by K. F. Breene
A moment later, the owner flew after it.
“Oh!” Trent backed up, bumping into Millicent. Ryker bent to the other body, picked it up easily, and then launched it over the ledge. Limbs waved through the air as it disappeared out of sight.
Trent clutched Marie tighter. “Was that really necessary?” he asked in a strangely high-pitched voice.
“Nope.” Ryker glanced beyond Trent to Millicent. Apparently satisfied, he started forward.
A swish of fabric and a hydraulic buzz preceded a gunshot. Trent jumped and spun back toward Millicent. A person collapsed to the ground behind them.
“You okay back there, cupcake?” Ryker asked.
Two more gunshots made Trent flinch.
“Think anyone monitors the cameras down here?” Millicent asked, pushing Trent onward.
“No, I do not,” Ryker said.
“Then I’m doing great.”
Another shape darted out from the side, diving right for Trent. “Ryker!” Trent hunched over Marie protectively. A grunt and a wet squelch sounded behind him. Followed by a death rattle.
“All clear,” Ryker said. Another body went over the side.
“Someone is going to wonder why it’s raining dead people,” Millicent said.
They advanced again, walking down the eerily quiet walkway. “Where are all the people?” Trent asked quietly, trying to peer into the gloom for any sign of movement or human life. If something was there, he couldn’t tell.
“I don’t know,” Millicent said, just as softly. “I’ve never seen a walkway so barren.”
“Not natural,” Ryker said. Purple-pink glowed from his wrist, an extremely odd color for a violent man like him. Trent pointed this out. “Changed it when I found out I had a daughter. Reminded me of her when I couldn’t be around her. Now that she’s around . . . I like that people get the wrong idea.”
“Why?”
“Because they do stupid things, which means I get to teach them a lesson.”
Trent shook his head, watching a vehicle slowly drift by. A loud clack, clack, clack drifted by with it, the thing barely hovering along. “You have issues.”
“You create people with issues. You should be used to it.”
They stopped beside a nondescript door, the surface smooth and untarnished—a complete contrast to the scarred and pockmarked walls to either side. Millicent stepped next to Trent, facing away so as to cover them from attackers.
Ryker tapped in a code of some sort, all the buttons ever-changing symbols, randomizing with each keystroke.
“This is an expensive defensive door and code combo,” Ryker said, pulling the door open a crack, bracing himself for a possible attack. After a moment, he relaxed and then widened the opening. Nothing but a dimly lit interior with beige walls awaited them.
“Why put that much money into a place this far down?” Millicent asked. “Maybe this city has too much commerce to stick to the upper parts of the city.”
“I don’t think that’s it. Not with the surroundings looking like they do.” Ryker stepped to the side as Millicent brought up her gun. “What is it?”
“I see a shape,” she said. “I bet it’s the person who’s been following us.”
“Someone has been following us?”
The gunshot made Trent flinch again. A small tendril of smoke curled up from the barrel. A hand slapped the pavement within the hazy beam of light. She lowered the weapon slowly, her focus fixed on a shadowy area. “He hung back after I killed the first couple. Probably one of the smarter ones. Got him, though. Not smart enough.”
“She wasn’t supposed to have these kinds of aggressive issues,” Trent mumbled to himself as Marie snuggled closer; he was still not able to resign himself to killing and dead bodies. It was a lot to take in.
“Survival, Mr. McAllister, is not a situation for decorum.” Millicent glanced at Ryker, got a jerk of the head, and led the way into the corridor.
With a firm hand steering him, Trent followed. The door shut behind Ryker with a well-maintained click.
“There’s no way a pirate could have set this up, is there?” Millicent asked as she slowly made her way down the corridor, gun held between both hands and pointed upward. She was a natural.
“I doubt it,” Ryker said, passing Trent and then putting the same firm hand on Millicent to slow her down. He took the lead. “Not with this kind of money and security. This is professional, and not our former conglomerate, so I couldn’t begin to guess what is kept down here.”
In twenty meters, the corridor intersected another. Uniform lighting continued throughout, but no signs or directional descriptions gave them a clue as to what awaited them.
Ryker checked his wrist before hooking a thumb right. “Looks like we turn here.”
This corridor was exactly the same as the other. Same lighting, same color, same size—the only difference was the direction. The next turn was the same. And the next. Without a guidance system, it would be easy to get turned around and possibly lost for a good long time.
“A lot of money went into making this place confusing,” Millicent said, somehow plucking the thoughts right out of Trent’s brain.
“It’s cheap down here. The property, I mean.” Ryker slowed and looked at his wrist before a door that looked much the same as the others. The doors inside were all constructed of the same metal they’d encountered outside.
“Still. The construction and tech alone are hefty expenses. And without a bay? Those thieves outside must make money if they’re waiting around in numbers like that.” Millicent looked behind them.
“That’s a back way. If pirates use it routinely, I’m sure people are picked off. That’s got nothing to do with the conglomerate. This place probably has a bay in the front entrance.” He keyed in a code, hesitating between two symbols at one point before finally choosing one. His sigh was barely audible. Apparently that decision had been a leap of faith.
The door cracked open but didn’t swing out. Just stayed where it was, asking them to do all the work.
Ryker slowly pulled it back. He glanced in quickly, and then opened the door wider. “Looks clear.”
Trent hesitated before he followed Ryker in. The color changed from the stagnant beige of the corridor to a cheery yellow with warm overtones. The warm hallway was decorated with lovely paintings and relaxing or rejuvenating murals. The floor, a warm reddish-brown tile, shone from constant cleaning. This seemed like the interior of someone’s home.
“I don’t like this,” Trent said.
“Hurry.” Millicent pushed him forward.
The door closed behind them as Ryker consulted his directions. He led them left. It only took a few dozen steps for him to freeze. Trent jostled Marie as Ryker pushed them back and against the wall.
“There is an open doorway up to the right,” he whispered, “with a glass viewing area beside it. Looks like an exercise facility. I saw three people entering, all wearing the same suits. We need to change.” He motioned back to the door they’d come through.
Millicent paused when they reached it, and then spread her hands across the smooth surface. Her glance back at them was fraught with consternation. “One-way door. Unless Marie can open it, we’re trapped.”
Ryker’s face closed down into a terrifying mask of calmness. People drifting away from life probably saw that expression.
He slowly turned back in the direction of the exercise facility, looking at Marie for a beat too long, and then nodded slowly. “We get dressed. If we’ve been set up, we’ll blow this whole thing sky-high.”
“Can you do that?” Trent asked as certain parts of him tingled. It was his flight reflex. He was well versed with the signals by now. Around Ryker, he experienced them constantly.
“No.” Ryker pulled out the clothing he’d been handed by the city guard. “But she can.” He jerked his head at Millicent.
“But you don’t have any weapons that big.” Trent’s limbs shook as he set Marie down. He had no idea w
hy this news was causing him uncomfortable jitters. Surely it should’ve been good news that this rather petite and beautiful woman could blow a building to hell with nothing but the clothes on her back. That was helpful in the short term.
Long term, he’d never want to stand near her again.
But all his thoughts shorted out as she quickly stripped out of her clothes and displayed a perfect body with high round breasts, a tight stomach, and a delicious hourglass figure.
“If you want to keep your eyes, bub, you ought to look away,” Trent heard in a low growl. “That’s the only warning you’ll ever get.”
Face burning up to his ears—because really, he had been lucky to get a warning—he inched toward the far wall and stared at a lovely picture of a fat woman holding some sort of fuzzy domestic animal with long whiskers. Since his Clarity had long since worn off, he couldn’t do much about the raging problem down below. Hopefully Ryker wouldn’t get the insane urge to break it off.
After the scratchy new suit was on—the pant legs riding high and sleeves not reaching his wrists—he turned around to face the others. Even Marie had a sort of suit, though its markings were different. Everyone’s but Trent’s fit properly.
“They got a suit to fit the giant guy, but not the normal guy?” Trent said under his breath as he took Marie’s hand. “You need to walk for a little while, okay? I need a break from carrying you.”
“’Kay,” Marie said in her tiny little voice. She took his hand and then squeezed Bunny into her neck.
“Keep up your guard, Millie,” Ryker said, an unusual type of seriousness in his voice. “I don’t know what we’re going to find.”
“Neither do I,” she said. “I can’t find any consoles and I’m not registering any wireless. How do they get onto the net in here?”
Ryker’s lips thinned, and a killer’s edge crept into his eyes. He shook his head once, slowly, before he started forward again. They reached the doorway he’d mentioned before he stalled, but this time they turned into it. Trent followed. His jaw dropped.
The huge room was alive with activity. Running mats, weights, and fitness machines filled the space, almost all of them occupied. Shapely and fit figures, one and all, ran like they’d been doing it all their life. Moving easily, very few of them out of breath, they looked straight ahead and went about their occupation. Through a glass wall was a pool of liquid such as Trent had never seen in his life. Water! Azure blue and glistening in the white light above, it was contained in a rectangle, divided into smaller rectangles—lanes, it looked like. Within them, people were slowly propelling their bodies through the liquid.
“Have you ever seen anything like that?” Trent asked Millicent. If anyone would’ve, it would’ve been her.
“No. All that water,” she said in wonder, staring. “Where did they get all that water?”
“This is a recycling plant. I should’ve known.” Ryker took Millicent’s hand and pulled her along. Trent followed on numb legs. He couldn’t stop staring at all that water. His tongue thickened, and an intense thirst washed over him.
“Can’t drink that water,” Ryker said in a low tone as he moved through the people exercising, clearly reading Trent’s mind. Or possibly the longing expression that must’ve been on his face. “It has a lot of chemicals in it. It’s treated water from outside. It causes lesions and cancers on the skin after too much contact. If they swallow it, it’ll cause sickness and long-term effects.”
“Then why are they in it?” Millicent asked.
“Swimming is good for you. It is a great way to keep fit. Or so I’ve heard.” Halfway through the room, Ryker altered their course toward the southwest, cutting through the gathered people at a diagonal now. None of them so much as looked up. They stared off into space—not even at holograms or screens—and continued to move. The machines all had a stand of controls next to them, equipped with buttons. A display read the time and speed. It looked like they had to manually control their settings.
“It sounds like it’s bad for you,” Millicent said.
“Why don’t they use their implants?” Trent wondered aloud, noticing someone at the back reach forward and push a button on the control. Her legs churned a little faster.
“Recycling plant,” Ryker whispered again as they made it to the wall. He stopped by a door and consulted his wrist. “They won’t be around long enough for cancer.”
It dawned on Trent what he meant, and judging by the look on Millicent’s face, she did, too. Clones. Or lab bred but not assigned a civic duty. Human parts used to keep the upper levels alive longer.
“I have two assigned to me,” Millicent said softly as they exited the room. Her gaze lingered through the viewing glass as they walked down another cheery hallway.
Rooms were off to the sides now, mostly with open doors. The spaces were all pristine and clean, and the general vibe was some degree of happiness or relaxation. Youthful and vibrant, the decorations provided a sense of calm.
“So this is what they do all day? Just work out and relax?” Trent yanked his gaze away from one open room in which three persons were writhing against each other, all of them nude. “Among other things.”
“They are staying fit and healthy,” Ryker said, directing them around a corner. “Maximum life expectancy is thirty. If some part of them isn’t used by then, they’ll be turned loose or killed, their choice. If turned loose, they might be able to find a sector job somewhere, but someone will have to put an implant in them. That costs money.”
“Why thirty?” Millicent asked.
Another large room housed various seats in which people were sitting around with portable screens, staring. Reading, probably. The next room was filled with table screens. Puzzle pieces littered the viewers.
“Calling HRK-234RZ,” a voice said over the loudspeaker. “Congratulations, you can now fulfill your duty. Please report to the assignment center. Calling HRK-234RZ, please report to the assignment center. It is time to serve Gregon Corp.”
Clapping echoed through the hallways, pouring out of rooms. Someone had just been chosen to die.
“I had no idea,” Trent said as disgust ate away his gut.
“What’d you think happened?” Ryker asked, veering them around a dispensary of some sort.
“I . . . don’t know.” He blinked at a man lathering himself with lotion. The room was full of little stations for just that purpose. “I never really thought about it. I guess I just assumed we cloned some of the higher-ranked people and used those clones whenever a transplant was needed. Not that we held people in a sort of farm until we needed to harvest them.”
“This is the reality of it. They think and feel, but they’re treated like hosts to precious organs intended for someone like me. Like Millie. They have no life, everything they say and do is monitored, and they are kept here until needed.” Ryker pushed open a door and waited beside it as the others filed past him.
“Their lives aren’t all that much different than ours,” Millicent said, almost to herself. “Except I did get to think for myself.”
“As long as it benefited the conglomerate, yeah.” Ryker pointed at a bench seat along a far wall. “Sit. We’re supposed to wait here. We’re a little early. Millie, get your defenses ready. I doubt they’d try to keep us here, but we still don’t know what we’re meeting.”
“But . . .” Millicent frowned as she messed with something inside her jacket. “If they cloned me, then that . . . person would be as smart as me, right? Isn’t that how it works?”
“I don’t know how it works, actually,” Ryker said. “I just know the outcome.”
“Why don’t they just clone the organs, rather than the whole being?” Millicent asked, biting her lip. Trent recognized that quirk as her attempt to figure something out.
“Cheaper, probably,” Ryker said, shrugging. “Otherwise they have to fire up the systems for each transplant. This way, they can use one person for a few spare parts.”
“This conversation
is making me sick,” Trent said, thinking about all those people he’d passed, waiting for death. Waiting to go under the knife so a piece of them could be put into someone else. Someone more important.
A pop had Ryker brandishing a knife out of nowhere. A door Trent hadn’t noticed—it blended in perfectly with the wall—swung open, emitting a tall lanky man with a canvas sack. Another man, shifty-eyed and balding, followed closely behind. He was a natural born! Unless the lab in Gregon was completely useless. Trent’s department had filtered out balding a long time ago.
“What are you doing here early?” the lanky man asked in a harried voice. He glanced out the far window. His upper lip was beaded in perspiration. He dropped the sack and shook his head. “We have ten minutes, tops, before someone sounds the alarm.”
Millicent leaned toward the sack, surveying the contents.
“Hold on a minute, Sticks. What’s this about an alarm?” Ryker asked, not looking at the exposed interior of the bag.
“These things don’t got implants, you read me?” Sticks said, gesturing wildly beyond the walls. “So the guards gotta watch with their eyes. Old school.” He pointed at the corners of the ceiling. “My guy was told when to cut the feed for maintenance. You’re early. He didn’t cut it in time. He’s trying to undo that problem, but there ain’t no time travel, hip to that? So we gotta do this deal, and then you gotta deal with your problem.”
“What do you mean, I have to deal with my problem?” Ryker’s words held a knife and a promise.
Shifty Eye stilled, his gaze drifting down Ryker’s large body before returning to his face. Dawning understanding struck, and judging by his expression, it flipped his world upside down.
“Who is yous guys?” Shifty Eye asked, now looking at Marie in disbelief.
