by Gorman, K.
“How greedy it is.” Nomiki’s voice moved around her. She tutted. “It’s damn well swallowed you whole.”
She paused. Then, suddenly a lot closer, she chuckled in Karin’s ear, close enough, and vivid enough, that her breath tickled Karin’s skin.
“Come on, Rin. You aren’t usually this slow.”
Light flashed in the dark. A slice of pain slashed across her forearm in the exact place Nomiki had cut her before.
This time, instead of her light, darkness spilled out.
It was even darker than the Shadow. Darker than everything inside and outside of her. It closed sharply into itself, forming a distinct symbol: an upside-down egg encircled by an ouroborous, the snake that ate its own tail.
And, beside it, a digitized number: 0126.
A jolt ran through her. She thrashed. Images of a green-tinted lab slammed sharply across her mind. Doctors. Hospital bed. I.Vs. Injections. The concrete basement of the compound. Other children, like her, getting up from the floor.
“Come on, Rin.” Nomiki chuckled in her ear. “Don’t you remember what we used to do?”
Then she was gone, walking away into the distance.
In her wake, light sparked.
Suddenly, Karin could see.
*
The room was monochromatic. A dancing, flickering play of light and shadow. Noise roared in her ears, unintelligible. For the first few seconds, it felt like she was bridging two worlds—half of her bodiless, sucked into one of shadow that spread up far beyond the meager dimensions of the Songbird’s Mess hall; the other half a numb, leaden body pressed against the smooth linoleum floor of the same Mess hall.
Her skin prickled. The first thing she felt was the bare trace of her breath—air blowing through her throat, her nose, the skin across her knuckles. Her entire body felt punished, pummeled, like it had been beat out like a wet rag.
Her fingers twitched beside her face. Shaking, breath quick and shallow, wincing with pain, she pulled them to her face. She felt her chin and lips, then up to her nose.
When she brought it back, blood tipped the ends of her fingers. But not much.
She licked the inside of her teeth and forced a deeper breath, testing for pain. Then she began to push herself upright.
The room shifted as she moved, and she sucked in a breath at a wave of dizziness. A sharp pain in her back made her stop short. As she propped herself on her elbows, a jolt of static crossed her vision. Sound came as through water—sudden and loud and quick, but its meaning and tone distorted and muted.
As she rested, the scene around her gradually came back into sync.
Marc and Soo-jin were fighting. Their feet stumbled back and forth under the tables. She watched all this at a distance, not quite comprehending. She felt detached, insignificant, a bystander at a show. Light skittered wildly across the room—at least one of them must be using their flashlight as a weapon. Marc’s blaster sat on the floor under one of the tables, several feet from where his legs moved. Shadowed feet, moving less like a human and more like a ghost, harried him.
She squinted and winced, fighting back another wave of dizziness. It proved hard to watch. They weren’t human. They didn’t have dimension. They looked flat—just an empty blackness that took shape and, somehow, form.
But, as she kept on watching, she realized he was fighting two Shadows.
Light shimmered onto her hand like hot blood. She looked down with a frown and stared at it for a second. An echo of Nomiki’s words spoke into her mind.
Come on, Rin. You aren’t usually this slow.
She winced, tensing as another wave of nausea shivered through her. When she pushed herself further upright, the whole room seemed to tilt around her, spinning out of control. The puddle of light blurred in her vision. Her skin tingled beneath it.
Don’t you remember what we used to do?
A cry of pain snapped through the room, louder than the shouts. Soo-jin went down, scrabbling on the floor, visible now under the tables. She skittered back, kicked out as a Shadow bent over her. Its too-long arms reached for her head. Karin heard someone calling her name, screaming it over the noise.
A pressure built behind her head. It felt as though the entire room were pressing in on her, as if time and space were warping around her. More nausea spun through her mind, and a few tears pricked through her eyes. A small part of her was screaming. She could feel the rage, but it was distant—like she was flying a ship above an ocean and was seeing it underwater. Untouchable unless she either went down or it came up.
Come on, Rin. Don’t you remember?
The serpent and the egg flashed in her mind’s eye, sharp and black, then blinding white.
A jolt of shock snapped through her body. She gasped a breath, pushed herself to her pained feet, staggered forward, and burned everything she could into her power.
Light flooded the room like an atomic blast.
Sound roared into her ears, no longer distant. She fell against something, groped against it, found the hard edge of one of the tables. Light took up everything—as black and complete as the darkness had been before, here was its opposite. White, full of color, brighter than the sun.
Something gave.
Then all sound suddenly cut.
The light began to fade.
It receded slowly, pulling back to her like a tide to its moon, seeping into her skin until all that remained of it settled inside her, making her glow like an incandescent light bulb.
Then that, too, faded.
The room went dead quiet. No one spoke. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, frozen in what they had been doing. Soo-jin breathed hard on the floor. Blood trickled from a cut on her forehead, and she cradled one of her hands close to her stomach. Like Marc’s blaster, her knife had fallen to the floor at some point. It glinted near the leg of another table.
In the backsplash of the closest flashlight, her skin looked lean and pale, almost as white as the walls.
Marc, too, looked pale. He was closer, frozen in mid-fighter’s stance as if unsure whether the fight was over or not. After a second, he stepped back, shook himself, and leaned heavily against the closest table.
By the wall, Ethan hiccuped in fear.
“Where the fuck did they come from?” Soo-jin let out a heavy, ragged breath, then looked around. “Both doors were closed, right?”
“They didn’t come through the doors,” Marc said. “I saw them. They kind of… faded into the room. Like ghosts.”
“Sol’s child,” Soo-jin said. “That was… freaky.”
“Freaky, I think, is an understatement,” he said.
“Yeah, but I’ve already sworn once around Ethan today, and I’m kind of at a loss of words here.”
“That would be a first,” he commented
“Don’t you stereotype me as a woman.”
“I’m not. I’m stereotyping you as you.” He seemed to shake himself. His gaze moved away, searching. It fell on Karin. “You okay?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it as the room spun again. She groped for the table, legs suddenly unsteady. “I think I need to sit down.”
As she sank into the closest chair, a soft scuff of a shoe pulled her attention to the side. One of the room’s Lost, a boy who looked roughly twelve, stepped into her range of sight. Black eyes looked down at her.
Then, suddenly, both of them were bathed in light. A small voice trembled from the wall.
“She had black eyes,” Ethan said. “I saw them.”
The whole room went silent. Everyone stared at her. Marc, too, flicked his light over to her face.
She tried not to squint.
“Well, she doesn’t have them now,” he said. “Let’s assume she’s okay.” He slipped around the table and bent down to retrieve his blaster. “Let’s move on. We should be getting close.”
“They’re in the pantry, actually.” Soo-jin gestured to the kitchen visible through the half-wall. Metal counters gleamed as they turne
d their lights toward it. Soo-jin’s swept across them and farther in, revealing industrial appliances with pots and pans made for mass cooking. “Shall we?”
Marc looked to her. “Karin?”
She grunted and pushed herself up from the chair, pausing for a second to lean against the table. The dizziness didn’t seem quite as bad this time. She grabbed her light and followed them to the door. In the corner of her eye, she saw Ethan give her a hard stare, then he slipped up to Marc’s other side, avoiding her questioning gaze.
Hmm. Perhaps her eyes really had been black.
They’d have to consider the meaning of that later. They had people to rescue.
The kitchen was dark and silent, and the smell of old, rotting food crept to her nose. A piece of half-eaten toast lay just inside the counter she passed. A solid door, its color flashing like chocolate in their lights, sat in the opposite wall near the back corner. She leaned on the counter for support, half-limping her way over.
Soo-jin gave three sharp knocks on the pantry door. “Guys? It’s me. We’re here.”
As Karin grew closer, something rustled on the other side of the door. They heard a low murmur of voices.
Then, “Soo?”
Soo-jin shot Marc a sharp look. “Yeah, it’s me. I brought my friends. It’s clear.”
More rustling sounded on the other side. A second later, the lock disengaged. The door swung open a crack, and someone peered out. “Soo? Is that really you?”
She didn’t even need to speak. The man’s face crumpled as soon as recognition hit. The door opened wider. Soo-jin stepped forward and pulled the broken man into her arms. He sobbed quietly into her shoulder.
“It’s okay, Gramps,” she said softly. “We’re going to get you out.”
“They came so fast—I never even thought… there wasn’t any time…”
“It’s alright. We’re here now. It’s not your fault. It’s going to be okay.”
Several others peered at them from inside the room, their faces pale with sweat, and scared. The thick odor of urine and feces drifted out the door.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Soo-jin pulled the man outside and beckoned to the others.
But he jerked back as if he’d been bitten. “Soo, the others… They—”
“Shh. It’s okay.” She pointed him toward Karin, gesturing with her arm. “You see this woman? She’s going to heal all of them. Come on. Let’s go round them up.”
“They’ve made a cure?” His eyes flicked to Karin. “Oh, thank the gods.”
There were four others in the small room. Marc and Karin flanked back around Soo-jin and escorted them out. Ethan followed along like an obedient pup, shooting Karin the occasional look. At first, they froze at the sight of the Lost in the dining hall beside them, but then they grabbed cups and crowded around the kitchen’s two sinks.
Eventually, they moved to one of the long tables in the dining hall, carefully skirting around the Lost.
Karin leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh.
The lightness in her head was starting to pass, but most of her hurt. She wasn’t sure if the Shadow had beaten her before it had gone inside, or if she had merely fallen badly, but there was an on-and-off pain that shot up through her knee and hip if she flexed it the wrong way, and a kind of cold, numbing cut somewhere behind her left temple. The area felt tender and a little bit sticky.
A presence moved to her side. A second later, Ethan’s shoulder brushed her hip as he joined her against the wall.
“You talking to me again?”
Her voice sounded raw to her ears. She cleared her throat, tasting a trickle of blood.
He looked up at her, caught her gaze for a few beats, then looked back down. “Your eyes really were black.”
“Sorry,” she said. “They’re better now, right?”
“Yeah.” He shifted, rocking slightly. The beam of his flashlight swayed on the floor. After a few rocks, he nodded toward the table. “Aren’t you afraid they’re going to tell on you?”
She tapped a finger against her thigh, her eyes leveling back on the group at the table. “I’m sure Soo-jin will explain things.”
On the other side of the table, Marc caught her gaze. He jerked his head toward the darker part of the room, flashed the roll of tape in his hand, and headed toward the chairs he’d been rearranging before.
“Come on,” she said with a grunt, wincing as she pushed herself off the wall. “Let’s go help.”
But, before she’d taken more than two steps, a low, heavy noise rose outside. She jerked her head up, tracking it through the ceiling as it flew over the sanctuary.
A ship.
Chapter 27
Bright lights flashed in the hallway, stretching through the front windows as the ship landed outside. Gasps of alarm came from the table, but Karin had already caught Marc’s worried gaze.
They made for the door.
“What do you think? Military?”
He grunted. “We certainly didn’t order pizza.”
She hissed as pain shot through her knee. Her runners squelched against the smooth floor as she caught her balance and limped.
Beside her, Marc paused, stretching tall to see through the windows. “Definitely military. I recognize the craft.”
“Shit.” She dropped back. “How many?”
“They haven’t disembarked yet. What are you thinking? Rabbit it?”
She frowned up at him. “What?”
“Run,” he said. “Do you want to run?”
The suggestion gave her pause.
Run.
A week ago, that’s exactly what she would have done. It’s what she was good at. She and Nomiki, they had run between two systems together. And, in a way, she had kept going. Even now, faced with the choice, her body screamed to go.
If she hadn’t been so broken and hurt, she would already have been out the door.
Slowly, eyes staring at the floor as if it could give her an answer, she shook her head. “That would be a shitty thing to do, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe,” he said. “But you need to survive, too.”
“What are the other options?”
He took a hard glance back at the windows. The light lit him up from in front, flashing hard across his face. People were moving outside now, the ship close enough that, if she stood taller and squinted, she could have seen them disembark.
“Let’s meet them. See what their protocol is. Actually—” He backtracked, amending himself. “I’ll meet them. Soo-jin mentioned a couple dorm buildings out back. Maybe I could take them there for distraction while you…”
“Good. Yeah. Let’s do that.” She backed up on unsteady feet, retreating toward the dining hall. “I’ll go make sure everything’s good.”
“Yeah, go.” He turned back up the hall, jogging along the way.
As she limped back to the dining hall, her light pushed at the underside of her skin.
Time to make sure that the people of Songbird could keep a secret.
*
“What do you mean, there’s no cure?” The older man—Elder Chris—looked up sharply, his forehead crinkling as he gave her a quick, thorough study. “Soo-jin said—”
“There is a cure, but we’re the only ones who have it.” Soo-jin stood from her seat and leaned forward, bracing her arms against the table. Her sharp eyes caught Karin’s, and she tilted her head to the door where they could still see the lights from the ship outside. “Military?”
“Marc’s buying us some time. He’ll try and take them around the dorms. But we need to be careful.”
Her jaw tensed as she surveyed the members of the table. Five sets of eyes looked back at her, worried, apprehensive, and more than a little bit scared.
She caught Soo-jin’s eyes and held them, putting a heavy emphasis into her tone. “We need to be quiet.”
Soo-jin nodded once. Then she frowned. “It’ll be better if you show them.”
“I can do that,”
she said. “I don’t care how much they see so long as they don’t talk.”
“They won’t.”
“Good.”
“Right. Ethan, go play look out.” Soo-jin stood, then leaned forward, bracing herself against the table. She looked to the five others, catching each of their eyes and holding them for a few seconds. “Here’s the deal. Karin’s going to show you something in a minute, and you are not going to tell anyone about it. If we play this right, we can heal our people…”
Three minutes later, the heavy tramp of boots came down the hall. Karin leaned against the wall closest to the table, watching the jerk and sway of the soldiers’ shadows and flashlights play out on the hallway floor.
The room fell dead quiet. No one moved.
After a few seconds, Marc’s voice jumped ahead of the noise.
“—just up here. … some Lost, too, so don’t shoot.”
“We don’t shoot the Lost,” another voice said, disgust lacing through his tone. “What the hell kind of people do you think we are?”
Marc appeared, hands raised defensively. “Hey, hey—sorry! I only just got good feeds yesterday. No idea what’s gone down.”
“Yeah, yeah, you mentioned it. Ah—here we are.” The lead soldier paused as he saw them, standing in the center of the door and giving the room’s occupants a thorough study. With the helmet, padded armor, and riot shield, he almost entirely blocked the door.
“Everything all right in here? Anyone injured?” He quickly backtracked, amending himself with a gesture at the ten Lost who sat and stood around the other tables. “Other than them, of course.”
“No, no, we’re fine.” Elder Chris half-rose, his expression crinkling in worry. “But they—do you know what’s happened with them? Is there a cure being—”
The soldier waved a hand to cut him off. “Central’s working on it.” Then he half-turned to address his men, taking a step back out of the room. “All right, it’s just as he said. Let’s take a quick sweep, hit the back, then call pick-up.”
As he backed up, Marc looked over his head and caught Karin’s stare.
He gave her a sharp nod.
Then the soldiers were on the move and away.
