Psion Delta (31 page)

Step
by step, she walked down the road called madness. The final path of her
transformation was when she accepted and embraced the idea that she was not
really in a prison in Wyoming, but that jealous gods and goddesses had locked
her away in a dream-like state to preserve her beauty and hide it from the rest
of the world. She was a majestic firebird destined to be reborn, and so she
drew that on the walls in the most revered placed of all, right in between the
two images of herself.

The
day she finished it, a miracle happened. A thunderous boom echoed through the
building. The Queen heard two men shouting and running down the hallway outside
her door, and then all was quiet again for many hours. Just when she began to
think the noise had never happened, a door banged open not far from her. She
sat up in her bed and listened, trying to separate the voices from the numerous
boots marching down the hall.

“—has
a file longer than my arm.”

“—extremely
dangerous.”

“The
collar will take care of that.”

“—seen
the stuff she’s done, I don’t know if it’ll stop her.”

“Open
it.”

The
Queen heard keys in the door and automatically prepared herself to spring. She
felt like a feral animal and knew she looked like one, too.

“Wait,”
a quiet voice said. “This woman’s been in solitary for months with no human
contact. She’s tried escaping before. She’s attacked guards. What’s going to be
the first thing she does when we open this door?”

Someone
answered in a mumble.

“Step
away from me, please,” the quiet man said. Then the Queen heard a gentle
tapping. Her arms and legs relaxed. “Hello? Katie? Katie Carpenter? I would
like to talk to you. May I come in?”

The
Queen did not know what to think. She wanted to speak but her voice had not
been used properly in ages. Her voice was scratchy like tires on a gravel road.
“Who are you?”

“A
friend, I hope.”

“What
do you want?”

“To
speak to you. No harm.”

“And
only you?” she asked carefully, ready again to pounce if more came into her
room than he’d said.

“If
I have your word that you will not force me to use that collar against you,
then I give you my word that only I will enter.”

The
Queen touched the collar around her neck. She had not thought about it in a
long time. It had not been used on her since that day in the infirmary . . . a
lifetime ago. Her fingers gripped it, remembering how much pain this had caused
her. She swallowed the spit in her mouth and felt the collar against the bulge
in her throat.

“Yes,
you have my word.” Her voice was a little less harsh this time.

The
lock clicked heavily, and she saw her cell door opened for the first time. The
Queen had to remind herself not to pounce because the urge was so strong it
nearly drove her muscles to action on their own. The light spilling in from the
hall drowned out the weak illumination within her tiny cell. The Queen squinted
as a man in a tailored suit walked in. She watched him closely, noting his
ability to make the room a different place with his presence. The Queen had the
distinct impression that she was in
his
room now.

The
feeling was foreign to her.

He
stood neither short nor tall, and he was not fat or skinny. His features
weren’t remarkably handsome, but not ugly, either. He wore no glasses, his
brownish hair was parted subtly and his face had no distinguishing
characteristics such as moles or scars. His intelligent eyes were of a green or
brown color. Whether that was his real eye color or not, the Queen could only
guess. He was a man in his twenties or thirties who looked as if he could blend
into any crowd of businessmen and not be noticed if he wished it. And yet he
was in her cell with a powerful presence unlike anything she’d witnessed.

His
tailored light brown suit was complemented well by a brilliant blue tie with a
simple embroidered design. He looked strong beneath the clothes, but she
couldn’t be sure if that was him or the cut of the suit. His tan shoes sparkled
but made no sound when he walked. And he kept his eyes on her, watching or
waiting or both.

“Hello,
Katie,” he said warmly.

The
Queen did not respond. Her semi-lost mind was still grasping at what warp in
reality had brought this man into her cell.
Where are the guards?
The
man took her silence in stride and sat a chair down across from her bed.
Where
did the chair come from?
He gazed at the pictures splayed over the walls.
He spent several moments staring at them.

“Beautiful.
You have a wonderful talent.”

The
Queen looked at him again as something ignited inside her. “Thank you,” she
whispered.

The
man smiled at her, never taking his eyes off of her face. “You’re the most
famous person in this prison. Did you know that?”

The
Queen shook her head.

“Everyone
up there,” he nodded toward the ceiling, “calls you the Queen. They tell
stories about you. Some think you’re a myth or a legend. Others say you’re the
most dangerous person alive . . . and the smartest. They even talk about your
beauty.”

The
little spark she’d felt now spread into a thrill of joy.
They remember me!
They tell stories about me!
She stared at the picture of the firebird and
imagined herself bursting into flames as she launched into the sky, reborn in
power and glory.

“Katie,
I’ve come to free you.”

Tears
reached her eyes. “Why? Why me?”

“There
is a war—a war for our independence. A new government is forming, the
Continental American Government. We are desperate to persuade certain
territories to join us before the NWG establishes a formidable military
presence in these borders. The NWG has weapons we can’t match and its soldiers
are too well-trained. Speed and surprise are our greatest advantages, and we
must use them. The men and women in these walls are your fellow Anomaly Thirteens.
They are your brothers. I am here to free them. They will be our best soldiers
if we put them to uses for which they were made.”

“You
want me to fight for you?

The
man nodded. “But more than that, I need you to lead them.”

Renewed.
It could not be a coincidence that today of all days she had finished the
firebird, and now here was this man—this beautiful and strange man who she
already ached for in ways she had not thought about in a long time.
He needs
me
. A flash of heat started at the back of her head and traveled through
her chest and stomach and on below.

I
need him.

“The
prisoners up there won’t listen or reason with us. They will listen to you.
They venerate you. I want you to bring them my proposals. I want you to make
them accept. And in return, I will give you whatever you want.”

“Freedom.
All I want is freedom . . . and to be beautiful like I—” Her voice broke as she
spoke. She repeated the words in a whisper. “
I want to be beautiful
.”
She nearly cried, but the thought of those tears leaking from her eyes made her
sick. “I want these scars gone.”

The
man pulled her close to him and petted her ratty, oily hair. “I can do that for
you. I will do that for you. Time is not expendable right now. Will you let us
take you to them?”

The
Queen let the man pull away from her as she nodded.

“I’ll
tell you everything you need to know on the way there.”

They
left the cell together. The Queen noted the apprehension on the guards’ faces
as she walked past them. “First,” the man began, “all prisoners with Anomaly
Thirteen—and any others who might be willing—must agree to enter the employ of
N Corporation.”

“Just
‘N’?”

“Yes.
Second, they submit to cardiac-implant tracking devices and rigorous combat
training. Third, they forsake their identities and families. In return, anyone
who accepts these terms will be freed from this prison with the opportunity to
advance their skill in lethal combat.”

So
in exchange, they get to kill.
“What about me?” she asked.

“What
about you?”

“Do
I have to submit to your tracking device? If so, I refuse. That isn’t freedom.
It’s a very expensive leash. It’s a prison cell that I can’t see.”

The
man in the suit gazed at her for a long time without breaking stride. “No, for
you I will make the exception. You and no one else. I do this because I see
something in you that I can trust. Sway your fellow inmates, and for as long as
I trust you, you will never have to submit to any procedure.”

She
was taken out of the prison facility under armed guard, not through the main
entrances, but through a series of blown holes in the walls and floors. When
the Queen stepped outside the prison, a cold wind whipped her hair and skin. It
was winter, or nearly so. The prison walls lay in ruins, barricades set up in
their place. Vehicles formed a ring around much of the prison. Tents had been
set up around the outer perimeter. Several dozen armed Elite wearing black
uniforms with red, fiery skulls stood watch making sure no one escaped. A few
dead bodies, both Elite and inmates, lay in the yard where she used to fight.

Noting
the strangeness of some of the vehicles and weapons, the Queen asked one of the
men around her, “What year is it?”

“2063.”

Eight
years
, she realized.
Eight years in that place and nothing to
show for it but scars.
She looked at her hands. Her skin looked
bleach-white, but showed no signs of aging.

“Take
me in there now,” she said. There was no time to waste. No time to waste ever
again. Patience was luxury other people might have, but not her. She changed
out of her prison clothes and into something that offered more protection.

“What
weapons do you want?” one of the suited man’s soldiers asked.

The
Queen looked over her options hungrily. She chose two large knives, an
automatic pistol, and a club. A few of the Elite went with her up to the doors.
When they reached an empty antechamber, one of them turned to her. “This is as
far as we go. You can call for back up with your radio.”

“I’d
be dead by the time you reach me.”

The
soldier’s face showed anything but concern. “Good luck.”

She
went in the room and heard the door lock behind her. A buzzing noise at the
other end of the antechamber told her she was clear to enter the prison. What
she met next was much different than what she’d seen her first time through.

Furniture
was overturned, ripped, broken, and strewn throughout the area. Bulletproof
glass walls separating the security areas from the general holding areas were
destroyed. Food remnants, paper, mattresses, and feces littered the floor. It
stunk. Sitting here and there were the inmates. Most of them stared at her,
none of them kindly. The Queen regarded them with curiosity.
What do I do
now?
Two of them spoke to each other, glancing at her every few seconds.
Two more approached her from behind.

She
pulled out the gun and pointed it at the inmate closest to her. All five of
them stopped what they were doing. Two behind, three in front. “Take me to
whoever is in charge.”

The
inmate held at gunpoint roamed his eyes over her and flashed his long, brown
teeth at her. His smile only worked on half of his mouth, the other half
twitched from nerve damage as it tried and failed to match. “Ain’t none in
charge here,” Half-smile informed her. “Can’t you tell? We got no guards.”

“They
all dead or gone,” another inmate chimed in.

“I
know there aren’t any guards, but isn’t someone in charge?”

Some
paper scraped the ground as the two behind tried to blindside her. “We saw’r
first. She’s ours.”

The
Queen whipped the club in her left hand into the face of nearest. The other
soon had her pistol grinding under his chin. “I didn’t come here to kill
anyone!” she told them. “Don’t any of you recognize me? Didn’t any of you fight
me?”

One
of the inmates behind Half-smile stepped forward. The Queen had not seen him
properly until now. His eyes were a deep red, bloodied like hers had been, his
face mauled into something hideous. He had carved cat stripes in his skin, but
done a poor job. “Yeah . . . I got you now,” he said. “I was there when you
took down Leviathan.”

“I
need help. I need to talk to people. Who is in charge?”

“Like
we said,” Half-smile offered, “ain’t none. We free. Two days ago them outside
blew holes in the walls. The guards either scattered like ants or joined up.
Left us here. We fought o’er the food, and e’rybody staked a claim in what’s
left of it. Now them new guards waitin’ outside just seein’ when we starve so
we take their deal.”

But
as the man in the suit had insisted, time wasn’t on their side, though he would
not explain why. And since these four men could do nothing but argue back and forth
about names the Queen didn’t recognize, she looked around for a better
solution. An idea came to her. She searched the disaster-stricken room until
she found what she needed: an operator’s box for the P.A. system.