Synth, p.46
Synth, page 46
Sure, Warren said they had the outside covered, but I still didn’t like it. I’d had no part in the planning. My job was limited to getting them in, taking out the threats inside, and helping them load. So my confidence that we were secure right now was pretty low. When this was all over, Warren and I needed to have a serious talk. Not just about that kiss but about everything.
I wanted in.
Completely.
I’d already said it, and Orion had accepted me, but I wanted more. I knew it wasn’t my place to ask, and I had been trying not to overstep, but I wanted to meet Eridanus. I wanted to become part of their network. I wanted to be involved in the planning. I wanted to know what was going on. I hated that my part in this and the farm break-in had been so limited. I was still only barely engaged in the efforts, not able to truly help while an invisible barrier remained between Warren and me.
I let out a silent sigh, then motioned for Hawthorne to follow my lead, shifting back the way we’d come until Warren and seven other humans came into view. I waited for them to get close enough to see us through the dark, then led them back to the end of the very first aisle, where I instructed them to wait beside a stack of metal containers. Then Hawthorne and I made our way down the second row behind our targets.
They weren’t expecting us, and that would be our advantage. The air was already damp and stale, so they wouldn’t see us coming. As long as we could incapacitate all three before someone fired a weapon, this would be fine.
We slowed as the voices grew louder, both Hawthorne and I drawing our knives as we crept forward. I glanced through the spaces between the containers, watching the three men and confirming that they hadn’t moved. The one smoking was leaning up against the bay door. The other two were standing in front of the container that must have contained humans. I could smell them. The sweat, the fear, and a hint of blood wafting through the tiny vents on the large metal box.
I tried to ignore it, focusing on what I was about to do as my hands started to shake.
I stopped at the last gap, checking to ensure it was wide enough for us both to slip through. Then I turned to Hawthorne, my heart in my throat as I stared at his visor. I wished I could have seen his face, to see if he was just as nauseous and horrified as I was. But all I saw was the warped reflection of my own helmet-covered face.
Maybe that was better.
Later I could pretend it was some nameless, faceless person that had done what needed to be done. I gripped my knife tighter. I could make out the words of the men now. They were talking about next weekend—about the hunt.
I swallowed the acid that was creeping up my throat, my hands trembling harder as I held up one finger, gestured to the large bay doors behind us, and pointed at myself. Then I held up two shaking fingers, gestured to the container before us, and pointed at him. He nodded. The message was clear, but neither of us moved. I could feel the seconds ticking by. Each beat of my heart grew faster and faster until I could hardly breathe and the claustrophobic feeling that had been plaguing my body for weeks returned in full force.
I wanted to rip my helmet off. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to go home and just go back to being ignorant. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, not even assholes who might deserve it, but I knew if I didn’t move now, I never would, and my inaction would ruin the rescue. These humans would die. Scott Beckette and his father would continue to decimate Warren’s people’s populations, and he’d ship them out like cattle to be used for who knows what.
Nothing would change. Warren and his team would get caught, and he would die like the people trapped inside the container.
And it would be entirely my fault.
Something cold traced down my spine, like ice had penetrated my bones as, suddenly, my hands went completely still. I stood from my crouched position, my heart rate slowing as every thought clouding my mind and halting my motions grew eerily silent and faded into a dark corner.
It was as if a switch had been flicked.
I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t think. I moved, slipping between the containers, my feet silent and quick, until I reached the end of the narrow gap and burst across the aisle. I heard Hawthorne break free behind me, followed by the startled noise of all three guards. I reached the cigarette man before he lifted his pistol, driving my knife forward into his chest and slamming his head into the door.
“CRAI—!”
His voice cut off in a groan of pain. There was a thud behind me, the sound of a grunt and fists, and I pulled my knife back only to get kneed in the chest. I buckled, the impact nearly taking the wind out of me as the man tried to shove me off and reach for his weapon. I didn’t let go. I gripped him harder, kneeing him twice in the diaphragm before stabbing him with my knife once more.
This time, he stumbled, and my limbs moved quicker than I ever could have imagined. Like it was coded into my DNA. Like doing this was the most natural thing in the world as instinct took over, and a snarl left my lips. The urge to bite him rushed through my veins as I gripped the back of his head, pulled it back, then drove my knife through the exposed tissue.
It wasn’t hard.
In fact, it was remarkably easy.
I watched the thick brown blood pour out and cover my gloves as his head fell to the side. I let go, his body slumping to the ground. His eyes continued to blink and look up at me while his neck tried and failed to heal, but there was nothing there for his skin to reattach to. I had completely severed it, so it would wither and regenerate over and over as he slowly died.
I stumbled back, turning to look at Hawthorne who had lost his helmet and rifle in the scuffle. He had the final man on the ground, head gripped tightly between his large hands as he slammed it into the concrete. Without pausing to think, I ran over, sliding to my knees and driving the knife down through the man’s neck as Hawthorne yanked up. I heard his flesh tear until there was nothing left. Until Hawthorne dropped the severed head to the ground by his side with a thump and we both sat there panting for air. Until I raised my blood-soaked hand and shoved away my visor, meeting Hawthorne’s gaze.
His eyes were wide, pupils fully dilated. He looked terrified, but exhilarated—his nostrils flared as the smell of stale, old blood filled the air—and I knew I looked just the same. Dangerous. Monstrous. A perfect representation of everything Warren and his people feared.
We stared at each other in stunned silence until the sound of running footsteps registered in my mind, and we both scrambled to our feet.
“Clear!” I called, staggering back from the bodies and wiping my hands on my vest.
I shook my head, trying to shake the buzz from my bones as eight lights flicked on and the familiar scent of Warren’s sweat filled the air. It made my mouth water, and that made me sick. I moved, grabbing Hawthorne’s helmet from the ground and shoving it onto his head before shutting my own visor. The last thing I wanted was for Warren to see us like this.
To see me like this…
“Is the evac here?” I asked as the approaching group slowed.
“They’re here,” Warren said as he came to a stop and looked at the mess on the floor. He didn’t say anything about it, but when his head turned back to me, I knew he was probably eyeing the blood that now covered my jacket. “Let’s get this door open.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything else. I moved toward the large bay door, grabbing the latch at the bottom and yanking it free. Hawthorne moved to the chain on the right side, rapidly unhooking the wall latches before he started to pull and immediately let in the storm. Rain pooled across the concrete, the dark grey skies blocking out most of the morning light as two wheels came into view, followed by half a dozen sets of legs.
“This unit!” Warren called, motioning for the truck to back up into the warehouse once Hawthorne had the door high enough for the evac team to move in. They were all dressed in blackout gear, and from what I could tell, only most of them were human. “Pisces – grab someone and head back up to the office to bring that vampire down. Corvus – the container?”
“On it!”
I moved toward the shipping container and unslung my bag. I pulled out my bolt cutter, grunting as I cut the thick metal. I tucked the cutter into my belt as the lock fell to the floor, then tugged the latches free. Four other blackout-clad bodies came running over to help me yank the doors open, and when the metal swung clear, I felt all the air leave my lungs in a wheeze as if I’d been kneed for a second time.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.
It was worse than the factory farm. Worse than the hunting trip. People were crammed into the container, too weak and emaciated to stand. Some looked better than others, but most of them looked absolutely horrible.
“Aries.”
My voice wavered as I turned and called for him, but he didn’t falter as he yanked off his helmet and moved toward the container.
“Get them out,” he directed, his eyes trailing over the crowd of bodies. They lingered on the ones at the back who were most definitely already dead, and his eyes creased. “My name is Aries. I’m here with Orion, and we’re taking you home.”
twenty-seven
Eridanus
Saturday, October 31
10:33 am
I didn’t hesitate. I moved into the container, grabbed the first person who couldn’t stand, and lifted them from the ground. I carried them over to the truck, passing them off to what I assumed was another human dressed in blackout gear, then quickly returned to grab the next. Hawthorne came over to help, carrying people two at a time and lifting them into the truck. The ones that could walk did. They shuffled forward, some crying, some too shocked or exhausted to speak as Warren’s people and allies loaded them up.
I made my way toward the back of the container, ignoring the filth on the floor and blocking out the odour as best as I could, to check over the motionless bodies, finding one that was still alive.
“It’s okay,” I said as I approached. “I’m here to get you out.”
I had barely even kneeled at her side before her hands were on me, grabbing at my vest as her hoarse voice cried out.
“My daughter,” she wheezed, her broken and bloodied fingernails digging into my jacket. “You have to find my daughter. Please – please! You have to help me find her!”
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking around the container even though I had no idea what her daughter looked like. “She’s not here with you? Where did they take her?”
“I don’t know.” The woman’s voice grew more desperate. “They separated us – they said one to port, one to local bid. Something about EC-D. I don’t know where she is – but please. Please. I told her I would find her again. I told her not to be scared. Please, you have to help me find her. You have to help me find Lily. She’s all I have!”
My heart faltered, a cold stone dropping into the pit of my stomach. Our worst fear came true. There were more humans here, and we had no idea where they were. They’d been separated intentionally, moved to another container to be bid out locally. I glanced back toward the flashing lights and dull voices, then found myself nodding.
“Okay,” I said, helping the woman up and turning us toward the door. “I’ll go find her. I promise, but we need to get you out of here.”
I carried the woman from the container, rapidly making my way toward the truck and searching for Warren through the mass of bodies.
“Aries,” I called before catching sight of him helping a younger boy into the truck. “Aries!”
He turned, quickly moving toward me as I carried the woman through the throng of slow-moving humans.
“What’s wrong?”
“This woman,” I said, passing her off to him. “She said her daughter isn’t with her. They were separated – she’s here, Aries. In the EC-D section in another container to be bid locally.”
“Shit.” He looped his arm around the woman, his head turning to scan the crowd of bodies. “Okay – okay – I’ll get some people to—”
“No.” I shook my head, stepping back from him. “You need everyone here. I’ll do it.”
“Corvus, EC-D is a huge section,” Warren argued as he stepped toward me. “It’s at the other end of the warehouse!”
“Exactly!” I said, double-checking that my cutters were still secured in my belt. “Vela can carry twice as much as me, and I can move twice as fast as both of you. It makes sense that you two and your team stay here and get these people loaded. I’ll go start looking – I’ll be able to cover more ground on my own. I promise you, we’ll get the others too, but you can’t risk these people’s lives in the process. You have to get them loaded. We don’t have time to debate this.”
“Fine,” he said, though he didn’t look happy, and he quickly grabbed one of the radios off a passing blackout-clad human and handed it to me. “But take this. I’ll have Pisces talk to Craig to see if he knew about this. Radio when you find them – the channel is already set.”
“I will.”
I didn’t wait to see if he said anything else. I simply turned and set off at a run, lifting my visor so I could see better. I could still smell the sweat from all of those behind me, and I was banking on that being my guide as I ran down the first cross aisle I hit toward the north end of the warehouse, where section EC-D was located. Their container would need to be ventilated, so locating them by smell was the only thing I had to go on unless Craig gave up something good.
There would be no records of this shipment and no way to know exactly where they were being kept otherwise. If that woman hadn’t heard those words, we wouldn’t even have had a chance of finding that second container—assuming she’d heard them correctly.
As it stood, the odds of being successful were extremely low, and I had a feeling Craig would very quickly be eliminated.
I broke out into a full sprint, my feet nearly soundless as they collided against the concrete floors. Even at this pace, it would take me a few minutes just to get to the correct section, assuming the information Eridanus’s contact had gathered continued to hold true.
I forced my legs to move faster, my breath coming quick and sharp behind my helmet, as I tried to remember the layout of the warehouse. There were doors on every side, but the main loading zone was the south end facing the docks. Section EC-D ran along the northern end of the east side of the building. There were a few doors there, three smaller loading doors and a handful of man doors. They all bordered warehouses 235 and 236B. We’d passed them as we’d made our way toward Warren and his crew. Both neighbouring warehouses were owned by Lionetti, so if I had to hazard a guess, the container would be in one of the first aisles, either on the north or the east, making it easier to unload and show to potential buyers.
Maybe Lionetti really had turned off her own security cameras to allow her clients anonymous access. Maybe we had used the same route of entry her buyers were planning to take, and maybe—maybe they had already been sold last night immediately after arriving, and we’d missed our window.
My stomach curled as my eyes scanned the orange plastic labels that numbered the support columns until I found the southmost row of section EC-D. Then I turned right, racing down a long row of stacked containers toward the eastern wall as I tried to think analytically. I knew the container would have a door facing the aisle, likely bolted and chained shut, and it would probably be on the ground. I couldn’t imagine it would be stacked on top of anything or that containers would have been placed on it in the last few hours, so it might even be a single box.
At least it would be something to look for until I heard back from Warren on Craig.
I skidded to a stop when I reached the large main aisle that ran directly along the east wall, quickly checking that both ways were clear before I grabbed the radio Warren had given me. Then I turned left and started to make my way along the stacks of containers toward the north corner.
“Aries, this is Corvus,” I said, pausing before a lonely container and skimming the surface for vents. “I just reached the southeastmost corner of section EC-D according to the labels. I’m looking for it now. It’s got to be a lone, vented container, possibly located near one of the man doors on the east or north side for access, so I’m checking the east wall first.”
‘Heard.’ Warren’s voice crackled over the radio. ‘Your captive insists he knows nothing about it despite Pisces pressing. We’re almost done loading. Once they’re clear, we’ll head your way.’
“Heard,” I answered. “See you soon.”
I reclipped the radio to my belt, abandoning the container I had been examining and moving forward.
I lost track of how many I touched, how many I smelled, and how many I knocked on to see if I heard any movement inside. They were all starting to blur together. The aisle was endless, and I was only in the first row. I had thought that they would place it here for convenience. I couldn’t see why they would bury it in the center of the massive section, but maybe I was wrong.
Or maybe they were already sold.
I fought against my growing panic, forcing my feet forward and examining the suspect-looking containers as quickly as possible. I had nearly reached the north end of the warehouse, and my hope was starting to fade, when I froze. I turned, stepping closer to the nearest container and taking a deep breath again.
“Blood,” I breathed, a tingle running over my skin as my pulse began to quicken.
It was faint. I could barely smell it among the cold steel, damp concrete, and lingering staleness of the warehouse air, but I was certain it was there. I set off again, rushing down the main aisle, the smell growing stronger and stronger, mingling with the scent of sweat, as I pushed my legs faster than they had ever moved before.
