Ash Mistry and the World of Darkness

by Sarwat Chadda

  “Follow orders?” hissed Parvati. She bent his arm back a little more. Dr Wells whimpered.

  “What did you do to him?” said Ashoka. “Or should I press ‘play’?”

  Sweat covered Dr Wells’s face and it was an unpleasant ruby hue, almost as pumped as his bloodshot eyes. “We were testing Lord Savage’s new cure. A retro-anti-virus. Number one.”

  “RAVN-1,” said Parvati. “Savage’s sick joke.”

  “What’s it do?” asked Ashoka.

  “Cures. Everything.” But he was hiding something.

  “That’s not possible.” Ashoka glanced at the screen and the twisted mess of a human. “Those bodies, they had scales. Wings. That doesn’t look like any sort of cure to me.”

  Dr Wells cleared his throat. “We’ve been experimenting on melding the DNA structure from different species. Adding their strengths and abilities to those of a human. There have been some … negative results.”

  “What are you turning them into, if not humans?” asked Parvati.

  Dr Wells didn’t reply until she twisted his arm some more. “It turns people into demons. Rakshasas.”

  Parvati leaned over the man, her face centimetres from his. “You can’t.”

  “We’ve found a way. Given early enough, the drug infects the child with a rakshasa soul.”

  Ashoka grabbed the man’s throat. “You’ve tested this on kids? I should kill you right now.”

  Parvati touched his hand and Ashoka reluctantly forced his fingers apart. “But the person on the video, he’s an adult,” he said. And all those bodies hanging in the storage chamber.

  “The effects on adults are … varied. They’ve not had the initial dose, so it’s a tremendous shock to the system. Some transform, partially. Most have a psychotic breakdown as the rakshasa soul tries to enter them.”

  “You mean it drives them mad?”

  “Yes. In layman’s terms, they turn into bloodthirsty crazed monsters. Usually with cannibalistic tendencies.”

  “So what’s the cure?” Ashoka asked.

  “Cure?”

  “How do you save the ones infected?”

  “There isn’t one. Savage never wanted one developed.”

  How utterly insane. “How long to make one?”

  Dr Wells blinked in surprise. “Years, if it’s even possible. You don’t understand – this is the melding of magic and science. Everything we do is groundbreaking. We have no map of where this will lead, let alone any real idea of how to get there.”

  Ashoka gazed at the screen again. Then he searched the desk until he found a data stick. “I want everything copied on to this. Everything.”

  “I can’t—”

  Ashoka snarled. “You do as I say or the next person on that slab will be you.”

  Dr Wells needed no further encouragement.

  “Test subjects,” Ashoka said. “You said you have test subjects.”

  “A few left.” Dr Wells pointed to a door at the far end of the room. “We were going to euthanise them now the tests are over.”

  Ashoka started towards the door. “Over?”

  “Yes, we’ve finished developing RAVN-1 now.”

  Ashoka glared at the man. “My sister … my parents were brought here.”

  Dr Wells glanced over. “I only work the evening shift. I … I don’t know who’s in there.”

  Ashoka was by the door. “Give me the code.”

  “1839. They’re all the same.”

  The corridor was narrow, with doors down either side. Each was barcoded and had a small shutter and key pad. He went to the first cell.

  1839.

  Bolts hidden between two solid steel plates slid out of their sockets within the door frame, and Ashoka took hold and heaved.

  “Hello?”

  Empty. There was a basin and a toilet and a mattress on the floor. The place was bare and cold and reeked of misery.

  Ashoka took another step further down the corridor into the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Ashoka’s eyes were growing accustomed to the gloom. The dim lights were hazy and red and sickly. The heavy antiseptic didn’t hide the other smells that lingered there: the sweat, the stale air and the damp dread. An air-conditioning vent droned and rattled over his head like a wave of insects. He cleared his throat, trying to loosen the tightness he felt there. He forced himself further in, even though every instinct yelled at him to run and run far, so afraid was he of what he might find.

  “Is anyone there?” he asked.

  Voices murmured. Someone scratched at the door from within, and cackled. A fist banged frantically against the metal, and sobs shook inside.

  1839. 1839. 1839. 1839. 1839. Ashoka punched the numbers into each door, pulling at the handle before rushing to the next. “Come out. Come out. Please.”

  One by one, blinking and afraid, they emerged. They wore medical smocks and paper clothes and were dishevelled and frail-looking. Men and women and children, mostly local Chinese, taken by Savage and his lackeys for his experiments. And these were the lucky few.

  Lucky.

  “Lucks?” Ashoka whispered her name, afraid if he said it too loud his hopes might shatter. “Lucks?”

  One man came up to the doorway, stared with slack-jawed amazement, sobbed and pulled at his own hair as he dared to step out into freedom.

  “Lucks?” Ashoka raised his voice. “It’s me.”

  A woman clutching her son brushed past Ashoka, stopping only to look at him with a mixture of fear and relief. Her son pressed his face against her and looked nowhere.

  Ashoka’s heart beat so loudly he trembled. This beat was the thump of some dance. He was breathing hard, trying to stay focused, trying to stop the horror from overwhelming him. Or perhaps the dance, this mad frenzy within him, was making him gasp. Ashoka wiped the sweat off his face. “Lucks?”

  Please let them be OK. I don’t care about anything else.

  What would he give for them to be OK? Everything. Here in the gloom, with the corpses in plastic bags and the ash rising from the chimneys, Ashoka promised all he had to any god that might be listening.

  Mum. Dad. Lucks. How could he live without them? It was too horrible to contemplate.

  Contemplate it now.

  No. He couldn’t think like that, but as he opened door after door and didn’t see them the dreadful thought wouldn’t go away. Some cells held captives, afraid and ill and blinking in the light, but others were empty. He’d come too late for them.

  Was he too late now?

  As Ashoka crept forward, so did the nightmare that they were gone.

  All that he’d taken for granted now came back to haunt him. Those times he’d barged past his mum in his rush to be somewhere else. Those times he’d ignored his dad while he concentrated on some new computer game. Those times he’d shut the door on Lucks because he didn’t want to play with her. Those times he’d wanted to be alone.

  You’re alone now. How does it feel?

  Cell after cell clanged open.

  All empty.

  Ashoka’s heart shook. It couldn’t end like this. He hadn’t even said goodbye. He hadn’t said how much he loved them, how much they meant to him; how much he needed them.

  A last cell. A last hope.

  1839.

  He swung the door open.

  “Lucks?”

  “Ashoka!” A girl ran at him, hugging him with all her might. She buried her head into his chest and Ashoka cried as he held her. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Son?” A man stumbled out from the back of the cell, hand in hand with a woman with ragged hair and a torn suit jacket. “Ashoka?” she said.

  It was them. It was them!

  He felt reborn. He’d been given a second chance to do his life right, to do it better. He felt light enough to float away. He hadn’t realised how much fear had weighed him down.

  His parents ran to him and all four of them huddled together in the depths of Savage’s slaughterhouse.
Ashoka smothered himself in his mother’s hair and hugged his father tight. He’d doubted. He’d been afraid. He’d thought he’d lost them forever and here they were. He’d never let them out of his sight ever again. The nightmare was over.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” said Ashoka. “I’m sorry.” He should have been with them. He should have stopped all this. He wiped his sister’s tears. “I missed you, Lucks.”

  Stupid thing to say, but what words could ever express how much she meant to him?

  “It’s over now, we’re going home,” he said, holding Lucky’s hand, looking at each of them.

  How could a few days make such a difference? It wasn’t that they were malnourished or ill, but they must have lost hope, and that was the poison that had flooded their veins. Despair. What had they seen? What had they heard? Did they know what took place on the other side of the door when Dr Wells and his staff took one prisoner after another?

  “Let’s get out of here.” He led them back into the laboratory.

  Ten others stood around the room, some huddling by Parvati.

  Parvati’s face glowed with happiness when she saw Ashoka with his family. “Well done, Ashoka.”

  Ashoka hugged his sister closer. “Now let’s get the hell out of here. Have you got all you need?”

  She waved the data stick at him. “Got it all. It’s worse than we thought.”

  “With Savage it usually is. What’s up?”

  Parvati took him to the screen and the map illuminated on it. “See these dots? More of Savage’s poison factories. He’s been testing on whole villages. Six are in China.”

  “He’s double-crossed the Dragon Court …”

  “No surprises there.” Parvati smiled and it was sly and very serpentine. “Ti Fun’s not going to be happy.” She tapped the walkie-talkie. “I’ll call him.”

  One of the prisoners scowled. “What about him?”

  They all turned to see Dr Wells trying to slip away into the corridor. Ashoka ran and grabbed him, pushing him against the wall, the other prisoners gathering round menacingly.

  Dr Wells looked desperately at Ashoka. “Please, I’ve done what you asked.”

  One man held a scalpel up menacingly. He spat and said something with a snarl and Dr Wells whimpered and pressed himself further against the wall as if hoping to disappear through it. “Please …”

  Thump thump thump. There was a beating in Ashoka’s ears and in his chest. It beat harder and harder. Ashoka stumbled, steadying himself as shadows danced in the corner of his vision. His dad braced him. “Son?”

  Exhaustion. That was all. He’d been running on adrenaline and now he’d found his family it was all catching up with him. “I’m … fine,” he said with an effort.

  Parvati looked concerned too. “You don’t look—”

  And that was when Dr Wells slammed his fist on the alarm.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Klaxons screamed and emergency lights came on, casting them all in a hellish crimson gloom.

  Parvati spun and the doctor had barely lowered his hand when she struck. He held up his hands to try to block her, but she grabbed him and her fangs slid out.

  “Last mistake you’ll ever make,” she said. “Time to die, scumbag.”

  “Wait,” said Ashoka. “We need him.”

  Parvati didn’t let go. “We have all the data.”

  “Which could be filled with scientific gobbledegook. We’ll need him to be able to make sense of it. He comes with us.”

  “Fine. Tie his hands.” Parvati shoved him into the arms of one of the other prisoners. “We need to get out of here. Now,” she said, her fangs retracting into her mouth.

  Any second now a band of heavily armed and exceedingly angry security guards were going to burst in and fill them with a lot of bullets.

  “The lifts,” said Ashoka, but his dad shook his head.

  “No, son. The lifts will stop working in emergencies. It’ll have to be the stairs.”

  Ashoka looked at the ragtag fugitives, who were all staring at him. How come he’d suddenly been made boss? It’s not like he had a clue what he was doing …

  “Grab those lab coats – they’ll help us blend in. Parvati and I will go first; you wait a level below until we give the all-clear. You and you …” he picked two of the strongest- looking, “… help the stragglers.”

  Parvati took his arm. “We shouldn’t wait for everyone. The deal was to save your family.”

  “It’s all of us or none.”

  Parvati laughed. “You heroes are all the same.” She flipped out her dagger and prepared herself. “Time to embrace your destiny, Ashoka.”

  “Any tips?” Ashoka wiped the sweat from his hands and took his bow off his back.

  “Avoid the bullets.”

  “Er … thanks.” Ashoka wiped the sweat from his hands again. He tightened his grip on the bow and notched an arrow. He only had four, so he had to make each one count.

  They ran to the staircase door, Parvati just behind him. The lights blinked on and off and the alarm was deafening in the narrow concrete confines of the corridor. Another laboratory worker rushed out of the room opposite, but Parvati hissed at him and he rushed straight back in, locking the door.

  People were bursting out into the corridor, clutching laptops or folders. Other patients, experiments, stumbled around in a panic, bewildered by the noise and lights. Ashoka barged through them towards the staircase doors.

  Don’t think.

  Don’t think of the guards and guns and bullets and grenades and gun smoke and fire and—

  He slammed the doors open, bowstring pulled to his cheek and eyes peering down the line of the arrow shaft. He was expecting a hail of bullets.

  Instead all he got were the alarms ringing above him and more red flashing lights. The stairwell echoed with footsteps as panicking staff rushed past. “All clear,” he shouted to Parvati, who ushered the others up the stairs.

  More and more people emerged from all levels, rushing to the staircase. Ashoka tensed as he spotted a pair of heavily armed guards, but they ignored him and ran up the stairs two at a time.

  Ashoka joined his family, taking hold of Lucky’s hand. “Stick together,” he shouted, his mum and dad following close behind.

  Suddenly the staircase shook. The steel frame groaned and bolts popped out of the wall as the stairwell shifted. Massive, jagged cracks split the concrete wall and Ashoka gasped as a man tumbled screaming from the floor above.

  “What’s going on?” Ashoka clung to the railings as the whole column of steel quivered. The walls rippled and cracked.

  “An earthquake?” said Ashoka’s dad, his teeth rattling as he clung on to his wife.

  Ashoka caught up with Parvati. “We can’t be trapped underground during an earthquake!”

  “I don’t think this is an earthquake …”

  “What is it then?”

  But before she could answer another tremor tore the stairs below them clean off the wall. A man tottered on the step, balanced with one foot on the upper level. He had files stacked up to his chin and wobbled, unable to decide whether or not to let go of the paperwork. He hesitated too long and was thrown into the air as the upper deck peeled away. He grabbed for the edge, but missed by a few centimetres and tumbled away, screaming.

  Electrical cables tore off the walls and sparks jumped and crackled in the blinking darkness. Earthquake or not, they had to get out of here right now.

  “One more floor!” Ashoka shouted. He pushed Lucky ahead. “Go!”

  They ran as the staircase rocked back and forth. Chunks of concrete fell away. A cable touched the steel railings and sparks erupted in all directions, showers of lightning spraying around them.

  He waited until his family had passed him, then ran.

  As another tremor shook the building, they stumbled through a brand-new rent in the wall and found themselves outside at last. Rain lashed down and high winds buffeted them, drawing their breath away as the buildi
ng creaked and the two tall chimneys swayed. Clouds rolled overhead and there were flashes of lightning. Ashoka grabbed hold of Lucks as she was blown backwards; his parents were huddling together. “Where to?” he shouted over the howling gale.

  Parvati gestured towards the beach. She waited behind, helping the other prisoners out of the gap in the wall, everyone forced to link arms or hold hands against the mighty winds that roared through the chemical works.

  The wind howled through the quivering cables and rain pelted down, nearly horizontal now, and hitting as hard as marbles. The drops exploded against the steel cylinders that creaked and buckled as the ground trembled and split asunder. Long chasms opened up, and down fell buildings, tanks, vehicles and people.

  The endless steel fence flapped like paper and the supports tore free as waves, dozens of metres high, smashed upon the shore.

  “What the hell is going on?” Ashoka yelled, trying to be heard.

  Parvati shouted something, pointing to the sea, but the wind swept her words away.

  Suddenly gunfire exploded all around them. Ashoka covered Lucky as people dived to the ground, screaming.

  Guards drew up in a ragged line in front of them, blocking their escape. Dogs snarled and barked, saliva dripping from their heavy jaws.

  “Down on your knees!” shouted one of the guards. “Now!”

  “Get behind me,” snapped Ashoka to his family and the others. He raised his bow.

  “Put that down, boy!” The guard levelled his sub-machine gun at him.

  He’d take out one, maybe two. Enough to make a gap for them to run through. The bowstring tensed as he pulled back. Wind buzzed through the cables.

  “Put it down!”

  More guards joined, forming a line of steel across the beach.

  They’d almost made it – but almost wasn’t enough.

  “Ashoka, I’ve been trying to tell you …” said Parvati, touching his arm gently. “Look.” She pointed to the sea, to the swirling clouds and the crackling lightning. “Look at what’s making the storms …”

  Ashoka looked out to sea. The waves, black and green, smashed against the shore. They struck the buildings nearest the water and dragged rubble away. Pipes broke and great jets of gas and flames burst into the night sky. The two chimneys swayed, one bent now and fire blossoming along the cracks. Then, slowly at first, it fell, crushing a line of parked tanks.