Intended Extinction (8 page)

I was
back on the balcony. The card table sat on its side, leaving scattered remnants of my winning game. The floor bounced as people crammed into the emergency exit. I couldn’t move, though. The screaming girl petrified my bones. The blood spurting from her finger sprinkled my shoes.

The young girl, somewhere in her late teens, gasped on her knees. Her shiny dress collected a pool of her own blood, and she started to pass out.

I looked at my chips again. Why hadn’t she done this somewhere else?

Nevertheless, I scooped her into my arms and rushed to the dance floor. By now, most of the people had escaped. In the middle of the large ballroom, security guards were stooped over a wailing girl sitting in her own blood puddle. They looked completely dubious. I looked at the frail girl in my grasp. Her head had fallen into the notch of my neck and chest, and the blood from her finger had stopped.

I lumbered down the staircase, cradling the girl as I descended two steps at a time. On the way down, a larger man with a flannel shirt laid against one of the landing walls.

“Hey!” he screamed, blood covering his pants and right hand.

I stopped out of sheer confusion.

“Please! Help me!” he continued.

I hesitated. “What happened?!”

“Please! I think I’m dying! Something’s happened!”

“Look, I’ve got to get her downstairs. I’m sure help is on the way.”

“No!” he spat. “Don’t leave me!”

He groped at my pant leg as I stepped around his struggling heap. I sure as hell wasn’t going to carry him. As I hurried down the shaft, I heard his horrific pleas for help echoing from above.

“Don’t leave me to die! You’re a monster! Help me! Somebody!”

The memory faded.

I shook my head and found myself in reality again. I don’t know why I had been having those memories lately. I never enjoyed reliving the time I contracted Edge.

The glow of the night cast an eerie mask. Everything seemed to represent how our bodies felt: dark, dreary, and under siege.

The eastern side of Manhattan exuded a haunting atmosphere. No lights, no life,
and
no armored soldiers. Thank God. It wasn’t exactly considered to be a part of the Dustslum, but still carried the same stagnant atmosphere. If you drew an imaginary line from Central Park all the way to The Cuts, that would be the division. Everything west of that were the survivors, everything east was what we saw now: empty, decrepit monoliths.

Our footsteps echoed off of the skyscrapers like tap shoes on a glass surface. We had been walking down Pearl Street for a good half hour, wondering when it would be far enough.

My mind ripped through its own pages with such intensity that I almost felt dizzy with each new step. Who were those men? That question bored a hole so deep into my cortex that I couldn’t even remember why I was supposed to be feeling sick, or why I was supposed to be freaking out.

I should have been freaking the
hell
out.

I started to take my options into consideration, peeling them apart. The soldiers could have been terrorists. When the virus exploded across the globe, there were a lot of rogue groups trying to grab any sort of control. But why now? What could make someone suit up, arm up, and blow up a mere apartment complex?

Of course, the most likely answer was Slate. Why Slate? I groaned from another unanswered question. Why GenoTec? Weren’t they curing us? Weren’t they responsible for every good thing about current Edge life? What would killing Slate accomplish anyways? Stop GenoTec from continuing research? Why would
anyone
want to live in the hell that Edge had created?

Before I could think any more on the matter, I noticed our footsteps were starting to become slower.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“Tired,” said Tara listlessly, watching her feet.

I sighed and stopped. I felt it was far enough.

“There’s a bench over there, c’mon,” I said.

We hobbled over to a small, metal bench resting against an abandoned store. The awning above was ripped in a few places and a random sedan was parked in front.

We sat in silence for a few moments, embracing the chilly air. I rested the rifle against the base of the bench and exhaled deeply. I began to wish we wouldn’t have stopped, because my shin was started to act up. I winced at a sudden throb of pain and reached down to adjust the makeshift bandage.

“How is it?” asked Tara, leaning over to see.

“It’s . . . okay,” I grunted. I finished fiddling with it and sat up. “I know what you’re thinking.”

She looked up at me, confused. “What?”

I grinned. “ ‘Why, oh, why did I call Mark Wenton?’ ”

She smirked. It eventually faded. “Got any ideas yet?”

She leaned out, propping her head with her arms.

I laid back in defeat and exhaled, “Just more questions.”

Tara observed the sedan for a minute. Through a rip in the awning, I could see a few stars blinking. I wished to be up there, away from all of this.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “I feel like I’ve led a good life. I’ve done what I felt was right. No matter what I try to do, my life’s been screwed since day one.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

I agreed completely, well, except for the part about doing “right” things.

Her attempted ponytail was in shambles and traces of soot covered her face. Her jeans were ripped and burn marks adorned her boots. I probably looked a lot worse.

Warmth exploded from my chest and my heart rate quickened. I reached over and placed my hand on hers.

“Tara,” I said, “we’re gonna be okay.”

She looked up at me. Even with the dim light of the moon and her unkempt appearance, she was still beautiful. Her hand grasped mine and she smiled faintly. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

I wished I were better with words. Maybe I could have comforted her more. But I was never one to sugar coat things. I had no idea if we would be okay. Frankly, I was still paranoid that we were being followed. We needed hope. Well, we
really
needed answers, invincibility, and probably a tank or something—but realistically, we needed hope.

The two of us sat there in the twilight, drifting off into the stage between sleep and awake. The pain in my leg became stronger and more frequent as time passed. My muscles ached, my lungs were ragged from breathing in God knows what, and my massive headache tied everything together. Before I could register another conspiracy theory, my head drooped and the world turned to black.

A low rumble pierced the silence. My eyes sprang open. Tara’s head rested on my shoulder, breathing slowly. I blinked multiple times and feared how long we had been asleep.

“Tara!” I whispered. She twitched and lifted her head.

“What’s going on?” she said, groggily. I was already to my feet.

“Something’s coming! Hurry! We’ve got to hide!”

Fear and adrenaline electrified her.

I scooped up the MLM-GR and slung the strap around my shoulder. We spent no time hesitating as we weaved in and out of strewn cars, trying to keep low. I strained my eyes in the darkness, looking for a place to hide. As we progressed through a large opening in the street, I spotted an old, abandoned building.

“Over here,” I whispered.

At the base of the giant skyscraper, a broken window towered over us with boards spread across its crevasse. Some of them were smashed, which gave us a small entrance. I scrambled into the little hole first, setting my rifle down to help Tara in.

Seconds after we were safely inside, a torrential noise exploded into the night.

A motorcycle.

I protectively snatched the rifle and peered out through the wooden slats using the scope. Sure enough, a sleek bullet bike revved its engine a few yards from where we had been sitting. A soldier sat atop his stallion, while two others approached the sidewalk.

“What are they doing?” Tara wondered, trembling with every breath.

I tapped the top of the scope to zoom in. “I can’t hear them.”

One of the men bent over the bench, searching for something. His hands were scanning the surfaces. He noticed something on the ground where I had been sitting. On one knee, he crouched, touching a shiny surface with two fingers. Then it dawned on me.

My blood!

They exchanged glances and started pointing. In a dedicated formation, they spread out. Each soldier held his rifle up, locked into place, torchlight ablaze. They were hunting.

“Tara, they’re coming!” I whispered.

“What do we do?!” she asked, looking around in the darkness.

My mind tripped over itself. We didn’t exactly have a ton of options.

“We hide.”

I checked their positions again before heading into the suffocating pit of the building. I was sure we could lose them in such an enormous skyscraper—as long as I hadn’t left a trail straight to us.

Tara tried to sate her confusion and fear. “Mark, why are they following us?! We had nothing to do with anything!”

But it really didn’t matter why. Three soldiers were on our tail, ready to kill. I was past wondering if this was just some big misunderstanding.

We were in the dimly lit foyer of a building that looked like it had been a bank at one time. Light crept into the shadowy entryway through the boards, creating an eerie stencil on the floor. Dusty desks and kiosks flooded the chamber, linked by spider webs.

“Wait.” I stopped and probed the barrel of my MLM. “They’ve got lights on their rifles. Maybe this one—ah, there it is!” A white beam shot across the room with elegance.

Tara’s voice was hoarse as she spoke. “Let’s just go to the top—they wouldn’t spend all night checking every single room, would they?”

I didn’t want to fight anyone if I didn’t have to—Tara’s idea sounded perfect. How could they find us in this thing?

We zigzagged into the back of the foyer, looking for any sign of a staircase. The shaky light bounced off of every object, revealing elongated shadows and shades. We broke apart just enough to cover more ground.

“Over here!” she whispered, her voice cutting the tense air.

I spun and followed her down a small corridor.

“Oh no,” she said. I shined the torch upon a door next to a staircase symbol. It was covered in boards. Our escape was blocked. A dreadful realization overcame me. If they traced us to the building, we were gonna have to fight.

A large crunch came from the entrance of the foyer. I tapped my light off and we hid ourselves behind a teller’s desk. Adrenaline was spewing out of my ears and Tara was shaking beside me. More cracks and shattered wood echoed.

They were inside.

Lights from the entrance danced across the foyer. Footsteps thudded toward our location.

I cupped a hand to Tara’s ear and spoke as low as I could. “Tara, listen very carefully to me,” I began. “We can do this. We have the advantage. I’ve got enough ammo—but I need some eyes.”

She answered with forlorn silence.

“Do you see that hole where the cords are feeding through?” I gestured to the circle that gave entrance to computer cords and wires. “If you can tell me where they are, I can try and pick them off.”

She just stared at me. I knew she hated every second of this, but we were out of time. Eventually, she nodded, the water in her eyes reflecting the invading lights, rebounding off the back wall. She bent low and peered through the hole, her fingers wriggling as she pushed the cords aside.

After an excruciating five seconds, she groped for my ear and mumbled, “Three of them—two in the front, and one is still way far back. One is at least twenty yards away, by the couches.”

My bones quivered. I held the rifle in my hands, listening to the words Tara was saying. I could do this. I needed to trust myself. I took a deep breath and slowly got into position.

I waited until she gave me the signal.

She tapped my knee.

In a fraction of a second, I sprang above the desk and aimed the rifle toward the couches. I followed the assassin’s beam of light and connected the trail.

The rifle emitted two short gaps of air as the bullets travelled through the suppressor.

I heard a cry of pain, masked in scratchy vibrato. The other two soldiers swung their lights around, causing chaos within the foyer. Panting, I returned to my position. Tara was looking back at me, wide eyed.

I used my hands to direct her back to the cord hole. She resumed her station and peered out of the rat’s nest.

She came a second time, making sure her hand sealed the words within my ear. “Two more. Closest one is near the left pillar.”

I steeled myself, poked my head out, and scanned the area. A bright light began to cross over my position and I ducked back under the table. Too damn close.

She held a hand to her mouth, trying not to gasp.

I caught my breath angrily and returned. I brought my rifle to my eye again, squared up, and fired.