Falling One by One

by S. A. McAuley

  I breathed out. “Paper records.”

  Manny nodded. “Most likely paper records that his father was holding onto despite the order to surrender all archives to officials.”

  “What he found in those records could be how he connected with the Opposition in the first place,” Armise mused.

  I frowned. “I always assumed it was because of his time as an ambassador in Singapore.”

  Manny chuckled. “He’d turned way before then. Believe me.”

  I scrubbed a hand through my hair and over my face. For a moment I’d forgotten that Manny was a Dark Ops officer for Singapore. I’d let him in because Armise trusted him, not because I knew anything about him. Apparently my trust in Armise radiated to his inner circle as well.

  “It doesn’t matter when he decided the Opposition would be more advantageous for him.” I held the transport chip between my forefinger and thumb. Dakra had said Ahriman wanted to see me, not Armise, but I wouldn’t waste time trying to freeze Armise out of coming with me. He wouldn’t let me go alone. “Do we use this?”

  Armise cocked his head. “You were the one who said you were sick of waiting.”

  Manny scrunched his face and peered at Armise. “You are way too gleeful about the possibilities. All of which are dire.”

  Armise abruptly frowned. “You aren’t coming with us.”

  “Not an option,” Manny growled.

  “We need you out here,” Armise said. “You will be the only one who has any idea where we are headed.”

  “We don’t know where we’re headed to,” I reminded him.

  Manny picked at the edges of his torn shirt, and I could see his wound was now fully healed. “There has to be something we can do. A trail of some kind you can leave or take with you.”

  I flipped the transport chip in my hand and thought of Chen. “The only person I knew who could have done that is dead.”

  Ahriman would know Armise and I had removed all our chips—he wouldn’t have invited us to him if he thought we would be able to lead anyone to him. And I had to consider that the only reason he was allowing us to get close to him was because he thought we wouldn’t get away from him alive. But if that’s what he believed then I was ready to shock the fuck out of him.

  I let the warmth of my bottled-up anger settle. I would need that strength for what was to come.

  “What the hell do we have to lose besides our lives?”

  * * * *

  The transition from Armise’s village to wherever we were had been nearly painless. The steadiest transport of my life, in fact. The weight of Armise’s hand was on my back—that marred left hand on my ruined right shoulder. He curled his fingers into me when the transition ended. We were alone in the room but I didn’t think that would last for long. And I couldn’t pretend that we weren’t being monitored already.

  The transport room smelled of wound pitch—a battlefield mix used to stave off bleeding—and smoke. A combination that was familiar but that I couldn’t place.

  “You know where we are?” I said to him.

  His hand slid down my back and rested on the empty spot at my hip where my sonicpistol would usually lie. “This is where I left Dr. Blanc with Ahriman…”

  I heard the incomplete nature of his sentence. There was still much I didn’t know about his time away from me. “And?”

  “And where Ahriman put me under and took something from me. From my body.”

  “Do you know what it was?”

  The abrupt grinding of Armise’s teeth was audible. He caught my eye. “I think it was your encryption key.”

  Frustration slid through me. Another answer that came with more unanswered questions. “Armise—” I began to say when his hand tightened at my waist. I took my eyes off him and looked to the door where Ahriman was standing, arms crossed, feet spread wide to ground him, shoulders square—the physical embodiment of an X in the frame of the doorway. His chin was up and his pale, empty eyes were narrowed as he watched us.

  Armise glazed over Ahriman’s presence and kept his eyes on me. “You told me he needed something from me. I let him take it and used his father to make sure I woke from that procedure.”

  I caught on to the meaning of what he was telling me, taking in the downward tilt of the corner of his lips and the hair that fell nearly into his eyes. He wasn’t the stage-groomed man I’d faced on the rifle range before the Opening Ceremony two years ago. This was my Armise—dangerous, too wild to be contained and unapologetic when it came to saving his own life or mine. We would need that levelheaded focus to make it past Ahriman.

  I kept my gaze locked to his. “We do what we have to to stay alive.”

  “So much weakness,” Ahriman said and turned his back on us. “We ready to begin?”

  Without warning, my world went black.

  * * * *

  I heard the crack more than I felt the strike of Ahriman’s fist against my jaw. My body wasn’t right—it was the only single word I could put to the sensation. My brain cells weren’t communicating with my nerves and I could register the disconnect—as if silence had been force-flooded into my veins. There wasn’t the tingling lightheadedness of surge or the biting pain of physical restraints though.

  My eyes could focus on Ahriman hunched over me but I couldn’t will my hands to leave the spot where they lay on the floor. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and tried to move again.

  Nothing.

  I didn’t know where Armise was. Or how long I’d been here.

  Ahriman used his thumbs to force my eyelids farther open and stared into my pupils, then began to pace. The word again flickered through my consciousness and I had to wonder how many times I’d gone through this already or if I was having a flashback to my time with the PsychHAgs.

  “…you want to vilify me and the way I work. The way I lead.” He spoke in a clear voice as he treaded an imaginary line in front of me. “But it’s a fine line of providing and fear. There is want, but there is never desperation. They won’t rise up. They won’t risk their lives to follow you. And when we come to their homes they will cede without a fight. Because to fight takes courage, selflessness and a willingness to die. Qualities you may have but they don’t and never will.” Ahriman grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. “I don’t care how many of them die. Because it will be easier to control the few who are left.”

  “I-I—” I stuttered out before my throat clenched.

  Ahriman put his forefinger to his lips, shushing me. “Not everything is about you, Merq.”

  He cocked his head and studied me, never going to his knees, instead bowing deeply at the waist as if he couldn’t bring himself to look at me truly eye to eye. “You overestimate your impact. You’re a distraction. An outlet. This”—he put his thumbs to the edges of my eyeballs and applied pressure until I winced, the fear that he was going to dig in and pop my eyes from their sockets taking over—“this is fun for me. You’re here for no other reason than that deconstructing you makes me happy.”

  A strangled gurgle came from my throat as I tried to speak.

  “The implants haven’t fused completely yet,” another voice came from somewhere around me.

  I tried to turn my head to see who had spoken but Ahriman kept his thumbs pressed to my cheekbones.

  He let off the pressure. “I want you to be able to see what comes next.” He stood, fingers tapping in a nervous rhythm over his thumb. “Let’s hear you talk, too.” He stepped away from me and another man walked into my sightline carrying a syringe.

  The man who leaned over me, sticking the needle into my thigh and injecting an unknown substance into my veins, had the same pale tone to his eyes as Ahriman. He was gaunt, bony, even more so than Ahriman, but I recognized him from the few times I’d met him—Dr. Calum Blanc.

  I gasped for breath as soon as I felt the loosening of the invisible cage around me. I could breathe deeper but still not move.

  “Where’s Armise?”

  Ahriman smirked.
“The two of you… This will be more enjoyable than I could have anticipated.”

  I took in his words, realizing much too late the mistake Armise and I had made. Ahriman was going to use Armise and me against each other. Because it pleased him, not because he needed anything from us.

  “What did you do to us?” I scratched out, dread building inside me. I knew without a doubt that I would be shaking if it weren’t for whatever was keeping my muscles from moving.

  “Nothing. You’ve been doing all my work for me.” Ahriman stood in front of me and pulled at the edges of his shirt, adjusting the fabric so it lined up with the cut of his shoulders. “See, here’s the thing. I didn’t have to do anything to Wensen Kersch, the seeds of his betrayal were planted by him, in his own body. It’s the same with you, Merq. I do nothing and you betray yourself. I don’t have to brainwash you, your brain has already been swiped clean.”

  How was that possible? I couldn’t believe him. I couldn’t let anything he said to me dig its way into my psyche if I was going to survive this. I had to be as defiant as Armise had always been.

  “Dirtied, by you,” I scraped out.

  “If only I was your greatest enemy.” He sighed. “You probably think the hybrids pose a risk to you too. Sad, really.”

  “You’re not strong enough to undergo their transformation,” I spat back at him.

  If anything I was saying was getting to him, he didn’t show it. “Want to know a secret, Merq?” He took my wrist and lifted it, showing me a thin bone structure I couldn’t recognize as being mine at all. I must have looked as shocked as I felt because Ahriman grinned. “You have no idea how long you’ve actually been here. You should see how frail Armise looks…”

  My stomach sank. I’d do what I had to survive. Anything. Survival was the only call I would answer to. Ahriman turned my arm over and grazed his fingertips up my forearm in the shape of flames and a mimicry of how Tiam used to greet me. Ahriman laid his palm on my forearm and all I felt was cold—but not the centering cold of Armise.

  “You should see how frightened your Chen is.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Armise was hanging naked by his wrists from a pipe on the ceiling the first time I saw him. His muscles were still just as large, just as imposing, his body nowhere near as frail as mine, but he didn’t—or couldn’t—lift himself against the restraints. His forehead hung against his biceps, and the joints of his shoulders had to be on the verge of tearing out from the pressure. His skin was a sickly yellowish beige, the callused patches at his elbows and knees—the hallmarks of a sniper—split and seeping blood.

  Ahriman wasn’t in the room when I woke up and all I could say to Armise was survive. I reminded him over and over and over again, that one word becoming my new mantra, my guiding words. But I couldn’t hold on to consciousness long enough to see if Armise woke.

  The next time my mind jumped to the present I was more lucid and aware of the shift, and I was alone again. I never saw Chen. I didn’t know if I’d dreamed Ahriman saying her name or whether she was really here at all. She was dead. I’d seen her, touched her lifeless body. There was no way Neveed would have let her go, he would have died to keep her from Ahriman, which could only mean if she was really here… I let one ragged sob go and tried to pull myself back together. I convinced myself Ahriman was playing more games. All of this was just a game to him.

  I began to take note of the breaks in time and to pay attention to the click in my consciousness that was more than a hitch in the conversation or movement. Time was passing at a faster clip than I would have known if I weren’t forcing myself to be aware of what changed around me. The fire in the corner of the room roaring with full force then merely smoldering. The color of the coat Dr. Blanc wore when he entered the room and studied me or injected me with liquids that left me frozen or shaking on the floor. There were scraps of food and water fed to me by Ahriman’s bony fingers—that I nearly choked on every time.

  When I would feel strength returning to my body and mind, Dakra would appear and restrain me the second I started to move, or Dr. Blanc would plunge another syringe into my veins.

  I couldn’t figure out what substance Ahriman was using to cut me in and out, there was nothing I could discern from the patterns I began to observe, or lack thereof. If I was going to fight for myself, for Armise, then there was no other option—I had to struggle my way back to control.

  I didn’t need to understand why or how or what was going on, I had to live in this exact second, every second, and do whatever it took to make it back for Armise.

  “Why me?” I asked Ahriman one day when he appeared at my side, my muscles frozen again and Ahriman’s frigid hands around my wrist as he studied it.

  “You want the real answer or the bullshit one?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Bullshit me.”

  He let go of my wrist and stared me down. “You were the son Dr. Blanc always wanted.”

  * * * *

  “If only you were stronger,” Ahriman said to me, days or maybe weeks after the last time I’d seen Armise. He yanked me up by the arm and I heard my joints popping from disuse. We stumbled together into the hallway and I realized there was no lock on my door—no actual door, in fact.

  “How long?” I asked. That question felt like it would be etched into my gravestone.

  “Four months,” Ahriman answered. “But I’ve grown bored. It’s time for a change.”

  I tried to calm the anxiety that crawled through me. Had we really been here for four months?

  He led me across the hall, held me with those talon-like hands digging into my bones, because there wasn’t the same muscle mass on my body anymore. Armise was strapped to a chair and that sight was enough to undo me, then I saw the diminutive feet poking out from the back of his chair and a wave of black hair cascading from a body slumped, facing away from me.

  Ahriman let me go, let me fall to the ground, and I had to clamber on hands and knees to make it to her. To gather Chen into my weak arms and feel her breathing. But if she was here—if this was real and not a figment of whatever psychological tripwire Ahriman had forced inside me—then she would likely be dead soon enough.

  Because of me.

  Again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I held Chen’s unconscious form in my arms and they ached with the effort. I couldn’t remember why Armise and I had thought coming to Ahriman was our only choice, let alone that we could beat him. We’d had no idea what we were walking into, had grasped that unknown factor without question and still proceeded, so desperate to be free that we didn’t consider we had no chance of ever being free. Not if Ahriman didn’t want it.

  And if we didn’t stand a chance how could the Revolution? Simion? We were all mad to attempt it. Maybe if I gave in now, gave him what he wanted—whatever the fuck he wanted—then he would allow us to go. I curled Chen tighter into my chest, counted the movements of Armise’s breaths where he was tied to the chair in front of me and laughed to myself.

  Allow us to go…

  Ahriman would never allow us to go. I’d been here too long if I thought I’d gained a right to anything from him in response to my complacency. I’d been complacent, agreeable, not fucking strong enough for too long.

  And I didn’t know how to find the strength of will to change that.

  “Why won’t he wake up?” I said to Ahriman, because he’d answered every question I’d asked since he’d allowed me to speak again. I had no idea if he was telling me truth or lies, and yet I kept asking.

  I stared at Armise. It had been too long since I’d heard his voice.

  “I’ve been playing with this new mixture by the talented scientists reworking the recipe for Chemsense. They’re calling it Sleepsense, but that’s unoriginal and not entirely accurate. The subject isn’t really asleep—just paralyzed, or some gradation of musculature impairment based on the dosage.”

  The injections from Dr. Blanc.

  Maybe what was keeping me
locked down wasn’t mental at all. Maybe it was physical. Which meant if I could find the strength I could break free of this.

  I’d endured worse.

  Survived worse.

  Maybe.

  Ahriman paced. “Although this is all highly experimental, so I could be doing more damage to all of you than I realize. I don’t care, though.”

  “You really don’t care about any of us, do you? None of us—citizens, warriors or hybrids.”

  “Why would I?” he said in a bored tone.

  “You have to see the insanity of the world you’re creating. It will never be stable.”

  “That’s not one of my goals.” He crouched down in front of me. “Your key, here, on the other hand, is. She has the inherent intelligence level for me to test whether or not the psychological downsides of the transition can be mitigated by someone who is smart enough to handle it.” He reached out to her and I tried to yank her away from his touch, but I couldn’t. Ahriman swept a lock of her hair off her face. “I’m too bored with the details, but you can tell him what’s happening, Dr. Blanc.”

  I hadn’t noticed the presence of Ahriman’s father in the room until Ahriman said his name.

  Dr. Blanc stood off to the side, his arms wrapped around his waist. He didn’t look at me when he answered. “The hybrid transformation process has been hampered by the lethality of the current trigger serum. The DNA cascading effect rewrites base code, improving senses, decreasing or flatlining pain sensations, the usual genetmods. It’s the anti-pain one that comes in most handy when the nano injection is given that dissolves the skeleton and replaces it with a titanalloy structure. I worked on many versions of the ignition serum to start the process but the latest one was the most promising. I’ve already injected Chen with it and she’s responding much more positively than previous subjects.”

  His response was clinical to the point of insanity. How could he stand there and not only watch this happen but actively participate?