by Jakob Farrar
Veronica waited a few minutes before slipping the serum into his arm. She pulled it out and waited a few moments. “Stephen?” she said. Stephen blinked, sitting up. He looked confused.
“Where am I?” he whispered, “Who are you?” he said, a little louder. He looked at Veronica’s hands and saw the syringe. “What are you doing to me?” He shouted, looking around the room. He jumped up and ran for the exit.
“Stephen!” Mark shouted, running for him. Mark tackled Stephen, bring him to the ground. “Don’t you remember?” Mark said. Stephen threw Mark off of him and stood back up. Mark stood, almost falling again. He didn’t know Stephen was that strong.
“Byron!” Mark heard Veronica shout, “Get me the sleeping serum!”
Mark ran again at Stephen, but Stephen saw him coming and sidestepped out of the way, continuing his mad dash for the exit. Byron looked around his table, looking for the sleeping serum. “Hurry!” he heard Veronica say.
Kaytlen issued a stream of water forth in front of Stephen, who looked at her, a confused and terrified look in his eye, but he just ducked under the water, not stopping. “Don’t hurt him!” Mark shouted. Byron found the sleeping serum. Veronica wasn’t close enough, though; she, too, was running at Stephen, and was closer than any of the others. “Veronica!” Byron shouted. She looked back. Byron threw the vial to her. It flew through the air for a few seconds, landing in Veronica’s palm. She, with immense speed and accuracy, slipped the syringe from her pocket, ejected the previous vial, which crashed onto the floor, and attached the sleeping serum to it. She still wasn’t close enough to Stephen, though. He would make it to the exit before she caught up with him. Suddenly, out of nowhere, it seemed, came a hulking mass of a man. Gabe stepped in front of Stephen, grabbing his arms. Stephen attempted to struggle, but it was no use. Gabe wouldn’t let go. Soon Veronica was behind him, injecting the serum into his blood. Stephen was soon asleep.
“That was fun,” Veronica said, gasping for air.
“Yeah, let’s do it again,” Mark said sarcastically.
“We’ll have to,” Byron said, “If we want Phoebe back.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t Stephen lose his memory?”
“Perhaps at first. However, once he wakes up, I believe he will regain it.”
“Are you sure it’ll work on Phoebe?”
“Well,” said Veronica, “it worked with Stephen.”
“You don’t say.”
“It worked too well,” said Byron.
Stephen’s eyes shot open. Gabe was still standing next to him. “It worked,” Stephen said, groaning as he sat up.
“You remember who you are?” said Veronica.
“Yeah,” Stephen said, “But why am I all the way over here?”
Veronica held the needle as close as she dared to Phoebe’s skin. She knew if she did this wrong, it could mean disaster for them all. She carefully slipped it into Phoebe’s neck, pushed the plunger, and brought it out. She waited a few moments, the sleeping serum in her hand. Suddenly, the chair creaked. One of the instruments flew away and into the wall. “Now!” said Byron.
Veronica put the needle of the sleeping serum into Phoebe’s neck and began to push down. However, one of the lights above the chair swung down, snapping from its position. It hit Veronica in the stomach and pushed her back, pinning her against the wall. The syringe fell from Phoebe’s neck. “Get it, Byron!” she yelled. Byron rushed forward, but was hit in the head by a flying faucet head. He went down, unconscious.
“Mark!” Veronica cried, the pain of the light disallowing her to say much more. Mark ran behind Phoebe, dodging random lab equipment and instruments. He ducked under the chair and picked up the syringe from the ground. However, the syringe, it’s exterior made of metal, flew back, away from Phoebe. Mark yelled, fighting against the syringe’s pull. He stepped closer to the chair. He fought as hard as he could, bringing the syringe closer and closer, centimeter by centimeter, to Phoebe’s neck. He finally made it, injecting the serum into Phoebe’s blood with a shout.
Everything fell down. The light fell from Veronica’s stomach, allowing her to breath.
Mark gasped and fell down, taking the syringe out of Phoebe’s neck. He had barely been able to fight against it; the willpower of Phoebe’s Ferrokinesis being nearly too strong for him. He stood, leaning on the chair for support, coughing as he rose. He looked at Phoebe, whose eyes were blinking open. Mark smiled as she began to move her hands, bringing them up to her face and moving them around. She looked up at Mark, a look of wonder on her face.
“You did it,” she said, “You really did it.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Queen
Kristine Neff hated it here. She hated Sector One. Not that she was fond of any of the other Sectors, though. She much preferred her real home.
She had infiltrated Sector One’s ranks and had become the assistant of the war coordinator Thomas Garek. Nobody here knew who she really was, and she knew that they never would. That knowledge would paralyze them, it would shatter their reality. No, Kristine would leave them in ignorance. If they knew what was out there, there was no telling what they would do.
However, there were a few individuals she could tell. She could reveal the truth to some here, if they would only come to her. If the Unnatural found out, they could help her. They were already heading out of the country as quickly as possible; why shouldn’t she help them? That was why she had reverted Sector One’s attention away from Ashley Moore, Sector One’s resident Unnatural. She would be the last one, Kristine knew, that the group would pick up. They would be coming right to her, and she could captivate their attention then. And, then, when she saved their lives, they would have to join her monarchy.
Kristine walked down to the airway that was near the building Thomas Garek used as his headquarters, carrying a suitcase that held one of her most prized possessions inside. “I need a jet,” she said.
“For what purposes?” asked the guard there.
“Mine.”
“For what purposes?” repeated the guard.
“Travel to Sector Eight to do inventory on a new stock of weapons” said Kristine.
“We will send a pilot team to Jet 2207 immediately.”
“That’s very courteous of you; however, I can take care of myself.”
“Understood.”
Kristine walked through the gate and walked up the first airplane she came to. She started it, setting her suitcase on the ground next to her seat. The airplane’s engines roared to life, lifting her up into the sky. She guided the plane forward, staying at the controls for only a few miles before setting the plane to auto pilot, grabbing the suitcase, and walking back into the rear of the plane. When she returned to her spot, Kristine was no longer dressed in the stiff uniform she had worn in Sector One. She was now dressed in the long skin of a large cat, the claws at her feet, and the head on her back, fangs drooping over her shoulders. But most importantly was what adorned her head. Sitting on top of her was a crown, not made of gold or jewels, but composed of a large assortment of bones and teeth, two of the teeth stuck up in the air until they reached about six inches in height, the bottom two fangs running down her face and jaw. Small bones dangled from the crown like jewels hanging from the crowns of past royalty.
Kristine sat back down in the plane’s pilot seat and began guiding the aircraft herself, heading towards her home.
Nearly two hours passed before she made it. She spotted the twin hills that marked her descent. She lowered the craft onto what seemed, at first, a pare patch of land. However, as she approached it, the patch opened into a deep, dark pit. The plane lowered down for what seemed like miles. When it finally settled down, the patch overhead closed, bathing Kristine in a darkness that would have made the fiercest of warriors quiver in fear. However, darkness was where Kristine lived. She relished in the blackness of the deep for the few seconds she had with it, for almost as soon as she had landed the craft, lights flickered on, an esc
ort of guards coming to meet her.
Kristine walked down the ramp, walking down the aisle of soldiers that had come to meet her. The soldiers wore armor made of ancient bones.
Kristine’s second in command, Matthew Scott, walked up to her.
“You’re back sooner than expected, Your Highness,” he said.
“Is that a twinge of disappointment in your voice, Scott?” Kristine said, keeping her eyes forward, “Did you enjoy your period of superiority so much?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Matthew said, “I am merely surprised. We were expecting you to be back in several weeks.”
“There’s been a change of plans,” Kristine said, leaving the airlock.
“We’re…not going to try to overtake the Sectors?” Matthew said.
“We still are,” Kristine answered, “However, we’re going to take a different approach.”
“That is?”
“The Unnatural.”
“Excuse me…what?”
“The Unnatural,” Kristine repeated, “Do you remember when the Sectors undertook in Project Leon?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Apparently they succeeded when they thought they had failed. The result was the Unnatural, a group of super-human beings who would easily give us the power to destroy the Sectors, let alone just taking them over.”
Matthew was silent, shocked by this revelation.
“But Xandar will try to get them before us, will he not?” Matthew said.
“That is what I fear,” Kristine answered.
They walked through a huge set of doors and into an even larger, domed room. At the back wall were positioned seven large thrones, the biggest in the center, and three on each side of it. This is where seven ancient lords had sat, back in the grand days of the nation that Kristine’s people had inhabited when it was abandoned. There were always seven; they changed from time to time, but there were always seven, never more, never less.
At least, not until now.
Now only one person sat on the thrones; the queen of these people.
Kristine Neff walked up the stairs that led to her throne. In the Sectors she was seen as a mere servant of the Nation’s war coordinator, someone who would manage his time, his money, and his other servants. However, here she was seen as so much more. Here, Kristine was a ruler, a monarch, a queen.
Kristine sat down in her throne. “It’s good to be home,” she said.
Thomas Garek stood before the crowd of people in Sector Six. He was standing behind a podium in front of the governor’s home, giving a eulogy to Willard Poore before the people he had overseen. Thomas wasn’t particularly interested, however, although he hoped the people didn’t know that. He had never cared for the welfare of Poore or any of the other governors. He saw them as squabbling idiots who all battled each other, only focusing on themselves, or, in some rare cases, the good of their people. But never were they interested in others, they were always selfish.
But somebody needed to look like they had actually cared for Poore, and Thomas had been selected for the job for whatever reason.
“Willard died an honorable death,” Thomas said, coming to the conclusion of his eulogy, “He died trying to stop the Unnatural, an evil that no one man could hope to destroy by himself. He knew this full well, yet he stood up to them, armed with very little. Willard was brave, brave enough to stare into Death’s very eyes. Death was offended at the insult and saw Willard as a threat; that is why he was taken. Death is a thing that all men fear, but not Willard. He wasn’t afraid, and I don’t think we should be either. We shouldn’t let Death control us; we should be like this man lying in a coffin, who died a hero; we should look Death in the face and challenge him to a fight in his own game.” The crowd cheered, clapped, and stood for Thomas. Thomas gave a courteous bow and walked from the podium and around the crowd. He walked into his car, where an assistant drove while another sat next to him, constantly informing him on things Thomas apparently needed to know. Usually this annoyed Thomas, but, this time, the assistant had something interesting.
“Sir, Kristine Neff has gone missing.”
Thomas turned to him, “Missing?” he said, surprised.
“She asked for a jet and disappeared off the map a few moments ago.”
“How?”
“The jet appeared to be descending just before we lost contact with it. We fear she may have crashed.”
“Where?”
“Outside the Sectors somewhere. She said she was headed to Sector Eight to do inventory on a new shipment of weapons.”
“What new shipment?”
“That’s the thing. We double checked and found that there was no new shipment of weapons coming in any time soon.”
“And they didn’t bother to check that before they let her go?”
“Apparently, sir.”
“Someone’s getting fired today. I need to know something else, though. We have a student who is supposed to be transferring from Sector Two into Sector One. Give me an update on that.”
“Caleb Watkins is under surveillance. We should have him in Sector One within forty-eight hours, sir.”
“We’d better hurry. Peyton wants him there before the Unnatural reach Sector Eight. And considering how quickly they’re moving forty-eight hours might be too much time.”
“We need to get going,” Byron said, directing everyone towards the elevator. “We only have one more Sector to go, then we can get out of here.”
“And go where?” Veronica asked him.
“I don’t really know,” Byron answered, “But there has to be something out there, right? The world can’t just drop off, and there can’t be just infinite fields, right?”
“You think there are other people out there in the world?”
“There has to be somewhere. If not we can always start our own colony, survive on our own. And I want you to come with us, Veronica.”
“I’m sorry, Byron but I can’t. I need to stay here.”
Byron ignored her though, running to the elevator where everyone else had gathered. Byron turned around, seeing Veronica standing there. “Come on,” Byron said, beckoning her to go into the elevator.
“No, Byron,” Veronica said, “I’m going to stay here.”
“No, Veronica, you’re coming.”
“I need to stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s some…research I have to do. Besides, you don’t need me coming; it’ll be better if there’s as few people as possible.”
“No, it’s not; you’re coming with us, whether you like it or not,” said Byron, grabbing Veronica’s arm and dragging her forward. Veronica pulled back with surprising strength.
“Byron, I’m staying-”
“I’m not losing you again, Veronica!” Byron shouted, “I won’t be back this way; if you don’t come with us, we’ll never see each other again.”
“I see,” said Veronica, “So it’s about you. You-”
Suddenly, there was an explosion. “Hurry!” called Kaytlen. Byron grabbed Veronica, who was distracted, and dragged her to the elevator. He pushed them up. “Go up to the roof!” Veronica said, “They’ll come in through the main entrance.”
The elevator rose slowly, but picked up quickly, ascending rapidly until they were on top of a roof.
“Not a good idea,” Mark said, pointing upwards, where a helicopter hovered above them. It opened fire. The Unnatural scattered across the roof. “We have to get down!” called Byron. Something exploded again. Metal creaked and the building shook. The building began to lean, then was falling, falling fast towards the ground. “Get to the next roof!” Veronica said. Gabe was the first one to jump, grabbing Kaytlen and jumping to the next roof. Stephen ran to Mark, who was closest to him, and grabbed his shoulder. The next moment, they were on the other side.
The building was leaning dangerously now, almost at a forty-five degree angle. Byron was hanging on to the top edge of the roof. Veronica jumped for his han
d, about to fall over. Byron grabbed her wrist, but he was barely able to hold both of them up. “Grab on!” he heard from below. After he felt another tug from below, he knew that Phoebe had grabbed ahold of Veronica. “Climb up!” he groaned.
“Are you sure?” came Phoebe’s nervous reply from below.
“Yes; do it now!” The building was close to falling on its side now. Byron could feel Phoebe climbing up; the only way Byron was able to hold was through adrenaline.
Soon Phoebe was climbing up Byron’s body, pushing off his shoulder with her foot. “Jump to the ladder!” he yelled, referencing the ladder that led to the roof of the other building that the others were currently climbing down hastily. “Come on, Veronica!” Byron yelled. Veronica grabbed his leg and began climbing up. Byron swung his other hand up and grabbed the edge of the building. He was now holding on by his fingertips. Veronica climbed over him. She was on top of the building now, out of Byron’s vision. That was good; she was probably safe. Byron looked down and saw the ground coming at him faster than before. Byron wondered why.
And then he realized: he was falling. His grip had faltered and he was falling down to meet his death.
Ah, well. It was bound to happen. Byron wasn’t going to die of old age; he had known that for a long time.
But was this how he was going to die? Broken and bloody in the road, crushed by the weight of a multi-story building? This wasn’t what he had imagined.
But, as he thought in the three seconds he was flying, he was content. He was okay with dying like this. He had saved his friends lives, and now they were safe. At least, he thought they were safe. He knew he could rely on Veronica to get them out and away from the Nation. In some ways, no, in most ways, Veronica was better than he. She was smarter, she thought more logically than he could ever hope to do.
Just as suddenly as he had started, Byron stopped falling. He saw darkness. He felt weightless. This is it he thought to himself and this is fine.
