Feast (22 page)

29

Hiding was for cowards. Anne believed it with all her heart, but she also
knew
better. Hiding meant surviving, and survival was the name of the game. Sometimes an enemy could be defeated simply by staying alive long enough for something else to kill it for you. In this case, hiding meant the human race as it had evolved over millions of years, still had a chance to reclaim the planet from what ExoGen had done to it.

She believed that even more than she believed hiding equaled cowardice. But was that really how she felt, or were those her mother’s emotions leaching into her, along with her memories and knowledge? Or maybe she was having a similar emotional response to those memories? She was her mother’s daughter, after all, even more than the average daughter.

Shawna the maid, who wasn’t really a maid, but had been dressed up like one, led her to a large bedroom at the back of the house. It had a king size bed, perfectly made with the fluffiest, most inviting comforter set that Anne had ever seen. As she walked past the bed, part of her longed to climb into it, fall asleep and forget the world and her part in it. Then she smelled the room. It was distinctly masculine. Like something she’d smelled as a child. Her father’s scent.

That’s mom’s memory,
Anne thought, identifying the scent as Old Spice, and recalling the cologne’s beige bottle with a sailboat. Her mother had liked the smell. But it was tinged with something else Anne couldn’t identify. Something that made her wince. Shawna too, though she suspected the woman knew what she was smelling, and it twisted her face up with discomfort. Bad things happened in this room.

Shawna rounded an old dresser that looked hand-carved, like some kind of ancient antique. Above it was a fancy gilded mirror, like something out of a fairy tale.
Probably taken from a museum,
Anne thought, and she paid the furniture and décor no more attention. Shawna opened a door, revealing a walk-in closet stocked with the clothes of a Southern gentleman.

“We’re going to hide in a closet?” she protested. “Isn’t that like a cliché or something? Won’t this be the first place someone will look?”

Shawn ignored her and began separating the shirts hanging on the left side of the closet. “I found this by accident. I didn’t go inside, but I think I know what it is.”

“I don’t see anything,” Anne said. “It’s just—”

Shawna pressed on the wall. The small amount of pressure revealed a thin rectangular seam. When she removed her hands, a door popped open. It was just three feet tall and two feet wide, but big enough to fit through. Big enough for an adult to fit through. “I don’t think this was part of the original house. But Mason was a contractor. I think he added this space, or at least converted a large closet into two separate spaces.”

“Why would he need a secret room inside a house he controlled?” Anne asked. “Is it like a safe room?”

Shawn frowned. “I don’t think so. Let me go in first.”’

“Whatever is in there, I can handle it.” Anne pushed the woman aside. “I have seen things that would make you puke. Hell, I’ve done things that would make you puke. Nothing in here could be worse. And we don’t really have a choice.”

“Suit yourself,” Shawna said. As kind as the woman was being by hiding her, Anne sensed that the woman had paper-thin patience. And who could blame her? She’d been a prisoner and slave for how long? And now a kid she didn’t know was bossing her around.

But Anne didn’t think there was time for being nice. Not now. Not until Kenyon was dead or gone. Because if he found her... She didn’t want to think about it, but images of ExoGen came unbidden to her thoughts. Her earliest memories were just a few years old. At first, they weren’t that bad. People were kind. In retrospect, they were too kind—the sort of nice that people put on like a mask to hide what they were really thinking. Then came the tests: mental, physical and emotional. Her mother took part in some, at first, but was later pulled from the project. The project of her. These memories had been vague up until now. Or perhaps repressed. But her mother’s leaching memories were bringing out details.

While her mother grew more fond of Anne, treating her like an actual daughter, rather than a creation, Anne began to feel more and more like a lab rat. She didn’t know what they were looking for, or testing for, but they were relentless, until one day, they weren’t. She had, apparently, failed their tests. It was then that she had been allowed to live with her mother full time.

A memory slipped into her mind. Her mother’s. And unlike most, it was more recent.

She was in an office. Someplace fancy. The air was pure. Smelled like a thunderstorm. A bald man sat behind a desk, back to her. He was looking out a window, large enough to squeeze an elephant through. It looked out upon an empty city with a massive red bridge and a fog shrouded ocean beyond. The view was both disconcerting, and inspiring.

“Lawrence,” Ella said. “You don’t need to terminate this one.”

“I heard you grew attached,” the man said, his voice echoing off the sharp angles in the sparsely decorated space. “You know better.”

“None of them need to be terminated,” Ella countered.

“You know we don’t have the resources to feed them yet.” The man’s fingers tapped on the armrest. Bored. “Nor do we have the time or personnel to raise them. Teach them. If bleeding hearts ran this place, rather than logical minds, we would have hundreds of malnourished, under-educated, potentially rebellious people to look after, all of whom would keep us from continuing our work on schedule and without distraction. But you’ve known that all along. It’s why you haven’t raised this issue before, despite your resistance to our—”

“You murdered humanity,” Ella said. She was trying hard to stay cordial, to not ruffle the feathers of the man whose word was law.

“And you gave us the knife,” the man said, “which is why you are still alive. Your skills and knowledge will help what’s left of the world, something you have at least attempted to make peace with. Your work
is
progressing. But this...obsession with the girl? It needs to stop.”

“I won’t continue my work without her.”

The man’s fingers stopped tapping. “An ultimatum? You’ve made them before. We both know you prefer life over death. You have never done well with pain.”

“People change,” Ella said. “You of all people know that better than most.”

“The question is why?” Lawrence said. “We changed the world. Not quite overnight, but in evolutionary terms, RC-714 did what took billions of years for evolution to achieve, in the blink of an eye. But what could change a woman like you, who even while she is repulsed by her own work, and toils against it in vain—we know about your biodomes, by the way—always returns to it? Drawn by insatiable curiosity. Pushed by threats of violence. Of starvation. Of being set loose in the wilds of the new. You always return to work.”

Lawrence swiveled around in his chair, facing Ella for the first time. He had a kind face and a genuine smile. His head sparkled in the sunlight filtering in through the window. His eyes matched the water in the bay behind him. And his loose clothing looked like something out of a kung-fu movie. This was a man who should be stretching on a yoga mat, not overseeing the end of life on Earth. “So what about this girl, subject 229—”

“Anne.”

“—would spur you to make such a threat? And why do you think that after all your failed attempts at resistance, things will be different this time?” He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, his smile unwavering.

“Because this time I mean—”

“Why?”

Ella froze up, not wanting to answer.

“Let me help loosen your lips,” Lawrence said. “ExoGen specializes in genetics. It’s right there in the name. Half of the people working in this facility, and thus half the people alive on this planet, are, like you, geneticists. Now, you might be one of our more gifted minds, but even some of the people in the sanitation department know how to run basic DNA tests.”

When Ella said nothing, Lawrence laughed. “So strong willed, and yet so easy to disarm.” He leaned back in the chair. “I had the girl tested the moment you allowed her to share your quarters. I knew what the results would be when I learned that you had named the girl, but was still surprised when my suspicions were confirmed. But you have always been one to try the unconventional. It’s what makes your genius so potent. So valuable. And it’s why I would rather not have to threaten you, or even worse, follow through on those threats. But I still need to hear it from your lips. Tell me, who is the girl to you?”

“My daughter,” Ella said. “And if you let her live...if you let me have her...you never need threaten me again.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I will be all out of reasons to live.”

Lawrence squinted at her. “You didn’t make her for the experiment, did you?” His smile slowly returned. “You made her...for yourself. Like a pet.” The smile became a laugh. “Ella, you would never admit it, but your mind is as twisted as you claim mine to be. And when you see that for yourself, I will let you into the fold. But for now...I will let you keep the girl.”

Anne stumbled out of the memory and into the small room hidden inside the walk-in closet. When she looked up and saw the room’s contents, she wished she could retreat back into that horrible memory.

30

Ella looked Jakob in the eyes as she was led past him. She said nothing, but tried to communicate a simple message with her facial expression alone:
I’m sorry.

He just glared back at her. Angry at Mason. At Kenyon. At the Riders. Probably at her, too. He’d risked his freedom, his life, in an attempt to rescue her, but had really just delivered himself as a second bargaining chip. Kenyon hadn’t even disarmed the boy, or the rest of the people in the house. Didn’t have to. No one wanted to commit suicide by Apache helicopter. Though as suicide went, it would be one of the faster ways to die. The attack helicopter’s rockets and chain gun didn’t just kill people, they erased them. Turned them to sludge. They were brutal weapons. Overkill, really. But they were also merciful in their swiftness. Death would come faster than the nervous system could register it.

Despite the graveness of their situation, she wasn’t without hope. First, she trusted that once Jakob knew Kenyon was involved, he would have hidden Anne away before revealing himself. If he’d done a good job, Anne was far from here, maybe not even in the compound anymore. Maybe even with Peter. And that was her second hope. Had been for most of her life. Peter was alive. Of that, she had no doubt. But was he fighting for his life somewhere else? Against Boone and his boys? Was he lost in the swamps? Or had he already returned, maybe even waiting inside the house? Whatever the case, if he showed up, she’d be ready. And if he didn’t...she’d do what she did best—survive.

But what she wouldn’t do is let these men have Anne. She’d die before letting that happen.

So as she took the steps onto the farmer’s porch, she steeled herself for the pain to come, and determined that she would not scream.

She paused in the doorway where Mason’s corpse still hung. Blood tapped out a rhythm on the hard wood floor. She heard movement in the house as people scurried about, hiding, retreating or simply trying to get a better view. She ignored them and turned her attention to Mason. His death had been too sudden. Too merciful. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t vent her rage on him. She punched his torso three times, twice with her freshly broken finger. Then she grasped his arms and drove her knee into his groin, again and again. On the fourth strike, the spear tip slipped free of the door. His body crumpled at her feet.

She kicked the body twice and then stopped. Sweat coated her forehead. Her muscles twitched. The man’s violent sexual advances had affected her more than she thought.

“He really did what you said,” Kenyon said. He actually looked concerned.

“Tried to,” she replied, and hoped he might learn a lesson from her brutalization of a dead man. She stepped over the corpse and into the house. There were two women and one man in the living room to the right of the foyer in which she stood. One of them was Alia. The girl looked at her with a newfound fear. Ella regretted it, but Alia needed to grow a thicker skin. The days of Millennial coddling came to an end right along with the rest of civilization. She wanted to tell her as much, but didn’t even let her eyes linger on the girl. If they were lucky, Kenyon wouldn’t recognize her. When Kenyon stepped into the foyer behind her, the girl wisely looked away, letting her hair cover her face. Hutchins and Crawford stepped in after them, scanning the hallway and the surrounding rooms with their weapons.

“Ella,” Kenyon said, glancing at the armed residents of Hellhole Bay positioned in the living and dining rooms on either side of them. He didn’t even show a flicker of concern. “I’d rather not do this. You’ve been through enough.”

“Much of it at your hands,” she said. “And we both know how this is going to go, so why don’t we get to it?”

“You’ve changed,” he said.

“We’re all evolving.” Ella held out her left hand, offering him another finger. “Some of us slower than others.”

“I came here to kill you, you know.” He sniffed, feigning sincerity. “I dreamed of it. Your death. And Peter’s. Even the kids’. That’s what kept me alive. Tracking you. Hunting you. You made it hard. I couldn’t have done it without the Chunta. But even with their help, the only reason I’m here at all is because I hated you so much.

“And now that we’re here, and your life is in my hands... I know that what I thought was hate, was jealousy. Because I love you. And I want what’s best for you. That’s not a life on the run. Or in a shithole like this. You and Anne can live long, safe lives.”

“While ExoGen remakes the world?”

“That can’t be stopped. It’s far too late for that.”

Ella didn’t like the sound of that. “What have they done?”

“You’ll find out when you come back with me,” he said. “You can enjoy the fruits of your labor. You can live out your life...again and again. With Anne. With me. Regain ExoGen’s trust and they might even let you help shape the future. Your morality is questionable, but your abilities will always be valuable to them.

“Tell you what. I’ll even throw in the kid. Peter is a no-go, for obvious reasons. Just saying his name makes me want to slit my own throat for being kind to you. But I will spare his son. I’ll take him to San Francisco with us, and I will let him live out his life. Just once, though.”

That was the second time Kenyon alluded to being able to live more than once. Had ExoGen discovered some sort of immortality gene, buried in the junk DNA that she had helped unlock?

It was a tempting offer. Being human came with a mystery expiration date. Erasing that fateful moment...if really possible...would be seductive to most anyone on the planet. But giving up her daughter, not to mention the human race she’d already done enough to destroy, wasn’t worth a thousand lifetimes.

In response to his offer, she reached up, took hold of her own finger, and with a quick jerk, snapped the digit. A roar of pain built in her chest, but abject defiance kept it in. “You won’t make me scream. I will die first.”

“Mmm,” Kenyon said. “What about you?”

The question confused Ella until she saw where he was looking: in the living room, at Alia. She was glad Jakob was still outside. If he saw this, she had no doubt he’d try something stupid.

Kenyon snapped his fingers. “What’s your name? Alex? Anna? Starts with an A, right?”

Alia peeked at him through her overhanging hair.

“Yes, you,” Kenyon said. “Come over here, now, or I’ll order my men to shoot your boyfriend outside. And please do leave your weapon on the floor.”

Alia lowered her rifle. Placed it on the floor. Her hands quivered, electrified. She stood slowly, on wobbly legs, and stepped toward the foyer. The man and woman she left behind just watched, despite the weapons in their hands. They might have been brave enough to make a stand against Mason. But against Kenyon, a gaggle of Riders and three military helicopters? Whatever strength they had mustered had faltered. Though at least one of them had the gumption to take a shot at Kenyon. Whoever it was, she hoped he’d never find out.

When Alia stopped in front of him, he put his fingers under her chin and lifted it. She was covered in grime, but her quivering lower lip and tear-filled innocent eyes betrayed her weakness. Jakob was still adapting to the world, and would one day be able to fill his father’s shoes. But Alia...her days were numbered. This might even be her last.

“Where is she?” Kenyon asked.

“W-who?”

“The only ‘she’ in your group not currently present.”

“I d-don’t know.”

“You’re a very bad liar.”

Alia said nothing, but looked close to breaking down.

Kenyon turned to Crawford. The man had a block-shaped face and a square nose, like a pugilist who had taken too many hits to the face. “Knife.”

Crawford drew a long blade from the sheath on his hip, spun it around in his hand and handed it, hilt first, to Kenyon. The blade came up under Alia’s throat so fast that the girl yelped.

“That’s good,” Kenyon said. “But try it a little louder for me.”

The girl’s resistance broke at the same moment her skin did. She screamed like only a teenage girl can, as piercing as a siren.

“Alia?” It was Jakob from outside.

“Stay outside, Jakob,” Ella called. “She’s okay.”

“If he—”

“Stay outside!” Ella shouted.

Something on the second floor thumped. All eyes turned upward.

“Sweep the first floor,” Kenyon told Crawford. Then he gave Alia a shove. “Up.”

Alia started up the stairs, clutching the railing as she went. When Ella moved to follow, Kenyon pointed the knife at her. “You stay here.” He looked to Hutchins. “If she tries anything stupid...shoot her legs.”

Kenyon headed to the second floor, prodding Alia with the barrel of his rifle. When they reached the second floor, Hutchins adjusted his aim toward Ella’s thigh.

“I used to think you were a nice guy, Paul,” Ella said, using Hutchins’s first name.

“Never really liked you much,” he replied.

“Don’t let Eddie hear you say—”

The scream that tore from the second floor was full of genuine pain. As hardened as Ella was, the sound worked its way through a chink in her emotional armor and brought a tear to her eye. Whatever innocence the girl had managed to cling on to was being ripped straight out of her heart. And everyone who heard it reacted in a different way, but all at once.