by Gorman, K.
“Anyway.” Soo-jin took a breath. “I pinged the feeds, and it looks like they started rural sweeps a couple days ago. We haven’t actually seen or heard anything, but…”
“But we should get moving,” Marc finished for her.
“Yes. Songbird’s been sending out a distress call for seven days now. I can’t disable it from outside.”
“Right. Let’s move, then.” He reached for the netlink to cut the call. “See you soon.”
A few minutes later, they were standing in the parking lot, looking up at the low, silent building.
The sanctuary wasn’t big. Not even by planet standards. It sat on a single level, taking up a large footprint of land. Built in part to resemble an old religious institution, the low walls were made of white concrete and stretched on either side of the centered entrance to fill all but a narrow gap between it and the thick trees. Six windows made uniform dark squares in its front.
The entrance itself jutted out several meters from the building, forming a covered pathway into the building. Several stairs led up from the parking lot, along with a ramp on one side. Asiatic dragons encircled the walkway’s timber supports, winding up to a clay tile roof that curled up at the corners. Ghost-like carvings danced and fought in a crowded, intricate parade along the roof line.
They were supposed to scare off demons. Supposed to protect. She had read that once, back when she’d been researching.
Two door guardian stencils flashed on the glass as they approached. Beyond them, more glass refracted the light inside. The hall looked dark and deserted.
“Are there lights in this place?” Marc asked. “Or is the power out?”
“It’s on a solar grid,” Soo-jin said. “Don’t see why it’d be down—only if someone pulled a battery or something.” She lifted a hand and pointed through the wall to their left. “There’s a switch up the hall a little ways.”
“Good. ’Cause I really don’t care about stealth right now.”
He brought his blaster up and reached for the door. The glass pane caught Karin’s flashlight as it opened. Faint scratches glistened like the lines of a spider’s web in the sun.
With one last glance back at the Nemina, which glowed on standby like some enormous, underlit insect in the lot, she followed them inside.
Warm, close air settled around her head. As soon as the door closed behind them, a hush of quiet fell over them. She had a brief memory of her childhood, the way everything seemed to become dead still during a winter snowfall. These last few years, she’d grown accustomed to her urban life. There was always something moving—either on and working or on standby. Nothing was ever still. And nothing had been still since she and Nomiki had so violently made their exit.
A click sounded up the hall. Marc, one hand on the switch-plate he’d found, turned a questioning stare back at Soo-jin.
“Office,” she said, jerking her head toward the counter built into the wall in front of them. “We can check the computer.”
A half-wall separated the office and reception from their hallway, with a door farther down for access. It creaked when Soo-jin tried to pry it open. She hesitated, then pushed it all the way, letting it bump against its stop as she covered the office with her blaster.
After a few seconds, and one long look at the door to the inner office—whose panes were black and marked with partially-opened blinds—Soo-jin put the weapon down and bent over the computer.
A screen lit up in front of her. Below, they heard a slight whir as the machine booted up.
“Give it a minute,” she said. “It’s a bit antique.”
Marc moved back toward them, keeping his gun covering the end of the hallway. “Check the files. I want to know how many people are in here.”
“There are thirty-four,” Soo-jin said without looking up. “All Lost except the five in the pantry. Nona told me.” She glanced up. “They’ve got a couple of kids with them. Ran out of water earlier today.”
“Sol.”
The light reflecting off Soo-jin’s face changed, and she leaned closer to the screen. The desk thumped as she typed a command into the holo-keys.
“The grid’s fine. Batteries are at full, only a bit discharging.” She glanced over to Marc. “Maybe someone tripped the circuits.”
“It’s the Shadows,” Ethan said. “They mess with lights.”
Karin started. He hadn’t spoken at all since they’d arrived. He stood next to her, less than a foot from her hip, clutching a flashlight in his hands as tight as he could. Its beam illuminated the worn, scuffed baseboards in front of them in a trembling light.
She put a hand on his shoulder. “What do you mean? They turn the power off?”
He shrugged, the action half a shiver. “I dunno. The lights just go wonky when they’re around sometimes.” He glanced up at her. “Not always, though.”
Her jaw tightened. She hadn’t realized he’d had quite so much experience with them. She’d assumed his dad had locked him away for safety and then arranged the emergency beacon.
On the other side of the wall, Soo-jin narrowed her eyes. “He’s right. You remember the first one? Karin’s? It totally fu—mucked up the storage lighting. Marc, you remember how the switch didn’t work?”
“Yeah. The other storage was black when you were taken, too. And then, when Karin got it out of you—well…” He turned a glance to catch Karin’s eyes. “Assuming the flicking lights weren’t a side-effect of your power?”
She shook her head. “Wasn’t me.”
“Great. They can magically turn off lights.” Soo-jin leaned her head back. The whites of her eyes flashed as she rolled them toward the ceiling. “These things are straight outta a video game, aren’t they?”
“Too bad we only get one life.”
“Yeah. Too bad.” Soo-jin picked up the blaster and stepped away from the computer. “Come on. Let’s keep moving.”
They passed the switch Marc had tried before. Like most of the building, it was old. A simple mechanical button rather than anything digitized with a screen.
Easier to fix, if things went wrong.
The glow of the Nemina’s lights fell at an angle through the windows, creating scalene patches of light on the walls and ceiling. The gold-tinted frame of the nearest painting gleamed in the corner of one. A nouveau-traditional inkbrush depicting several deities, it had an even mix of East and West representation. They floated around the hard-edged circle and panels of the ERL Gate against a flat white background and a vermilion matte backing. Several cherry-red couches and chairs lined the hallway beyond.
At the end, the hallway turned right. Their flashlights swept down the next hallway, seeming inadequate, washed out, and insufficient for the black.
Karin’s fingers twitched. “You want me to light it up?”
“Absolutely,” Soo-jin said. “This place is freaky—”
“Wait.” Marc threw out an arm. “Your light hurts the Shadows, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s save it. I’d rather not give them any warning in case they can defend against it.” He paused again. “How much of it do you have, anyway?”
“Er.” She stopped, frowning down. “I have no idea.”
“Do you get tired when you use it?”
“Yeah. Sometimes. It's been a while, though.” Seven years, in fact. Ever since she and Nomiki had broken through the gate, she'd kept her light powers on the down low. “And the tiredness might have been from something else. It wasn't the most... relaxing of times.”
A few seconds passed as her two companions read between the lines.
“Okay, well, I'd rather you didn't find your limit tonight. Let's use it sparingly.”
“Shit.” Soo-jin crinkled her nose. “That would suck. Better keep it in your pants, Rin.”
Karin glanced sharply up at the shortening of her name, but Soo-jin had already turned away. Her jaw tightened. For a second, she had almost sounded like Nomiki.
“Left side, as
we discussed?” Soo-jin said to Marc, nodding toward the door ahead.
“Yep.”
“All right. Karin, Ethan, keep an eye on our backs.”
Karin raised her flashlight—and her empty hand. “You guys are going to have to teach me how to shoot when we have time.”
Beside her, Ethan clutched his flashlight hard, sweeping its beam across the hall as fast as he could.
The door gave a slight creak as Soo-jin pulled it open. Then there was an explosion of footsteps and rustling clothes.
The skin on her spine prickled as they left, and her heart sped up. She forced herself to keep her breath steady, her eyes on the empty hallway.
A few seconds later, Marc’s voice drifted back through the open door. “Clear.”
She ushered Ethan inside.
The room was spacious and long. Patches of light filtered across the wide floor, picking up more broad inkbrush paintings in thin metal frames on the walls and a long table with a dark, faux-wood surface. Folding chairs spread out in a half circle facing the corner of the room. A faint scent of incense tinged the air with a dry, woody smell.
“Community room. Part of the religious services.” Soo-jin swept a hand toward a small shrine in the corner. Another painting, this one a little different from the inkbrush on the walls, lay mounted in the middle of the dark shrine. She nodded toward a door in the wall, a bit breathless when she spoke. “Next?”
Marc studied it. “Does that have a door to the hallway?”
“Yes.”
He considered it for a few more seconds. “All right. We’ll take this one. Tape the one behind us.”
Karin pulled a thick roll of red packing tape from her jacket and put a couple pieces across the gap between door and jamb, then again between the bottom and the floor. If anyone came through after them, they’d have at least some warning.
The next room had only a single window at its end. Soo-jin and Marc cleared it, and then wound their way through a series of folding tables. The one near the window carried a stack of plates and cups. They taped the door and kept going.
They found their first Lost in the next room. She was short, about even with Soo-jin’s five-foot-three, with faded, dirty-blonde hair that fell around her neck and shoulders in a fraying muss that caught the light. Dirt smudged across the bottoms of her faded pink pajamas, with two prominent spots that had rubbed into the areas below her knees. One of her sleeves had hitched up, revealing a snarl of dried blood and dirt around her right palm and wrist. Her head turned toward them. Black eyes watched, impassive, as Marc and Soo-jin swept the room.
“Clear,” Marc said. He strode across and shut the other door, then turned his attention to the woman.
Soo-jin turned and drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, Mara.” She pocketed her blaster and raised her hands, taking a few steps forward. “Sweetie, come here.”
Karin’s throat tensed at the look in Soo-jin’s eyes.
Marc took a quick peek, glanced at the door, then back. He pointed to a chair. “Tie her down. We’ll get her on the way back.”
“I know, I know.” Soo-jin’s breath caught as she hugged the black-eyed woman, a tear rolling down her cheek. Then her jacket rustled as she pulled out another roll of tape. “Come here, honey. Just sit a while.”
Mara followed Soo-jin’s lead, hesitant but complacent. Her fingers wound around the arm of the computer chair as she lowered herself down, Soo-jin holding it steady.
“Gods,” Soo-jin said when they left her there, ripping off a piece of tape for the door. “God and gods and all the fucking saints in between.”
“It’ll be all right,” Marc said. “Karin will heal her. We can’t leave her unconscious like you were, or another one might—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Soo-jin blew out a breath. “That doesn’t stop it from sucking. I just tied my aunt to a chair and left her in a dark room.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure I’ll be much fun for company anytime soon.”
“I don’t think now is the time for that,” he said. “And I’m sure Mara will thank you for this after, chair tie and all.” He glanced up. “Come on. Let’s keep moving. She’ll be all right. You want me to tape this one?” He held out a hand.
“No, I got it.” Soo-jin moved toward the door. “It’s the Mess hall next. Maybe they’ll have something we can snack on.”
They moved on. On the walls, shadows flinched and warped as they walked through the corridors. A chill brushed against the back of her arm from an overhead vent.
But it was just a draft, stirred down the hall by the setting of the sun. Nothing jumped out of them.
They pushed open the double-doors to the Mess hall, guns raised. The blackened eyes of ten Lost turned their way.
Soo-jin’s breath caught. Then she and Marc funneled into the room and turned in opposite directions, pointing the barrel of their guns and the beams of their flashlights into every corner, nook, and cranny.
“Clear,” Marc said, a little breathless. Was it starting to get to him, too?
Soo-jin dropped her gun back into her holster and rushed forward. “Gods, guys, what happened to you? Loras? Mitch?”
She went from person to person. A few of the Lost started to follow after her, like tamed goats.
Ethan’s arm brushed into Karin’s side. She put a hand down, found his shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “How you holding up?”
He shivered. “This place is creepy. Is this where you were planning on leaving me?”
“It’s a good place,” she said. “Just not right now. We’re going to fix it.”
“Can you really?” he asked. “Fix them all?”
She felt his head turn up to look at her, and she peered down to catch his gaze. His green eyes were almost completely dilated, the flashlight outlining them in splashes of light that turned the shadows on his face crooked and sharp. He looked gaunt, scared, suddenly much older. As if he were a teenager who’d been starving, instead of a ten-year-old.
“Yeah,” she said. “I think I can.”
“And my father? Can you fix him, too?”
“We’ll go back for him as soon as we take off from here.” Marc grunted as he shoved another chair into a line. There were seven of them now, all in a row.
Tape ripped. As Karin looked up, Soo-jin wrapped the first strip around an older man’s arms, taking care to put it across his sweater instead of his skin. Light skittered around them as they worked, making mixed fragments of shadow skip and jump across the walls and ceiling. She gave Ethan’s shoulder another pat and stepped forward, ready to help.
But, before she’d gotten past the first table, movement shrank back on the wall.
Four silhouettes folded out of the darkest places of the room, standing up as if they’d been there all along.
Her breath caught. “Hey—hey, watch ou—”
Ethan’s scream cut her off. A hand wrapped around her face. Everything went black.
She screamed, lashed out. Her flailing legs rattled a nearby chair as she struck out. A strong force wrapped around her neck and dragged her back. Someone else shouted. One of the tables gave a loud shriek, metal grating on metal. As she scratched at the thing that held her, her fingernails dug several inches into its body.
If the Shadow had felt it, it only made its attack stronger.
It was an impassive force. Strong, unrelenting. The hand on her face felt like a heavy blanket. She gasped as it smothered her nose and mouth. A low ringing started in her ears, growing more and more present with each passing moment.
Air. I need air.
She tried to punch its head, but it caught her hand. Her muscles felt like lead.
Her struggles weakened. Noise slowed around her. She blinked, saw nothing. Parts of her sank into a numbness.
It felt like she was floating. The edges around her eyes turned black. Fingers pressed into her face.
The Shadow had a substance to it. It invaded her mind like a slow radiation. Darkness pushed into her like smoke,
floating into every single one of her thoughts and snuffing them out like candles.
She tried to lash out again, to kick it, to wrench herself away from its grip. Pain smacked into the back of her hand as it connected with something.
She redoubled her efforts, kicking, hitting, biting, struggling as much as she could.
Gravity shifted from under her, and her mind did a slow flip. Was she back on the ship? Was this a dream? Had the grav generator malfunctioned again?
Air whooshed across her ears.
She slammed into something hard.
The breath drove out of her lungs. She slid down, gasping like a fish. Pain spiked through her back and echoed into her extremities. But, behind the pain, came the darkness again. It encroached slowly, and where it touched, all feeling left.
She couldn’t hear anything anymore, couldn’t see, couldn’t even feel the rapid gasp of her strangled breath. The smell of rotten food from the kitchen lingered in her nose and mouth, along with the coppery taste of blood.
But soon, even that faded.
The pain, too, left.
Everything turned black.
She struggled against it, but it was no use. It smothered her, irresistible. Even breathing felt long and stuffy, clotted by a blackness so deep, it flowed like velvet against her mind.
She floated down.
A lump formed in her throat as she struggled.
She had one last, desperate thought before everything inside her ceased to exist:
I am going to die here.
Chapter 26
“I thought I told you to be prepared for this?”
Nomiki’s voice, confident and assured, cut through the darkness like a steel knife.
Karin tried to flicker her eyelids open, but...
She saw nothing.
More than that, she had nothing.
No eyes, no ears, no mouth or nose. Panic strangled her without even a throat to drag in one desperate, gasping breath. Blackness fluxed around her, depthless and unending, pressing in on whatever infinitesimal part of her that remained.
