from around my neck. “Okay, okay,” he coos. His hair is clotted with blood on the right side, as though he’s been bashed but good.

  “No it’s not.” I fight the overwhelming urge to sit down.

  “Stay on your feet, Princess,” he snaps, though his eyes survey every inch of me in a single glance. Making sure I’m whole. “Margot,” he calls. “Take a step to the left. Slowly, that’s it.”

  She does. The giant looks like he wants to argue, but he’s still busy. His eyes travel between Margot and me again and again, as though trying to pinpoint our differences.

  “Sister,” I tell him. The giant nods, as though I’ve said something wise. A shot cracks out from behind me and the giant crumples. “Why did you do that?” I scream, horrified. But the look on Jared’s face says bloody murder.

  And steam is quickly filling the room.

  Margot comes toward me. “The pipe’s been hit. I think the room is going to fry.”

  “Gee, you think?” Jared answers testily.

  “Well, do something to help it along!”

  Jared throws the gun to one side of his body and crosses his arm. “I don’t take orders. And we’re not burning this place down with you both inside it.”

  But Margot’s rising panic and anger give me all the incentive I need. The gun hangs loosely around Jared’s frame, so it’s not such an effort to grab it and point at the large black machine that the broken pipe feeds into. My fingers twitch on the trigger. Jared tries to slap my hands away, but it only presses the trigger down faster. Round after round flies into the machine, shredding it. Fire belches from its side, but the bullets keep flying, hitting the pipes crawling from floor to ceiling, more canisters, more machines, until finally Jared rips the gun from my reach.

  “What the hell are you doing, Lu?” Jared yells. He freezes, listening to something our ears can’t pick up. “Get out of here. Now.” H
e pulls Margot and me toward a door that the giant and muscle man must have come through. Margot holds out a shaky finger. The blue light spills over her skin, taking too long, too long while the fire blooms behind us.

  The door finally snicks open. We’re about to step through when a voice cuts through the flames and chaos.

  “Margot.”

  Resnikov looks untouched somehow—by the flames or the violence all around him. Margot turns white as a sheet and starts to shake. Fear and pain stab through my heart until I’m gasping for breath.

  “Margot, don’t leave. You can’t leave. Te mne nujno, maya Dorogaya.” He takes a step forward, the inkling of a hand raising.

  Whatever blood was left in Margot’s face drains. I can feel her grow faint. Before either of us can say or do anything, Jared shoves us through the door. The metal quickly slides it shut behind us.

  A massive rumble shakes the building.

  Jared forces us into a run through the corridors. There are guards everywhere, most running toward the baby factory. But despite the omnipresent scream of the alarm, or maybe because of it, no one stops us. It doesn’t hurt that he’s still dressed in soldier fatigues and is strapped with a semiautomatic rifle.

  “It’s this way,” Margot urges, pushing us toward an utterly nondescript door. We push the bar and stumble out toward the inky gray skyline of Starry Oskol.

  Margot doubles over, sobbing for breath. I reach out and touch her back, and she grabs my hand. I feel it then. Feel her lungs burning for oxygen, for fresh air. Air she hasn’t breathed for months now, I reckon.

  Jared’s eyes are green coals as he eyes the top of the Elephant, buckling with heat. “No time,” he says. One eyebrow cocks up. “You need me to give you a lift?” he asks Margot.

  Straightening her spine, Margot shakes her head. We half walk, half run to the gates where two sentries are on high alert. Visors pulled down over their eyes, they train their guns on us as we come forward, but they don’t make any other overt moves.

  “Explosion,” Jared tells the sentry. “Boss Man said evacuate the jewels.” Jared tips his head to both of us, then back at the building.