Sibylla of Earth

by A. D. Baldwin

  “No!” Sibylla screamed.

  The brunette’s gaze lifted as she saw Sibylla watching her from behind one of the boulders.

  Oh no, Sibylla thought.

  The Brunette set off toward the base of the hill, crossing the distance in less than a second. She was so fast, like a cheetah sprinting across a field.

  Frightened, Sibylla searched the ground for a rock. She needed something to defend herself with. Reaching for the biggest stone she could find, she waited for the Brunette’s charge.

  It was then, just as she was halfway up the hill, that Sibylla heard the sound of nearby voices. It was the other recruits, she realized. Anais had found them.

  The Brunette scowled, as she realized they weren’t alone. Shooting Sibylla one last look, she offered her a smile, then sped off, joining the other recruit, as they vanished into the forest.

  When they were finally gone, Sibylla climbed over the boulder and hurried down. She wanted to see the woman, to check if she was still alive. Tripping over a large rock, she fell on her face and rolled down the hill, splashing into the cold water of the stream.

  Crawling through the rushing water, she reached the woman’s side. Her skin was cold, and her eyes were empty. Pressing a finger to her throat, she waited for a pulse. There was none. She was dead.

  Overcome by regret, Sibylla sat back on her heels and breathed, trying not to cry. If only she’d said something. If only she’d yelled. Maybe she could’ve saved her. Screaming out in frustration, she listened as her voiced echoed through the forest around her.

  “I found her!” a voice called out.

  Sibylla glanced up and saw Anais staring down at her from the top of the hill. Behind her, a group of recruits shuffled in, their eyes stunned with horror as they saw the dead body at Sibylla’s knees.

  Only Anais spoke. “What’d you do?”

  “Varya Sokolov?” Yumiko asked in disbelief. She scratched the back of her head and stared at the ground, seeming utterly perplexed by the revelation.

  Sibylla was watching them from the bank of the stream, studying the movement of their bodies.

  The Drop had been hard on the Asian soldier. Her forehead was sliced at the corner, and the sleeve of her left arm had been cut away, most likely from an unforgiving branch. She hadn’t uttered a word to Sibylla since they’d found her. None of them had.

  “You really think it was her?” Yumiko asked.

  “Who else?” Anais asked. “The black hair, the white skin, the upside-down cross. It’s the guy I’m wondering about.”

  “Carlos,” Tayshaun said. He crossed his thick arms against his chest, as he stepped into the circle of recruits, towering over them, like a skyscraper. “Carlos Benavides.”

  “You know him?” Yumiko asked.

  “No,” he answered. “But I’ve read about him—an article about his family. They’re cousins. Not by blood, of course. But legally. His aunt and uncle were the American parents who adopted Varya after her own parents were…well, you know the story.”

  “And?” Anais pressed.

  He shrugged. “From what I know, he had…problems.”

  “That would explain the scars,” Yumiko said.

  Sibylla struggled as she felt the beat of her heart slowing down. It was getting worse. Her skin was paling, and she was losing sensation in her left thigh. She stayed quiet as Tayshaun turned to her.

  “How do we know she didn’t do it?” he asked.

  “She did kill her boyfriend,” Yumiko offered with an uncertain shrug.

  Anais was aghast. “Why would she make all that up about Varya?”

  “Maybe because she was the one who did it,” Tayshaun said. “And now she’s cleaning her tracks.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Anais said. “She didn’t even know the guy. None of us did.”

  Tayshaun shrugged. “A killer is a killer.”

  “We’re all killers,” Anais said.

  Tayshaun exhaled sharply as he glanced at Sibylla. “She looks bad.”

  Anais gazed up at the darkening sky. “We need to hurry.”

  “To where?” Yumiko asked. “We don’t even know where the Nest is.”

  “We could hunker down here?” Tayshaun said. “Find some wood. Build a fire. Set off in the morning?”

  “She’ll be dead by tonight,” Anais said.

  The surety of her tone sent a streak of terror up Sibylla’s spine, and she found herself thinking she would’ve been better off going with Division.

  Her only chance was to figure out which way the recruits had gone. And to do that, she needed someone who could find their way through a forrest. Mustering what little strength she had, she rose to her feet. “I have a plan,” she said.

  The recruits turned to her in silence.

  “But I need a tracker.”

  No one spoke as they exchanged confused glances.

  Sibylla covered her face in frustration. “A hunter?” she elaborated in an annoyed voice. “You know, someone who hunts? Fishes? Shit like that?”

  The crowd shuffled as one of the criminals stepped forward. It was the one who’d been staring at Sibylla on the plane, the one with black hair and metal teeth. At least 6’5”, he was much bigger than the other recruits. Even Tayshaun shifted uncomfortably at the man’s approach.

  With his head held high, he strode through the shallow stream with ease, his long, dark hair drifting in the wind like a demon’s. When he reached the group, he stopped and glared down at Sibylla. “I’m a tracker,” he announced in a deep voice.

  Sibylla swallowed, remembering how frightening he’d seemed on the plane. “Um, okay. Well, in that case, you want to tell me your name?”

  “Koda,” he said.

  Tayshaun stepped forward. “Did you see which way they went?”

  “North East,” Sibylla said. “I think…But that won’t help us unless we can track them.”

  Koda’s lips pursed as he thought quietly to himself. Under his brooding face, Sibylla sensed a calmness to his soul, one that didn’t even flinch as the cold wind blew around them. “Only two?” he asked.

  Sibylla nodded, rubbing her shoulders against the chill.

  He waded through the stream and onto the bank, where a branch hung loosely from one of the trees. Grabbing it gently with his fingers, he noted where it had been cracked, then yelled out, “One of them is clumsy.” He turned to Sibylla for confirmation.

  “The one with the scars,” she answered back.

  He nodded. “We can still catch them.”

  Tayshaun’s face lit with determination. “Alright! Everybody fall in. Whoever can’t walk, get someone to help you.”

  “What about the woman?” Anais asked, turning to the group. “What do we do with her?”

  “I got her,” Tayshaun announced, hefting the body into his arms and cradling it across his wide chest.

  “What are you doing?” Anais asked.

  “She’s one of us,” he replied. “And we don’t leave people behind.”

  His answer left her speechless, and she raised a brow as he marched away, impressed.

  “And this one?” a female asked, motioning toward Sibylla.

  “I got her,” Anais said.

  “My ass you do,” Yumiko grumbled, shoving the Redhead out of the way. “With those scrawny arms, I’m surprised you can even get up in the morning.”

  Sibylla grimaced as the bleached blonde hefted her up into her arms. She was strong, especially for a girl, and without the sleeve of her suit, Sibylla could see the ripped bicep curling with force.

  “I hope you’re right,” Yumiko said, straining. “At least for your sake.”

  “That makes two of us,” Sibylla replied.

  9

  The Tracker

  The trek was long. Koda stalked through the forest like a wolf, as he led the pack of recruits along a trail of broken branches and light footsteps. He was so perceptive. And despite his large size, he was graceful in his movements, observant, able
to notice the slightest bend of a branch, the tiniest mark of a foot.

  As they finally reached the mountain, he halted them with a raised hand. “The trail ends here.”

  “Impossible,” Yumiko said through tired gasps. “You must’ve messed up somewhere.”

  Anais let out a deep breath. “Oh sure, because you know what the heck you’re talking about.”

  “Listen, bitch—”

  “He’s right,” Tayshaun said. “There’s no sign of movement. No footprints, no broken branches.”

  “Then where’d they go?” Yumiko asked.

  Sibylla gazed up at the steep mountainside, it’s gray surface slick with dry moss and smooth stone. It was at least fifty feet high. “Up there.”

  A collective sigh rose from the pack of battered recruits, as their hope of safety was crushed. They fell apart, dropping tiredly to the ground; others against trees. All of them despairing from their exhaustion and wounds.

  “Let me down,” Sibylla managed.

  “But your leg?”

  “I’ve had worst,” Sibylla lied.

  Yumiko snorted as she exchanged a glance with Tayshaun. “Dang, this chick could’ve been a Marine.”

  Sibylla caught her balance as she was lowered to the ground. But she was quickly hit by an overwhelming dizziness that made her want to faint. Leaning against the base of the mountain, she stared out at the rabble of recruits, disheartened and hurt. There was more at stake here than just her life, she realized. And she needed to do something before it was too late.

  Digging into herself, she called out to them. “Hey! Wake up. We’re almost there.” Their heads lifted. “Now, come on!”

  Sibylla clawed into the rocky mountainside, digging her fingers into the tiny cracks and planting a foot on the shortest ledge. With a grunt, she hefted herself up and sighed in relief as she crossed the first couple of feet.

  Below her, recruits began to stir.

  “She’s not making me look like a pussy,” Yumiko said in defiance as she hurried to catch up. More recruits followed suit, and soon, they were right behind her.

  The climb was treacherous. Sibylla tore her hands, ripped her knees. A few times she even nearly passed out. But she never gave up—not once. In her mind, she kept imagining that Dillon was watching her from afar, missing her because of what a badass she was.

  When she finally reached the top, she barely had enough strength to breathe let alone stand. She fell to her knees, threw her head back, and gazed up at the glorious sight before her.

  Stretched out along the horizon was a crown of buildings—modernized behemoths, made from thick glass and steel frames. They stood facing the west, bathing in the glow of the setting sun.

  To the right, a troop of Spider Tanks sat upon an open green field, while parked upon a raised platform were a dozen Warhawk jets, their engines revving for takeoff.

  In the center of all this, stood a large stone building, with a columned entrance and a gold eagle sparkling from its roof.

  It was all so beautiful. Taking in a deep breath, she felt the relief of survival. She was alive. Thank God, she was alive. Basking in the moment, she noticed the other recruits falling to their knees around her, laughing and smiling as they all relished in the glorious moment.

  The moment was short-lived, though, as she heard the familiar voice of cruelty. She looked up and saw the scarred soldier who’d thrown her from the plane, glowering before her.

  “Well, well, well,” he said, flanked by a pair of soldiers who were donned in exo-suits, their expressions filled with the same amusement in his voice.

  “Looks like my eaglets finally came home to roost, huh?”

  Sibylla cursed the man in her thoughts, cramping against the violent rage coursing through her body. She didn’t know this feeling. She hated it. Almost as much as she hated him.

  At her side, Tayshaun appeared with the body of the young woman. It was slung over his shoulder, the back torn where it had rubbed against the rocky mountainside. How Tayshaun had been able to carry it, Sibylla couldn’t even fathom.

  “We found her in the stream,” Tayshaun said, laying her body at the soldier’s feet.

  The soldier snorted as he looked to Sibylla. “This your doing?” He shoved Sibylla over with his boot, and she fell to the ground, her eyes fluttering as she fought to stay conscious.

  As she lay on the ground, she spotted a group of M.P.’s marching from across the field. They were dressed in gray fatigues, holding shock cylinders in their hands. Big men with cold eyes, they were the image of pain.

  “This the suspect, Instructor Williams?” asked one of the officers, a short woman with olive skin.

  The scarred soldier nodded. “According to your witness.”

  Sibylla looked and saw the Brunette who everyone was calling, Varya, standing in the background, her beautiful face punctuated by a grin.

  “Take her,” the officer ordered.

  Sibylla felt a pair of large hands grip her from behind, hefting her up to her feet and giving her a hard tug to wake her up. She was like putty in the big men’s grasp, unable to stand, unable to fight back.

  They slapped a pair of metal cuffs around her wrists, then wrapped a plastic collar around her neck, dragging her across the field like a rag doll.

  “Sibylla Cross,” one of the officers said. “I’m placing you under arrest.”

  “What for?” she wheezed out.

  “On suspicion of murder.”

  10

  The Interrogation

  A bright light seared Sibylla’s eyes as she was wheeled into what looked to be a hospital room. Men and women, dressed in blue scrubs, rushed around her, folding the sides of her metal gurney and lifting her into a large glass tube that was lined with a white rubber mattress.

  “What are we looking at?” an older man with dark brown hair and black Lenses asked.

  “Bullet wound to the thigh,” one of the nurses answered. “Loss of blood. Signs of trauma. The usual.”

  “Just another day at the Nest, huh?” The man’s gaze fell to Sibylla’s manacles, and he frowned. “What are the restraints for?”

  “Guards outside said she killed someone.”

  The man snorted. “Already? Wow, it’s not even the first day yet. She must be one of the overachievers.”

  “Must be.”

  “I swear, these recruits get younger by the day.”

  Sibylla blinked as she tried to stay conscious. But it was getting harder by the second. Lights flickered in the corners of her eyes, and she could see tiny stars sparkling before her. Every once and a while, a sheen of darkness would blanket her vision, bringing with it a comforting sleep that she wanted to give into. But she couldn’t. No, she told herself. Stay awake. See where they’re taking you.

  She winced as she felt a prick in her arm. Glancing to her right, she saw that one of the nurses had plunged a hypodermic needle into her vein. On the computer monitor next to her, she watched as a measurement gauge rose slowly, mirroring the amount of blood being pumped into her system.

  “She’s conscious,” one of the nurses said.

  “‘Bout time,” the older man said. “Good evening, I’m Dr. Schultz.”

  “Where am I?” Sibylla asked.

  “You’re in the infirmary.”

  Sibylla’s gaze wandered, suddenly noticing the strange robotic hand appearing at the foot of her bed. It slid out slowly, suspended by a metal frame that was recessed in the ceiling.

  “What the hell is that?” Sibylla asked.

  The doctor followed her gaze. “Oh, that’s just a muscle redesign unit. It’ll go quick. You’ll see.”

  Sibylla flinched as the hand lowered over her wound, its elongated fingers springing to life, as it prepared to do its work. It peeled back the torn ends of her bodysuit, revealing the damaged flesh. Then, spraying it with a white gas that burned against her skin, a red laser appeared at the tip of one of its fingers.

  Sibylla screamed as she felt the sear of bu
rning flesh. She tried to break free, tried to wriggle away. But she couldn’t move. The metal clamps were unbreakable.

  “What’s going on with the anesthesia?” the doctor asked, seeming more confused than angry.

  “Oh, my bad,” one of the male nurses said. He turned to his computer and pressed a button. “There, that should do it.”

  “Good job,” the doctor replied. He handed Sibylla’s file to one of the other nurses and left the room, leaving Sibylla behind with her screams.

  The muscle re-design unit worked furiously as it began to stitch the torn fibers that had been damaged from the gunshot wound. Sibylla threw her head back as the laser dug deeper into her tissue, her teeth nearly buckling from the sharp burn. Thankfully, the anesthesia kicked in, and she was suddenly swept away by sleep, the image of Dillon filling her mind as her eyes closed.

  “The first step is always research,” Dillon said, motioning for her to tap the keys of her keyboard. They were in his room, she saw, the first time he’d ever shown her how to hack into a system. “You need to know who your target is.”

  “And then what?” Sibylla asked.

  “Then you have to find your enemy’s weak point, the place where you know they crumble.”

  Sibylla grinned as she felt his lips nuzzling against her neck. Laughing, she pushed him away. “And then?”

  He sighed. “Then you break in.” He turned to the monitor where a black screen with green letters appeared. “Once you’re inside, though, you’d better hurry up. You don’t want to get caught.”

  “And why’s that?” Sibylla asked playfully.

  “Because then you get punished.”

  Sibylla awoke at the sound of footsteps, and she found herself resting in a hospital bed. Outside her window, a morning light shined into the room, while a flock of birds chirped softly from the trees.

  “Feeling better?” one of the nurses asked.

  “What time is it?”

  “Morning,” the nurse answered. “You slept through the night.”

  As if on cue, a pair of guards marched into her room and gripped her by the arms. They yanked her forward, tugging her into the hallway, where the short olive-skinned officer she’d seen outside was waiting.