The Killing Jar (23 page)

CPI-RQ2-04, NEW YORK

AUGUST 16, 2232

Dasia flopped her head against her pillow for the hundredth time. She kicked off her sheets and squeezed her eyes shut, but she only saw him all the clearer. Cole smiled at her, eyes shimmering with anth like always. He was real enough to touch.

But he wasn’t real. Dasia rolled over and tried to sleep, but still he followed her. She could hear his voice, smooth as vid star as he said, “Hey, butterfly.”

She pushed out of bed. It was no use. In the silence of night, she was alone.

Dasia found herself at Mable’s door. She rapped her knuckles as softly as possible and produced a tiny sound. If Mable were sleeping, she wouldn’t hear.

In the silent corridor, Dasia heard the shuffle of Mable’s sheets a few seconds before the door opened. Her dark hair was messed with sleep but her eyes were bright, as if she’d been awake for hours. She wore sleek black boy shorts and a green-striped tank.

When she saw Dasia, Mable smiled with laughing eyes and didn’t say a word, as if she’d known Dasia would come all along. Mable’s hand found hers and pulled her in.

The bedside lamp cast a low light across the room. Mable’s tablet sat illuminated where she’d tossed it to the side a moment before, pages of some book visible on the screen.

Dasia suddenly felt like she shouldn’t be there, but Mable’s eyes were locked on hers. Before her, Mable stood in her little shorts and a glint in her eye Dasia couldn’t quite figure out. She licked her lips and reached out for Dasia’s hand.

Dasia had a good two inches on her, but it was Mable who took the lead.

Her hands started on Dasia’s waist pulling her close before snaking to her lower back. Her face fell in against Dasia’s neck. She hovered there for several eternal seconds before planting a series of slow, gentle kisses.

Dasia’s heart pounded so hard, she knew Mable could hear it, could feel the blood pumping through her veins as she pressed her lips to her skin. Dasia had never experienced anything like Mable.

“Don’t be afraid,” Mable whispered between kisses.

Dasia swallowed hard. “I’m not,” she lied.

Mable stopped in an instant. Her large eyes looked up, searching Dasia’s face. Then she turned and sat on the side of the bed, Dasia’s hands in both of hers. Mable wrapped her legs around Dasia’s and pulled her down.

Dasia collapsed over top of her. Mable’s black hair spread in every direction across the sheets. Dark shadows fell across her features.

They were so close, it was easy for Mable to reach up and kiss her. This time, Dasia kissed her back. Each time Mable made a move, Dasia reciprocated. Every little touch of affection spurred her on.

Sometime before dawn, Dasia finally gave in to sleep, one arm around Mable’s bare back. When she woke, Mable sat against her pillows with a book in her lap, an actual paper book. With a pencil in her hand, she looked to be drawing.

At the sight of Dasia’s movement, Mable looked up and smiled. “Hey sleeping beauty. Want to train today?”

The memory of it hit her like a train. She was completely nude in someone else’s bed. A
girl’s
bed. She’d spent the night with someone who wasn’t Cole. Dasia needed to think. “Yeah, let’s go.” She hopped out of bed and went to put on her training clothes. Mable finished her sketches, and in fifteen minutes, the two were outside in a match like every other morning.

With fists wrapped in the strips of fabric, Dasia kept her chest protected as she fired punch after punch. Mable always dodged.

Dasia’s arms were more defined, stronger as they hit. She could see a definite difference in the mirror, but as much as Dasia improved, Mable was better.

She blew at a curl that had escaped from her clip and continued her failed assault.

“Keep your feet moving. Left then right, opposite your punch. Keep your balance.” Mable was never harsh. She never yelled or quit, though Dasia was sure she wasn’t the best student. It had been a long time since she’d gone to school for anything. Three or four years at least.

Dasia missed anth, missed it almost as much as she missed Cole, but the two would always be intertwined for her. Without it, her thoughts were clearer, though some needed a good dusting. And now, her thoughts were more scattered than ever.

“Have you talked to Osip yet?” Mable asked as she swung her head from a blow.

Dasia pulled back and blocked with her forearm. “No, why?”

“Just wondering. Are you going to?”

“I don’t know.” She launched a failed strike.

“Are you freaking out about last night?”

Dasia stopped mid-swing and dropped her hands.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Mable laughed.

“I just—I didn’t mean for that to happen. I don’t know why I went to your room. I didn’t—”

Mable reached out and put a hand to Dasia’s sweat-covered arm. “Are you upset?”

Dasia shook her head.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

There was no use in lying. “Of course.”

“Then what’s there to freak out about?”

Dasia wiped at her forehead and shrugged. She didn’t want to offend Mable, not after last night.

“You can tell me.”

After a good inhale for strength, Dasia said, “I’ve never been with anyone else.”

“You feel like you betrayed Cole?” Mable’s brow wrinkled with concern.

Dasia nodded and answered, “I know it’s dumb and he’s gone and all, but, I don’t know.” She shrugged as the words failed her.

Mable closed the gap between them and looked up at Dasia, her ice-blue eyes as intense as ever. “It’s okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The tears stung her eyes. “I loved him.”

Mable winced as if the words hurt her, too. “You still love him. You’re allowed to love him even if he’s gone. And this isn’t love. It’s just sex. Love is crooked. It steals and takes and twists you. Sex is easy. You can love Cole and be with me or whoever you want.” Mable smoothed a hand over Dasia’s shoulder, protective and comforting all at once. “You haven’t betrayed him. This is your life and you have a right to live it.”

Dasia wanted to believe her, but it wasn’t the only thing that bothered her. “I never thought—”

Mable smiled. “You’d be with a girl?” When Dasia nodded, Mable continued, “You’re over-thinking this. It’s not that complicated. Just do what makes you happy. Who gives a fuck about the rest?”

Dasia nodded and tried to think of what to say. She was so mixed up inside she couldn’t begin to figure out what made her happy. She returned to her fighter’s stance and raised her fists.

Mable shook her head. “That’s enough for today.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, I have someone to see. Same time tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.”

“And you should talk to Osip. You never know. Maybe he’ll be someone who makes you happy.” She wiggled her eyebrows and they both laughed.

Walking back to the facility, Dasia considered Mable’s words. The prospect of talking to Osip terrified her, though she knew it was irrational. As much as Mable confused her, there was a certain security there. It was only sex, like she said.

Men, on the other hand. She didn’t have such a good track record there.

But, if she could be intimate with a girl she barely knew, she could work with a guy as her partner. It wouldn’t be that bad.

Dasia kissed Mable’s cheek as she left her at her room. Then, she walked across the corridor and tapped her knuckles on Osip’s door.

It opened a moment later. “Priv—Hey D.” Osip was quick to catch himself out of his accent. Still, he offered her a vibrant smile.

He was a full four inches shorter than her so she had to look down, a position she found awkward. “Hey, I, uh, just thought we should get to know each other a little before we start working together.”

“Really?” Osip beamed as he moved to the side and let her in, shutting the door behind them.

Dasia fought the urge to dash back out the door. “What was that you were saying? Priv?”

“
Privet.
How we say ‘hi’ back home. Nick wants me to lose my accent, so I can blend in better. I just slip sometimes.” Pink filled his cheeks, as if he’d been caught stealing candy.

Dasia tried to think back to the few times she’d seen Osip, and the even fewer times she’d talked with him. “You’re from the underground?”

Osip’s face lit up as he spoke. “Yeah, Dacha sits just below the city. It’s been there hundreds of years and spreads out over dozens of square miles. The subways were targeted during the wars, and the original founders settled in the ruins.”

Dasia pictured something out of ancient Greece, a subterranean Parthenon. “Ruins?”

“Well, not anymore. Now it’s completely rebuilt, its own city. An
oasis
.”

“Why’d you leave?” As soon as she asked, she regretted it. Not only did she ask him to dredge up some horrible tale from his past, he’d no doubt ask about hers. She didn’t know if she was ready.

“Oh, we went up to the surface every few weeks for supplies. Mostly high-tech gear we couldn’t make. Last time I got caught. Since I don’t have a ‘file’ on the surface, they said I could go to one of the prison nations or come here.” He shrugged his shoulders as if he’d planned on this quarantine all along.

“You okay?” His hazel eyes were soft and kind.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” For the first time in a long time, she thought it might actually true.

CPI-RQ2-05

AUGUST 16, 2232

Mable knocked on Theo’s door with her tablet in hand.

When he opened the door, he stood back, as if afraid of her. “Hey, do you want to go over the files?” She put on her best sweet smile and batted her lashes at him. Theo liked the beauty-queen type, after all.

“Uh, sure. You want to do it here?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” He stepped back and let her in to his room. His was more plain than hers even before her attempt at decorating. The furniture was all the same, all metal and straight lines. The bed had a white comforter, white sheets, white pillowcases. Theo’s room really did look like a hospital.

“Uh, here. You can have the desk.” Theo pulled out the metal chair and stood behind it, waiting for her to sit.

She did, but only because she thought he would take offense if she didn’t. “How far have you gotten?”

“Not very.” His head lowered as if he was ashamed.

Between her daily sessions with Dasia and arguing with Arrenstein, Mable had still managed to read the files cover to cover. What the hell had this kid been doing with his time?

There was only one possibility, and she had dark hair in a prissy little bob.

“Okay, let’s just start at the beginning then.” Mable flipped through the files and found the first. GL-15 (E).

“The letters, GL for this one, those are the host initials. The number is the year, and the type of bug in parentheses. Make sense?”

“Yeah, I figured out that much.” Theo looked insulted. His shaved-clean head had just started to show the first signs of new growth. She thought he might look half decent with hair on his head.

No good to think that way.

“The first fifty or so were all Echoes. Here’s the extraction vid Arrenstein gave me.” She tapped the holograph and set the vid to motion. The footage was shot POV so that they couldn’t see more than the occasional arm of the agent. The room was a lab, Mable guessed botany. Dozens of potted plants sat on every surface and a series of large windows occupied the only visible wall. Below the windows, the early-thirties Scholar in the typical indigo body suit worked at his metal desk.

“Can I help you?” The Scholar failed to mask his annoyance at having his work interrupted.

The agent approached the desk and leaned forward. In his/her hand was a small silver canister, no larger than a finger. The depressed top of the canister shot out a pale blue gas in the Scholar’s face. He passed out immediately.

Devoid of consciousness, he slipped to the floor hard enough he would surely have a mild head injury. Heavy boots appeared on either side of the host’s shoulders. His face illuminated in the beam of a strong light.

When the hands appeared again, they were gloved. The agent placed a jar of golden fluid beside the Scholar’s head and reappeared with a metal device in one hand, some sort of rudimentary clamp.

Theo squinted as he watched one hand hold open the mouth while the device and gloved hand went in, clear up to the wrist. Several wrenching turns complete with the agent’s grunts produced the bug, an Echo, clamped in the device. The agent dropped it in the fluid and slammed the lid down.

Caught.

Mable almost felt bad for it. She hated to feel trapped. The agent spent a few minutes sealing the jar with some sort of liquid sealant followed by a strip of sticky plastic. There was no way the bug would ever get out.

“You think you can do that?” Theo asked. He swallowed hard.

“Yeah, but it won’t be like this. I’m not sure why, but the later ones don’t use the gas.” On the vid, the agent collected the jar and placed it in a padded bag. Then they reproduced the canister, but this time, flipped it over. Depressing it again, a green gas emerged.

They could only see the host suck in a heavy breath before the agent left and the vid ended.

“I’m sure they only gave us the vids of the ones that went well.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Mable had noticed a certain lack of vids showing agents dying or becoming infected. Those were the ones she really wanted. They would show her what not to do, which in most cases, was far more valuable than the best case scenario versions.

“You think they vid each one? Or just the ones they know will be in and out?”

Theo walked across the room and pulled a device from the drawer of his nightstand. “Nick had one for you and one for Georgie. He called it a cam but it has comm capabilities as well.” He held open his palm to show something that looked like a dead spider. The central portion was little more than a black cube, but from it, five spindles emerged.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“You wear it, behind your ear, here.” Theo approached her left side. His fingers were gentle despite their size. He pushed back the fallen bits of hair and positioned the cube an inch behind her ear.

Then her head caught on fire. She screamed out in surprise and pain, swiping at her head until the pain subsided.

Mable pushed out of the chair and darted across the room, eager to be away from whatever the hell that thing was.

“Sorry. Mable, I’m sorry.” He held up his hands to protect himself should she lash out, but he was clearly the dangerous one. He set the cam on his desk and said, “I should have warned you. He said it would hurt, for a while. You just have to get used to it.”

Mable could only stand with her hand covering the area where the device had been. When she pulled it away, there were dots of blood. “What the fuck?”

“He didn’t really go into it, but now that I’ve seen it, I think each of these is connecting to your skull. They certainly punctured the skin layer.”

With the pain receding, Mable tried to get herself to calm down. It wasn’t Theo’s fault. Sure, he was about as spineless as an oyster, but Nick and Arrenstein were the real culprits. She walked back to the desk and sat, pushing the cam to the farthest corner. “Don’t touch me with that ever again.”

“You got it.”