Progenitor

by Cassandra Chandler

  “Vaughn, stop the shock,” Brock yelled. “You’re catching Meg, too.”

  “It isn’t me!” Vaughn shouted.

  “What?” Brock started toward Meg, but Porter grabbed him, pulling him back.

  Brock punched Porter in the face. As soon as he was free, Brock ran toward Tessa, tackling her. Meg staggered back, gasping for breath, sickened by the smell of her own burning flesh.

  “Tessa?” Brock said. “Tessa, are you all right?”

  The door whooshed open and Marcus ran in. He was at least wearing pajama pants. He swayed on his feet as he looked around the room, then shook his head. Vaughn stepped through the door and helped steady him.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Brock yelled.

  “Leave him be,” Meg said.

  She recognized that dazed look, even though she hadn’t seen it in a long time. The other members of the pack would have the same vacant cast to their gazes after the alphas disciplined them.

  How could Roy have reached Marcus here? And what had Roy done to Marcus?

  “Help Tessa.” Brock rose to his feet, then hurried to Meg’s side. She hadn’t even realized that she was on her knees till he crouched next to her. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. The collar felt like a brand on her neck, but she could feel her skin mending itself. She dared to reach up and shift it a bit so that it didn’t heal into her flesh.

  “What the hell happened?” Marcus cradled Tessa against his chest. She was breathing, but it looked like she’d been knocked out.

  “I don’t know.” Vaughn waved his arm over Tessa’s prosthetic, tapping on his watch.

  “This is not giving me confidence in your stasis chambers,” Brock said.

  “Vaughn doesn’t make mistakes.” Marcus snarled the words at Brock. “His tech has never failed us before.”

  “It looks like there was some sort of feedback from Meg’s collar that caused a massive power surge,” Vaughn said. “Where the hell did you get that thing, anyway?”

  “Priorities.” Brock looked like he was about to say something else, but his eyes suddenly screwed shut as he fell away from her, pressing his hands against his temples.

  “Brock?” Meg grabbed Brock’s elbows, helping him to his feet.

  She heard Vaughn say, “Oh fuck,” before leaping up and running from the room. He left the door to the hallway open behind him.

  “What is it?” Meg shouted.

  “Marcus, get Tessa and Meg out of here.” Brock shoved Meg away, pushing her toward Marcus.

  “What’s wrong?” She tried to see what they did, but all she saw was Porter hunched over one of the counters. He was still holding onto the metal box, but…his hand was inside the chamber.

  He looked up at them and smiled, his lips peeled back in an impossible grimace. All of his teeth were bared, just like G-405.

  His head twitched from side to side at unnatural angles on his neck. “This is delicious,” he said, in a voice she didn’t recognize.

  “Move, move, move!” Brock yelled.

  Marcus leapt up, carrying Tessa. “Come on, Meg.”

  “I’m not leaving.” She couldn’t believe she was disobeying the order of a member of her pack. But there was no way she’d leave Brock alone with that…thing. “Go!”

  Marcus only hesitated a moment. He nodded quickly, then ran down the hallway with Tessa.

  Meg would live up to the trust he was placing in her. She had to find a way to help.

  “DP, get out of there,” Brock yelled.

  Porter let out a sputtering cough. His face turned bright red and all the veins on his forehead stood out. She could see the skin beneath his neck rippling, as if something—lots of things—were crawling beneath his skin.

  “Have to…hold him off,” he said.

  “It’s too late for that form,” Brock screamed. “Come back into Dexter. Please.”

  “The incinerator,” Porter said. “I can… We can…” His voice changed again, and he said, “We can feed. Multiply.”

  The whites of his eyes suddenly turned red as veins burst. Blood trickled out of his ears. How much more could his body take?

  “Christ, I’m so sorry,” Brock sobbed. He doubled over, letting out an agonized groan.

  Porter made another sputtering sound as his voice changed back. “Meg. Get Brock…away.”

  She grabbed Brock’s arm and tried to drag him toward the door. He pulled against her, gripping her shoulder painfully tight.

  “Meg, stop,” Brock yelled. Tears streaked his face. “Please. He’s my brother.”

  “What can we do?” she asked. “That thing is inside of him.”

  “It’s almost reached…my brain. You have to—” Porter’s voice cut off suddenly, his eyes wide with surprise. Blue light shimmered in a line across his throat.

  “What just—” Brock began.

  Before he could finish his sentence, Porter’s head listed forward, then fell to the ground. The stasis chamber he’d been holding clattered after it, just as his body fell. His neck ended in a blackened stump. Meg didn’t even smell a drop of blood.

  His wide, staring eyes looked up at them, his lips still moving. “So close…” he muttered.

  Vaughn stood over the body, a line of intense blue light beaming out from his watch. He was wearing some kind of backpack with a hose coming out of it that ran down to a metal wand in his other hand. When had he even come back into the room?

  He looked up at Brock and said, “I’m sorry, too.”

  He pointed the wand at Porter as flames poured out of it.

  Brock’s body convulsed, then he slumped to the ground. Meg caught him as best she could, guiding him to the floor. He looked up at her and she just knew that Brock was gone.

  “Dexter?” she asked.

  He nodded, staring at the body. The orange light it was putting off had turned blue, then all of it just disappeared.

  He turned to her, and the look in his eyes made her blood run cold.

  Fear. Dexter was afraid.

  “Please, help me,” he pleaded, holding her arms in a painful grip.

  “I don’t know what you need,” she said.

  Across the room, she heard Vaughn speak. His voice was completely mirthless. “Eli, how’s Brock?”

  “Unconscious, but stable.” Eli’s voice was coming from Vaughn’s watch. “When Brock’s pulse spiked, I tried to call. I saw what happened through the cameras.”

  “Shit,” Vaughn said. “Eli, I’m so sorry.”

  Eli’s voice was like stone. “Don’t be sorry. You did the right thing.”

  Vaughn ran a shaking hand down his face. “What happens now?”

  “Now…you help them split,” Eli said.

  Dexter’s face twisted from fear to terror. He pulled Meg closer, while chanting, “No. No, no, no. Please, no.”

  “I’m sorry, sons,” Eli said. “It’s going to happen. There’s no stopping it. Your brothers have been through it time and again. You’ll make it through, too.”

  Dexter looked up at Meg and whispered, “Please, help me.”

  Her heart started to pound. Here was her worst enemy, a man she’d dreamed about hurting, about killing. And now, the only thing she felt for him was pity.

  “What do we do?” Meg said.

  “Strip him completely.” Eli spoke with medical detachment, but she could hear a hitch in his breath here and there. “And if he gets stuck, pull.”

  “What does that mean?” Vaughn asked.

  “You’ll know when it’s time,” Eli said. “Just remember that Meg is much stronger than you. You need to keep the pressure balanced, and it shouldn’t take too much. And…thank you. For helping my boys.”

  Vaughn’s watch let out a little beep. “I guess we’re on our own,” he said.

  “Then let’s get moving.” She grabbed the bottom of Dexter’s shirt and pulled it up his chest. Dexter let go of her, lifting his arms a bit to help her get it off.

  As he sat back on his
heels, she couldn’t help but notice the rippling lines of muscle that covered his body, sleek and toned. If it weren’t for how pristine and unmarred his skin was, he would be perfect. He looked like he’d never been in a single fight.

  And this is the most dangerous Blade of all?

  She wondered what Brock looked like. His original body.

  He had mentioned sharing the marks of his replicants’ deaths. Meg looked closer at Dexter’s neck. A line of white scar tissue circled it where there had been nothing but smooth skin before. Did Brock have the same scar as well?

  Dexter made a sound…somewhere. Deep in his torso. A sound she’d never heard anyone’s body make before. Squelching.

  “What was that?” Vaughn asked.

  Dexter started breathing more heavily. “It’s starting.”

  Meg grabbed the fastener for his pants and quickly undid them. He fell forward onto his hands and knees. Sweat beaded on his skin, soaking his hair.

  “Hurry,” he said.

  Vaughn unlaced Dexter’s shoes and yanked them off as Meg started working Dexter’s pants down past his hips.

  “Dexter goes commando,” Vaughn said. “Things I did not need to know about my boss. This was not in the job description.” He peeled Dexter’s socks off and threw them aside just as Meg finished pulling off his pants.

  It was hard not to stare. She knew she should look away, but then she wouldn’t be able to see if he needed her or how to help. She still wasn’t sure how to help.

  But good God, he was gorgeous. His sculpted legs, muscular backside, the line of ribs that…

  “Um, how many ribs are people supposed to have?” Vaughn asked. “Because that looks like way too many.”

  He was right. As she watched, Dexter’s ribs widened and split, doubling in number. More of that awful sound accompanied it, along with cracking and pops that sounded like bones breaking.

  Dexter let out a horrible groan, his hands fisted on the floor and his head bowed.

  “I’ve never died before,” he ground out. “I didn’t remember…the pain. Hurts so much.”

  He moaned as his spine split just below his neck and pulled into two lines of vertebrae, each one cracking and popping as it pulled itself from the other.

  Meg dared a glance at Vaughn. He was staring with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open, shock and horror etched on his bloodless features.

  “Vaughn,” Meg said. “You still with me?”

  Vaughn snapped his mouth shut and nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “It’ll…get worse,” Dexter grunted. He slapped at the ground near Meg, as if looking for something.

  She couldn’t stand it. She reached out and grabbed his hand. He let out a sigh, as if that was what he’d been searching for.

  “I’m so sorry.” He looked up at her with eyes that each had two irises. “Please don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t,” she said.

  He nodded, then leaned forward again, letting out another pained groan.

  “Vaughn, take his other hand,” Meg said.

  “Really? Now?”

  She glared at him.

  “Okay.” Vaughn did as she said. He obeyed her.

  Meg felt a strange rush of power unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Not power over Vaughn, but power with him. Together, they were stronger than they were alone.

  Like a pack…

  Before she could bask in that amazing revelation, Dexter let out a piercing, inhuman screech. She could hear the sound of bone grinding on bone coming from his skull, along with that horrible squelching noise.

  “We have to pull,” she said.

  “Now?” Vaughn looked panicked.

  Honestly, Meg felt panicked as well. But she knew they had to do something. Fast.

  “Pull!” she yelled.

  Vaughn tightened his grip on Dexter’s hand and shoulder and started to pull. She watched Vaughn’s movements closely, matching her own strength and efforts to his so that they pulled evenly.

  Dexter’s skin stretched. As they pulled, his back widened, those two spines separating, but still curved toward each other at the base of his skull. When she thought they couldn’t shift any farther apart, she heard a loud pop at the base of his skull.

  He screeched again, the sound even less human.

  “Meg…” Vaughn said.

  “Keep pulling.”

  Dexter’s skull started to stretch. Meg inched backwards, giving them more room to work. Two spines, two necks, two heads. Their shoulders were still fused, but then arms appeared between them, emerging from their torsos. They clawed at the floor with their free hands, crawling away from each other.

  “Jesus Christ,” Vaughn yelled.

  “Keep pulling!”

  He rose up on his heels, shimmying away from her. Dexter and Porter were only connected from the hips down.

  “Grab them under their arms,” she said.

  “Uhhh, okay.” Vaughn followed her lead, grabbing Porter by his armpits to balance out where they were applying their force.

  Dexter wrapped his arms around her. Dexter was embracing her.

  “It’s okay,” Meg whispered. “I’ve got you.”

  He squeezed her tighter, panting against her neck.

  “You ready, Vaughn?” she said.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Pull!”

  She half-rose to her feet, staggering back as Dexter pulled free from Porter. Behind them, she saw Porter and Vaughn land in a pile of tangled limbs on the floor. She landed on her bottom, hard, Dexter splayed across her lap. Her back was against the wall, and she gladly leaned against it for support.

  For a moment, they were all silent, the only sound their heavy breaths. Meg sat with Dexter resting his head on her knee, one of his arms still wrapped around her waist.

  She wiped at the sweat covering his brow, then ran her fingers through his hair, trying to offer what comfort she could. His arm tightened as he hugged her closer.

  He swallowed hard, the muscles of his neck still corded from the strain of his split. He looked up at her and murmured, “Thank you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The first thing Brock heard as he floated up to consciousness was the steady hum of machinery. The voices were next.

  “What if he doesn’t wake up?”

  “He’s going to wake up. We’re all still functioning.”

  “Maybe we can survive without him. We could maintain the Blades. Keep his legacy alive.”

  “He’s not going anywhere. We have a plan.”

  “What plan?” Brock’s throat hurt, a tight pain that brought the last few moments jolting back to his memory. “DP?”

  His eyes snapped open as he tried to sit up. The lights above stung, dim as they were. Halos surrounded them. Everything was blurred.

  “Easy there, son.” Dad was right there, gripping his shoulders and pushing him back down against the bed.

  “Porter…” Brock said. “Where’s Porter and Dexter?”

  “We’re here.” Dexter and Porter stepped into Brock’s field of view simultaneously, flanking his bed. Unless Brock was hearing things, they’d both spoken at the same time.

  Damn, it was good to hear their voices.

  Dad pressed a control that raised half of Brock’s bed, bringing him to more of a sitting position. As Brock’s view of the room improved, he saw that they had more company than he’d thought.

  Tessa and Marcus were standing near the door. They both looked wrecked. They stared at Brock with wide eyes, Tessa hugging herself and Marcus keeping one arm tight around her shoulders.

  “Chicken,” Brock said. He hadn’t meant to use his old pet name for her from when they were kids, but seeing her looking so vulnerable… It just came out.

  She burst into tears and started toward him.

  Dexter and Porter both drew blades faster than Brock could track. They had to be using the other replicants to move like that. Tess
a jerked to a stop. For once, she didn’t look like she wanted to rip off their heads.

  “Stand down,” Brock said.

  Again, Dexter and Porter spoke simultaneously. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

  “What did you just say?” Brock couldn’t believe his ears. Not just that they were speaking in unison, but that they had actually defied him. And with such a weird turn of phrase.

  “We said no,” they said. “Maybe you need your hearing checked.”

  “It’s okay, Brock.” Tessa stepped back into Marcus’s embrace. They were both wearing full hunting outfits, even though Tessa hadn’t been cleared for the field yet—if she ever would be, with the control issues she’d been having.

  She seemed to be doing okay now, though. Maybe Meg’s presence was helping. Except, Meg wasn’t in the room.

  “Where are Meg and Vaughn?” Brock asked.

  “They’re upstairs,” Dad said.

  “You left Vaughn alone with her?” Brock looked over at Dexter, surprised by the show of trust.

  “After what he did to Porter, we think he can take care of himself,” Dexter said.

  “What did he do to Porter?” All Brock remembered was feeling DP’s consciousness slam into him, knocking him back into his body.

  “He decapitated us,” Porter said. “And then burned us with a flamethrower until our body vaporized to make sure no parasites escaped.”

  Holy shit.

  Brock hadn’t known Vaughn had that in him.

  “Is he okay?” Brock asked.

  “As okay as Vaughn ever is,” Dexter said.

  “How are you?” Tessa asked.

  “I’m fine.” Brock pushed all of his strength into his voice, willing them to believe him. Truthfully, he felt like he’d been hit in the head with a sledgehammer about a dozen times before being tossed onto a highway to get run over by a truck. “We can get back to business as usual.”

  “Business as usual?” Marcus said. “There is no business as usual. This is a clusterfuck.”

  “Gee, Marcus, tell us how you really feel.” Brock glared at him, but Marcus didn’t back down.

  “I’m exhausted,” he said. “Terrified.”

  Brock hadn’t expected honesty. A wave of guilt hit him. Everyone was suffering, and it was his fault.