Black Dawn

by Gorman, K.

  Everyone was quiet. They listened to the soldier’s boots tramp down the hall, then split. Doors creaked open, followed fast by the quick-step of soldiers going in, checking the room, and then clearing it.

  After a few seconds, Soo-jin rose from her seat.

  “All right, let’s go. Quiet, everyone. Get our friends taped down in a line. We’ll go for the rest once they’re out.”

  *

  Karin bent over an older man, positioned her hands on either side of his temples, and tried to ignore the pained stiffness on the side of her throat. Most of her was stiff, actually, joining the sharp pains she still felt from her knee and the healthy accompaniment of bruises that had started to make their presence known. When she licked her lips, she could still taste blood from a cut on the side.

  After a second, she glanced up at Soo-jin. She gave a nod.

  Soo-jin splayed a hand, then shifted to angle herself to one of the doors. “Wait.”

  Most of the soldiers had gone out back, where two outbuildings housed the dormitories and staff quarters, but a couple had stayed behind to do a more thorough check of the place. By the sounds of their footsteps, heading back toward the rear of the building, they were almost done.

  So was she.

  Eight other Lost—former Lost now—sat unconscious in the chairs to her left, heads limp and rocked forward. She had pushed the Shadows from them, and Soo-jin had knifed them in the heads as they’d come out. They’d tried to fight, but the tape holding the Losts’ arms down had prevented anything more meaningful than a snarl and a gentle rock.

  The light moved in the room. Footsteps sounded outside, echo-y but growing more distinct as they came back down the hallway. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, chilling in the cold room. She watched Soo-jin’s hand, waiting.

  “Okay, go.”

  Light pulsed. Beneath her hands, the man went rigid. Then he thrashed.

  She kept her grip as he struggled, rocking the chair. She was getting the hang of it now.

  Her light didn’t so much pour into him as slam.

  Suddenly, everything in front of her went black. The Shadow jerked up and out of his body, stretching high toward the room’s dead light fixtures.

  For a moment, it towered over her.

  Then Soo-jin’s knife flashed. The Shadow froze.

  The air hung heavy for a second, then it began to unravel. It kept its shape—two shapes, technically—long enough for Soo-jin to second-guess herself and leap again with the knife, and then dissipated.

  The man went limp.

  Karin stumbled back, suddenly dizzy. Her left hand groped for the table behind her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just give me a minute.” She took a few breaths, tried to reground herself. It was more than just her brain, though. A hand went to the cut on her temple. Was it trauma? Had she gotten a concussion at some point? Or did it have something to do with the vibrant flow of energy making her skin tingly?

  She leaned back, sucked in a breath, then pushed herself off the edge of the table and toward the last person they had tied down.

  Mara.

  Two of the sanctuary workers, Jaxx and Verina, had carried her chair from across the hallway, opening a previously locked door to the kitchen to get her in past the soldiers.

  She gave another sharp nod to Soo-jin, then braced herself in front of Mara, almost straddling her knee. The tips of her fingers brushed her hair as she rested them on either side of her temples. Her eyes, black as a pool of ink shining wetly in the light of one of the flashlights on the table, stared up at Karin.

  A trill of unease wiggled through somewhere in her gut as she met Mara’s gaze.

  Those black eyes were something she would not be able to get used to.

  “I think they’re gone now.” The knife in Soo-jin’s hand—a simple, slim blade—was nearly invisible as she tilted her head to track the soldiers in the hallway. She glanced to the two doors. “Jaxx, Verina?”

  “Hold a second.” Jaxx, by the right-hand door, held up an arm, one finger pointing. One of those they’d found in the pantry, he seemed to have recovered the easiest from his forced incarceration—and he seemed to be taking the sudden discovery of her secret magic powers well.

  In fact, he’d been the only one at the table whose first response had been excitement rather than fear.

  That excitement had only elevated when she’d told him she’d been raised in a secret lab beyond the gate.

  Her secret would probably be safe with him.

  The one manning the other door, she worried about. Verina hadn’t seemed quite as eager to embrace the secret-keeping mission. Thin and willowy, the stay in the pantry probably turning her even more so, she hadn’t said a word the entire time Karin had seen her.

  Even now, by the door, she signaled her post in nods and hand signals, with only the occasional hiss of teeth to catch Soo-jin’s attention.

  “Okay, I think they left. A door closed, anyway.”

  “Good. Still, keep an eye out.” Soo-jin took a step back, readied her knife, and nodded to Karin. “Ready when you are.”

  Karin took a deep breath and slowly let it out. With it, the energy of her power moved through her arm like a ray of sun on a cool day. She tensed her fingers, tilted Mara’s head back, and called on the energy.

  Light sparked. Mara let out a gasp. Muscles and tendons tensed in her neck as she fought her restraints. The Shadow jumped.

  This time, though, it jumped at Karin.

  She didn’t even have time to flinch. Pain knocked into her ribs. All the air in her lungs left her with a breathless whoof. Her feet lifted off the ground. The ceiling spun above her in a brief, dizzying glimpse.

  She slammed into the table behind her.

  She hit it so hard that it jumped back a few inches, its legs groaning and scraping against the floor. A spike of pain flooded her back. It felt like one of her vertebrae had cracked from impact. Prickles of mixed numbness and feeling moved through other parts of her body. As she tried to stand up, to scramble away, her injured knee gave out from under her.

  The Shadow loomed over her, so tall its head nearly brushed the ceiling. Shouts crashed around her. Someone was screaming. It reached toward her, lightning-fast.

  She jerked away with a yell, stumbling over a chair. She fought to piece her thoughts back together, to call her power. Light shivered onto her hand like a run-off of thin milk.

  She turned, shoved the chair back at the Shadow, then lifted her hand to throw it.

  A blaster round caught the Shadow in the chest.

  For a moment, the Shadow froze in place. Its head seemed to bow, to look down at the spot the round had hit.

  Then its attention shifted back. Karin felt it rake over her skin like a beam of static. She shivered as its invisible gaze locked with hers.

  As if it were staring straight into her.

  A hard moment ticked by. Nomiki’s voice, closer now than it had been before, spoke into her mind.

  You didn’t forget, did you?

  She opened her mouth, took a breath.

  Then another two rounds slammed into the Shadow.

  It staggered, faltered. Then it fell.

  By the time it hit the floor, its body had shredded into pieces. Ragged, torn threads of blackness lifted into the air and then vanished like a bad dream.

  Karin, eyes wide and staring, shivered. Hands shaking, she lifted her gaze to Soo-jin, who stood by the wall equally wide-eyed. She still had her knife in her hand, but the way she held it suggested she’d been hurt.

  Then, as one, they looked to the door.

  A single soldier stood in its frame, backlit by the lights of his ship through the windows. A small trickle of smoke rose from the end of his blaster.

  Chapter 28

  For a long moment, nobody moved. Everyone stared at each other, frozen. The soldier still had his gun up. The kids had both backed to the inside of their respective walls, instinctively hiding
out of range of the blaster, making no move to get his attention. Karin’s heart stuttered in her chest.

  Then Soo-jin collapsed against the wall, one hand over her heart. “Oh, thank the gods you’re here.” She gave a big, shuddering sigh and tilted her head back, closing her eyes. “That thing—it just came out of nowhere!”

  The tension broke. Shaking, Karin lowered herself gingerly down into her seat. Her right hand had gone partially numb again. Blood tacked to its middle finger, coinciding with a bruising pain she felt off and on. The other hand, she hid on her lap, turning it inwards to hide the light that still glimmered on her skin.

  With a thought, and more than a little concentration on her part, it vanished.

  But the soldier at the door didn’t move. Nor did he lower his gun. When he spoke, his tone was not light. “What are you doing?”

  Her heart froze. She jerked her attention back up and gave him another study.

  He hadn’t seen the light, had he?

  No. The gun wasn’t pointed at her. Instead, it seemed leveled toward the line of Lost—now former Lost—all taped down and unconscious in their chairs.

  A spike of ice jumped through her veins as she realized what he was seeing.

  They looked dead, not unconscious.

  Soo-jin, too, had followed his gaze. She tried to shrug it off. “What? Did you want them wandering around?”

  “What have you done to them?” The man’s voice rang clear with anger now. His gun jerked to her.

  “Whoa, whoa—” Soo-jin threw her hands up. “Buddy, all we did was tape them down. Tape. That’s all. Come check their vitals if you don’t believe me.”

  The soldier didn’t move for a long second. Didn’t say a word.

  Then he jerked the muzzle of his gun toward the opposite wall. “Move. Stay where I can see you.”

  “No problem.” Soo-jin eased back, hands never leaving the air. She didn’t look over as she passed Karin, walking backward along the wall.

  “Stop there,” the soldier said when she got to the corner. Then he jerked his gun briefly over to Karin. “You, don’t move.”

  Karin raised her hands on the table.

  The whole room watched as he walked over, covering both of them with his gun. Then he bent over the first of the Lost—Mara, the last one she’d cleared—tore the glove off his right hand with his teeth, and pressed two fingers to the inside of her neck.

  The whole room held its breath, waiting. Karin didn’t dare look away. Her gaze flicked from the tip of his gun—still pointed at her—to his face, and to the fingers at Mara’s throat.

  After a few seconds, the gun lowered. He clicked something on its side, pushed it into a holster at his back, and crouched in front of her. “Why’s she unconscious?”

  “Don’t know. It happened a couple seconds after we taped them. Maybe a weird pressure point effect?”

  The man didn’t reply. He bent lower, pulling Mara’s palms upright, then checking her pulse again. After a moment, he dropped them and looked sideways, down the rest of the line. “They’re all unconscious?”

  “Yes,” Soo-jin said. “Happened a couple seconds after we taped them. You ever seen a lamb at a livestock auction? The way they kind of go limp when they put the ropes on? It was kind of like that.” She shifted. “We checked their vitals afterwards.”

  Karin schooled her expression. She was pretty sure that Soo-jin was making up the part about the limp lamb, but the soldier surprised her.

  “It’s Triclozine,” he said, bending forward to check the next person’s pulse.

  “What?”

  “Triclozine. What they use on the lambs. Keeps them quiet for transport.” He paused, counting under his breath. “You said you checked their vitals?”

  “Yes. Right after they…” Soo-jin gestured at the row. “You know.”

  “Uh huh.”

  A quiet shuffle sounded by one of the doors. Karin looked up in time to see Verina creep further into the room, her sunken, sharp features drawn into a thick frown and… was that irritation?

  “Karin—” Soo-jin waved to get her attention, sidestepping the soldier. “How are you? You look like you got banged up.”

  “Fine, I think. Just need a couple—er—” She stuttered as Soo-jin flashed her a meaningful look behind the soldier’s back. “My arm got hit again. Back, too. And my head’s still a bit dodgy from earlier—”

  “There’s a standard Medkit in the back office,” Soo-jin said. “Let’s get you checked out.” She flashed her gaze to the two sanctuary children. “Will you be all right without us?”

  Neither spoke. But after a few seconds, the girl gave a small nod, her eyes flicking to the soldier and back.

  “All right. We’ll be back. Come on, Kar,” she said, pronouncing it like ‘care.’ Soo-jin helped her to her feet and put an arm around her back.

  “Wait.”

  They froze as the soldier stood. He rummaged for something in his pocket, then held it out.

  “A couple extra Med-bands, military grade.” He gave her a quick glance over. “I noticed you had a few cuts. Come get me if you need anything more than basic. I’m the Med officer.”

  Ah. That probably explained how he knew about drugged lambs at agricultural exchanges.

  Soo-jin gave him a quick smile, then plucked the package from his fingers. “Thanks. We got a nanokit on the ship, so we’ll probably check her out there after preliminary…”

  “Good idea.” He gave her a half salute in farewell, then turned back to the line of former Lost. “I’ll see what I can do for them.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure they appreciate it.” Soo-jin paused, looking down the line. “You know, we appreciate it, too. They’re all very dear to us. The sanctuary is family.”

  He waved her off. “Just doing my job, ma’am. It’s what I signed up for.”

  “Well, thank you, anyway.” Soo-jin pulled Karin toward the door. “We’ll be down the hall if you need us. Near the back. Bathroom behind the nursery.”

  As they shuffled toward the door—the right-hand one, with the hall they’d first come down—Jaxx raised his eyebrows in their direction. Soo-jin shot him a look as they got closer.

  “Stay here,” she hissed as they passed. “Bother him. Delay him.”

  Out in the hall, Soo-jin guided her down a ways. Then she abruptly turned to the left.

  “Let me guess,” Karin said dryly. “We won’t be in the bathroom behind the nursery with the Medkit?”

  “No,” Soo-jin replied. “We won’t be.”

  *

  They moved—or, in Karin’s case, limped—quickly, going room to room and, where possible, avoiding the hallways. After the first room, where her light had flashed out of the solarium glass and illuminated the trees in a bright, solid strobe, they avoided rooms with windows, too.

  “Right. Nine left,” Soo-jin said as she moved toward the next door. Its hinges gave a creak as it opened. Her gaze scanned the room. “Make that three after this one.”

  They’d made their way almost back to the front, looping around through the nursery where they’d found several younger-looking Lost waiting among a colorful, foam-mat floor and strewn toys, and across the two counseling rooms and another bathroom. Looking back down the hallway—the last room hadn’t offered an inner door to go through—she could just see the splayed lights from the dining hall.

  All was quiet, both inside and out.

  But Karin felt exposed. She pushed close to Soo-jin’s back and closed the door behind them.

  Immediately, all her instincts made her draw up short.

  She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the Lost. They were a mix of young and old in this room, scattered between three of the sanctuary’s now-characteristic long, dark folding tables that edged the walls. The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, giving her a heady feeling. Soo-jin’s light swept through the room, bumping across tables and chairs, paintings on the walls, and scattered cushions.

  It froze when
it got to the altar at the far end.

  “Oh, what in Clio’s hell?”

  Most of the Lost stood throughout the room—two by the window, one wandering by a table near the closest wall, another looking up from a corner seat—but three of them sat directly in front of the altar. They hadn’t looked over when Soo-jin and Karin had entered the room.

  Instead, they stared upward into the altar’s image.

  “Are they… praying?” Karin asked.

  “No. Prayer here is a bit more… active.” Soo-jin shifted, her light swaying slightly. “Coincidence?”

  She didn’t answer that. Instead, Marc’s earlier words came to her mind.

  I don’t believe in coincidence.

  “Who is that?” she asked, indicating the painting embedded into the altar’s back.

  Soo-jin tipped her light up, revealing a serene-looking woman depicted in a similar inkbrush technique as the rest of the sanctuary’s paintings, with thin lines and faded colors.

  “Gwa-eum, the Goddess of Mercy. AKA Guanyin, AKA Kannon, AKA… well, nevermind. It doesn’t matter.” Soo-jin shook her head, as if to rid some thought. “Shall we… take a closer look?”

  She took a hesitant step forward, as if to punctuate her question.

  Karin nodded. “Yeah.” She glanced back to the closed door. “We don’t have much time.”

  “How long was I out for?” Soo-jin asked. “A few minutes?”

  “Maybe one or two,” she said. “You started moving soon after. Maybe they take longer because they were out longer?”

  She’d thought about this already, when the first few hadn’t awakened. It still worried her, but they’d done Med-checks on all of them.

  Soo-jin’s netlink flashed as she checked the time. “Then they could wake up at any time. We need to rush.” She nodded toward the windows in the outside wall. “Should we care about those? There’s no convenient bathroom or closet in here.”

  Karin gave the windows a lengthy gaze. Outside, the branches of the closest trees loomed dark and thick. Unfortunately, they weren’t at all close to the building—she could even see a flash of sky as she got closer. The light of the stars pulled at her skin.