by T W Iain
“Good.” He was struggling to keep his grin under control. “And our escapee—he will talk?”
“We believe so. Treya observed him entering another lair a few minutes ago.”
“She had no problems trailing him, I take it?”
“None. The injured leg slowed him down.”
His brow furrowed. “Explain.”
She knew he’d want more details, and Kesia had struggled to compose a suitable sentence, one that was close enough to the truth without highlighting her concerns.
“He was strong-willed, and he resisted our initial attempts to subdue him,” she said, recalling in perfect detail how Enya had approached the figure, and how she had sent him crashing into a wall. When he had drawn a weapon, Enya had knocked it from his hand before kicking his leg, hard. There was no snap of bone, but when he rose to his feet he stumbled, and winced.
Enya smiled at that.
“His injuries will not impede his task, I hope?”
“We don’t believe they will.” She felt a twinge behind her eyes, but this wasn’t really a lie. He could still move about. He was simply slower than might have been ideal.
“Good.” There was a hint of relief in his voice. Kesia would have liked to sense more of his emotions. It was disconcerting, talking over a screen like this. In many ways, there was more intimacy when they were communicating over their lattices. “Anything else to report?”
Kesia hesitated. There was the trace she’d tasted, by the cave entrance. It hadn’t entered, but had snaked off along the rock, then through the trees. Kesia tracked it for a short distance, intrigued. It was, she was sure, the same one she’d picked up round the crate.
But none of the others had commented on it. She would not bother Murdoch with trivial details. Not until she discovered more.
“No. It all went according to plan.” The pain in her head stabbed, and Kesia took a breath. “Do you wish us to proceed to the next group?”
The man seemed to consider Kesia’s question, and then shook his head. “Not yet. Give your informant a day to spread the word. I’m interested to see what defences those criminals attempt.”
“Understood. Do you have any instructions for how we spend that time?”
“I do indeed.” As he spoke, she felt him open up communication to her sisters. “Treya and Occia are to explore. If you find any of the subjects, remove them but leave their bodies. Kesia and Enya, I have a different task for you two. How quickly can you reach the fence?”
Kesia calculated. “If we run, under an hour.”
Murdoch nodded. “Excellent. The other Proteus is on its way, so Treya and Occia will have assistance soon. Kesia and Enya, I’ll issue instructions in person. Get to the fence as soon as you can.”
<You need a rest?> Car asked Cathal, after what felt like only a few minutes, but might have been an hour.
<I’m good.>
<Sure? We’ve got enough blood packs.>
<I said I’m good.>
Car continued walking. Initially, they’d run, but the grey beast from the Hermes didn’t follow, and they’d settled into a walk. But Car was gradually slowing his pace. Maybe he was finally realising how pointless this was.
<You sensed him yet?>
<Who?>
<Nyle.>
Cathal hadn’t thought of Nyle since the Hermes. Or Ap Owen. And he didn’t want to think about either of them now. <No.>
<We’ll meet up. You know that, right? He’s tracking us, and he will find us.>
<Probably.>
<So what do we do when that happens? How do you want to play things?>
<Kill him.> That was the first thing to come to mind, but Cathal wasn’t bothered if Nyle lived or died. If he attacked, Cathal would defend himself—he’d kill if necessary—but otherwise, he had no desire to waste his energy on Nyle. Or Ap Owen.
Car didn’t respond straight away. He walked on, Cathal following. The fence was still to their right, and when they approached it still started a buzzing in his head. It was almost comforting now.
<And what then?> Car said eventually.
<What do you mean?>
<When Nyle’s dead. When we’re free. You have any plans?>
<Too far ahead.>
<But you must have something in mind. If we can’t get through the fence, what then?>
It was an excellent question, and Cathal had no answer. He only knew he wanted it to all be over. Not killing Nyle, or finding Brice, but everything—being a monster, feeling these urges for blood, having to hide his flesh from the sun, not being able to talk properly.
He wanted it all to end.
<No idea.> Then, when he felt Car turning to him, he sussed, <Let’s just walk.>
Car nodded, and they carried on walking in silence. The air was still under the trees, and if Cathal concentrated only on the plodding of his feet, he could imagine himself to be in wonderful solitude.
But it couldn’t last. Car spoke. <Feel that?>
Cathal slowly scanned the area. It was a part of the forest, no different to any other. The path was a strip of dried mud. There were trees and ferns. The fence was off to one side, a few of the kin’s traces hazy beyond it.
And there were two other traces. He recognised them both.
<Nyle has Ap Owen with him,> Car sussed. <That could work in our favour. Even if he doesn’t join us in attacking Nyle, I doubt he’ll stand in our way. And there are no kin nearby. None of Nyle’s usual retinue.>
They walked on. Car kept up his commentary. <They’re in front of us, coming this way. Guess they started walking the opposite way round the fence. Probably means they didn’t find a way in either.>
Car droned on. Cathal didn’t interrupt. His voice became soothing, and Cathal found it possible to ignore the actual words.
<Cathal?>
But it was hard to ignore his own name. <What?>
<You think it’s a good plan?>
<Run through it again.> He did his best to hide any obvious annoyance.
<Okay. We flank them, keep them between ourselves and the fence. Then we creep closer, see what we can discover. I know it’s a bit wooly, but what do you think?>
<Sounds good.> Just so long as all Cathal had to do was follow.
There was a narrow path between the trees. The ferns were damp, and water sprang up in tiny showers whenever Cathal squeezed past the fronds. But the ground underfoot was solid, and Car walked fast. The traces of Nyle and Ap Owen grew stronger, and it was not long before Cathal was able to hear their movement. He believed he could smell them, too.
Nyle led the way, with Ap Owen trudging a few steps behind. There didn’t appear to be any communication between the two of them.
<I’m getting something else.>
As Car’s words entered his mind, Cathal stopped and focused. His brother was right. There was a fresh trace, beyond Nyle and Ap Owen, closer to the fence. But it was closing in.
And it was not alone.
<Three traces.> Car glanced at Cathal, then turned his attention back to the forest. <They taste like the thing from the Hermes. I think we should stop and observe.>
<Fine.>
Cathal did as Car wanted, even though he felt an urge to run to Nyle. He felt that he should confront those three new beings. Even though he knew it would be suicide.
Or maybe because of that.
And, surprisingly, it didn’t shock Cathal that he wanted to die.
It wasn’t hard to find the infected.
Kesia and Enya had met with Dia outside the Hermes, and she briefed them. They ran off, soon picking up the traces of these two escapees from Haven.
<It appears that they’re not even aware of us yet.> Dia’s words were rapid and quiet.
<Appearances can be deceptive,> Murdoch responded. <I
know we don’t envisage any problems, but don’t get complacent. Dia and Enya, you confront. Kesia, move off and wait. You’re our surprise back-up should anything untoward happen. Clear?>
<Clear.> Kesia answered at the same time as the other two. Then, with a nod, she moved to one side, sliding around trees. Then she sped up, coming level with the targets.
Not that she’d be needed. Enya and Dia could easily subdue these two infected. Kesia didn’t understand why Murdoch wanted them alive, but those were his instructions.
<There are two more.> As Enya spoke, Kesia focused further afield. Of course, her sister was correct. She heard Enya inform Murdoch.
<Interesting,> he said. <Kesia, keep a track on them, but that is all. Don’t engage unless they confront you.>
<Understood.>
Concentrating on two different locations was not an issue. Kesia watched the new traces in the background, but focused on the original pair. Enya and Dia approached them, easily close enough to be detected. Then they stepped out, blocking the path.
The infected stopped and crouched in defencive poses.
<You are to come with us,> Dia told them. She moved to one side, Enya to the other, ready to escort them.
<Why?>
The voice was rough, the words tumbling into Kesia’s mind. There was no finesse to the communication, but what was she to expect? These things were little more than animals.
Especially the one who had spoken. It pulled himself up, flexed its arms and extended its claws in. Its lip turned up in a snarl. All designed to give the impression of power—power it didn’t have.
<We have been told to fetch you.>
<And I get no say in this?>
<You have a choice—either come freely, or we will subdue you and bring you against your will.> Dia waved a hand at the space between herself and Enya. <So make your choice.>
The first infected, the one who had communicated, stood tall, but it trembled. Kesia was unsure if this was rage or fright, or maybe it was both.
The second had not made any move yet, remaining behind the first, cowering. But now it stepped forward. <Okay. We’ll come.>
And the first grabbed its arm, pulling it back roughly.
<No. They don’t order us around.>
<I’ll give you a chance to reconsider,> Enya sussed. <And I’m sure your friend can think for himself.>
<I’ll go with them, Nyle.> The second infected pulled against the grip on its arm.
The name—Nyle—sounded familiar, and now Kesia placed his trace. It had been heavy in Haven, crossing paths many times. This was the one, then, who had falsely claimed the base as his own.
<No.> Nyle gripped tighter—Kesia could tell by the way the other one flinched. <We’re a team. We work together.>
<Then we both go with them.>
<Should we subdue them?> Dia sussed, tight to both Enya and Kesia.
<If they attack. Until then, observe. Maybe we can learn something.>
Nyle spun his colleague around, placing his other hand on the infected’s shoulder. <You leaving me, Ap Owen? After all I’ve done for you?> There was a nasty edge to his voice.
<I…you know what these things can do. They’re offering us an easy way. I…I think we should take it.>
<You’d go with them? And then what? Tell them all our secrets?>
The one called Ap Owen tilted his head to one side in confusion. <No. I wouldn’t tell them…I don’t know anything.>
<No. You don’t.> Nyle took half a step back, and removed his hand from Ap Owen’s shoulder. <You don’t know anything. Nothing useful, anyway. And now that I think of it, you haven’t done anything useful for me, have you?>
Ap Owen squirmed. <That’s…that’s not true. I gave you information. I helped you find…>
<You told me things I would have found out for myself anyway.>
<But I turned to you…>
<Only because you knew I was stronger than your old friends. And now, when you think these grey freaks are stronger, you betray me.> Nyle pulled the quivering Ap Owen in tight, faces almost touching. <I can’t let that stand.>
Nyle’s trace screamed red with rage, and his body tensed. Kesia read the subtle movements, the slight shifting of his feet, the way he brought his arm back.
All this happened in an instant, and then his arm shot forward.
The claws tore into the infected’s chest, doubling him over. Nyle pulled his arm back, and blood flew from the wound. Then Nyle stabbed again, this time with an angry hiss. He powered his whole body forward, sending the spasming Ap Owen backwards. The wounded one fell, the claws making a sucking noise as they ripped free from their fresh wounds.
And then Nyle fell upon him.
<Wait.> Enya’s voice, tight to both Dia and Kesia, was firm. Kesia understood—it was easier to subdue one infected than two—but Murdoch had requested both for questioning. And the way Enya leaned in, eyes fixed on the grisly sight, unsettled Kesia. Surely it was unprofessional to take pleasure in a scene like this.
They let Nyle finish feeding. When he finally stood, blood still oozed from the ragged wound in Ap Owen’s neck. More ran down Nyle’s fangs and dripped onto his chest, but he made no move to wipe it off. Instead, he turned to Dia and Enya and crouched, ready to attack.
<You think his blood’s given you the energy to take us?> Dia taunted. <Think very carefully.>
<Like I listen to you!>
He lunged, throwing himself at Dia.
He never reached her.
Dia swerved, then blurred in from the side and snaked her arms round Nyle’s body, gripping him tight. She twisted, and his feet left the ground.
<To me.>
Dia released Nyle, and he flew toward Enya. Her fist met his face with a sharp crack as his snout broke, and he collapsed to the ground. Dia dove forward, pinning his arms to his side as she pulled him roughly to his feet.
<We’re coming back,> Enya told Murdoch. <One prisoner deceased, one incapacitated. Their choice.>
<Bring them back,> Murdoch said. <And I was watching. The situation isn’t optimal, but that’s through no fault of yours. I applaud your actions, girls.>
<Thank you. Dia, you bring the dead one. I’ll bring the stupid one.>
<Those other two doing anything?> Murdoch asked.
Kesia focused. <Haven’t moved. I’ve felt them before, though.>
<Interesting. Where?>
<Must have been around Haven,> Kesia sussed, but she knew that wasn’t the whole answer. She’d have to analyse this later.
<You want us to get them?> Enya asked.
<No. Leave them. Just bring the prisoner and the corpse.>
They moved off, and Kesia followed. She kept her focus on the other two, though. They remained where they were for a while, and then they followed.
One trace was stronger, but that was not the familiar one. It was the weaker one that intrigued Kesia. It was old—not ancient, but older than many she had felt. And…Kesia felt like she knew this creature. No, not the creature, but the person that came before.
Which was ridiculous, surely. Kesia had come from Metis, and this thing was from the basin around Haven.
Yet the questions, and the confusion, remained.
Kesia pushed them to one side, ignored her rising headache, and followed her sisters back to the Hermes.
One of the NeoGens came for Ryann, and brought her to the room with the screens. Murdoch was there, of course. But she’d stay calm. She needed to know what happened to Piran and Eljin. And if they were alive, then there was hope for the others too, for Farrell and Ronat. And Keelin.
“Ah, Harris,” Murdoch said, nodding to the screens. “You�
�ll want to watch this. And I’ll include you in our private conversations.” He grinned. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the fun.”
Ryann’s skin grew cold. She couldn’t get her hopes up. If Keelin and the others were alive, this monster would do all he could to keep her from seeing them.
“And Ennis?” He turned to the NeoGen. “I’ll need you inside the fence.”
The creature gave a nod, turned, and left the room.
“Not the most talkative, that one.” He smiled. “But it’s good that they have their own personalities, don’t you think?”
Ryann didn’t answer.
“Still tired?” Murdoch asked. “I’m sorry. I should’ve had Ennis bring you a drink before she left.”
“I’m fine.” She barely parted her lips.
“Good, good.” He turned to the screens, tapping at his desk. “But like I say, you’ll want to see this. We picked up one of your old friends a few minutes ago.”
The main screen showed an empty room of square, green panels. Bright yellow light shone down from above, and Ryann thought it might be sol. It was hard to tell—there could have been a filter on the sensor, and the image was grainy. There was a metal door in one wall, and it opened now. One of the NeoGens entered, and something else followed.
It was covered in rags and strips of cloth, and it walked in with shoulders back. It sneered, a crack in the cloth revealing its mouth, a couple of fangs showing. Ryann thought the cloth was bunched up around its snout, but possibly its jaw was misshapen.
Ryann’s first thought was that this creature was Cathal, but that didn’t feel right. This must be one of the others.
<Let’s see him, Enya,> Murdoch sussed, letting Ryann listen in. The NeoGen who had dragged the creature in—and Ryann assumed this was Enya, although she could still not distinguish between Murdoch’s monsters—grabbed some of the cloth around the thing’s head and pulled roughly. The creature fell, hissing and yelling, bringing up its hands to protect its head.
