by Ted Cross
Tyoma felt his face flush; he felt like a child hiding something from his mother. He slipped the combat card into the waistband of his pants before holding the injector card out for Oskar to see. “It’s nothing, just my files.”
Oskar snatched the card from Tyoma’s hand. “Why’s it so long? Never seen one like this.”
“It’s my vid collection. It’s too big to fit on a standard card. This one is large enough to hold it all.”
“Vids, huh?” Oskar said. “Anything good? You got porn on here?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s old stuff. You wouldn’t like it.”
“Yeah? Let me be the judge of—”
“No! Don’t do that!”
It was too late. Oskar had stuck the injector card in his slot. His eyes rolled up so that only the whites were visible, and his body began to shudder. He fell to the floor and thrashed wildly for half a minute, while Tyoma stood in shock, his hands covering his mouth. Finally, Oskar curled up into a fetal position and lay still.
“God! Oh God!” Tyoma said.
«Tell me what happened,» Javier said.
«They’re going to kill me now.»
«Calm down, doctor.»
«How can I calm down? I just killed this man!»
«You killed him. How did you do that?»
«He…he took the injector card and…and…»
«Sounds to me like he did it then, not you.»
«They won’t see it that way.»
«It’s always fatal, using the injectors?»
«We’ve never tested it on a human, but on chimps it has always either killed them or driven them completely mad. They are designed to be used on clones from the genetic material of the original mind. This man was not Doctor Thomsen, so…» Tyoma knelt and felt for a pulse on Oskar’s neck. He was surprised to feel a faint but unmistakable beat. «He’s not dead yet. If he lives, surely he’ll be insane.»
«The camera in the hallway shows me that your door is still open.»
Tyoma saw that this was true. He stood up and took a step back from the doorway.
«So get out of there,» Javier continued. «I can use the cameras to try to guide you out safely.»
Tyoma shook his head and sat down on a stool. «I’m not going anywhere. I’ll explain what happened. They’ll have to believe me.»
«Don’t be a fool. The corridor is empty, but it may not be so for long. Go!»
Tyoma slapped his palms to his forehead and squeezed. His head was pounding. Come on! Just breathe!
«Doctor, if you really intend to give yourself over to them, fine, but I won’t waste any more time with you in that case. If you want my help, you must go now.»
Tyoma drew in a long, shuddering breath, stood up, and stepped over Oskar. «Which way?»
«Left. You must be careful. There aren’t many cameras on this level, so I don’t have complete coverage.»
Tyoma crept down the corridor, body trembling with the anticipation of running into someone. The hall seemed to go on forever with unlabeled doors every ten meters or so. He was just passing one when it slid open and a short man, well dressed but sweating profusely, stumbled out. Tyoma yelped and held up his hands.
“Sorry, friend,” the man said. “I’m still shook up over actually going through with that. You, too? Did you just finish?”
“I…ahh.”
“Oh, you’re just about to get started, right? Your first time as well, I can tell. It’s worth every ruble, it really is.” The man let out a strange cackle. “I can’t wait to get home and watch the vid. I drew it out for six hours!”
“Um…”
“Hey.” The man put a hand on Tyoma’s shoulder. “Don’t back out now. It’s not like these people have a life worth living anyhow, where they’re from. Go on, you won’t regret it!” The man squeezed Tyoma’s shoulder and walked off rapidly down the corridor.
Tyoma put a hand to his stomach. «These people are sick. Someone needs to destroy this place.»
«There are many places like this around the world,» Javier said. «I’ve come across dozens of them.»
«Why don’t you do something about it?»
«If you knew how much evil there is in people, you’d understand the futility of what you’re suggesting.»
«You could at least—»
«Go back! Fast!»
«What?»
«Now! A guard is coming!»
The nausea of the recent encounter was still roiling his stomach. Tyoma gripped his belly harder and turned to jog back the way he’d come. He was in good shape for his age, but he wasn’t used to running and began panting hard after only half a minute.
“Hey!” came a shout behind him. “You there!”
Tyoma picked up the pace. He heard running steps catching up to him. There seemed to be no end to this hall, but he saw the open door to his own room and hurried the last few steps to duck inside. Panting hard, he tried to slide the door shut with his hand, but it wouldn’t budge.
A big guard skidded to a halt just outside the door and stared in at Tyoma. “What are you…Oskar! You…you killed Oskar! Fuck!” The man whipped out a pistol and aimed it at Tyoma’s chest. “Get back, now, all the way to the wall!”
“I didn’t do it,” Tyoma said, shuffling backwards until his back hit the wall. “I swear. He—”
“Shut the fuck up!” The guard kept the gun on Tyoma as he knelt and put a finger to Oskar’s neck. “Huh, still alive. What did you do to him?”
“Nothing. He did it himself.”
The guard stood up straight and advanced on Tyoma, his face twisted in anger. “Oskar was a good guy. Tell me again how he just up and knocked himself out!”
“I…”
The guard kicked Tyoma in the calf, sending him staggering into a corner.
“Ow! The general said—”
“I don’t give a fuck what the general said. Viktor said we couldn’t damage your mind, but what we do with the rest of you depends on your behavior.” The guard looked back at Oskar. “Based on what I see, you’ve earned this.”
Tyoma saw the gun come up. Saw the guard squinting as he aimed carefully down the length of the barrel.
“No! Please!”
Tyoma saw his left kneecap explode as he heard the roar of the gun. All went black.
Moscow
Sunday, June 8, 2138
7:56 p.m. MSK
That’s it! It’s time to kill the fucker!
Tavik sprinted through the metro tunnel, trying to catch up to the wildly swinging light that was all he could see of Bunny in the darkness ahead. He wished he had thought of the metro earlier, as it seemed like a perfect place to off the big bastard and get away with it.
I can blame it on the Trogs. Tell Viktor that Bunny killed a few of them and the others tore him to pieces.
Tavik couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this angry. Following Zoya into the metro entrance and encountering the two Trog guards, he had been prepared to give up the chase for the time being, figuring that Zoya would have to come up for air at some point. But Bunny had attacked the guards, breaking the neck of the woman and forcing Tavik to draw his .45 and shoot the other. Then while Tavik yelled at Bunny to give it up, the huge bastard had plowed down the stairs like a charging bull. A shotgun had gone off, and by the time Tavik made it to the landing Bunny had vanished down the escalator, leaving a moaning, bleeding guard behind. He couldn’t say what had gotten into Bunny—Could anyone ever know what went through his pea brain?—but the man was moving faster than Tavik had thought possible. Tavik had stumbled down the dark escalator after him and had been trying to catch up with him since.
He cursed his own stupidity. Bunny had had the sense to snatch up a lamp before plunging into the tunnel, but Tavik had been so intent on keeping within sight of the huge man that he hadn’t grabbed a light of his own. He pushed himself to run faster, all the time worrying he would tri
p over a rail or some other piece of debris on the tracks.
He probed the painful lump on the back of his head and thanked God that the bitch with the bass had only caught him a glancing blow. I probably wouldn’t have gotten up otherwise. As it was, pain radiated all the way down to his shoulders, his forehead throbbed, and tears coursed down his cheeks. The pounding of his running feet only made it worse.
“Bunny!” he cried out, hoping the crazy bastard might slow down. He yanked out his .45 and promptly fumbled it away. It made a clattering sound in the darkness, but there was no time to stop and search for it, so he cursed again and kept running. He still had his shard pistol, though he had rarely used it, since the ammo was so costly and hard to procure.
The light ahead stopped swinging and Tavik began to draw closer. Soon he discovered what had slowed Bunny—the tunnel was partially blocked by rubble from a collapsed section of the ceiling. Without a light of his own, Tavik kept striking his feet painfully on rocks and other debris. He cursed loudly and colorfully until he reached clear tunnel once more.
The lamplight wasn’t so far away now. “Bunny!” he yelled again.
The light vanished. Must have gone round a bend in the tunnel. Tavik drew in a deep breath and sprinted harder, panic welling up inside as he flung himself forward in pitch blackness. He tripped over something in his path and barely managed to keep his feet.
Light suddenly blazed forth and a series of disjointed images stitched themselves across Tavik’s eyeballs—Bunny’s huge form barring the way; Bunny’s meaty hand lifting a hood on the lamp; Bunny grinning maniacally, his big square teeth nearly glowing in the lamplight. With no time to think, no time to halt his forward momentum, Tavik crashed into Bunny and bounced off as if he’d run full speed into a brick wall. The air was knocked from his stomach, and Tavik tried desperately to breathe again, while Bunny’s laughter echoed from the tunnel walls. Then Bunny was off and running again.
At last Tavik was able to draw in air again and he pushed himself to his knees. Pain flared in his chest even worse than that in his head, and he wondered if he had cracked some ribs. He was reminding himself of the need to ignore the pain and follow the light, when he noticed another bobbing light coming up the tunnel from behind. Are the Trogs following us? The presence of the second light made Tavik feel better; should he lose Bunny he might not be condemned to wander in utter blackness after all.
Tavik reached into his coat and gave a comforting stroke to the handle of his shard pistol. He grinned and winced as the pain in his ribs flashed again. I’m gonna take great pleasure in blowing your fucking head off, Bunny! he thought, and resumed the chase.
Zoya growled in frustration. The last few times she had glanced back there had been nothing but darkness, and she had dared hope that they might have lost her pursuers for good, but now there was once again a dim glow from behind.
“Up here,” Leonid said, climbing some wooden steps up to a platform. They had entered another station, though this one had no sign of Trogs in it, just a vast dark emptiness. The sounds of their feet running over marble and their panting breaths echoed through the murk. Leonid ran up a set of stairs and into a connection tunnel.
“Where are we going?” Zoya gasped.
Leonid held the lamp higher. “You wanted to cross the river near The Pyramid. This is the closest way, through Borovitskaya.”
Soon they entered another station platform and jumped down into the track well. Zoya prayed that Tavik would lose her during the change between stations. On they ran for what felt like ages. She caught her second wind and the stitch in her side faded.
“How much farther?” she asked, but Leonid didn’t respond.
She heard a splash from ahead and her foot came down in icy cold water up to her ankle.
“Don’t worry,” Leonid said. “It’s not deep.”
The light from the lamp rippled from dark water covering the floor of the tunnel for as far as she could see.
“What is this?” she hissed, fearing to raise her voice in case the mobsters might hear her.
Leonid thrust his chin forward as if to say, You’ll see, and waded ahead. Zoya’s boots squelched in the shallow water, every step sending a shiver of pain through her bruised knee. Their feet splashing through the water sounded loud to her ears, and the tunnel filled with a dank and earthy smell.
Zoya felt drained of energy. As she sloshed forward, she pulled small chunks of bread and cheese from her pocket and chewed them.
“We’re going under the river now,” Leonid whispered.
There was another tunnel collapse ahead, this one nearly blocking the entire passage. Water dripped from overhead and in some places small torrents pattered down the wall.
“It’s going to fall in on us!” she said.
Leonid shook his head. “It’s been like this for years.”
“What are you going to do when it gives out and the river comes down?”
He shrugged and headed for the left side of the tunnel, where there was just enough room to squeeze through the blockage.
Zoya looked back again and gave an involuntary squeak when she saw how close the bobbing light now appeared. “They’re getting too close!”
Leonid shrugged again. “Once we pass this collapse, it’s not much farther. Watch the pipe.”
Without the warning, Zoya might have impaled herself on a narrow, rusty pipe jutting up from the rubble. She carefully stepped around it and sighed as the tunnel opened up ahead. They splashed on through the water and a few minutes later came again to dry tunnel. Several rats scurried amongst a scattering of bones along the far wall.
“How far did you say?” Zoya asked.
“Maybe twenty minutes at this pace.”
“I thought you said it was close?”
Another shrug. “That is close.”
“Where are we going? Another station?”
Leonid nodded. “You aren’t going to like it. Tis a haunted place.”
Zoya had seen far too many dead people to believe in the supernatural. “What does that mean? Ghosts?”
Leonid didn’t respond except to jog a little faster.
Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Marcus’s feet plowed into cold water. The entire run through the tunnel, he had ticked off in his mind the number of new ways he had been terrified this day and tried to number the excuses he had for giving up the chase. Now he added to his list the feel of ice cold water pouring into his shoes while running through a dark underground tunnel. He groaned and then groaned again as he saw the light he had been following grow dimmer ahead. He had come so close to losing it altogether when they had changed stations, but he had managed to keep glimpsing the faint light ahead even as he had struggled up dark, unmoving escalators and stairs.
Every bone in his body felt bruised and he felt as if acid were rushing through his bloodstream. Just give it up. Retrace your steps and go sleep for a week in the apartment. Yet again the image of Zoya’s pouting smile and warm brown eyes asserted itself in his head, and he knew he couldn’t give up on her, regardless of how terrible he felt.
His father’s last words returned to him, and he scowled at the memory. What makes you think you’ll be able to help her? Those men are trained killers, and they have guns. He kicked at the water and splashed onward. You see one pretty face and you’re willing to throw your life away like a love-struck teen? He shook his head. No, he may have only just met Zoya today, but he’d experienced more—and more intensely—with her in this short time than he had ever experienced in his life.
A sharp rock stabbed into his foot and Marcus hobbled close to the wall and braced his back against it to allow his free hand to massage the injured sole. Whatever it was, at least it hadn’t punctured through the shoe. He was so tired that he was having trouble even holding up the torch. The thought of giving up rose up through the chatter in his head again, always in his father’s voice. Mentally he shoved the thought away
with all the violence he could muster. He gritted his teeth and set off after the distantly bobbing light.
It was the smell that told Zoya they were getting close, the same faint whiff of corruption that she smelled in the morgue every day at work.
“There is death ahead,” she said.
“I told you that you wouldn’t like it,” Leonid replied.
They trotted on for several more minutes until the light from the lamp showed the tunnel give way to a broad darkness, and Zoya knew they had come to the station.
“What station—?” She squealed as she tripped and landed hard on something both soft and hard. Her hand closed around a sticklike object, and opening her eyes she found herself staring in the dim light directly into the empty sockets of a human skull. Now she screamed and scrambled backward, her hands shoving at rib bones until she collapsed against Leonid’s legs.
“It’s Polyanka station,” he said.
Zoya glared up at him, then grabbed his arm and pulled herself shakily to her feet. In the dim light she saw a neat row of skeletal corpses laid out along the track in rotting sleeping bags or blankets. “What is this?” she whispered, a hysterical note in her voice.
“Come,” he said and stepped over the bodies as he headed for a set of wooden steps leading up to the platform.
Something’s missing, she thought. She had nearly grown accustomed to the cold metal of the gun gouging her skin of her lower back, but that feeling was gone now. Her hand encountered nothing but her waistband when she reached for the weapon. It must have fallen out when I tripped. The idea of being without a weapon with Tavik on her tail terrified her, but trying to scrounge through corpses in almost total darkness seemed even worse. I don’t have time for this!
Zoya looked back down the tunnel but couldn’t see any sign of her pursuers. Calm down, she told herself, and tried to get her breathing under control. She watched Leonid step up onto the makeshift stairs and was surprised when they didn’t collapse. Taking another deep breath, she carefully stepped around the bodies and followed Leonid up the creaking steps to the platform. She gasped when she saw that many more of the corpses were splayed out in the station. They were huddled in small groups around the pillars. It smelled like a charnel house, but faintly enough that she knew these people had died long ago. The only sound was a rustling so low that at first she thought she might be imagining it, until she spotted the red gleam of the lamplight reflected from the eyes of several rats.
