“Exactly.” He thrust an arm at Aurora. “See, she does understand. Because of your special gift, the way you can help people”―his excitement dropped to normal conversational volume―“you are in the unique position to help all of us. It’s a bit like what you did for that Flatline chap.”
“How do you―”
“Know about him? Oh, just a little thing I like to call being the most powerful telepath in the world.”
Aurora rolled her eyes; at least, Althea felt an emotion that would go along with that sort of gesture. The solid jet orbs could not really roll in a way anyone would notice.
“Now, if you’re able to stitch back together a brain in such condition, you are so powerful you can facilitate the awakening of all of our brothers and sisters.” Archon whirled about, seeming a bit like the street preacher, as his voice gained volume. “We can be free of the tyranny of those who do not understand, live in a place they cannot touch us.” His fists balled, held with triumph before eyes wild with anticipation.
The emotion he let off was nothing short of terrifying.
“You really think she can just zap people awakened?” Pixie blinked at him.
The victorious smile broke into a disdainful frown as his stare bathed her with derision. “No, of course not. It may take months or years, but between my research and her ability to manipulate living tissue, I will find the answer.”
Aurora made cat-scratching gestures at him. For a reason Althea could not determine, it sent him into a storm of internal rage.
Althea nudged herself forward, transferring weight onto her feet. Pixie gawked at Archon, emanating a mood as if she was about to get into an argument. Aurora winked at her with an amused half smile. Archon’s back was turned, his mind lost in a ramble about DNA sequencing and throwing about words as big as Shepherd. He vented to the wall, ruminating about both the brain and how the government would destroy them all.
Sensing opportunity, she bolted from the chair and sprinted through the door. She got one foot into the hallway before she floated off the ground and hung there.
“Well, you are certainly a determined little scamp.” He frowned. “I’ll give you that much.”
His boots echoed up behind her and she glided along, kicking and screaming, to a small room with a glowing orange bed, a plain metal desk, and a chair. The pulse of rage she let off as the door slammed and locked started a screaming match in the hallway between Pixie and Archon that fizzled out in seconds. After pounding her fists numb against the door, she dove headfirst into the pillow.
With thoughts of her family flooding her mind, her anger faded and she bawled herself to sleep.
or a fleeting dream moment, Althea curled up in her own bed, arms wrapped around Karina. The glow of the sunrise in the bedroom window changed to an even orange, flooding her senses with light as well as heat. She opened her eyes, but everything remained blinding orange. Comforting warmth embraced the entire front of her body. When she propped herself up, her hands sank into a gelatinous mass encased in thick, clear plastic. The luminous slab spread out below her in the approximate shape of a mattress.
Althea rolled on her side, and wiped her face clear of crumbs. The third time her fingers came away from her eyes, a trio of bizarre plump creatures a few inches away from her toes blurred into focus, staring at her. They were not there when she had drifted off to sleep. Screaming, she fell backwards off the squishy pad onto the floor.
With a tentative grasp at the edge, she lifted herself to her knees and peeked over the orange thing at the little green and blue monsters. Six black eyes stared at her impassively; not one of them moved.
Sensing no life within them, she crawled onto the bed and poked at one, making it fall to the side. Feeling foolish, she took a deep breath and sat cross-legged on the pad. Stuffed animals were new to her, but similar enough to rag dolls for her to understand. One of the strange people must have left them there trying to make her feel better.
She found herself in a small room upon a bed attached to a slab that folded down from the wall. A rusty-wheeled chair lay askew by a green painted metal desk with two flat objects upon it. A finger-width thick, with the rectangular size of a book, they were made of shiny black glass backed with silver plastic.
One door led out of the room. The lump in her throat grew large before she touched the knob. As expected, she found it locked. Rattling, twisting, and tugging did little other than make noise. For a moment, she considered banging and screaming, but these people would not listen. Althea pouted at her new dress, while pacing a circle over the dingy blue throw rug. Perhaps an hour later, the sound of someone knocking distracted her.
“Hey, kid. I’m Kim. I’m gonna open the door and give you some food. If you run away, I’m gonna get in a lot of trouble, so please don’t.”
Althea sat on the bed, letting her feet dangle as her anger simmered. A wisp of a girl with long, dark hair entered, bearing a plastic tray. The smell of pancakes followed her, and she set the offering on the desk and rushed backwards to block the doorway. She might have been fourteen; Althea could probably overpower her, even without her abilities.
There was nothing obvious or unusual about the girl, no glowing eyes or strange skin color. Her black shirt had a picture of something evil on it, grinning through fangs. Her forearms hid beneath a ludicrous amount of bracelets, which jangled as she folded them over her chest. The baggy pants and thick boots looked like they belonged on a raider.
Althea didn’t look at her as she scooted off the bed and moved to the squeaky chair, sniffing at the plate.
Althea picked one up and studied it, making the girl laugh. “These tortillas are wrong.”
“Pancakes,” Kim said. “They told me you wouldn’t want a fork.”
Althea gave her a look.
“What? You never saw pancakes before?”
“No.” It smelled sweet and safe, so she jammed her mouth full and chewed. “You seem nice. Are you captive, too?”
“No. I’m not ‘wakened like you are, just psionic. Ooh, I love your eyes.” Kim grinned, edging closer. “Archon says he’s looking for a way to make us all ‘wakened. He wasn’t born that way… he found it later. He said you’re the one who can make us powerful.”
Althea glanced at her for a moment and grabbed a cup of liquid at the edge of a tray. What she expected to be a drink turned out to be a sweet, viscous liquid with an unusual flavor she’d never tasted. She coughed and sputtered. Once the initial shock at the thickness wore off, she scoured the wonderful substance clean from the plastic cup with her tongue.
“You’re a fucked-up kid.” Kim shook her head. “Who eats pancakes dry and then drinks syrup straight?”
She shrugged. “I don’t like him.”
“Oh, he acts all big and mean, but he just likes to sound important. Once you get used to it here, you’ll see he’s right.”
Althea licked the sticky from her fingers. “Did he take you away from your family, too?”
Rage spiked from the girl, making Althea lean back. “No, the pieces of shit kicked me out. They couldn’t handle having a psionic kid.”
Sadness.
Althea got up and offered a hand. “I’m sorry for making you sad.”
Kim backed up, waving as if shooing a dog. “Stop. Stay back. He said you’d try to trick me. If you run away, you could get hurt. The government will kill anyone they find that’s ‘wakened. An’ I’ll get in trouble for lettin’ you get hurt.”
Althea let her arm fall to her side and moped to the folding bed, sitting on the edge. “I don’t believe him, and I won’t trick you. I’m sad your parents made you go away.”
“They’re idiots. Dad’s a senatorial aide, and he said it would hurt his career if it got out he had a psionic daughter. If I see him again I’m gonna kick him in his constituents.”
Althea’s memories swam with the street full of people shoving her around. “I hate this place. Everyone is so mean.”
“I’m not mean.”
Kim ventured into the room. “None of us are.”
“Are you locked in your room, too?”
Kim laughed. “No. I’m happy here. I want to be with Archon and help him. He won’t lock your door anymore once you uhh, stop being wild.”
Althea fidgeted. “Can I have a pail?”
“A pail? Why?”
“I have to make water.”
“Eww.” Kim grabbed her by the wrist. “Come on. I’m gonna get my ass kicked if you run away, but piss in a bucket? Eww. That’s just so primitive! Are you serious? If you gotta go, just hit this button.” Kim pointed at something on the wall. “Someone will come check on you.”
Kim led her to the room where she had showered, letting her use one of the toilets before she dragged her back to the same room. The older girl took one of the black things from the desk, and fiddled with it until a cartoon rabbit appeared in midair. She explained it was a hologram, and the thing was a datapad. This one was for small children to get them ready to learn how to read. They contained various lessons, and Archon wanted her to get started right away.
“The better you do with these, the faster you won’t be wild anymore. I used to hate school, but now I kinda almost miss it. He can be an ass sometimes, but he really does love us all. Think of him like a replacement daddy.” Kim smiled, and left her there with the rabbit.
Althea wanted to yell “I have a father”, but did not blame her for what Archon did.
“A is for apple…” The diminutive cartoon bunny waved and bounced around, speaking in an irritating, chirpy voice. “Aaaa pelll. Can you say ‘apple?’”
“Sorry, Althea… I gotta,” murmured Kim from outside.
Even expecting it, the click of the lock resounded down her spine like the crack of a whip. She could not help herself, and dropped the annoying thing on the bed and leapt at the door. After a few minutes of struggling against the unmoving handle, she spun around, staring at the four walls.
“C is for cat. Can you say cat? Trace your finger over the letter C now.” The holographic rabbit changed into an arc of color.
Ignoring it, she glanced up at a slat-covered hole in the ceiling that promised freedom. Althea made a series of determined whines and grunts as she dragged the desk away from the wall until it was below the vent. After a few breaths, she climbed up and grasped the vent cover. The thin metal grate refused to budge. Her effort to pull it down lifted her feet off the desk. She hung on it with all her weight, bouncing up and down until it gave way with an ear-splitting squeal of metal. The sudden drop to the desk left her flailing her arms to keep from falling over. Once she got her balance, she threw the vent onto the bed and clapped dark grey dust from her hands.
“I’m sure you’ll get it next time. D is for dog. Can you say D?” The rabbit made a barking noise.
She eyed the hole, squatted a little, and vaulted up to grab the edge. With nothing in her way, she pulled herself up into a metal-walled tunnel filled with a strong, cold breeze.
When she got up on her knees to crawl, her dress bloomed as it caught a frigid blast of air conditioning from behind. She shrieked and whirled the other way, squinting into the wind with chattering teeth.
“F is for frog. Can you say F?” The voice drifted up from the room below, followed by strange croaking noises.
“F is for freedom,” she grumbled, clambering forward.
The metal tunnel creaked, banged, and buckled from her passage. She climbed over a number of grilles through which she peeked into other tiny rooms, seeing little of interest and nothing in the way of an escape route.
Frigid aluminum numbed her hands and knees, but she kept going through what felt like an endless shaft. After a right turn, the powerful windblast died down as she approached a flat metal obstruction. In the black and white, she examined a plate that pivoted along a central strut. Banging on it with her hands proved ineffective, but after she shifted around and kicked it a few times, it gave way and spun horizontal through the middle of the tunnel. Flat on her stomach, she pulled herself through the half-height opening and continued into stagnant air, wonderful in its warmth.
Several broken vent covers offered opportunities to leave the shaft, but they all led to the same immense room filled with a row of crumbling machines lined up like gargantuan pigs at a trough. The fall looked terrifying, so she continued.
She went left at the next crossing, scampering down another tunnel into a colony of rats. She paid them little mind other than a mild telempathic radiance of trust. The furry creatures swarmed her with affectionate licks and rubs as she crawled through their home.
After two dead ends, and avoiding an offshoot from whence the sound of wifeing came, she found her way into a larger square chamber with a massive dead fan and a vertical tunnel. Althea climbed one of the blades, big enough for her to sleep on. Holding on to the central strut for balance, she stood on the wobbly perch and pulled hand over hand until the fan rotated her into place below the way out. Metal ridges every two feet served as a ladder. Her fingers and toes ached, but she forced herself to climb without looking down. After about twelve feet of ascent, the shaft turned ninety degrees at the top. While crawling over the rim, a metal burr opened a six inch cut down her left shin. She fell on her side, curling up to cradle the injury while biting her lip to keep from crying out. Althea clutched her leg to her chest long enough to mend it.
The tightness of her surroundings made her wonder if she would ever see the outside world again. A foul odor crept into the air, stagnant and organic, worsening the farther she crawled. Her need to get out of this tiny space urged her forward as fast as she could crawl. Up ahead, a four-way junction offered the hope of moonlight coming from the left-hand path.
Six feet away, the ductwork collapsed.
Althea screamed as the sheet metal opened beneath her and spat her out. Thirty feet down, a rectangle of eerie green water raced towards her. She closed her eyes, grabbing at nothing, wanting to stop falling before she went splat. For an instant, a disorienting shift felt as though her plummet somehow slowed, but before she could open her eyes to look, water hit her.
An explosion of sound cut off the world as she sank below the surface. The pool was as hot as a proper bath. She kept her eyes and mouth clamped shut. In three seconds stretched to the experience of four minutes, her toes slipped through slimy muck over a hint of tiles. Waving her arms to keep her body oriented up, she let herself sink until she could plant her feet firm in the ooze, and kicked off.
She broke the surface, gasping for air and opening her eyes. After a few initial panicky strokes, her arms paddled in silence. Huge walls, white tiles traced with smears of rust and grime, surrounded her on all sides, with at least fifteen feet between the rippling surface and the way out. She floated in the horrible smelling bath, treading water while rotating in search of something to climb. Far above, a tiny black tear in a strip of metal made her gulp. The drop did not look like one she should have walked (or swam) away from. She shivered at rows of broken lights and a strange intricate lattice of rails with some manner of robotic arm twisting out of it. Everything basked in decay.
Maybe I’m dead. She swallowed, fending off the horrible sadness following the thought of how Karina would react.
“Did you see that?” asked a woman.
Althea clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the urge to gasp.
“Nein, I did not,” said a sleepy sounding male. “Are you hallucinating again?”
“I haven’t touched the shit all day.” Tapping footsteps, light and female sounding, grew closer. “There was a bright fucking light. Like a military flare or some shit.”
People approached the top of the pool. Althea took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and went under the opaque green, paddling downward. She floated in a hot black void until her lungs screamed for mercy. Not trusting the people to have wandered off already, she commanded her body to wait. The thumping of her heart in her ears slowed so much it frightened her, but being caught scared her more.
When she could tolerate no more, she lurched upwards and gulped at the air, seeing stars. Pain as though she’d been stabbed in the chest paralyzed her for a moment. She held her hands over the ache, whining in silence until it passed. Fortunately, the people who heard the vent break had already left.
She swam across the ancient pool to a rickety metal ladder on one of the narrow walls. By some miracle, it had no rust on it. After a cautious peek over the top at the end of a rapid climb, she stood on a narrow concrete walkpath surrounding the vat and wrung her dress out. Streamers of water spattered around her feet as she gathered fabric and squeezed. Her dip in such a warm pool made everything else feel colder.
The room had three doors, two on the longer wall and one only a few steps away from her. Unfortunately, the close one was locked. She scurried to the next nearest exit, terrified of making the smallest sound. One half of the double-doors gave way, and let her in to a dusty staircase. She made it a few steps down before the sound of bored teens and clonking shoes approached from the next switchback. Tears flowed out of sheer frustration; she doubled back and ran upwards, rounding the corner and taking another flight before they could see her.
A metal door capped the stairway off at the end of the next set of ten steps. With the voices still approaching from behind, she threw herself into the door and shoved. It opened with much less resistance than she had expected, causing her to stumble out onto the roof.
The metal below her feet was warm, blotched here and there with sticky or oily patches along the entire surface. She glanced over her shoulder at the door when it closed with a soft clunk. Sounds of conversation behind the door drew louder. Althea rushed around the edge of an enormous air handler and into a breeze, which sent her hair trailing to the left like a flag. Pouting down at her soaked dress, now smudged with vent dirt, she lamented the loss of her leather tatters. The skirt had been her first piece of clothing, something she had made herself. She had thought Jake foolish for showing off his pants to everyone because he believed they made him a man. Now, she felt silly that a tangle of leather could make her so sad.
Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) Page 39
