The dominoes of my life fell before me, and the last one wobbled, about to tip.
“You call it, Justin.” Martin held out a pin.
I took it and held it in my palm. If Sammie was in that building, I could be with her in minutes. Otherwise, I might never have another chance. “I’m in.”
“Yes!” Zack threw a punch in the air.
I whipped off my baseball cap. “We should change.”
“Right.” Martin pointed to the alley. “Over there.”
Zack stood guard while Martin and I changed into our uniform jumpsuits, then we waited for him. We put our clothes in Martin’s backpack and fastened the pins to each others’ lapels.
Zack handed us each a Zapper.
I tucked my stake in my back pocket.
Blazes—we looked like a bunch of sludge brains trying to pull off the impossible.
No pressure.
VIDSCREEN TRANSCRIPT FOR VINCENT MARKS
Year 75, Month 5, Day 21, 12:00 PM
* * * * * * * * * *
Good afternoon, fellow New City citizens. Vincent Marks here. Welcome to Action News 7 Twelfth Hour Broadcast. Today, we bring you breaking news of three Anemies who trespassed into the Commercial Laundry Service earlier this morning. Video footage taken from the facility shows the fugitives breaking into the rear entrance. A few minutes later, they can be seen fleeing the building. Records from the laundry service reveal the Anemies stole several uniforms, the purpose of which is currently unknown.
We believe this gang of thieves is led by the very same Anemie who trespassed into the Elite District earlier this week, harassed several human slaves, and assaulted two guards.
They all remain at large and should be considered armed and dangerous. Authorities ask everyone to maintain vigilance. It is imperative that they be apprehended.
With your help, we will locate them.
Stay tuned to Action News 7 for real-time updates, brought to you by yours truly, Vincent Marks, as they develop.
Be well. Be safe.
Now, let’s move on to Sanchez Olivar, and his continuing coverage of the biodome construction…
* * * * * * * * * *
Year 75, Month 5, Day 21, afternoon
y face graced the vidscreens more frequently the closer we got to the Elite District. Wanted Fugitive No. 1. So dangerous with my anemic blood and unpredictable behavior. Why, I could break into anywhere, attack any random slave or citizen, and bludgeon whoever I wanted with all my weapons while wearing my freshly-laundered, ill-fitting, stolen slave uniform.
Clearly, I was a menace.
And the leader of a gang. Thanks to Vincent Marks’ latest news broadcast, poor Martin had been demoted.
I had to wonder if Alex had seen it. What would he think?
Problem: my upgrade to fugitive status made moving around more impossible than impossible, and I’d zoomed past impossible less than a week ago.
A display vidscreen facing the window of a tech store went to splitscreen. My face, narrower on only half the screen filled the left side while the right further divided to show Martin’s and Zack’s faces, one on top of the other.
Aww, the whole “family” together at last. Thankfully, Anna was left out. Good thing we hadn’t included her in the break in.
Zack tripped over his foot. “Shit,” he cursed.
Martin caught him. “I thought they’d want to keep us breaking into one of their building’s quiet. They can’t admit Anemies are capable of B&E’s.”
“They just did,” I said.
“We’re famous,” Zack grinned.
Martin whacked him on the back of the head.
“Ow.” He rubbed the spot, grimacing.
“You guys don’t have to come with me,” I said.
Zack craned his neck. Wearing the slave uniforms we stole provided some disguise. Regardless, I huddled behind Martin and Zack for cover. Well, more like hid behind Martin. If I used Zack as a screen, I’d have to walk on my knees.
“Dude, we can’t leave you now, right Martin?” Zack asked.
Martin gulped like his throat was dry. “Y-yeah. We’re not going anywhere.”
I wanted to call him a sludge brain (he totally was for sticking by me), but he promised to stay, and I had to respect that. If I were in his place, I’d totally dip out. “Thanks, man.”
“Thank me when we’re out of here.”
The other slaves stared at us, a trio of stinky humans wearing sloppified Elite uniforms, huddled on the street. We probably looked like we were planning some sort of mutiny. Wrinkled and wearing eau de garbage perfume, we attracted too much attention. We’d never fool anyone in the lab. Miracle we hadn’t been recognized yet with all the vidscreens plastered around the city.
This was such a stupid idea.
But it was worth the risk if I found Sammie.
We rounded the corner of Abarron Avenue and Tenth. Abarron Pharmaceuticals was on the left while the companion laboratory stood to our right. Both gleaming skyscrapers flanked a perfect, tree-lined street. No rundown brownstones here. No crumbling sidewalks. No garbage. The three of us paused at once, causing slaves behind us to crash into our backs. Several complained but moved on without confrontation. No one had time for a real argument.
Jitters raced up my spine. My heart pounded. This was it. Sammie had to be close. Had to.
We ducked off to the side, using a row of neatly-trimmed shrubs as a blind. Seriously, the branches on either side were even, parallel, and uniformly tapered.
“You ready?” Martin squinted at the building like he could see through the walls to the inside.
Half a dozen guards flanked the entrance of the lab. Dressing in a blue uniform might have worked if the entire Guard wasn’t searching for me, but by now all of them would be on super high alert and could probably recognize me from a hundred yards away. “I wasn’t expecting all this security.”
Zack cursed.
Martin gave the universal no-big-deal shrug. “Looks standard to me.”
“We need another plan.” I rested my forehead against the building and pressed my palms against the polished metal.
“We have the pins. It’ll work,” Zack offered.
“No, it won’t,” I grumbled. Even if we got in, I had no idea where she was in the building.
“But you survived a Vie. Maybe you’re like super lucky.”
“Luck won’t get us in there,” I countered. “It won’t help us figure out where she is or how to get to her.”
“You can’t flake out now,” Zack said.
“I think you’re right, Justin. We need to identify what floor she’s on,” Martin said.
Assuming we’d picked the correct lab. Abarron had several. We were taking a risk by choosing his main one. I had no proof other than what Alex said. I put a lot of faith in an unsure thing. Oh God, she better be in there, especially after all of this.
“Yeah,” I said.
Dad had believed in magic too, in a way. He’d also believed in careful planning and using whatever resources were available. It had required both imagination and smarts to do what he did. No one else had tamed Vie long enough to pitch a peace treaty, regardless of it ending in Anemie deaths. He had even been a bit of a guru before things went bad. After the virus and our banishment… well, he’d given up trying to negotiate with Vie. As far as I knew, no one in the city had heard of him or what he’d done.
“We’ll have to go with plan B,” I said.
“Which is…?” Martin’s coat of confidence slipped off his shoulders, exposing his neck. A bad thing when you lived in a world of blood drinkers.
Plan B. Plan B. Accept the impossible—trust a Vie. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
“Get your Vie friend to escort us inside. He could find out where Sammie is and take us to her.”
He gritted his teeth.
“Ah, I found the limit of what your benefactor is willing to do,” I jabbed.
Martin huffed. “We already wen
t through this. Be glad he’s done this much.”
I grabbed the pin. “This is getting me nowhere.”
He expected—no demanded—thankfulness, but how could I thank him for building up my hope and then smashing it to bits with a mallet?
He sighed. “You do realize you’re asking for us to do something that’s never been done before. No one, no Anemie has dared trespass into a Vie lab, let alone break someone out.”
The glitter of a girl’s sparkling hair clip distracted me. Probably around my age, she rushed full of purpose like any other slave robbed of an innocent Vie-free childhood. Her honey-colored hair shimmered in the sun along with the clip in her hair and the Elite pin on her lapel. The clip was in the shape of a snowflake. Like Sammie’s. A tingling in my stomach exploded across my body like a firework.
I dashed after her.
“Oi!” Zack yelped.
The slave girl’s ponytail bounced from her quick walk. Her blue jumpsuit hugged her in all the right places. It would be distracting except for the bauble in her hair. Was it coincidence or was it a message from Alex? Could I hope for such a thing?
The tingle shifted to a low buzz. I had to play it cool. Sure, no problem. I could be chill when my sister’s life hung on the line. Nodding to myself inside my head, I jogged up next to her.
“Hey, where are you headed?” I asked.
She put a hand to her chest. Her eyes—the same shade of a spring leaf—widened. “Oh, you scared me.”
“Sorry, I—”
She halted, gaze darting all over me, taking in a wrinkle here, a stain there. “Who are you?”
I pointed to her Elite pin. “A co-worker.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“Well, sort of.”
“Uh-huh. Look, I have work to do.” She rushed off.
I trotted to keep up with her. “Were you just at the lab?”
She slowed, casting a suspicious glance at me. “Why?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know where they keep Anemies?” I lowered my voice so other slaves couldn’t hear.
“Anemies? In the lab?” She squinted.
I reached out then hesitated, barely catching myself from touching her hair clip. “My sister has one just like it.”
Her gaze faltered as her fingertips brushed the clip. “Your sister…”
“Her name is Sammie. Samantha.”
“What does this have to do with Anemies?” Her green eyes stabbed me.
Disarmed by them, I gushed. “I just wondered have you seen a little girl, blonde hair, five years old. She’d be in the lab.”
“That’s your sister?” she asked.
I nodded, heart in my throat.
“She’s an Anemie?” She fiddled with the hair clip again. She had to know something. Had to.
Nearly breathless, I said, “She’s with a Vie, and he wants me to find him. Can you help me?”
“No.” Her hand lowered to her neck.
“Please. Please.”
She licked her lips, eyes darting. “I have to go. I’m late.”
The darting tipped me off. Something made her nervous. A lie, maybe? I grabbed her by the elbow. “Don’t go. I’m begging you to help me. My sister is all I have.”
“I can’t. Now let me go before I scream.” She yanked her arm away.
“I’m not asking you to go with me or anything. Just tell me how to get to the Vie… or to her. I’ll do the rest. I need a location. That’s all. A small clue.”
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stared into the nearest window. Of course, it framed a vidscreen. And on the vidscreen was a new collage of Martin, Zack, and my pictures. Beneath our faces read: WANTED ARMED FUGITIVES in bright red letters. A message scrolled along the top of the screen.
Gang of Anemies suspected of theft and assault. Whereabouts currently unknown. Suspected armed and dangerous. Alert authorities immediately if you have any information. A reward will be given upon their capture.
“Oh, you’re…” She stepped away, but I snaked my arm around her to prevent her from running.
“Wait. I don’t mean anybody any harm. I just want to find Sammie, okay? You don’t have to—”
“Help! Guards!” she screamed.
Martin and Zack appeared in an instant. They pulled me away from her.
“Guys, no! She knows. She knows.” I writhed and kicked at them as they dragged me down an alley, but they didn’t let go.
“We have to get out of here. The whole Elite Guard will come with her screaming like that,” Martin growled.
“Come on, man,” Zack said.
“I can’t leave Sammie,” I cried, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.
The snowflake girl: I couldn’t lose track of her, or I’d lose my sister forever.
“We have to leave now or they’ll kill us.” Martin overpowered me. Easily.
Our leaving lasted all of three seconds.
Half a dozen guards blocked our escape. Another group closed in from behind. Where had they come from? Had they sprung up from the storm drains or manholes?
“Oh, blazes,” Zack whispered.
“That’s him.” A pig-faced guard nodded his head. “Take them all.”
To call us outnumbered was an understatement.
I retrieved my Zapper and so did Martin. Zack’s hand trembled as he held his. Martin struck first by zapping the closest guard. He jerked and collapsed to the ground while a guard behind me fished his arms under mine. I zapped his wrist. He grunted and fell. I landed on top of him on my back. A third guard smacked the Zapper out of my hand. He lifted me by my collar and hurled me toward the nearest building. My skull smacked against the red bricks. An intense throbbing pulsed from the contact point. Something warm trickled down my scalp.
One guard lay prone in front of Martin. Two more pounded on top of him. He didn’t go down. Martin, AKA Bull Man. A third guard zapped him until he collapsed.
Zack tried to wiggle away from the pair of guards restraining him but couldn’t.
The guards finished it that quickly.
Leftovers on a battlefield, our three Zappers lay discarded on the ground, useless, like our anemic muscles. Guards were twice as big and three times as strong as us. I’d been stupidly lucky to beat them last time, partly because I’d surprised them and partly because I faced only two and because I zapped them first. All miracles.
“You’re coming with us.” The guard held me tight enough to squish out all my insides.
“Let them go,” I protested.
“Shut up, Anemie.” The guard spun me around.
His fist collided with my jaw. Stabbing pain streaked through my face. I dropped to my knees.
He grabbed my hair and tugged. “You should keep your hands to yourself.”
“Ungh—”
The sting of a Zapper knocked me out.
Year 75, Month 5, Day 23, after sunset
‘d never watched the shows myself—living on the streets, dodging guards and Vie raids, and raising my baby sister left little down time—but I’d seen clips and heard about the vidscreen fad: live executions, shot in ultra-high-def for a Vie’s viewing pleasure.
Newer ones were filmed for holovids, the next generation of vids, taking 3D to 4D.
Vie didn’t take their entertainment or their executions lightly. Drawing someone’s death out for hours created the most suspense. Torture executions had, then, become the most watched and most popular kind.
Vie imagination knew no limits and inflicting pain was no exception. Skilled in anatomy and patience, a Vie executioner could make a human subject last longer than imaginable.
“Can’t you do something?” Zack shivered as he huddled between Martin and me for warmth.
We sat in a stone-walled cell, chilled from dampness. It had no windows except for a small square one in the metal door. In a minor act of kindness, it let in a spoonful of light from the corridor. Just enough to make out the lines of dried blood staining the dark gra
y paint, like whoever waited here before us tried to claw their way out. The occasional clink or bang of pipes trickled in through the small gap between the door and concrete floor. Water stains streaked the stones’ faces as if they wept for our situation. I knew I wanted to. For Sammie. For Zack. For myself. Even for Martin, more because of the Anemies he was leaving behind. What would they do without him bringing NCAAR supplies?
“There’s nothing to do but wait.” Martin hung his head to rub his skull in slow circles.
“Your risk didn’t pay off,” I said.
“No, it didn’t. But you are the Bringer of Death. Except it’s mine and Zack’s deaths you brought, not Vie.” His voice was soft, broken. No bitterness. Just broken faith.
The door to our cell creaked open. A scar-faced Vie dumped a corpse in front of us. The poor man’s body flopped and crunched when it landed on the floor. Blood covered his clothes and skin. His throat, torn open, gaped with threads of ripped muscles and sinew that hung down like tattered streamers.
Zack tucked his chin and covered his eyes with his hands. Martin simply shook his head. The Vie snickered. How nice of him to give us a glimpse into our limited futures.
Heat-filled rage coursed through my limbs. It flared in my heart. I hoisted myself up, crossed the small cell in two steps, and squared off with the Vie. His dark eyes glistened with curiosity. “Hey, Scarface, you get off on torturing people, don’t you, you sick bastard?”
“What’re you doing?” Zack scrambled, grasping for my ankle.
Martin held him back.
“Are you volunteering for a beating?” The Vie cracked his knuckles.
“I bet you like hanging down here with the rest of us rejects. I can’t imagine you have a lot of Vie pals, looking like that.”
“I would hold my tongue if I were you. Or else I’ll cut it out and feed it to you.”
“I’m not afraid of you.” My voice wavered. The wobbly traitor.
Zack screeched, “What the hell are you doing, Justin?”
“You talk brave now, Anemie, but you’ll change your attitude when you face the judges.” The Vie exposed his fangs and hissed before leaving.
The door slammed shut behind him.
“Hey, come here. I was talking to you, clotsucker!” I called.
Dawn of the Vie (Immortal Aliens Book 1) Page 10
