The Dark Remains (51 page)

“It’s all right, my lady,” he whispered. “We’ll stay here another minute.”

She leaned back as if she understood him.

And maybe she does at that, Beltan. She knew the secret of the lock on the door. And she was there, in your dream of the Gray Land. She called to you
.

He knew it was risky and perhaps foolish to have brought the
chin-pasi
with him. But he owed his life and his freedom to her—however long each of them would last. He had found a metal instrument in a drawer—its purpose unfathomable, except that it looked as if it could cause great pain if applied correctly—and had used it to lever open the cage’s lock. The
chin-pasi
had climbed out on stiff legs and had embraced him, encircling his thin body with gangly, powerful arms.

After that, she had followed just behind him, silently, quickly, seeming to anticipate each of his moves. Twice she had made frantic motions, flapping her long hands as he started down a corridor, and each time as they fell back he had heard voices coming in their direction. Beltan wondered what they had done to her. And what they had done to him. The
chin-pasi
was not the only one who seemed to know things.

More than once, as they stole through the fortress, he had felt the tingling creep over his flesh, along with a sensation of danger. Each time he had led the
chin-pasi
to a hiding place. And each time, moments later, a guard came into view, clad in their strange uniform of black boots, tight black trousers, and thin black shirts with short sleeves.

That they were guards there could be no doubt. Beltan was a disciple of Vathris; he knew a warrior when he saw one. To a one they were large men, arms and necks thick, hair cropped close. Their shirts were marked with a white crescent shape—surely an insignia of some sort. But the clearest sign of all were the objects strapped to their belts. The things were short, stubby, and made of metal. Beltan couldn’t say exactly what they were, except that by the
way the men carried them they were clearly some sort of weapon.

The needle pricks came once again, swarming over his neck and arms as he crouched behind the crate. A heartbeat later the guard came into view. He was not walking on patrol, but rather jogging toward a specific task. He touched a wire coiled around his head.

“This is Clarkson. Alpha and Beta Sections are clear. Moving to Gamma Section now. Trucks one and two are already fully loaded, so start with truck three. Good, then—”

The guard’s harsh words were cut off as he rounded a corner. The tingling faded, along with the sense of peril. Beltan turned toward the
chin-pasi
. She gazed at him, eyes quiet in her dark, wrinkled face.

“They’ve done something to me, my lady,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Just like they’ve done something to you.”

The creature pursed her lips and gestured with curving fingers.
Time to go
.

Hunched, he started down the corridor, toward the source of a faint, gray light. The
chin-pasi
loped after him. Beltan wished he could walk like her, leaning on the knuckles of his hands. His sinews felt like wet leather left in the sun to dry; stretching his tall frame upright was painful.

After the noise and commotion, the hallway was now eerily silent. Together, they passed open doors leading to rooms empty save for a few papers crumpled on the floor or a handful of colored wires dangling from the ceiling.

The light grew brighter. A new sound echoed from up ahead, a roaring he could not comprehend. It made him think of the growling of some great beast. However, he did not feel the tingling. Whatever the source of his new instincts, they had gotten him this far. He clenched his teeth, willed his legs to keep pumping, and swung around a corner.

He nearly collided with a man and woman in long white coats.

Beltan’s bare feet skidded on the slick floor, then stuck, halting him. With a soft
whuff
, the
chin-pasi
bumped into him from behind. He stared, frozen, waiting for the two doctors to turn around, to see him, and to cry out in alarm.

They did not. The roar was loud now, pouring through the opening in which the two doctors stood. Beyond was bright gray light and chilly air.

The doctors were talking—loudly, to compensate for the grinding noise. They had not heard Beltan and the
chin-pasi
. But why hadn’t he felt the tingling? Maybe his new instincts were fallible after all. Or maybe he was not really in danger—not as long as they hadn’t heard him.

“—and it’s being loaded now,” the male doctor shouted above the noise.

The female doctor clutched her coat to keep it from flapping in a stiff breeze. “And the subject?”

“You mean E-1?”

“Yes. The nonhuman.”

“He’s already on the same truck.”

The female doctor turned slightly, and Beltan realized that he recognized the shape of her profile. It was her, the woman in his room, the one he had frightened when he spoke to her. He remembered the words she had spoken as he listened.

This is Dr. Ananda M. Larsen. End recording
.

“Do you know why the order came down to evacuate?” Larsen said, her shoulders hunched against the chill.

The man shrugged. “Who can say? We’re just the brains, remember. It’s the brawn that calls the shots here. But I’ve heard it’s because they discovered our location and are planning a strike.”

“Who?”

“You know very well who.”

Larsen nodded. She seemed to murmur something, but the word was lost amid the roaring.

Beltan swore under his breath. He wanted to know who it was that planned an assault. Perhaps Beltan could befriend these people and use them to escape.

“Damn, it’s cold.” Larsen stamped her feet.

“It’s not just the wind that makes me cold. There—do you see? Over by the truck.”

Dr. Larsen muttered something Beltan did not understand, but which could only be a curse. “I thought he was gone. Wasn’t he supposed to be searching for them?”

“That’s what I thought. He must have come back for the mobilization.”

At last Beltan understood. The activity, the words of the guard, the empty rooms. They had been discovered, they feared an attack, and now they were abandoning their fortress. But where were they going?

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he got out of there before they discovered he was missing. In the chaos of the mobilization, he just might have a chance.

Larsen grimaced. “He gives me the creeps.”

“To say the least. What do you think is behind that mask of his?”

“God, don’t even say that. I don’t know where they dredged him up, but I wish they’d send him back.”

“I agree, but we needed him. He was the one who showed us we could perform gene therapy using the non-human’s blood serum as a delivery vector. And he was the one who brought us the nonhuman in the first place.”

“Fine. I won’t argue with you there. But we don’t need him anymore. We’ve advanced our techniques ten centuries beyond his crude methods. Have you seen some of the hybrids he created? Thank God they destroyed them all. They were monsters. Nothing like Ellie.”

“You mean your chimp?”

“You wouldn’t believe the results I’ve been getting. Basic manual dexterity skills up seventy-eight percent.
Abstract reasoning test scores up one hundred fifty-three percent. It’s incredible. I think she’s on the verge of achieving language. I don’t mean mimicking a few hand signals, but real, complex language.”

The male doctor wasn’t listening. “You know, I’ve heard he can’t stand it.”

“Can’t stand what?”

“E-1. I’ve heard he doesn’t like to be near it.”

“But he’s the one who brought it through.”

The man shrugged. “Well, sometimes we have to associate with things we hate in order to get what we want.”

Larsen looked away. Again her words were lost in the droning sound. They might have been,
Yes, we do
.

“So, do you think it’s going to help us?”

Larsen turned back. “What?”

“The nonhuman. I’ve heard they think it understands how to activate the artifact. Do you think it will help us?”

“I don’t know.” Larsen sighed. “I’ve heard it’s in constant agony.”

“Well, that’s to be expected. We’ve seen what hybrids go through here. Logic dictates it would be worse for a homogenetic specimen. That’s why the lab at headquarters synthesized Electria in the first place, to control their pain.” A soft laugh. “The international drug trade is just gravy to help fund interesting little side operations like yours and mine, Ananda.”

She took a step back, body curving inward, as if repulsed.

“I’ve got to go,” she said. “I think they’re moving on to Gamma Section.”

“They won’t let you touch anything yourself.”

“I know. I just … I just want to make sure they treat Ellie and E-2 all right.”

The man nodded. “See you at the rendezvous, Ananda.”

Larsen said nothing. She took another step back, then turned to move down the corridor.

She stopped, jaw open, and stared. Ten steps away, Beltan and the
chin-pasi
stared back.

For several moments they stood this way, frozen. Then a grin crept across Beltan’s face.

Larsen lifted a hand to her chest. “Doyle.”

“You still there, Ananda?” The male doctor turned around, and his eyes went wide. “Jesus!”

He lunged toward the wall, reaching for a red button. With a screech, the
chin-pasi
sprang toward him. She reached the doctor just as his hand struck the button. A wailing sound pierced the air, and lights flashed. The doctor screamed as he tumbled backward, the
chin-pasi
on top of him.

“Ellie!” Ananda cried. “No!”

Long, black fingers tightened around the man’s neck, and the
chin-pasi
let out another screech as she thrust forward. The back of his head contacted the floor with a loud
crack
. The man went limp, and the
chin-pasi
looked up. There was sorrow in her brown eyes, as well as a faint, pale light.

The alarm continued to wail. The guards would be here in moments. Beltan moved to Larsen in stiff, quick steps.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t kill me.”

Beltan reached out with big hands. “I’m sorry.”

He encircled her neck with his fingers, squeezed. Her eyes bulged. She scrabbled at his hands, but she could not break his grip. He began to close his fingers—

—then froze.

What’s wrong? Are you a weakling, boy? Finish her
.

The sterile corridor was gone. He was in a wintry wood, kneeling in snow stained crimson. Before him lay a young doe, sides heaving for breath. Foam bubbled around the arrow stuck in her side.

I said finish her!

She was so beautiful, so weak. He couldn’t do it.

A snort of disgust. A strong hand wrested the knife from him. His father’s hand.

I’ll do it myself, then, if you’re such a coward. Like a girl you are, not a son of my flesh
.

Beldreas made one, quick slashing motion, and a river of red steamed as it gushed onto the snow.

The corridor wavered back into focus. Beltan loosened his grip. Larsen choked, drew in a shuddering breath.

He couldn’t do it. No matter what she had done to him, she did not deserve to have her blood spilled like this.

He shoved her away. She struck a wall, then sank to the ground, staring up at him. He grinned again, then pressed his finger to his lips.
Quiet now
.

He started forward, stepping over the body of the doctor. The man’s eyes gazed upward, dead. Beyond the opening was a flat space bounded by some kind of wire fence. Five long, black, blocky shapes were arranged in parallel, and it was from those the roaring came. Beltan thought he knew what they were. Travis had described things like this to him. These were the
t’ruks
the guard had spoken of. Vehicles, like wagons, for transport. He blinked against a sharp wind, then stepped through the doorway.

Behind him, a scream rose above the wailing of the siren.

“Here—he’s down here! Oh, God, help me. I think Doyle is dead.”

So Dr. Larsen had not heeded his wish for silence. The sound of booted feet echoed behind him. Beltan turned in time to see two of the guards in black pounding down the corridor. They moved past Larsen, still huddled on the floor, and leaped over the body of the fallen doctor without even glancing at it.

One of the guards was faster than the other. He reached Beltan first. The man coiled a thick arm around Beltan’s neck and planted a foot behind Beltan’s leg, obviously
thinking it would be easy to take down this skinny, mostly naked man.

Beltan let out a roar that was part anger, part delight. He grabbed the man’s arm, twisted it back, then stepped across the man’s leg and braced his own behind. By Vathris, it was easy. He leaned into the guard. The man cried out—more in surprise than pain—and bent back. There was a wet popping as the man’s leg buckled. The jagged end of his thighbone thrust outward through his black pants, along with a gout of dark blood. Now the man’s cry became one of agony. He fell to the ground, writhing. Beltan looked up.

“Drop now,” the second guardsman said.

He stood five paces away, the metal object that had been at his belt now gripped in two hands thrust before him. There was a click as the man did something to the object. Beltan still did not understand what the thing was, but by the way the man held it, he clearly believed it would protect him.

“I said drop!”

Beltan decided to see if the guardsman was right, if the thing would indeed protect him. After all, what did he have to lose but his own cowardly, murdering life? Beltan tensed, then lunged forward.

There was a high-pitched screech, and something dark and fast sprang from the shadows. Long arms stretched out, and the thing landed on the guardsman. There was a loud boom like thunder that caused Beltan to stop and flinch.

“No!” a shrill voice screamed.

Larsen rushed forward, tears streaming down her face. The guardsman grunted and sat up, shoving his attacker off him. The
chin-pasi
rolled onto her back, arms flopping limply against the ground, empty brown eyes staring upward. In the center of her chest was a deep, bloody hole.