The Saffron Malformation (85 page)

             
Arnie was at his side and pointing into the waste.  The brood would be on them in a minute if they were lucky, probably less.  The two of them loaded Ryla into the back of the car, Quey climbing in with her, and then Arnie jumped in behind the wheel, he could feel blood soaking into his clothes.  The car was damaged but the engine was still idling.  He set his foot hard on the petal and started back for the compound.

             
Keep focused, Reggie reminded himself.  There was a trick to situations like this.  You had to think far enough ahead to anticipate what was coming without going so far you lost sight of where you were.

             
The road was long and empty and he kept his mind focused.  Just far enough ahead.  No farther.

             
Reggie was fairly certain that the brood’s ambush hadn’t been part of the message sent to them by Richter Crow for a few reasons.  The first was that if the location given had been fake it would have made more sense.  The farmhouse in the middle of nowhere was a terrible place to claim as a meeting point, unless it really was.  Another tell was that it had been sloppy, a bomb in the road and then a mad dash from so far out in the wastes that they had plenty of time to counter the attack.  No, Render had worked that bit out on his own, which left the farmhouse.  There was something there, a reason for the choice of location he meant to discover.

             
As the sun slowly set he drove with the cruise control set and one hand on the wheel, his left, so his right was free to snatch a gun off the seat beside him should the need arise.  That was an example of staying just far enough ahead.  The brood may have bumbled their play but there still might be a trap waiting at the old farm.  That didn’t matter now, however, because he wasn’t there yet.  Right now he was on the road and the road held dangers all its own.  Could be savages deciding they hadn’t hunted anyone down in a while, or it might be bandits just looking to steal what he has.  Could even be the Brood taking another crack at him, though he suspected that wasn’t likely.  Nonetheless, it was foolish to overlook any of it.

             
“The only thing that can kill you,” his first commanding officer had told him, “Is what you don’t see coming.  Stay sharp and ready and be mindful,” he’d clapped Reggie on the back and told him, “shit dark man, you’re a soldiers worst nightmare.”

             
They’d had a laugh at that, but it had saved them just now.  If he hadn’t spotted the patch in the road they’d have rolled over it and the explosion would have crippled them before the second one had a chance to tear through them both.

             
He tensed a bit as he saw something off the road, to the left, and sat up in the driver’s seat.  There was a shape out in the waste, not far off the road.  He squinted into the darkness but it didn’t help.  If someone was out there they’d have seen him coming already so he flipped on his high beams hoping they’d help him make out what was there.  They didn’t.

             
The gun was heavy in his hand, a .45 caliber automatic, but it felt good too.  Right.  Like it belonged there.  He wasn’t looking for a fight, but he had to admit if one happened it’d take the edge off a bit.  Of course if he died here then it really would be for nothing.

             
Whatever the object was he kept eyes on it till he passed.  Nothing happened, and when he was sure nothing was going to happen he set his gun aside and settled back in his seat.  Ahead the road continued, strait and endless, the same went for behind.  Reggie felt like the only man in the world, his car a pocket of life nestled in the nothingness of the waste, racing on and through the night.

             
Rachel and Natalie were waiting in the garage when the car screeched to a halt less than two meters from them.  They rushed in as Quey opened the back door and stepped out covered in blood.  Natalie looked in and saw how pale Ryla was.  She checked her heartbeat and wasn’t sure.

             
“I need to get to work now.”

             
“Where?” Quey asked.

             
“Rachel said something about a medical lab or something.”

             
They looked to her and she replied frantically, “I guess there’s supposed to be one in the second basement.”

             
“We need something to carry her on,” Natalie barked.

             
“There,” Arnie yelped and ran toward a sheet of metal.  It was awkward for a stretcher, a little wide and had no good place to hold onto while you were carrying it, but it would work.

             
They loaded Ryla carefully onto the sheet.  Arnie took one end and Quey the other as they hurried inside with quick short steps and made their way to the elevators.  It seemed to take an hour for the doors to open and even longer for the car to make it past the first basement and to the second.  When the doors opened Quey hurried down the hall so fast Arnie almost dropped his end.

             
“Where?” Quey barked.  Rachel and Natalie raced through the corridors, looking into each of the rooms.  Finally Natalie called from the hallway on the left.  “Here.”

             
Quey and Arnie started forward.  Arnie could feel his arms beginning to burn and the metal cutting into his hands.  Quey didn’t feel anything.

             
Natalie was at the end of the hall and they carried Ryla into a large room packed with equipment.  Eyes scanning and jaw gaped, Natalie looked around and asked, “What the hell is this place?”

             
“Natalie,” Quey barked and she snapped out of it and hurried over to one of the machines.  She’d read about them in school and knew they existed in a few hospitals but she’d never seen one before.  It was a machine that produced a synthetic blood substitute.  It wasn’t as good as real blood but it would keep a patient alive through in depth surgeries or if they’d suffered massive injuries and extreme blood loss.  “Lay her out on the table,” Natalie shouted.  Arnie and Quey lifted her, she weighed more than her frame suggested, but then maybe they were just weak from the adrenaline dump and carrying her all the way down here.  With a grunt they managed to set her on the metal table.

             
“What do you need?” Rachel asked.

             
“That,” Natalie replied, pointing toward a cart in the far corner.

             
Rachel wheeled it over and Natalie brought the synthetic blood machine over to the other side of the bed.  She pulled a tube from the machine, attached a needle to the end of it and slid it into the vein in the crook of her arm.  With the tap of a few buttons she began running the blood to her, then crossed to the other side of the table and tended her wounds.  The shrapnel had torn through two places along the left side of her abdomen and there was another wound in her leg and possibly yet another in her ribs.  If that were the case things might get really ugly.

             
She started with the wounds along the side of her belly.  One was close to her kidney and even if the organ was unscathed stab wounds like this had a tendency to bleed.  Natalie pulled the chunk of metal out of her and then poked into the wound and felt around a bit.  “I think her kidney is fine,” she began then trailed off.  Her face twisted with confusion.

             
“What is it?” Quey snapped.

             
Natalie looked down at Ryla and her eyes widened.  She jumped back on her heels, breathing heavily.  “I thought you said she was human,” she gasped, looking to Quey.

             
“She is,” he replied but then he saw what had made Natalie jump.  She’d pulled a set of wires out of Ryla’s wound.

             
Following the road as it snaked along some hills above the field, Reggie took the last bite of the burger he’d stopped for ten kilometers back.  In the field below, amidst the tall grass that rippled with sunlight as it danced in the early afternoon wind, Reggie saw the house and barn.  When Reggie felt his view wasn’t going to get any better he pulled over and shifted the car into park.

             
Chewing slowly, Reggie sat watching the farm for the better part of an hour and decided there was no one there.  If this was a trap, it wouldn’t come as a hail of bullets.  Still, he took his rifle and pair of handguns with him when he left the car and started through the field.

             
The grass was tall, nearly to his waist and a tangled mess near the roots.  Still, he kept his steps shallow.  If there were explosives out here they wouldn’t bother with burying shit in terrain like this.  They’d simply toss them out into the tall grass. 

             
Searching as he went turned a thirty-minute hike into something that took over an hour.  When he finally made it to the barn he squatted along the north wall and took a minute to recover, not from the physical demands of the walk, but the mental.

             
He wished he’d brought some water, but there was no use dwelling on what couldn’t be changed so he stood and edged around the building.  When he came to the corner he peered around it, rifle ready, and looked at the house.  It had been blue many years ago but most of the paint was in some stage of chipping or peeling.  The roof was missing shingles and the wrap around porch, once white, looked like it was barely hanging on.  At least the windows were free of drapes or blinds so he settled against the corner of the barn and watched it for a long while, waiting to see if anything moved.

             
When he was satisfied the quiet was real he stepped around the corner to the first window of the barn.  The glass was tinted yellow by dirt and grime, which made seeing inside a chore.  He took three quick glances without making out anything useful.  Finally he took a deep breath and moved to face the window and gazed inside.  Nothing.  The barn was empty.

             
Reggie sighed and unease ran its fingers along his spine.  Nothing about this was right.  Nothing about it made sense.  Of course there might be nothing here at all.  That was a possibility he’d run through during the ride out here.

             
He turned to face the house.  Whatever was here, it was waiting for him inside.

             
Three stairs led up from the dirt to the tattered porch.  He moved to the wall beside the heavy door and stood with his back to it.  A quick scan of the surrounding fields showed him no one was around.  The big man eased himself along the wall to the first window, far clearer than the one he’d looked through at the barn, and peeked inside.  The house was empty.

             
Head hung, Reggie turned back to the door and tried the knob.  There was a loud click and then the door swung inward under the pressure of the afternoon breeze.

Fathers and Their Daughters

             
Rain awoke cold and naked on a slab of concrete.  Her nose wrinkled at the smell of the place, old sweat and… other bodily excretions.  Soreness ran deep and through her as she began to move.  She felt like she’d been tossed down a flight of stairs and it hurt to swallow.  She rubbed at her throat and winced as her finger ran over what must have been bruises.

             
For the first few moments what had happened was unclear.  Then she remembered being in her father’s office and the look in his eyes.  Sticklan Stone had been there.  He’d moved toward her and she’d backed away.  He smiled when he saw the fight in her.

             
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” her father had said.  His voice was distant, cold and maybe a little sad.

             
She was backed into a corner with nowhere left to go and Sticklan was on her.  After that it got fuzzy, flashes of memory here and there.  She recalled his face close to her’s, mouth peeled back in a violent sneer and his eyes, they chilled her even to recall.  They looked at her with such excitement and anticipation.  She’d seen the look before, in the eyes of lovers she’d taken when need consumed them and forced their thrusts.

             
A shiver passed through her, partly because it was cold in the room and partly because of that look.  She didn’t remember him stripping her down or anything that had come after but she didn’t feel like she’d been raped.

             
The room was large and dark, the only light drifted through dark grime coated windows high up near the ceiling.  It was a basement, she realized as she staggered to her feet.  As her eyes began to adjust she saw the metal cabinets lining the wall to her right and the stairs leading up to her left.  She hurried to the later and climbed the old wooden steps, the rough wood biting at her feet as she ascended.  The door was heavy and as she groped at it in the dark she discovered there was no handle.  She pulled back her fist, meaning to slam it against the wood but as her hand began forward she thought maybe the only reason he wasn’t in here with her was that he thought she was still asleep.  Her fist halted centimeters from the door and she grunted and stomped her feet instead.

             
Defeated, she turned and started back down the steps.

             
The stink of the place caught in her nose as she entered it again and she took a moment to learn to ignore it.  ‘I’m not the first woman to find herself locked away in this place,’ the thought cut through her like a blade and the wound bled fear.

             
She knew it was pointless but still she tried the metal cabinets along the wall opposite the staircase.  They were locked and she was not surprised.  Defeated again but still not sapped of hope, she turned to the room and scanned it.  There was a set of wooden chairs in the corner under the staircase and a long metal table—the type usually found in a morgue, she couldn’t help but notice—along the far back wall.  Rain swallowed hard and considered the windows up near the ceiling.

             
‘Don’t be stupid,’ she thought.  ‘You really think it’s that easy?’

             
She stood staring at the glass, trying to reason with herself, but in the end there was nothing else she could think to do so she went to the corner and grabbed one of the chairs.  She placed it under the window and stood on it and that frustrated her even more.  At just over five feet tall she was still too short to look through the glass.

             
With an angry grunt she gripped the concrete windowsill and pulled herself up.  Her arms trembled as she held her weight and extended her neck to look through the soot covered glass.  It was thick, the same sort of glass her father used in his home and offices.  Even if she had a gun she wouldn’t be able to crack much less shatter it.

             
She eased herself down onto the chair and then sat upon it.  Despair boiled up inside her and she began to cry softly.  Her arms wrapped around her and she drew her knees to her chest.  She was cold, her feet on the brink of numbness while her skin prickled in goosebumps.

             
Time passed indeterminately as she sat on the chair under the window staring into the corner and thinking of nothing.  Finally there was a sound from the door above, something heavy sliding with a loud metallic clink.  The door opened silently and Sticklan Stone stepped through the threshold.  He pulled the door closed behind him and stood atop the stairs for what seemed like minutes, looking down at her.

             
Rain watched him, her eyes red and puffy but hard underneath.  She had fight in her, a fire that would be hard to extinguish.  Sticklan watched those eyes for a long time, allowing them to tingle in his groin.  He didn’t know what it would take to break this one, but he couldn’t wait to find out.

             
Slowly, he descended and as he did she moved to her feet and then away from him.  She snatched the chair as she went and held it in front of her.  He smiled.  Oh yes, this was going to be fun.

             
He’d brought hundreds of women and more than a few dozen men down into this basement over the decade and a half he’d been under Richter Crows employ, but there were few he truly enjoyed and none he’d enjoy as much as this girl.  He’d wanted to bring her here since first lying eyes on her.  The first time he saw how she stood up to her older brothers, and then once her mother was gone, the way she handled her old man.  He became obsessed with the notion of snatching her in the night and carrying her off to this place.  He used to imagine how he might do it without Richter finding out.  Of course, this little house was the first place he’d look.

             
Rain watched him like a feral cat he’d cornered in an alley as a child.  The cat had hissed.  Rain simply said, “You come near me, I’ll kill you.”  He met her eyes and saw that she meant it.  He smiled.  She went on.  “Whatever my father wants, there are better ways.”

             
Sticklan lunged for her.  Rain leapt back half a step, adjusting her feet to give her better balance and thrust one of the chair legs into his face.

             
It caught him off guard, her tactic.  He’d expected her to swing hard, to try and take him out in a single blow but her attack was smart, a jab that collided with his chin, stumbling him.  When she took a step forward she put everything she had into the second swing.

             
Sticklan still felt the blow throbbing on his chin but he’d been in enough fights not to let that faze him.  He dropped low and moved forward under her looping swing.  The chair arched over his head and slammed into the floor.  Before she could raise it to defend herself again he pulled the gun from behind his back and fired.

             
Rain felt something bite her side, like a snake.  When she looked down at the prongs and the wires hanging from them she had just enough time to recognize what had struck her.  Then the jolt came.  Her body jerked stiff and she dropped the chair.  Sticklan grinned as he pushed the button on the gun and sent another shock through her.  This one dropped her to the concrete with a loud thwack.

             
Sticklan pressed the shock button again and watched her seize.

             
Three seconds that felt like an eternity as electricity pulsed through her body.  She couldn’t feel anything save the scream of her nerves.  She felt every muscle jerk tight, as if she were lifting a car over her head.  When it finally stopped her body tingled and where the weapon had bitten her burned.  She found it hard to move and her head swam with dizziness as pain radiated through her.  She’d been tazed before and this gun wasn’t like that.  This was a pure electric shock, like sticking a prong in a wall socket.

             
The saliva in her mouth tasted metallic so she spit it onto the floor.

             
“That could have killed you, you know,” Sticklan said as he approached her.  “Three seconds is all it takes, they say.”  She tried to pull herself away from him but what he said must have been true because there was no strength left in her body.

             
Sticklan up righted the chair she’d dropped then gripped her by the hair and pulled until she was sitting up on the floor.  She couldn’t find the strength to stand so he gripped her throat and dragged her to the chair where he lifted and then threw her into it.

             
“Nice iv ewe offer me a seet.”

             
He looked at her, swaying in the chair, eyes glancing about uncertainly and laughed.  “You don’t think it’ll happen to you, I know,” he told her.  “Everyone…” her eyes were looking somewhere else so he grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.  “Everyone has a limit.  Everyone breaks.  Everyone comes to a place where hope has abandoned them.  It’s cold.  Made of stone and scorched sky and the only thing to do there,” he glared at her, “is die.”

             
She could feel his eyes as they ran over her bare skin.  Suddenly her nakedness made her feel vulnerable.  She remembered the way he used to look at her, when she was barely a teenager.  She’d catch him in the corner of a room or lingering in the shadows, his eyes leering.  Suddenly her gaze hardened.

             
“You’ve been on the road a long time.”  His fingers left her face and traced the scars along her ribs, the ones given to her by a pair of bandits that thought her and Leone would be easy prey.  They’d paid for that mistake with blood.

             
She smacked his hand away from her skin and he zapped her again.  The jolt made her jump and stung like a bitch, but at least it was quick.  “Do that again and maybe I’ll see just how long it would take this thing to kill you.”

             
Rain swallowed hard, hoping she could send her anger down to her belly with the bit of spit in her mouth.

             
He traced over the dull slices running down her back, through the storm cloud tattoo on her left shoulder.  He found the scar on her thigh and thumbed it, then rested his hand on her leg and caressed.  She shivered under his touch and he smiled as he slid his hand to the inner meat of her thigh, fingers dangerously close to the spot where her legs met.

             
She swallowed hard and looked strait ahead, a thousand yards past the wall in front of her, holding her rage deep inside.  Then his hand caressed the scar along her guts, a stab wound just below her belly button, before he boldly found her breast and massaged it.  Rain tasted bile at the back of her throat and a tremor passed through her.  It wasn’t his hand, she’d been groped plenty of times, it was the way he was doing it.  Tenderly, as if they were lovers.

             
“All that time on the road…” he knelt before her and looked into her eyes.  “All the perils awaiting a young woman, especially a pretty one,” his hand caressed her cheek.  “And you had to come home to be raped and murdered.”

             
Her eyes wavered ever so slightly but she knew he saw.  She hated giving him that bit of satisfaction and she promised to allow no more.

             
It was true though, she had faced perils on the road, men with ideas about uses for her body she did not share.  When they pressed the issue they’d bled for it.  The ones who took a more final approach to her well being were no longer with us.  She’d known the dangers when she chose the life and chose it because she thought it was the right thing, and because she loved Leone and would not be separated from him.  She also knew what it was to be a victim and decided early on she never would be.  She’d seen women who had, looked into their eyes and knew.  You can live with things that happen but you can never leave them behind.  Killing a man she could carry, if it was to protect herself or Leone.  What she saw in those women, survivors they called them…  She would die first.  But now she had no strength to fight and the prongs were still biting into her skin, waiting to spew their electric venom.

             
Tears flooded her eyes but she wouldn’t give them voice because that would give him another satisfaction.  He rose to his full height.  Looking down at her, he smiled and shocked her again.

              Sticklan Stone went to one of the cabinets where he used a key to open the door and removed a pair of handcuffs.  Rain was on the floor again, she’d fallen off the chair when he zapped her and must have come to the brink of blacking out.  She was trying to get back onto the chair when he moved to her, snatched her arm, and slapped the cuff on.  He yanked hard on the chain and brought her to standing, then bound her other wrist in front of her.

             
“There has to be something,” her voice was shaky.  He looked at her.  “A reason I’m here.  My father must want something from this.”

             
Sticklan smiled at her.  “You don’t get it do you?  You still can’t see that place.  You still have hope,” he said and pounded his index finger into the middle of her forehead.

             
Her brow furrowed confusion at him.