Ruins (34 page)
“It’s not the Partials,” said Green darkly.
Kira furrowed her brow, thinking. “Where’s Haru?”
“We haven’t seen him,” said Sandy, “but we’ve seen refugees who have. The message reached us a few weeks before the snow, and we’ve been sneaking people out when we can. Now there are barely any Partials left in East Meadow, just for show more than anything, and we can leave more freely.”
“They’ve gone to fight rebels?” asked Kira.
Sandy shook her head. “They’re leaving, so they can bomb the whole city and wipe us out.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” said Kira, and got ready to explain about Delarosa and the bomb, but then decided against it.
As long as everyone is scared enough to leave,
Kira thought. “But Haru’s right, we are all in danger. What about you? Why haven’t you left?”
“There are still injured people in the city,” said Sandy. “Someone has to stay behind to take care of them. Nurse Hardy is here, too.”
“And Skousen?” asked Marcus.
Sandy shook her head. “The Partials took him weeks ago, when the bioweapon first surfaced.” She noticed the confusion on their faces and frowned. “You haven’t heard? There’s a plague that kills Partials—their own version of RM. I guess someone’s finally giving them a taste of their own . . . nonmedicine. That’s the other reason their army left town; nobody wanted to stay here after Partials started falling ill.”
Kira wondered how Skousen or anyone else could have engineered a Partial plague so quickly, but that was the least of her worries. Wherever the plague came from, it was one more obstacle that would convince the Partials and humans they could never dare to trust one another. She clenched her fist, as if she was trying to hold on to her hope like a tangible object. “You need to get out now,” said Kira. “It was very brave of you to stay behind, but it’s time to leave; the Partials will be leaving too, so there won’t be any new patients to deal with. Get everyone dressed, gather all the food and medicine you can, and get out.”
Sandy shook her head. “Two of our patients can’t even walk.”
“Then we’ll pull them in rickshaws,” said Kira. “I’ll pull one myself. The threat is real, and we don’t have long—just go.”
Sandy hesitated a moment, then nodded and ran down the hall. She only got a few steps before a deep rumbling sound rippled through the air; Kira felt it first in her gut, shaking her ribs, then throbbing in her ears like a low, steady beat. She looked at Sandy, who looked back and shook her head; she didn’t know what it was either.
“It’s a rotor,” said Marcus. “A flying vehicle, like an airplane with vertical takeoff. We saw them in White Plains.” He looked at Sandy. “You didn’t recognize the noise?”
“We’ve never seen anything fly before,” said Sandy. “This is new.”
The door to the stairwell flew open and Nurse Hardy burst out in a frenzy, wheezing for breath and gripping the door frame for support. “They’re on the roof,” she gasped. “They’ve come for the patients. Is that . . . Kira Walker?”
Kira took a step toward her, raising her rifle in preparation. “Partials?” Hardy snapped out of her shock and nodded, still out of breath, and Kira stepped forward again. “Where are they taking them?”
“They’re not taking them anywhere,” said Hardy. She staggered out into the lobby, and Kira could see now that she was bleeding from her arm. “They’re going room to room, killing them.” She clutched her arm and tried to breathe. “They’re taking their blood.”
Kira looked at Green and snarled. “The Blood Man.”
“It’s about damn time,” said Green, raising his rifle and stalking toward the staircase. “I’ve been anxious for a little chat with him.”
Kira followed him up the stairs, with Marcus close behind, not stopping on each floor like they had in the mall, but climbing relentlessly. They heard a scream high above them, silenced almost instantly by a gunshot and a slamming door. “Sounded like the eighth floor,” said Kira.
“Morgan’s army confiscated most of the solar panels when they first arrived,” said Marcus. “They moved the patients up here because it made the few panels left just a little more efficient; all the power in the lower levels is cut off completely.”
“Can you link them yet?” Kira asked Green.
“No. As soon as I do, though, they’ll know we’re here.”
“They won’t know who, though,” said Kira. “You could be any Partial; they won’t know you’re an enemy.”
“They’ll know I’m not an Ivie,” said Green, “which seems to be the only distinction that matters to them.” He clenched his teeth and snarled, then stopped suddenly on the landing between floors five and six. “You go first.”
“Whoa,” said Marcus. “Who sends the lady into combat first?”
“A smart combatant,” said Kira, not even slowing as she brushed past Green. “I can read the Ivies on the link a bit, and they can’t read me. It’ll give us maybe an extra ten seconds before they know we’re there, but that’s better than nothing.”
As they neared the seventh floor she started to sense them—just a few, maybe three or four at the most. She remembered the victims she’d found so far, the Partial on the dock and the ice-cold Tovar, and she felt her blood rising. She remembered the dying girl Kerri, crying as her life slipped away.
We’re trying to save you,
she’d said, and Kira still couldn’t get it out of her mind.
Save us from what? From who?
She shook her head, clearing her doubts like cobwebs. The Ivies, and the Blood Man they served, were evil. She would put them down.
Eighth floor. She could feel the Ivies clearly on the link; her practice was paying off, and she fell into her combat mode like slipping on an old glove. Green was waiting below, holding his breath, giving her time to make her ambush. Marcus crouched beside her at the top of the stairs, his rifle ready in his hands. Kira closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to feel the presence of the Ivies, to pinpoint their locations as accurately as she could.
THIS ONE SAVED MOVING ON
HURRY NOT MUCH TIME
Behind their data was something else, larger and more powerful, like the vague outline of a whale swimming just beyond her perception in the deep of the sea.
The Blood Man,
she thought. It was the same kind of intense link data she’d sensed from members of the Trust, which only confused her more.
What are you?
she thought.
The hallway beyond was clear, the Ivies all working in different rooms, and she pushed open the door without a sound. She kept her rifle tight to her cheek and shoulder, the sights lined up to kill whoever appeared first. She sidestepped to a corner, taking what little cover she could, and when the first Ivie walked into her kill zone she fired a burst straight into its chest, dropping it in a heartbeat. A jar of blood fell from its lifeless hand and shattered on the floor. The alarm shot across the link:
DEATH ATTACK PREPARE CAUTION
. Another head appeared just out of her view, but Marcus was already firing as she tracked her rifle toward it, and the shape ducked back behind a doorway. Green raced up the stairs to join them, and she felt a ripple of recognition on the link as the Ivies sensed him, followed by confusion as they realized they were being attacked by both humans and Partials.
The deeper presence moved, a dark shape in the back of her mind, and she tracked her rifle back again to find it.
Just step into view,
she thought, daring him to come forward.
Just give me one chance and I’ll end this horror show once and for all.
“You must understand that this is not a personal attack,” said a voice, and Kira felt her heart plummet, the ground dropping away beneath it, her entire world becoming a bottomless black pit. “We are trying to save this world, so that it can be a part of the next one. Think of it as an honor, that your body and blood will provide the seeds for a new Eden.” He walked into view at the end of the hall and Kira’s rifle dropped from her cheek, fell from her hands, clattered to the ground as she stared at the Blood Man, walking toward her through the bright fluorescent lights.
“Kira?” said Marcus. Green raised his rifle to fire, but all Kira could do was put up her hand and shake her head.
Kira felt her legs trembling, her stomach wrenching, her arms longing to reach out and touch him even as her mind howled at her to run, to stop him, to kill him, to scream. She gripped the wall for support and stared at the face that haunted her dreams, and spoke the word she hadn’t said since she was five years old.
“Daddy?”
A
rmin Dhurvasula stared back at Kira, his dark eyes flickering, considering her. She could feel his emotions on the link, wonder and uncertainty and a fierce determination, so strong it left her gasping. Her father took a step forward, as if trying to see her better, and a broad, almost childlike smile spread across his face.
“Kira!” he shouted. He ran toward her, wiping his hands on a towel. “Kira, you’re alive!”
Green raised his rifle to fire, but Armin froze him in place with a surge of link data so powerful Kira felt her own knees buckle. Marcus grabbed her arm, holding her up, and when Armin drew close she gripped Marcus tightly.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed at her father.
“Kira,” said Armin. “You can’t know how happy I am to see you. I thought for sure you’d died in the Break—obviously you were immune to RM, but when I finally made it home again, you were gone.”
“I was . . . alone for weeks.”
“It was a chaotic time,” said Armin. “But you’re here now, and we can do so much together—”
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “You’re the Blood Man? You’re the one leaving dismembered bodies all over the . . . everywhere? How could you do this?”
“I’m saving them,” he said simply. “The world’s ending—you thought it ended in the Break, but that was just the gunshot; the last thirteen years have been a long, slow bleeding, twitching in an illusion of life, preparing for this moment—this true death. The Partials will die in a few months, and the humans not long after. Jerry’s impossible winter will only hasten the inevitable. How long do you really think we have?”
“So just because we’re dying means it’s all right to murder everyone?” asked Kira. “Like we’re some kind of . . . sociopathic playground now? What’s wrong with you?”
“I do not enjoy what I’m doing,” said Armin. “Don’t think me heartless for accepting the inevitable—no more than an oncologist is being cruel when he tells a cancer patient that he only has a month to live. That doctor isn’t a monster, he’s simply doing his job. The difference here is that I can do something no oncologist has ever been able to do; no doctor, no politician, no holy man. I can save them, Kira.”
“By killing them?”
“By harvesting the best of them—their strength, their will, their creativity. All of it encoded in their DNA.” He held up a jar of blood and tissue, then peered into her eyes. “Kira, what do you think is going to happen when the world ends?”
“We survived it once,” she said. “We can survive again.”
“We can’t.” He shook his head. “We had a plan for the world, you know. I still believe it would have worked. I designed that biology myself, and it was flawless. But it’s all gone now. It was human nature that made it impossible, human and Partial.”
“So I was right,” said Kira. She looked at Green and Marcus, then back at her father. “I solved the puzzle; I discovered the process you engineered: the secrets buried in RM and expiration and the Partial DNA. I knew there was a plan, and that the plan was for peace, because I knew you.” Her eyes darkened, and she stared at the jar in his hands in horror. “At least I thought I did.”
“That dream is gone now.”
“How can you say that?” she asked. “You were determined to care for the life you’d created; you fought for Partial rights before the Partials even existed. You knew they were destined to be a second-class species, not even accepted as people, and you devised the entire plan to ensure that Partials and humans had to see each other as equals if they wanted to survive. You tried to eliminate racism on a biological level, for all time.” She gestured to the jar of tissue, to his gloved hands red with drying blood, to the Ivies behind him standing silent in the doorways of murdered patients. “How did you go from that to this? How could you ever convince yourself that this was the only way?”
Armin’s face grew more serious, and he repeated his question in a somber tone. “Do you know what’s going to happen when the world ends? We call it the end of the world, but it’s only the end of us. The world will go on, the planet and the life that lives on it. Rivers will keep flowing, the sun and the moon will keep turning, vines will creep up across the cars and the concrete. There will come soft rain. The world will forget that we were ever here. Human thought—the glorious zenith of five billion years of evolution—will go out like a candle, gone forever. Not because it was time, not because the world moved past us, but because we, as a people, were fools. Too selfish to live in peace, and too proud to stop our wars long after they ceased to have any real meaning. Your precious human souls, your Partial brothers and sisters, all of whom you seem to think can live together in peace, are out there right now tearing this island to shreds, fighting and killing and dying not because they see a way out, not because they have a cure or a clue or a solution to any of their problems, but because that’s what they do. The only thing left of any value on this entire planet is their lives, but that’s not worth anything while the other guy still has his, so they kill each other. They are in a desperate race toward the final death. The winner will be the last one standing, and his prize is the final and most terrible solitude this world has ever known.”
Kira wanted to protest, but her eyes fell to the body of the Ivie she’d shot, barely thirty feet away, its blood spreading thickly across the floor. She thought of the people she’d killed to get here, the bodies in her wake. A collapsed apartment building in New York City. The Manhattan Bridge. Afa Demoux. Delarosa and her nuke. Kira’s own bloody hands, as red as her father’s, stabbing a dagger into the skull of a dead Partial soldier.