Intended Extinction (21 page)

The swift
exchange
of bullets in the barrel; the clink of the casing as it hit the ground. Those were starting to become my two favorite sounds. Two holes pierced my target’s chest, and I was satisfied. Everything that had previously been in slow motion was starting to turn into real time. I was getting used to it, and I was good. The lifeless body fell to the cold concrete with a gut-wrenching thud.

I hopped the small barrier to my left and hid behind the next pillar. Two more soldiers. I could hear the small echo of their metal boots on the floor, and that's all I needed. I revealed myself and quickly connected the dots; two thuds this time.

The next obstacle was easy; I had done it many times. I moved down the corridor with wings at my feet and squatted at the next checkpoint. There was a small package on the floor next to me. I carefully picked it up, feeling the rectangle edges and the small transponder in the middle. I holstered my weapon, but before leaping over the barrier, my vision blurred for a second, and the room became overexposed. I focused, embarrassed that I had let my own thoughts invade. As I calmed my mind, the room slowly turned back into the deadly, foul smelling concrete facility.

I jumped the barrier and continued to my destination. I was in the firing range, moving from one pillar to the next, avoiding enemy detection. I maneuvered with great ease and no hesitation. I finally reached the position at the end of the room and planted the package on the pedestal.

Two beeps later I was on my way back—double time. I jumped the final barrier and put my back to the nearest column. I waited for the beautiful sound in my ears; only a couple more seconds.

The ground shook and the explosion was successful.

“A new record,” said a reverberating voice that shook the facility.

I closed my eyes and I felt my surroundings fall into nothingness beside me. I was pulled downward, into a murky swamp. Then, in a glorious breakthrough, like a dolphin jumping above the ocean surface, I emerged from my subconscious.

I was back.

The Underbed’s familiar salty atmosphere welcomed me with warm arms. I unbelted myself from the chair and massaged the bruise on my left arm. I was having trouble with Trial 2 of Sphere 6, which was getting me more beat up than sparring sessions with Bollis. I stood up, entered some data into Simone’s mainframe, and observed my record.

“No way,” I said to myself as the new results registered.

Simone’s database was categorized by the different nanomachines injected into the body. There were ten sections called “Spheres”, each holding twenty to thirty unique scenarios called “Trials.” Even though there were already pre-set scenarios, the nanomachines could be manipulated, theoretically allowing an unlimited amount of Trials to be created.

Each session was recorded into the mainframe and statistics could be viewed afterward. I was looking at my overall time for Trial 4, Sphere 6, grinning ear to ear. I had beaten Dodge’s record, which had previously been the highest. After relishing in the moment, I took a second to contemplate how far I had actually come in just one month’s time. The results were astoundingly positive.

“Should I inform Dodge of the recent broken record?” asked Aiya.

“No,” I said, smiling, “let me break the news.”

Aiya announced that it was six o’ clock in the evening as I exited The Break. I had been induced for a little over three hours. It was starting to get easier, managing Simone’s serum. I recalled the first time being injected with those nanomachines. I hadn’t been able tell the difference between reality and hallucination, so for an entire hour I was a hysterical mess in front of everyone.

At least I didn’t throw up all over Vexin, I thought, remembering Tara’s first time.

I made my way across Central’s cold, glossy floor toward Celia. She was of course working on some project of hers. I popped open a pouch of Urimene, a liquid substance that helped me stabilize after a session with Simone, and nonchalantly approached her. If I managed to keep her talking for more than five minutes, it was a miracle.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I announced jokingly, between swigs of my Urimene, “your newest Simone champion!”

“Uh . . . hold on,” she droned, putting a finger up to me.

“Really?” I said, somberly sitting on the chair adjacent to her. “I’m running out of material here, Celia.”

Ever since Celia had given us such inspiring advice, she and I had held somewhat of a close bond. I felt it was my duty to lighten the mood around her, in substitute of Dodge. If I didn’t pull her mind away from that computer of hers for a minute or two, she would probably go insane. Before, I was just intimidated, but now we were comfortable around one another. We were friends.

I knew to keep my distance, though. Dodge and Celia were more or less involved with each other and I didn’t want him breathing down my neck. Although that would never happen in a million years. We left the anger to Vexin.

She finished typing with a flourish and swiveled around to see me.

“You know,” she began, “if you didn’t come here interrupting me so often, we might actually be getting somewhere with these codes.”

“Hey, did you not hear me?” I said, spreading my wingspan. “The newest Simone champion!”

She gave me the “very funny” look, and retaliated with, “Of
one
Trial, right? Out of how many?”

I smiled; I had at least loosened her up.

“Good one,” I said, rolling beside her to see what she was working on. My tone turned serious.

“Still haven’t cracked this one, huh?”

She sighed, leaning back and stretching. “No. Bollis and I have been at it all morning. I have this hunch that instead of ratting us out, Gear just hyper-encrypted GenoTec’s security detail. That, or I just need a hot bath to clear my head.”

“Well,” I said, getting to my feet, “don’t lose your mind over it. Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

She refocused and said, “You go ahead. I’ve got one more hour in me.” Immediately, she resumed.

Quarter smelled superb. I picked out a tangy orange sauce and some kind of garlic spice amongst the aroma. Coming to dinner nowadays was almost always some sort of adventure. A few weeks ago, I had become bored with the same old MetaChews, powdered liquids, and freeze-dried substances. So, to combat my boredom, I started experimenting. Apparently, I had started a trend, because it was now a game to see who could come up with the best concoction.

Sitting in the dining section was Bollis, sipping a glass of milk, Dodge, who, to my surprise, was doing a crossword—with a furrowed brow—and Justin, who was trying to help Dodge with the puzzle. Tara was the one doing the cooking, standing near the stove next to opened packets of chocolate powder, freeze-dried potatoes, and two MetaChew containers.

“Dodge! What’s that you’ve got?” I teased as I took a place at the table across from Justin. I was hungry, but I wanted to see what Tara was cooking before I made my new recipe. She turned to see me and smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, I gave in,” he smirked, erasing a faulty answer.

“Ah, so after all the time spent mocking me and Bollis, here you are,” I said, dragging out his guilt. Bollis and Justin were eyeing me and laughing here and there.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” said Bollis, “he had a rough dinner.”

I gobbled up the unfortunate event.

“Really?” I said, smiling. “What was it this time, ketchup and ice cream?”

Justin answered for Dodge. “No, dude. Eggs, chicken broth, and coffee powder.” The boy snickered and Dodge acknowledged his creation like a true man.

“It’ll probably be better than what ‘Chef’ is cookin’ over there,” he joked, motioning to Tara, who just shook her head. He then gasped and said, “That’s it! That one’s ‘
chef!
’ Of
course
.” He nudged Justin with acclaim and quickly wrote in his answer.

“How was Simone?” asked Bollis, turning to me.

“I thought you’d
never
ask!” I exclaimed, looking right at Dodge.

We got a good laugh out of the new record. Dodge and I had a great relationship, and it was probably the one thing that was keeping me sane down there. After berating him for a few minutes, Bollis and I struck up a conversation about my training.

Bollis. He was always good at giving advice for my holdups. He was so articulate and thoughtful. He wouldn’t make me feel like I was doing it all wrong, or that I
needed
his help. It was more of a gentle elbow in the right direction, all the while making meaningful dialogue. It was amazing how close we had all gotten in just a month.

Well,
most
of us. I glanced at Tara again.

After I roused my heap to get my own dinner going, Bollis was in the midst of dishing some news about what was going on in the outside world. He held a rectangular tablet, connected to the Internet through the Underbed’s extensive network. I didn’t even want to understand Celia when she told us how it all worked, what with being underwater.

“Jonas Repik announces Australia as newest Vax destination,” he read. As he continued, the rest of us sat quietly, gathering every speck of information and storing it in our vaults. We needed to know everything that came out of GenoTec, and everything that went in. We had become trained listeners, careful to not let one ounce of data go unchecked.

Bollis either read from the Reach, one of the more prominent sites published by GenoTec, or the Pigpen, a more realistic view of the world written by the citizens of Manhattan. The two web pages were our “light reading.” The Reach gave us concise information about what GenoTec was doing with research, communications, and anything proactive. The Pigpen let us know how the world was taking all of it. Dodge and I particularly got a kick out of the Pigpen’s often ruthless posts that escaped GenoTec’s proofreaders.

“Listen to this,” said Bollis, sitting up in his chair. “After a second look at the body of Archturus Slate, experts are saying that it might not be the actual corpse of the former CEO. GenoTec has been assuring people that it is a simple fluke. Jonas Repik denies all propositions that Slate may yet be still alive.”

“Alive?” repeated Dodge. “You know
those
scientists are definitely going to wind up in some dumpster in the next few weeks.”

“How would something like that even leak?” I asked.

“Not
all
of GenoTec is the enemy,” affirmed Bollis. “If he
is
still alive, why not show himself?”

“Well, it was Repik who sent those men, right?” I hypothesized. “Maybe Slate’s trying to get revenge or something.”

“Great,” said Dodge, handing the crossword to Justin and standing up. “Another unanswered question.” He cleaned his dirty dishes and leaned against the sink.

“Hey,” said Tara, “speaking of questions, have you guys seen Vane lately?”

All eyes turned to her.

“What do you mean?” asked Bollis.

“I’ve seen him just standing in front of the Corrupt Vista doors.”

“Just standing there?” I asked. It could really only mean one thing.

She nodded and said, “I’m pretty certain it means—”

“We’ve got another job comin’ up,” finished Dodge.

Justin shifted in his chair and said, “The Corrupt Vista? You bucket-sacks are screwed.”

“Do we have any idea what caused the shutdown?” asked Tara.

Bollis shook his head.

I sighed and concluded, “If we’re going there, I guess I need to watch the footage again.”

I observed
the tiny particles of pink powder dissolve into my water. It was another day of training, and I was determined to propel myself into new levels. As I spun the contents with a utensil, Dodge and Bollis came down the corner of Quarter.

There was such a deep bond between those two. I had noticed it from the beginning, but with every interaction they held, it became stronger. Dodge was so happy-go-lucky, even during this crazy time. His personality brought something unique and fresh to the group. While he provided a steady flow of humor, Bollis was the one who kept things from falling apart. He maintained composure so easily and his vision was undeterred. He always saw the good in Tara, Justin, and I, even when all odds were against us. The two friends definitely complemented one another.

“ ‘Gettin’ huge’ with Mark Wenton!” announced Dodge, like it was some kind of television program. He grabbed a quick breakfast from the fridge.

“I only hope,” I said, putting away the container of pre-workout supplement.

“You’re with Vex today, right?” asked Bollis, fixing something on his suit.

“Yep.”

I received a slap on the back from Dodge. “Good luck, dude. I hope this time goes much better.” He turned to Bollis and said, “You ready, old man?”

“Says the guy who’s only three years younger than me?” Bollis retaliated.

“Are you two sparring with us?” I asked.

“We’re headed topside, my friend,” said Dodge with a wide grin.

“Through Liberty,” added Bollis.

Before I could ask why, they were saying their goodbyes, leaving me alone with my half-mixed cup of slosh.

That’s the first time they’ve left since . . .

Then someone came down the hallway that almost made me spit out the last of my drink. Tara glided across the floor, wearing her Undersuit like a billion dollar dress. It curved at all the right places, leaving me breathless. Maybe it was the energy starting to pump through me from the supplement, but something about her today just sang.

“Vane’s teaching me how to use the RPG today,” she told me. She was brimming with excitement.

Ever since we had officially accepted Genesis, it was like a grenade had exploded inside of her. She was already a marksman with the rifle, a dexterous disarmer, and something of a pupil to Vane. I admired her connection to Genesis, but I had the slightest wish that we could be spending more time together.

Okay, it wasn’t the
slightest
wish. Damn it, I wanted us to be together.

“Excellent,” I replied. I set my glass in the sink and we exchanged stories for a minute.

Since that first night in the Underbed, we hadn’t really had another intimate moment. For a month, we were simply machines, working our bodies to the bone in order to become supreme soldiers. I almost wondered if she had lost the emotion she once had for me. I certainly hadn’t lost mine.

“You better get ready,” she concluded, “Vexin’s not much for tardiness.” Then she was gone.

I pondered our relationship for a few more minutes. I think a part of me knew this would happen. Her personality was so accepting and outgoing. She might have been reluctant and scared at first, but she had since thrown those precautions out the window. She had blossomed, but hadn’t taken me with her.

I audibly sighed, alone in the kitchen
.

“Mark!” Vexin’s voice burst out from overhead. “If you’re not here in ten minutes, I’ll kick your ass in Quarter if I have to.”

I dashed to my room and opened my bedside cache. It was a small chest, containing my Undersuit. Genesis had two suits for our little gang. First, was the stretchy, yet constricting Undersuit. I shoved my feet into the plush booties, pulled the wetsuit-like leggings up to my waist, and wrenched the hip-clamps to their positions. Next, I donned the restrictive chest piece and sleeves. I clamped down the mini-latches by my ribs and my skeleton forcefully displaced into optimal positions. I inhaled deeply and locked the last clamp on my neck.

It was like walking on the moon. I felt so light and agile. My muscles were supported in every way imaginable. The suit was designed to empower the user with increased mobility, flexibility, and overall prowess. It was indeed a stealth suit, adequately giving each member of Genesis a distinct advantage.

The second suit provided by Genesis was called the Oversuit. It might have been called a “suit”, but in reality, it was a collection of plastic-metal plating that covered important portions of our bodies. Protecting the chest, shoulders, arms, torso, legs, and feet, the Oversuit could allow us to walk into a barrage of bullets without feeling a thing. While the GenoTec soldiers were mainly armored to the teeth, we had the advantage of flexibility. Lastly, each of us came with a standard helmet. They were form-fitting and utilized a large visor.

I approached the great mirror in Quarter’s arced hallway. I looked stronger, bulkier, yet lean and quick. Instead of what used to be flabby muscles, there were thick, resilient bricks, protruding from the suit. My black hair was cut short and my face was clean-shaven. I stared into my new eyes, realizing Vane’s premonition about Tara and I was coming true. The thought of Vane dissolved into Vexin’s venom-doused image and I bounded to The Break.

“Welcome to the Training Chamber, Mark,” said Aiya in her soothing voice.

I ignored her and jogged into Simone’s room, crossing to the Sparring Chamber. As I was about to drench Vexin in my apologies, I traversed the threshold only to be immediately tackled to the bouncy floor.

“
Oof!
”

We tumbled on the springy ground, and Vexin managed to grasp me by the chest, mid-roll, and hurl me further across the mats.

That’s what I got for being late.

I picked myself up just as he bounded toward me. This time I readied myself and we faced each other in an intense fashion. His blonde hair had grown a bit since our initiation into Genesis, thin and dashing. His nose was flared and his eyes glared me down with their white, piercing beams.

He lunged at me, and I backed away, but he attacked again before I could register his movements. He tried to take me down with a low shoulder, but I managed to somewhat hold him steady. We stood there on the mat, struggling like two teenagers in an arm wrestling match. He forced me to one knee, which luckily gave me enough leverage to spin him to the ground.

But his hands locked onto my torso again and I was flung off. I sprang like a panther and we clashed again, this time falling to the mats and wrestling. He put me into a headlock, which I reversed and barred his arm against my chest. This only worked for a few seconds, as his foot reached to unlatch mine and we were at it again, finding positions to hold each other down.

After a sweaty ten minutes had passed, I asked, “Do we want to actually spar? Or is this how it’s gonna be today?”

He spat at the floor and grinned. “Shouldn’t have been late.”

We went at it again for another fifteen minutes, and he finally managed to pin me successfully. As I collected myself from the exhausting match, I marveled at the amount of time we had spent. Never in my entire time here had we managed to have a thirty-minute session of tiring combat. We were getting stronger, more durable, and less winded. It was almost terrifying.

“Let’s lift for the next hour, and come back to work with weapons,” said Vexin, unclamping his chest piece, revealing a cut, muscular trunk, littered with scars and recent bruises.

I nodded through heavy breaths and we moved toward the back of the room to use the weights.

As we spotted each other, I prodded Vexin about Bollis and Dodge going topside.

“They’re just doing a job,” he answered, grunting as he lifted his final repetition on the bench.

“So, you don’t even know about it?”

“It’s just another piece to the plan, Mark,” he got up, and we switched places. “We really only have one more thing to do.”

I stopped. “What do you mean?”

“Once you’ve finished another month of training, we’ll be ready to move on the Manhattan Branch, then to Jersey City.”

“How come I’ve never heard this?”

“Never asked, I guess.”

I scrunched my face and sent the questions to the back of my mind for now. My last repetition was done in seconds as I forced the bar with more exertion.

Once we had gotten our fill, we moved to the pads and each grabbed a rifle from one of the racks. We relocated to the center of the room, only an arm’s length away from each other.

Even though my muscles were swollen and my bones moaned for relief, we continued. We were relentless.

“We’ll start where we left off,” he commanded, preparing himself. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I stared into his white eyes, grasped my false rifle tightly, and placed my left foot a little in front of me.

Our rifles hit like hot iron as I attempted to knock him off balance. His right foot caught him, and he began to raise his weapon. In what seemed like slow motion, I swiped the tip of his rifle with the butt of mine, successfully disarming him. He remained emotionless as I rose my barrel inches from his nose.

“Again,” he growled.

For another long session, Vexin taught me different techniques involving close quarter combat. I swear we had run through every scenario possible. I was bruised, crunched, and aching like a rusty skeleton. I had suffered two dislocations, a nasty hyperextension, and three pulled ligaments. Although I felt like putty every time I left the sparring chamber, I enjoyed Vexin’s sessions the most. While extremely brutal, they provided me with the most realistic experience.

I looked up at him from the flat of my back, nose running with blood and left eye socket black as tar. That was it—the last session for today. I reached for his dainty hand and barely received help as I mustered myself onto two legs again. I winced and hobbled, detaching my chest piece and discarding it to the floor.

“Today was better,” he said. His voice acidic and gravelly. “You’re not a wimp anymore.”

I stretched my back, bending down to reach my toes. I probably should have said “thank you” at least. Getting any sort of compliment from Vexin was one of the great wonders of the world. But there was something sprouting up in me. I don’t know why, but I wanted to train alone for a little longer.

“You coming?” he asked, looking back before he crossed the threshold.

I brought myself back up, filled with vigor.

“You know what?” I walked away. “I think I’ll stay a little longer.”

I could feel the salty beams from his eyes cutting into the wounds on my back. But it didn’t matter. Inside of my bones there was burning direction. I was driven, activated, and obsessed.

I jumped up and clutched the pull up bar at the end of the room and began to work myself to exhaustion. I felt the splitting of my muscles, the white hot, searing activation of growth. I ran ladders, back and forth on the plush, buoyant carpeting. My sweat ran with me, falling beside and singeing my surroundings. I grabbed a barbell and did a set of weighted lunges across the length of the room.

I was on fire. My vision had never been clearer. I was some kind of monster. I could almost feel the horns protruding from my skull. I felt like a waterfall, continuously moving and churning into oblivion.

Thank God I had drugs and technology to help cope with pain and repair.

As I continued to train, I began thinking of my first few times in this room. I was drawn into a memory.

About a month ago, Bollis stood across from Tara and I, teaching us different forms of hand-to-hand combat. It was our first time learning how to fight. We were both awkward and reticent to commit. We hadn’t even really accepted Genesis yet. The more we trained, though, the more addicted we became. Between Simone’s extensive neurological implantation and Bollis’ mixed martial arts training, Tara and I were transformed into confident combatants.

Sifting through more nostalgia, I recounted Dodge showing us how to move without a sound, Vexin making us discover our weaknesses, and Vane tying it all together with psychological experiments. The exhilaration. The dedication. The passion. I found myself yearning for those times. I must have been going crazy.

I remembered the three days of fear extinction. Sitting in Simone’s shackles, being subconsciously held at gunpoint, firing upon another human, and watching someone die before my eyes. For hours we replayed those scenarios. We became exposed on all levels. Even though the adrenaline and the concern never faded, I simply wasn’t afraid anymore. I could look someone in the eyes without hesitating to kill them.

It was utterly sick. And not the Justin kind of “sick.”

It was brainwashing. It was forfeiting a piece of me that I would never get back. I had sold my soul to war.

After who knows how long, my next round of exercises consisted of acrobatic training. A week ago, I shockingly learned an essential aspect of Genesis. I replayed Bollis run, cartwheel into a back handspring and flip, landing on his feet gracefully. I watched as Dodge did a precise aerial over Tara, his back barely whisking over hers. It wasn’t so much about being able to perform an Olympic spin over an enemy, but rather the flexibility and added finesse that came from acrobatics.