by K. Gorman
Then, realizing what she was doing, she forced her gaze up.
The morning sun hit it broadside, putting an angled set of shadows across the dusty, cream-colored exterior. Looking at it now, she could recognize just how old the place was. It had a boxy look, but made of concrete rather than pre-fab, and with a heavy, clunky shape that distinguished it from the grander modern buildings such as those she’d seen in Nova Earth, as if it were thrice as heavy. The concrete at the top looked hand-poured, too. She remembered seeing people working up there, once, using a winch and a small crane to lift wheelbarrows full of mix to the top. Workers from the nearest town, she’d guess now.
She wondered if Seirlin had bothered to put them under a non-disclosure agreement, or whether they’d simply lied to them about what this ‘school’ really was.
Around it, the fields were a peaceful sight. A sea of grass, rippling in small waves from the breeze that breathed across, lit up in a yellow-gold color. The copses of trees, and the forest that surrounded the area, made long, blue-tinted shadows on the grass.
Marc’s hand found hers again, and she realized that she’d halted. She spread her fingers apart as he entwined his through hers, then clasped them lightly, moving back and forth at the difference in their strides.
He squeezed once, and she squeezed back.
“You all right?”
“Yeah, just thinking about things.”
This was the second time he’d asked, so she guessed the storm of emotions showing on her face was quite a sight. She pressed her tongue against her front teeth and forced herself to lift her vision up from her toes. They’d entered the shadow of a copse of cedar on the right, and the air had chilled a few degrees, her breath nearly visible in the air. Most of the others had pulled ahead, forming a loose rabble of low conversation and the occasional laughs. In fact, as she looked around, she and Marc were in last, along with Jon who brought up the quiet rear. He met her gaze when she looked back and gave her a small nod.
Back to not talking, I guess.
“I imagine you’re feeling quite a lot, being back here,” Marc said. “If you want to leave, let me know. We can go walk in the fields. They don’t need you here, really, not until they find the Cradle—if it’s here. I think your sister has it in hand. They can do it without us.”
“Thanks.” She gave his hand another squeeze. “Cradle and fucked up treatment plans aside, though, I do want to go in. To see what it looks like now. If they’ve changed it, or… Well, I guess it’s kind of like visiting your old school. Not all of my memories here are bad. I mean, if we tallied up the total time, I think the treatments and experimental science took up maybe five percent, and the rest of it was more like a regular school. You know, normal. We hung out, had class, watched TV, ran around, did normal kid stuff.”
Except, even with all of that, there’d always been that shadow over it. That click of knowing in the students’ eyes when one of the doctors took someone off for treatment.
She clenched her jaw, remembering that look reflecting in Nomiki’s eyes. It had been a constant presence toward the end. After Brennan had died.
After they had killed him.
She gritted her teeth.
Yep. The Corringhams are definitely on our to-violently-murder list. No need to go out of the way to appease Tia.
She and Marc moved out of the shadow, and the sun came back, but, this time, the warmth didn’t penetrate past her skin. Up above, the sky was a deep, cerulean blue. Only a few clouds dusted it, looking like frizzy, frayed threads combed by a high wind.
Cirrus clouds, she thought, remembering something. They were supposed to bring good weather.
She squeezed Marc’s hand again. “It’s complicated.”
He squeezed back, but said nothing.
When they reached the back of the compound, they were greeted by a broad concrete exterior. No doors in the back—only at the sides—but a series of low, squat windows sat at the bottom under the overhand of the building above, providing light flow into the basement. The dust on their surfaces lit up in a hazy brown tone, obscuring whatever lay within.
“Anyone got a rock?” Soo-jin suggested.
“There’s a door to the side.” Nomiki gave a quiet glance up the wall. “I’m sure some of us can muscle it open.”
The group moved on, and Karin trailed in their wake. It still didn’t feel real—as if she were watching this on a screen rather than in person. Nomiki was the first around the corner, the building’s shade folding over her just before she disappeared, followed by Baik, who had donned a green and gray camouflage field uniform in place of the white and gray one she’d seen him in earlier. Then Cookie and Soo-jin and the two doctors. Both had dropped the lab coats, looking more like the middle upper class in their shirts and slacks, one of Chamak’s Bautista brand on Tasuhada. Takahashi had brought a kit with him, slung over his shoulder. Oddly, she got the impression of a golfer when she looked at him.
Maybe it was the shirt he wore.
Up ahead, there was a loud bang and a squeal of hinges. Then, Nomiki’s voice called back. “Jon, come on up. Let’s do a sweep.”
Gravel crunched from behind. Jon gave them a small salute as he passed, jogging ahead. They turned the corner just in time to see him and her sister vanish through a now-open door.
The others parted as she and Marc came up, joining them into the small group. Cookie, closest to the building, waited a few beats, then stepped up to examine the door. He gave a low whistle.
“Fuck yeah! Homegirl kicked it hard enough, the lock ripped right out.”
Karin stared at the broken lock, then to the hallway inside. She remembered more than saw the office windows on the left. The lights were off, but a smattering of natural light made the inside linoleum gleam in blue and white highlights from her perspective where the floor warped and rippled. A second hallway bisected it after a few rooms, providing a natural pathway of light shining from the windows toward the front.
She stared at the intersection.
Nomiki killed a man there, once. With the separated blades of a pair of scissors. His blood had spread and smeared.
“Fuck yeah,” Soo-jin echoed, tossing the tail of her dreads over her shoulder. She turned to face Karin. “Is there likely to be security measures in there?” She jerked her head to indicate the building. “Like booby traps and shit?”
“I doubt it. There weren’t any when we were there, anyway.” Karin glanced up. The building wasn’t so imposing here, where the boxy back five-stories met the lower, narrower front two-stories. “I think it’s more likely that they cleaned up all their important shit and abandoned the place.”
“So, we might find nothing here.”
“Not nothing, no, but…” She shrugged. “I’m not optimistic.”
“If they did a shitty job wiping the hard drives, I can probably get something off of them.” Cookie paused. “The address of the Brazilian compound, hopefully. I didn’t find it in the files.”
She resisted the urge to shiver as the memory of the isolation tank on Nova and its nano-injector crown came back to her.
Gods, I’m going to have to get into that thing.
But then, she’d be stronger, and that would be all right.
She could face treatment in order to keep her hold against Sasha.
“That’ll be in the back, then.” She made a vague gesture to the rear of the building. “Likely in the basement or sub-basement.”
“Oh, great. They have a mad science lab of multiple basements. I bet it’s concrete, too, hey?” Soo-jin scuffed the toe of her shoe into the walkway, which was another concrete addition to the compound. “I mean, I’m not alone in thinking this, right? This is stereotypical video game mad science lair.”
“Nah,” Cookie said, gesturing to the building and the fields around them. “It’d need to be in a better location. Like a volcano. Or under a glacier.”
“Yeah, yeah, I was thinking a more cult game. You know, realistic psyc
hological horror. I’m getting some hard Essence vibes from this place.”
“Oh, yeah, I see what you mean.”
Boots scraped. Baik, who had been standing quietly off to the side, moved forward, stepped around Cookie, and entered the building. They watched him continue up the hall, one hand unholstering his blaster.
“Guess he’s not much of a gamer,” Cookie observed.
“Or maybe he just really likes Essence and doesn’t want Nomiki and Jon to get all the jump scares.” Soo-jin snorted. “Good riddance. I don’t like him much, anyway. He kidnapped Karin. And he looks too much like my family.”
There was an awkward silence. Takahashi and Tasuhada, who had been standing quietly to the side and not commenting on the game talk, exchanged a look.
“I hope we don’t upset you,” Takahashi said.
“Nah, it’s cool. You’re Japanese. My family hates Japanese stuff. Which, right now, means I’m predisposed to like you.”
Tasuhada raised a hand. “I’ve played Essence. Two and three, anyway.”
“Yeah?”
“Never did get past the frog demon.”
“He’s a tricky fucker.”
“I’ve got the entire series loaded on my secondary gaming link,” Cookie said. “Y’all are welcome to it.”
Tasuhada looked like he was going to say something, but a clatter from above caught their attention. A window squeaked open on the second floor, and Nomiki poked her head out, giving them a grin and a wave.
“Come on in, party people! The water’s fine.”
Chapter Thirteen
A mix of nostalgia and trepidation smothered her throat as she took in the familiar scuffed cream color of the floor and the off-white walls, the faded marble pattern dyed into the linoleum. She held her breath as she came to the first intersection, straining to listen, eyes wide as she looked around.
Everything felt too quiet, and too bright. Empty. Too normal.
She’d expected it to be worse, somehow. It was irrational, but she’d expected this place to be waiting for her. As if it were some vengeful ghost, its horror frozen in time.
But it wasn’t. It was just a building. It had been so before Seirlin had come in and used it for an illegal experimentation lab, and it would continue to be so until someone came along and demolished it.
Already, the place had moved on.
There was no sign of the man Nomiki had killed during their escape seven years ago, but a lightened patch of floor suggested where he’d been. Now that she knew to look, she could recognize the marks of a deep-scrub laser drone at work. It was a pricier drone, but she had no doubts that Seirlin would have spent it. Even if genetic experimentation, and experimentation on genetically cultivated beings, had a very loose legal definition on this part of Earth, it would have been political suicide to have it revealed on Novan and Fallon feeds.
A skipping beat of footsteps sounded down the short hall to her right—the one that led to the stairs. A second later, Nomiki burst through the door at its end and jogged her way back, Jon following a few steps behind. Before she’d come anywhere close, she started making gestures.
“Cookie, Tasuhada, after we break into the sub-basement, I want you to check out the front computers. See if you can get anything off them. Everyone else—the Cradle is our first priority, but keep on the lookout for other things. Especially you, Takahashi.”
Takahashi gave a nod.
Nomiki glanced around. “Where’s Baik?”
Soo-jin grunted. “Wandered off.”
For a second, Nomiki went absolutely still—the transition as abrupt as if she’d flicked a switch—and her attention focused on the midspace in front of her.
Her head snapped to the side. A moment later, Baik reappeared at the junction of the next hallway, coming from the front of the building.
“Nice of you to join us,” she called out. “Come on. We’re going to find the Cradle.”
The queasy feeling fluttered in her stomach as Nomiki turned back toward the stairs, memories rising in the back of her mind. Her mouth opened, some protest rising as her psyche dug in its mental heels.
She shut it, gave herself a mental shake, and shoved the feelings back.
They had a job to do.
The light dimmed the second they went through the doors—the stairwell made an odd bridge between the front and back parts of the building, the structure barricaded with fire doors and the only window sitting two stories farther up. It darkened even further as Nomiki chose the downward path and the concrete ceiling and cinder-block walls engulfed them. The push bar at the bottom opened with a thunk and a squeal, bringing a cold, damp smell from the basement.
The basement hallway met them with a darkness so thick, it looked solid.
Nomiki paused, but only for a second. Her open blade hissed as she slid it back into its sheath.
“Power room’s in the back,” she said, twisting and gesturing up the hall. “I’ll turn it on. You guys head for the surgery theater. Everyone have netlinks? Good. Back in a minute.”
She jogged off into the dark, the scratched gleam of her klemptas armor flashing a couple of times in the backlight, then it was just the quiet tap of her footsteps.
The rest of them looked at each other.
With a sigh, Karin sparked her light. The marks on the basement’s concrete floor crept under the glow like gritty, anemic storm clouds. At the sides, the painted cinderblock had a dulled yellow tint to it.
“Come on,” she said, stepping forward. “This way.”
Several flashlights flicked on after her, their beams following the grim scene of concrete and metal as they walked along. Even as a child, when the facility had been in use, this place had given off a dungeon-y feel. Time and abandonment had only made it worse.
Water pipes snaked across the low ceiling, feeding into the upper levels and the building’s front sections and laden with fine layers of dust and cobwebs. Stains darkened the floor, along with some that muddied the walls where water had leaked in. The rust on any piece of metal had made loose weeping patterns down the walls, some only a few streaks, but others mingling with the leaks to create a long, mangled mess down the wall. Several different lights decorated the walls and ceiling, ranging from the newer style tubes to a few sets of downright archaic incandescents in dusty, rusted cages. The hallway itself was bare except for a few pieces of debris—small things, similar to the broken remnants of moving equipment they’d found in the lab on Nova, which at least suggested a similar approach to cleaning had been taken in this building, as well.
Seirlin, it seemed, had a lot of practice with cleaning up messes.
Fuck. I hope the Cradle’s here.
Partway up the hall, the dank smell appeared to renew itself. She wrinkled her nose, then halted as a suspiciously clean patch on the floor ahead caught her attention.
More cleaning drone work. She focused a beam of her light around the spot, teeth gritting as her gaze moved over its edges.
Seirlin might have been able to erase the evidence of Nomiki’s death toll from the floor, but they couldn’t erase it from her head. She didn’t remember the guard’s name, but she’d been there when he’d died. Had witnessed her sister step away from his twitching form, barefoot, the separated shear of a scissor blade clutched in her hand, white nightgown streaked with blood, caught in the focused beam of a flashlight like some vengeful ghost.
“Fuck. You’re right, Soo. This is some serious Essence shit.” Cookie came level with her about a meter away, a breath blowing out as he aimed his flashlight beam across the rest of the hall, encompassing the gloomy end where a second hallway doubled back to another stairwell toward the front.
“Told ya. Shit, are those bullet holes?” Soo-jin’s beam swept toward the wall where several deep cracks and pocked impact points were visible in the texture of the cinder block.
Her fingers tightened the fist they’d made at her side. She stared at the holes, aware of more people filing into her perip
heral vision. Marc, Baik, and the two doctors, the dim light canting at an angle across their faces.
Fortunately, she was saved from answering by a loud thunk that sounded from deeper in the building. The lights overhead gave a flicker, then ignited.
The wash of light across the hall felt like a sigh against her psyche. She reabsorbed her own light with a loosened breath and kept forward, avoiding the patch on the floor.
They followed her memory to the surgery theater around two corners. It was amazing how little she’d forgotten about the place—as if she’d only left last week, not seven years ago. A flick of a switch on the left-hand wall clicked on the overhead tubes, revealing a large, windowless room with beds, tables, and curtains littered around in loose groupings. The ones on the right remained roughly where she remembered them, askew but within position, while the ones on the left had been shoved closer to the back of the room. No windows backed this wall—if she recalled correctly, there was another hallway behind it—which left room for a set of counters and tall cabinets, two of which had their locks broken. Her gaze wandered over another suspiciously clean patch of floor. She didn’t fail to notice that the bed next to it had also been stripped.
Dr. Takahashi made a startled sound in his throat and strode forward, stooping over a large, boxy machine with a Seirlin logo printed in its middle. “Oh, is that—Karin! This is the nano machine we used to modify your neuropathic arrangements.”
An abrupt sense of revulsion coiled at the back of her throat. She swallowed hard against it, fist clenching together again.
“Wow, just what a girl wants to hear in the morning,” Soo-jin commented.
If Takahashi heard her, he either missed the sarcasm coating her words or decided to ignore them. “If it works, it’ll still have the scanning technology available to—ah, yes! There it goes.”
A touchscreen he’d been poking at on its side finally lit up, responding with a sloth-like startup sequence she recognized from a similar menu on the Nemina’s onboard nano.
