Liquid Death (The Edinön Trilogy Book 1) (22 page)

              He is the first one to speak once we’re moving. “Look, 108, I know how you must feel about us – Blue Skys, and everything – but the truth is we are on the same side. We both want to stop this pandemic, we both want to find Kandi in one piece, and we both want to bring Doctor J to justice.”

              “What will you do once you find her?”

              He shrugs. “Develop a cure, of course.”

              “Then what?””

              Kyle gives me a side eye through the rearview mirror. “Well, hopefully we’ll be able to convince her to work with us. And you. We can work together to cure the world of all diseases, as planned from the beginning.”

              “No, the plan from the beginning was to create and perfect Zidivin, you moron. Don’t you get it? Jeremy Levinson has been using Blue Skys as a platform for world domination.” Wow. Those words sounded much more intelligent in my head.

              Kyle chortles and shakes his head. “Who the heck told you that? Some Blue Skys conspiracy theorist?”

              “You don’t understand,” I assert carefully. “Blue Skys was a trial run. Two-thirds of the infected will die, and the remaining third, if cured, will turn into people like me. Many who aren’t infected initially will crave the blood of the cured. You’ve seen this before with Kandi’s uncle, haven’t you?”

              “Amazing. You truly are certifiable,” he remarks soberly. “We can give you something to take the edge off. Jun?”

              Jun reaches into his pocket, and I immediately snatch his wrist. He winces. “I am perfectly sane.” I don’t release him until he nods in agreement.

              “We have been looking for you for a long time,” Gabe mentions. “Where have you been?”

              I cross my arms, ignoring him because I can. I momentarily close my eyes against the blinding sun blazing through the windshield. “Where are we going?” I’d know a lot more if Kyle would think about useful information rather than where he wants to stop for dinner.

              “We are going...” Kyle takes a right turn, “to the Sunny Days administrative office.”

             
Awesome
. A few miles ahead, I spot traffic, and my heart trips. I hate this city. “Where are my grandparents?” I inquire out of the blue.

              Kyle exchanges a look with Gabe. “We found them in their home. Evidence suggests Doctor J killed them. But, if it’s any consolation, they were not really your grandparents.”

              I exhale a puff of air and bury my face in my hands. I completely forgot my mother isn’t human. “Let me guess... one was stabbed in the heart, and one had their throat cut?”

              Kyle narrows his eyes. “How’d you know?”

              “That’s how Jeremy kills people, isn’t it? In pairs, in the same manner, with the same knife?”

              Doctor K swallows and loosens his collar. “You must have read that in Kandi’s file. The night you stole it from L’s office?” For a moment, I swear Kyle looks impressed. “What’s the word from F, Alec?”

              I look at Alec. He’s scrolling through messages on his phone. “Greensburg is infected. They’re closing in on...” Alec is interrupted by a massive tail collision which pushes the Ford forward into the minivan in front of us. I glance behind us at the perpetrator: a jet black semi truck. The windshield is tinted, so I can’t make out the driver. Kyle changes lanes and accelerates. The semi follows us and drives us further forward, despite Kyle’s gradual climb toward eighty miles per hour. Cars honk, motorcyclists steer clear, and drivers ahead of us floor it. Kyle curses and weaves right across three lanes, banging the horn with his fist.

              A second semi approaches from behind, pushing us to eighty-five.

              “Gabe, get L on the phone!” Kyle shouts. I can’t hear what he says next because the first truck has sped in the adjacent lane and crashed into our left side. The Ford bumps over a sidewalk, and Kyle nearly flattens a mother and her child.

              “What is going on?” I yell, unable to fathom an enemy of Blue Skys besides myself and the parents of the Patients.

              “No idea!” Kyle makes a hard left turn to get back in the rightmost lane.

              All of a sudden, two more semis advance against traffic to block us from the merging lanes. Kyle has no choice but to careen off the road and stomp on the breaks, shrouding the pickup in dust. Emergency sirens converge ever nearer.

              I have perhaps thirty seconds to mentally scroll through every cuss word I know before the air morphs and liquidizes around us, crushing my skull and wringing my brain like a wet rag. I cover my ears, close my eyes, and grit my teeth, breaths effortful as I wait for the pain to pass. When it does, I open my eyes to find Kyle, Gabe, Jun, and Alec dead with their heads against the brain-spattered windows.

              I stare at their dead faces for far too long, then climb over Jun’s body to collapse out of the truck. My body is still quaking from the trauma, and I taste copper. Every solid object in sight wobbles like Jell-O.
Ugghh
...

              When I look around, I see no trace of semi-trucks or cops. I only see an empty highway and a Utah desert landscape, tumbleweeds and all. Oh, and a very tall, thin man in a flowing ebony robe, but I hardly think
that’s
worth mentioning.

              The man is at least a foot taller than me. He has curly black hair, milk-white skin, and facial features that could cut steel. The robe is multilayered (silver on the inseam) and reaches his ankles. His lips are leaden and his eyes are completely black. Instinctually I know he is not human. His stance is that of a supreme overlord overlooking his vast, interplanetary kingdom.

              I have no use of my vocal chords when I look at him. I have never felt so puny and insignificant in my life.

              “Half-breed.” I think he is looking at me, but it’s hard to tell when his eyeballs are motionless. His bass voice is subtle and shudder-inducing. Goosebumps prickle on my skin.

              I try and fail to swallow.

              “I am Time.”

             
Obviously. Heh.
I want to pinch myself, but I am too afraid to move.

              “I have come to take you home.”

***

The Plan

              July 20, 2017 (JUAN)

                           
“Where is home?” I inquire, coughing blood
into my fist.

              Time points upward and the evening turns to night, the sky lighting up with billions of stars. “Not on Earth.”

              “What... happened?” I gesture to the totaled Ford behind me.

              Time tilts his head. “I am Time. I can bend reality as I please.”

              “So, is...” I scratch my head and wince when I touch a warm, sticky, red substance seeping from my scalp. “Is this real?”

              “All that
is
is real, Half-breed.”

              Okay, I guess that makes... sense. “Where is the ship?”

              “What ship?”

              “The ship that, um...” I think my brain is broken. “Got you from home to here?”

              “The rescue vessel shall not arrive for 6,360 Earth hours. I recently inherited my Father’s position as Time and decided to come ahead of schedule.”

              “Without a ship?”             

              He looks at me like he must explain everything to a toddler. “I am Time. I can shorten the Time required to traverse Space, and therefore shorten Space. For such concepts are congruent, Time and Space; one would not exist without the other.”

              While I am busy cognizing his response, Time continues, “Before I take you home, Half-breed, I must locate the Daughter of Death. Her essence is hidden from me. Mayhap you could be of some assistance in this regard.”

              The Daughter of Death... “Kandi? I don’t know where she is.”

              “You do. Your minds are connected.”

              “Our minds are... what? What does that mean?”

              “You spent many hours inside her head, leaving a mark, which you are subconsciously driven to pursue. You may also communicate with her from any distance, with my help. For Space and I are one.”

              I widen my eyes and whistle. I’m light-headed. “Sure, but I think I might have bumped my head.” I touch the back of my scalp again and sigh. “Everything’s a little fuzzy.”

              Suddenly, the sun rises, and a tumbleweed blows across the landscape. “It is yesterday,” Time says. “Your traveling companions are alive, and you are unencumbered by injury.”

              Clarity snaps in my system like a whip. I can actually see now. “Wow. But couldn’t you just go back to when I was with Kandi?”

              “When dealing with a fellow immortal, I am afraid it is not so simple.” Time nods his head. “Attempt to establish contact.”

              I grope inside my own mind for a minute, not having a clue how to even begin. “How?”

              “Imagine her visage and commence communication.”

              I raise my brows and inhale. “Okay.” I close my eyes and picture her faint smile and sunny hair. I formulate a greeting and direct it toward this imaginary Kandi. To my astonishment, she immediately responds.

             
“Juan, I told you not to look for me.”

             
A lump forms in my throat.
“Sorry. I’ve met Time.”

              “Time, the Edinön?”

              “Edi-what? Time, the deity, immortal, god-whatever. He is looking for you.”

***

             
July 19, 2017
(KANDI)

              I am bound to a chair under a spotlight, listening to my father pray in Gídnei to Denboïrn, the Adam to the Death Bloodline.

              Before Juan found me, I had convinced myself we would have been unstoppable together. That was before I developed a certain affection toward him and realized my father had killed everyone for whom I’d felt similar. So when Death finally showed up to take us to his secret lair, I chose last-second to leave Juan behind. I could not watch him – or anyone – die again. I must battle my father alone.

              “...
your Line rich and pure, unvanquished eternally, my Father
...”

              I roll my neck and shoulders. I am famished and sick with fear. I flex my fingers and toes and test my restraints for the fifteenth time. “Can you wrap it up, please?” I beg. “Don’t you think Denboïrn would have ceased listening to your prayers already, considering you are on a planet light years away from Home, and you are beyond redemption?”

              Dad concludes his supplication and looks at me shrewdly. “He is not a Judge, he is a Father. A Father’s love is unconditional.”

              “So you are aware of your depravity?”

              “I am aware that I’m saving the human race. If that is wrong...” He moves to his rack of tools along the left side of the room.

              I roll my eyes. “Try again.”

              “Very well.” Death grabs a sword off the rack and twirls it about. “I am doing this for us. I couldn’t care less about humans.” He stops twirling and steps toward me, sword tip against my neck. “Honesty is quite refreshing, I must admit.”

              I swallow, and the blade grazes my skin. “If you love me so unconditionally, why keep me here?”

              “For my own protection.”

              Ah, of course. He knows I plan to kill him. “Are you going to cut me?”

              Dad sheaths his weapon and smiles pleasantly. “Only if I am so compelled.”

              Growing up, my father taught me humans were an inferior race, that I was immortal, and therefore “better.” This contradicted with the recurrent underground experiments and daily physical/verbal abuse I received from my peers. As much as he tried to cram my greatness down my throat, I could never feel like I was worth more than the dust. I grew up terrified of physical contact because the tiniest touch of an individual transferred their pain to me. I was afraid to confess to my own mother and sister that every time they touched me, I felt deathly ill. My mother thought I was merely a sick child that needed constant monitoring and nurturing. She knew I wasn’t normal. She never knew I wasn’t human until two days before she died.

             
It was a rainy day in April when I pulled out my first tooth. I bounded up to my mom to show her my accomplishment, excited and proud.

              “Look, Mom! My tooth fell out!” I grinned and held it up for her to see. She was on the computer writing an essay for an online class. “Mom!”

              “Just a second,” she said, still typing. Her lips were tucked under her teeth in concentration. When she finally finished whatever she was typing, she turned to look at me. “Okay, what is it?”

              “My tooth fell out. See?” I handed it to her.

              Mom smiled. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie. Let me see the gap.” She leaned forward to look into my mouth. I bared my teeth so she could see the gap between my lower canine and central incisor.

              Suddenly, blood squirted from the hole in my gums and continued to squirt onto my mom’s face until I covered my mouth with my hand. I screamed. It wouldn’t stop. My mouth was filling up with blood. I gagged and ran to the bathroom to spit in the sink. Blood dumped out of my mouth and wouldn’t cease flowing.

              Mom frantically grabbed a towel and crammed it into my mouth. The towel soaked in less than a minute. I swallowed more blood than my stomach could hold, and soon it added vomit to the mix. I upchucked more blood than the average person donates at a blood drive.

              When blood began trickling out of my eyes, my mom called my dad and told him to meet us at the hospital. She handed me a plastic bucket and a couple of large towels and hustled me to the car. She drove me to the emergency room. I never stopped screaming.

              “Dad! Where’s Dad!” I’d yell between spitting.

              “He’s coming, Kanidie.”

              “He’s the only one who knows what…” I threw up. “He knows how to fix it!”

              “What? Has this happened before?”

              I nodded and threw up in the bucket again.

              “When?”

              I shrugged and shivered. “Mom, I’m getting sleepy…”

              “Hang in there, Kanidie. We’re almost to the hospital. Hang in…”

              “You know, Kandi, you ask many questions,” Dad drones on as he paces the bunker. “You have always been a curious child, and a clever one, seeing how you pieced my plan together in such a short time. But you neglect to ask the most important question of all.”

              My fists turn white. I am
dying
to hear this one.

              “Did you ever think to ask why we were on the ship in the first place?”

              Wrathful tarantulas parade in my stomach. I can hardly contain my energy; I feel it ramping up inside, just under my ribcage and in my wrists. Sweat beads on my brow. I shut my eyes to cope.
Why were you on the ship?

              “You think I am ‘destroying the human race,’ when I am actually preparing them.”

             
For what, pray tell?
Dark energy collects in my palms.

              Startlingly, before my father can proceed with more lies, I see Juan’s face and hear his voice. My heart trembles with relief and trepidation.
“Juan, I told you not to look for me.”

              “Sorry. I’ve met Time.”

              “Time, the Edinön?”

              “Edi-what? Time, the deity, immortal, god-whatever. He is looking for you.”

             
“Looking for me?”

             
“Kandi, where are you?”

              “Juan, I don’t know where I am.”

              “But you-“

              “Look, after I teleported my father and me out of Utah, he took me somewhere off the radar. We could be anywhere: on an island in the Pacific, in Mongolia, heck, even on the moon. I can’t help you.”

             
“But are... Are you okay?”

              Tears brim my eyes at the anguished tone of his voice. It’s like he actually cares.
“I’ll be fine. I can’t die, remember?”

              Hesitation.
“Right, I know. I’m just... I’m not going to stop looking for you.”

             
“You will be looking for a long time.”

             
“Well, I’ve got Time on my side – literally – so...”
he laughs.

              I smile. My resolve to kill Death grows stronger by the nanosecond. “
Be careful.”

              Another pause. I can almost hear his characteristically heavy breathing.
“Don’t worry.”

              His face vanishes from my thoughts, along with his comforting presence. I open my eyes as they flood with undesired moisture. I look at my father and allow black energy to engulf my arms and back, the tendrils of heat arousing an incredible sensation on my skin. “Dad, why were you on that ship?”

***

             
July 19, 2017
(LEYLA)

              Leyla sits in her office awaiting further reports, perusing through a recently deceased Patient’s file: Jazmine Hanten, Patient 41. She accidentally drowned another Patient with a simple touch. Leyla removes her glasses and rubs the area around her eyes, unready for the call she will have to make to Jazmine’s single father.
“We are sorry the treatment failed to cure your daughter, Mr. Hanten.”

              A knock on her door offers a welcome escape from the drudgery. “Come in.”

              Doctor A steps in, her red hair undone and frizzy. Like all the Doctors of late, she looks fatigued and frazzled. The adjustments they have been forced to make following the Blue Skys explosion haven’t been easy. The government has threatened to cease funding the project if they aren’t able to hold up on their own and show more progress. If they can find a way to cure the Coma Contagion, all will be forgiven. Unfortunately, such a task requires fresh blood from an uncontainable, unrestrainable Patient. What blood they had left at Blue Skys was obliterated. Jeremy would have been a valuable asset, but clearly he didn’t have their best interests in mind since he invited her to preside over his project.

              “Yes, Ashley?”

              She smiles insincerely and struts across the room to set a file on her desk. “We have located the boy. He was last seen in Wisconsin.”

              Leyla’s eyebrows rise and knit together. “Wisconsin?” She opens the file and bites her thumbnail. The photographs within the file show Juan walking with a Slenderman-esque figure on a deserted sidewalk. “Who took these photos?”