Soul Finder (The Immortal Gene Book 2)

by Jacinta Maree

  I flipped it over. My birthday was recorded with the word alive circled. I pulled the tipped over box closer to me. Inside were documents of my conversation with Blue Don agent Quinn. The papers go on to explain my time at Sanctuary, of my time at Alpha prison, of Doctor Fitzgerald’s data calling me number sixty-six and my family’s history. I looked up at the other remaining boxes and pulled the one next to mine off the shelf. Inside was a single picture of a girl born over three hundred years ago. The word DEAD had crossed out her face. The rest of the box was empty. I pushed it aside and went to the next one. Again, it was empty aside from a picture of a boy over five hundred years ago with the word DEAD marked over his face too.

  But the box next to that one was heavy. I pulled it off the shelf, feverish with curiousity. This one detailed of a boy born over a hundred years ago. I flipped through the papers, not understanding most of the data collected, when I paused on his mugshot. He looked my age with thick, black hair and born of Asian descent. The picture was old and worn down with time.

  On the top corner was the word Soulless next to the digit forty-two.

  “Oh my god!” I almost fell over. There were others.

  I didn’t know what to do, what to think. I flipped the paper over. He was born in the year 3124 and was marked as alive. He’ll be over a hundred years old in that case. The paperwork detailed experiments on him. On theories why he was different and how to stamp the mutant gene out of our DNA.

  Gunshots fired above my head, bringing me back to reality. I scrunched the paper up and shoved it into my pocket.

  The rest of the day was a blur. I ran back to the checkpoint. Riki was already there with the car running. At my approach, he screamed at me to jump in. I leapt into the open back trailer. Riki drove the car toward the main gates.

  Callous, Patricia and Miranda were waiting for us. Booza carried trunks of cargo as he lugged it into the car. Smoke poured into the sky. Fire climbed the walls. All three leapt in. As the car sped off, bullets whizzing past us. Booza remained behind and exploded into the pack of scrambling people.

  Chapter Ten:

  Holy fuck! Oh my God!

  We pulled the car over on the other side of town. My mind, much like the remains of the Blue Dons, was shattered into smoky pieces. What was worse, I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone what I had found out. Not even Diesel. If I feared for my own life as a Soulless, then I have no idea what he’ll do to a Soulless he didn’t care for. My shock was overlooked thanks to the hectic situation. Right now, I tried to focus on Riki. It wasn’t until we pulled over that he had revealed to have been shot. Exit wounds marked his side and hip. He laid on the ground of the garage as I applied pressure to his wounds. Around us the others transferred the cargo into the new getaway car.

  The noise felt like we were still under fire. There was shouting, screaming, crashing. Things were thrown and dropped. The noise blared against my ears. Blood swelled from Riki’s side.

  “Move it down here! Down here!”

  “Be careful.”

  “Patch that up.”

  “Stay away from the windows!”

  My hands were warm with blood and sweat. I itched to pull the piece of paper from my pocket. To look at his face again. Soulless #42. Riki’s body shuddered.

  “I said, patch it up!” Miranda barked at me.

  I reached for the bandages with shaky hands. Too many things were happening. First, I had to get Riki’s shirt off. I pulled the knife from my pocket and sliced his shirt up the centre. As the green fabric peeled away, I noticed crude scars on his body. I couldn’t help but stare at them as I wrapped him up. The beige cloth stained red as I wound it around Riki’s torso, covering up the surgical scars along his ribs. They looked self-inflicted. His chest had been carved hollow and messily sewn back up. One of his nipples was missing.

  Realization struck. Riki’s eyes remained closed, jaw clenched with pain. You’re a girl?

  Callous’ laughter hit a nerve in my eardrums. “Did you see their faces? Ha ha ha ha! Bunch of douche bags. Wish I had my camera.” She kissed her fingertips. “Mwah, beautiful.”

  “That’s good enough.” Miranda checked over my shoulder. “We have to leave. They’ll be all over this town soon.”

  “What’s the rush? Their cars were buried beneath the rubble. They can only chase us on foot.”

  “Don’t get cocky. These are the Dons we’re dealing with. They’ll have reinforcements here within the hour. Just get in the car. We have to get underground.”

  I helped Riki walk as we struggled our way back into town and through the old amusement park, my sense of wonder chipped with the smell of gunpowder caught in my nostrils.

  As we neared the underground station, I felt something sharp pinch my neck. Tingles ran from the puncture point and into my jaw. I fell sideways, surprised by the painful pinch. Riki slipped from my grip, but Callous managed to catch him. I spun around in time to see Miranda put the syringe back into her backpack. My vision blurred.

  She smiled unapologetically. “Just in case you feel like blabbering to Krane.”

  I choked on my breath. My thoughts drizzled. Darkness enclosed my eyes. Seconds later, I hit the ground.

  It felt like days passed when I suddenly woke, dazed and disorientated. I tried to sit up but flopped beneath the heaviness of my head. Sickness weighed me down, weakening my neck and arms.

  “Hey, welcome back.”

  I craned my head around at a voice. Riki sat on the other side of the couch, counting bullets on the table. We were back at FRIM’s base, inside Miranda’s quarters.

  “Riki? What happened?”

  “A small insurance for your silence.” He shrugged. “As I said, trust issues. You’ll be fine.”

  “How long have I been knocked out?” I groggily sat up.

  “Nearly eight hours.”

  “Argh! Feels like I’ve been punched in the head.” I grabbed my forehead as though the only way I could hold it up was in my hands.

  I dug into my mind for my last memory but all I could pull up were blurred tingles behind hazy swirls of black. I remember going up to the surface, the amusement park, the laughter of the young drifter and gunshots as children played among the train tracks. I vaguely remember an explosion and the sense of the earth crumbling around me. I couldn’t remember how I got back into FRIM’s base. As I shifted around, the sound of paper rustled in my pocket. Paper? What paper? The Soulless! The memory sprung back in sharp colours. I stilled myself from retrieving the note in front of Riki. His injured shoulder was cradled in a sling, reminding me of his gunshot wounds. And of the scars that lined his chest.

  “How are your wounds?”

  “Nothing too bad. Just some grazers”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were a girl?”

  Riki inched back into his seat, hiding any surprise he may have felt by the question. “Why does it matter? Would you treat me differently?”

  “No. But is that why you pretend to be a boy? So the others will treat you in a certain way?”

  “There is no pretend here. I am who I am, no matter what body or gender I’m born as. I associate myself with more masculine things. It feels like me.”

  I gently nodded. This wasn’t the first time I had heard of a boy being born in a girl’s body, or vise versa, but it was the first time I had seen someone carve out their own breasts to hide it. The line of genders gets hazy when the importance is on the person inside and not the body.

  “Did I miss anything interesting while I was napping?” I asked, drawing out the word napping as sarcastically as I could.

  “Do you mean has Krane come to visit you?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” I had momentarily forgotten about my last interaction with Diesel. I smiled at the memory, but the concern for his wounds and the attempts on his life left me feeling uneasy. “But still…is he okay?”

  “If he was dead, you’d hear about it. Don’t worry. Things have been pretty tense with the other leade
rs. They got word of our hit on the surface and want to know details. Details we are forbidden to reveal.”

  “Good thing Miranda injected me with an amnesia inducing drug.”

  “May not stop them from questioning you. She’s holding council with them now.”

  “Are we safe to go eat at least?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, FRIM rules still stands. No fighting outside of the ring. We should be fine. Come on.”

  We headed into the dining hall and were met with side glances and whispers. It must have been late in the evening as the hall was finishing up with the dinner session. The cook was missing though, probably wanting an early night. When we sat down, Callous ran over to join us. Her pale dyed hair was set loose around her ears, curling in like fingers around her cheeks. She scooted in close to us.

  “About time you two wandered out. Did you hear the chatter? There might be a mutiny soon.”

  Mutiny? I looked out across the room, but everyone looked suspicious from my perceptive. I also thought of Diesel and if the rumour was about him. It was possible.

  “No one would do that. The consequences are too massive for a mutiny. Even among blacklisted.”

  “I dunno. Le’Ron and Brien were pretty mad Miranda moved without their involvement.” She leaned in closer to whisper to me. “Hey, new girl, do you remember anything?”

  “Pieces,” I answered sourly. “But it mostly feels like white noise.”

  “That sucks. I would’ve been pissed if I had missed out on all that action. I’m edging to go back for round two. I say we go back and just completely wipe them out. I’m talking bombs. Machine guns. Chemical warfare. Bring it all on.”

  Riki rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind Callous. She’s a massive adrenaline junkie.”

  “No point in living if you’re not pushing your limits,” Callous countered.

  Riki reached over and tapped the base of my neck. Burns marred my skin and had scorched holes into my clothes. I tensed at the pain. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you get so beaten up? Forget to run when you set the Green under?”

  “Well… I didn’t exactly use the kid.”

  Callous inched in closer. “What? You went down yourself? Fuck, you’re just as bad as I am.”

  “It was a stupid decision.”

  She wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “I would’ve done the same. Nothing beats knowing that at any second your neck could be snapped, huh? You know, if you’re keen, Patricia and I play Russian roulette with the Reds after our shifts. Keen to join us?”

  I cringed, unable to think of anything worse. Callous’ attention suddenly shifted up. Her stapled smile widened as a pair of hands grabbed me.

  “I found her. Over here.” Someone dragged me from my seat by my jacket.

  “Oh, shit! Newbie got picked.” Callous leaped up into applause. “Yes! I’ve been dying for a good fight. My money is on newbie.”

  “What? No!” I twisted to face the man who held me but he manoeuvred around to remain out of my reach.

  “Into the ring! Into the ring!” he hailed as two others grabbed my arms, restraining me. They dragged down the corridors as men and women lined the walls, chanting, booing, and spitting on me as I was pulled passed.

  “Walk of shame! Walk of shame!”

  “Wait! Stop, you have the wrong person!” I tried to reason but my voice was lost amongst their chanting. I was taken into the fighting emporium and thrown into the centre. A crowd formed, waiting for me. As I scrambled up, my mind still spinning, I came to realise they didn’t have the wrong girl after all. Patricia sat on a stool on the other side of the circle, stretching her back. Men and women closed around the perimeter, pressing into the sides so the ring felt even smaller. Patricia stood and cracked her knuckles.

  “You got a lot of guts, kid. No one makes me wait this long.”

  “What the fuck?” My head swung from left to right, almost disbelieving what was happening. “You can’t be serious. Don’t you think I’ve had a shit enough day already? Give me a break!”

  “You asked for this. And just because you’re on Miranda’s good side, don’t think I’ll go easy on you. Let’s go. No mercy.”

  I shuffled back into arms all too eager to shove me forward. I held my hands up. “I don’t want to fight.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you want.”

  She was fast. Brutal. I tried to dodge around her but the crowd caught my clothes and tripped me up. She caught me in a headlock and delivered two blows into the side of my head.

  Pain spun in my head. I swear I could almost feel my eyeballs rattle in their sockets. I threw myself sideways, using my weight to steer her into the crowd and off balance. Thanks to her sweaty skin, I managed to slip my head out from her grip.

  I quickly scampered backward, gaining space, but she didn’t allow me time to recover. She charged and I swung twice. Voices cheered as I connected with her jaw. She shook my punches off like they were nothing. Adrenaline inflated my chest, making my hands shake.

  Her balanced stance gave me the impression she had been trained. In comparison, my fighting was sloppy and driven through desperation. I wasn’t going to win this. My hits did nothing. I was slower. Weaker. I looked out into the crowd, unsure what I was looking for. Help! Someone help me! They cheered and laughed, enjoying the sight of red streaking down my face. Blood from my nose filled my mouth. I turned and spat.

  The only way I was going to survive this is if I fought dirty. I need to go for her eyes. I need a weapon. I even contemplated throwing someone from the front row in front of her in case she tried to charge me again. I had never felt this weak before in my life. I never hated my scrawny body until now.

  She rushed me, roaring. In a split second I decided to run at her too and leapt forward with my shoulder turned, ramming her chest and throat. She stumbled. With a flat palm I smacked against her left ear, knowing the hit would disorient her. I grabbed her head and pressed my thumbs to her eyes but she ripped her face away. She took my hand and twisted.

  My wrist popped. Pain roared louder than the voices surrounding me. I fell to the ground, withering. She jumped on top and pinned me beneath her. One punch. Two. Straight to the face, crackling my nose. Hot hands wrapped my throat. She wasn’t here just to hurt me. She was here to kill me.

  I grabbed her fingers, but she pushed her entire weight forward. My throat clamped closed. I could feel my face heating up, reddening.

  I glanced sideways, vision hazy, into the crowd. There, among the blurs of strangers, I saw him. Diesel. He stood motionless. Watching. Eyes hard but unreadable. Hope sparked and died instantly as he turned away and disappeared into the obscurity of screaming faces.

  Suddenly, Patricia fell off me. Someone had thrown a wrench from the crowd, striking her head. She fell sideways, dazed.

  I took the chance. I jumped up and while she was down, swung my foot at her head twice. Each kick caught her cheek. I was scared. I was desperate. I grabbed the wrench and finished the job.

  Chapter Eleven:

  I took the entire night and next day to recover. I didn’t leave my room. I was too scared to. Part of me feared Miranda’s wrath. I had killed one of her best agents and I doubted she’d think my life was worth the trade. I was also scared of being called back into the ring again. I heard others had taken bets on me. Who could defeat the newbie? Challengers went up.

  I couldn’t sleep, and it wasn’t because my face felt like it was on fire and my wrist throbbed with hot pain. I could still see her. Smell her. See the red wash the floor. Her face splitting apart beneath my blows. I shook the memory away.

  Riki visited me. He eased the door open, having brought me food and water from the dining hall. He bandaged my broken wrist, snapping the joint back into place. My fingers were swollen pink from the trauma.

  “Hungry?” He placed the tray on the mattress. I uncurled my knees from my chest and inched forward. “How are you holding up?”

  “Yeah, great, thanks.” My voice slu
rred thanks to my fat lip. I kept the ice held against it but the touch of cold hurt just as much as the bruising did.

  “Congratulations on winning.” He smiled gently.

  “Doesn’t feel like I won. Is Miranda mad?”

  “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  I sighed with little relief. “That was the worst. You’re lucky no one calls you into the ring.”

  “If I was called Miranda would have them skinned.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’m her favourite.” Riki beamed. “She sees me as her prodigy. But I now know that I was wrong.” His voice dropped with his seriousness. “About you and Krane. I saw him there. He was watching your fight. Even when you were losing, he didn’t seem to care at all.”

  The memory burned. I swallowed the saltiness of my disappointment. Diesel was there. I had hoped it was just my oxygen-starved brain playing tricks on me, making me think I saw him in the crowd. Why didn’t he help me? The question developed claws, scratching my chest with heartache. “Yeah, well… in my moment of weakness I also thought he cared.”

  “Usually interfering with fight matches is strictly forbidden, but I couldn’t stand there and just watch.”

  I looked up at him. “Wait, you threw the wrench into the ring?”

  Riki nodded. “I never liked Patricia anyway. It was as much a favour to me as it was to you.”

  “Riki… I… Thank you.” Tears swelled, pulling up a feeling from the depths of my heart I only felt around Annie and Diesel. It was a connection. A touch of gratitude and warmth. My words caught in my throat. “You saved my life.”

  He looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was crazy. “As I said, it was also my gain. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Riki…” I licked my lips, contemplating the next moment. “I may need your help with something else. Something really important. You trust me, don’t you?”

  His face tightened. “What’s this about?”

  “I need to go back to the Blue Dons.”