The Sphinx Project (8 page)

The damage, which had been growing gradually worse, increased in magnitude almost immediately. Soon we were passing flattened houses and uprooted trees. There was no indication that anyone still lived here.

Furniture littered the landscape, perched in the most unlikely of places. One house that had managed to remain standing, now had a full-sized couch and dining room table on its roof. Next door, a flimsy tree somehow managed to support a refrigerator, in which a bird had begun to build its nest with a variety of debris, scavenged from the garbage littering the landscape. Wires twisted between newspapers, leaves, branches and grass, creating a home for its offspring.

We moved intermittently through the streets, constantly climbing out of the car to clear the obstacles out of our way. Briana got grouchy, so I offered her the chance to drive. Nicole, Mouse and I walked ahead, dragging the trash away from the road.

"Where are the people? Why did they leave instead of cleaning up and rebuilding?" Mouse asked.

"I don't know, but it sure seems like they left in a hurry." Nicole nodded at a house missing its roof. The door hung open, showing an entrance hall lined with a family's shoes, toys still scattered on the carpet.

Casting my eyes over the next house, it too still looked lived in. I could see the furniture arranged around the television in the family room behind the window hangings.

"Do you think…" Mouse broke off abruptly as she slumped to the ground. A gurgling, choking noise scraped from her throat, her left leg jerked uncontrollably.

My chest tightened, and my heart jumped into my throat. Fear coursed through my veins as I sprinted to her side. The convulsions crawled over her until they shook her entire body.

Her eyes rolled back into her head, her breathing accelerating. I yanked my sweatshirt off, tucking it under her head to protect it from the hard ground. I didn't know what else we could do until she stopped thrashing.

I pressed my hands together, trying to stop them shaking. The spasms racing through Mouse's body eventually slowed, until she lay completely still. Her breathing was shallow now, her heartbeat faint. I turned her where she lay, tilting her face downwards to make sure if she became sick, nothing she brought up would block her airway.

My own heart still thudded, the adrenaline racing around my body with no outlet. I couldn't think of anything I could do to help her. First Mom, then Guy, and now Mouse was in trouble. I couldn't lose her too.

I sat by her head, stroking her hair from her face as I listened to her soft breathing. Nicole rummaged around in the back of the car until she found a rough blanket, which she tucked around Mouse's tiny frame. She seemed even smaller than usual.

What had triggered the seizure? She'd never had one before. None of us had. Was there something about this outside world that caused it? The strange tingling I'd been feeling in my own limbs had never happened before we left the labs either...

Or was it something we no longer had that caused the fit? Were the vitamins they'd been feeding us holding back some sort of illness? What would happen without the daily dosage of medicine? Had the years of experimentation left side effects that we weren't yet aware of?

Mouse shifted slightly. A moan slid from her lips, her eyelids twitched. I didn't move, not even blinking in case I missed something.

After what seemed like forever, her eyes flickered open. She looked uncertain as she lifted her groggy gaze to me. It was like she was trying to peer through dirty windows, unable to make out more than an outline.

"Are you okay?"

She pressed closer to me. "I…I don't know." She shivered, tears welling up in her eyes. They overflowed, and she started sobbing.

I gathered her close, rubbing her arm under the thick blanket. "It'll be okay, I promise." I tried to make myself believe it. I wanted to cry, but I fought to hold back the tears. Mouse needed me now.

What if we were changing, without the drugs they'd been feeding us? Could we become mindless creatures?

Briana watched solemnly, sitting on the hood of the car. Nicole crouched a few feet from us. I lifted my eyes to hers, silently begging her to think of something to say. For the first time ever, she looked completely uncertain.

I let Mouse cry until she ran out of tears. I made reassuring noises and stroked her hair. When she finally fell quiet and the shivers subsided, I helped her to her feet. With Nicole's assistance, I maneuvered her into the car. We settled her in the back, curled in the blanket against the door, where she fell asleep almost immediately.

"Make sure you keep an eye on her," I told Briana, who for once took heed of an instruction without complaint. She looked nervous too.

Nicole and I continued on, clearing the road so the car could pass. I constantly fell back to check on Mouse, to make sure she was breathing properly. I trusted Briana, but it made me more comfortable to see for myself.

I saw no one, just utter chaos and destruction. Eventually we found ourselves on a clear stretch of road again approaching Mississippi.

Briana, Nicole and I took turns driving while Mouse slept. She woke occasionally but we refused to let her take the wheel in case she started seizing again.

After debating where to stay for the night, we eventually decided on sleeping in the car. We were trying to avoid leaving a trail that might lead the scientists to us. The trunk of the car was spacious, not an enclosed sedan, but it was still uncomfortable.

***

After following every twist and turn the road had thrown at us—and creating some of our own—we reached California. Hermosa Beach, Los Angeles, to be precise.

California was still in one piece, unaffected by the devastation seen in other parts of the country.

The short pedestrian road of Hermosa Beach was lined with clothing stores and bars, the wide walkway continuing out over the water in the form of a pier. It seemed a lifetime away from the hustle and bustle we'd passed in Santa Monica. Far removed from all of the gray, dirty buildings we'd seen en route as well.

We wandered aimlessly along the path in the cool winter sun, enjoying being out of the car. I kept an eye on Mouse, who still seemed tired after the other day. She had worn an expression of nervous fear ever since, and I didn't know what to say to put her at ease. She didn't raise the subject and I didn't know how to without scaring everyone more than they already were.

"We need to find a place to stay," Nicole said.

"There's only shops here though," Briana replied, turning in a full circle.

"Let's ask in there." We had stopped in front of a big shop, overflowing with touristy things. The counter was manned by an elderly couple; a younger man was breaking down boxes at the back of the store.

"Oh yes," the woman said, answering our question. "There's a hostel up there." She pointed through the roof at an angle.

"How do we get there?" Nicole asked.

I'd seen the buildings that extended past the first-floor shops, but hadn't been sure what was in them.

"Josh!" the woman hollered at the top of her voice.

The younger man jumped, making his way to the front of the store.

"You want to show them how to get to the hostel?" she asked him.

"Sure," he said with an easy smile.

After we had thanked the woman, Josh, who had ginger hair and a lobster-like sunburn, led the way around the back of the buildings to a steep flight of stairs. If regular girls were following a stranger into dingy-looking building, I'd have told them they were crazy, but if he tried anything we wouldn't be the ones in trouble.

As we reached the top of the stairs, a huge mural stretched down the wall. The point right in front of us displayed dark-skinned men and women in tribal skirts with facial tattoos, surrounded by swirling ferns. I recognized the people as being New Zealand Maori; I'd seen pictures of them in a book at the lab once. Down the hall we could also see pictures of wallabies, a sort of marsupial from Australia and soccer players wearing white and blue.

Josh led us to a small office containing a desk and a chair, in which a dark-skinned girl with short black hair sat. Her eyes momentarily flicked up from what she was doing before she carried on, tapping away at her laptop.

"Have you got a reservation?" she asked with a very proper British accent.

"No, but do you have four beds available?" I replied, trying my best not to do some stupid imitation of her voice. One of the few lessons I'd enjoyed in the labs was studying languages. I loved imitating noises and pretending I was someone else from some far-off place. That's probably why I'd been assigned languages as my specialty.

She pulled out another drawer and flipped through a card index. "We have four beds left in an eight-berth dormitory on the third floor. Twenty-five a night each. You want it?"

"Yeah, sure, we'll take that." We couldn't afford luxury; we had to make our money last.

We paid in cash for two nights, took the key and climbed two more flights of stairs before walking to the door at the end of the hall on the right-hand side. The room wasn't too shabby, but the bunks did remind me uncomfortably of the beds back at the labs.

One of the beds was occupied, and a second girl sat in the middle of the floor organizing her pack. Belongings were strewn everywhere and a towel hung over the end of the bunks. Her finger shot to her lip as we entered, warning us to stay quiet.

Pulling the blinds open, I could see that this was a corner room, with views over the pedestrian road, the pier, and beach.

"What a hole," Briana moaned, sparing no thought for the sleeping girl.

The others wanted to relax and shower before getting some dinner, but I was itching to get outside while it was still light.

"I'm going for a walk," I said.

"Make sure you're carrying," Nicole reminded me, as if I would forget.

I stepped into the en suite bathroom and strapped a shoulder holster into place. I positioned one of the SIG Sauers in it and slid my arms into my new jacket. We'd each bought one during the drive after we'd realized we couldn't easily conceal our weapons under the sweatshirts.

I checked that the gun was completely covered before stepping back into the dormitory. The sleeper had woken and was now hanging over the side of the bunk, talking to the other girl in rapid German. I made myself seem disinterested so they wouldn't know I could understand them moaning about the 'rude American girls.'

With a wave goodbye, I skipped down the stairs into the sunshine. I walked along the buildings, away from the hostel, passing the backs of the shops and restaurants that lined the boulevard. I rounded the end of the building to find a convenience store we'd passed earlier.

Most of the shelves were filled with alcohol, but I was sure there'd been a display freezer with signs for ice cream. I was right.

I pushed open the glass door. A chime rang above my head, causing the cashier to look up from his magazine. I pawed through the flavors on display—banoffee pie, cookie dough, blueberry delight…why would they put such weird flavors into something so good? I'd never even heard of banoffee pie.

Digging deeper, I finally found what I was searching for. "Jackpot," I murmured, shaking the triple-chocolaty goodness free from the ice, which had built up while the container had been hidden in the bottom corner.

"Got any spoons?" I passed over a handful of coins I'd dug from my jacket pocket.

He grunted. Barely lifting his eyes from the magazine he shoved the plastic wrapped utensil across the counter. He was reading about the man in the mechanical suit too.

Wandering out of the store, I pulled off the plastic cap and peeled back the foil. My mouth literally watered at the sight of the ice cream. I tossed the trash into the garbage can as I passed, digging into the frozen confection. There was no point keeping the lid, I had every intention of eating the whole tub right now.

Now that I could eat what I wanted, ice cream was definitely going to be on the menu more often, and I was never going to eat the horrible half-cooked pink fish again.

The first mouthful was heaven. I actually stopped in my tracks. Closing my eyes I enjoyed the sensation of the creamy chocolate melting over my tongue. I'd always had a thing about closing my eyes, shutting off my sense of sight to concentrate more fully on other sensations, like the taste of the chocolate right now.

I guess it went back to early times with Mom. Every time she gave us a gift, we had to close our eyes and try to guess what it was by how it felt or what noise the box made when we shook it. She only introduced new tastes if she knew we wouldn't judge it on appearance first.

I walked lightly down the street, bouncing on my toes with every step. I was in my own little world as I made my way in the direction of the sand, until I was jolted back to reality.

I suddenly became aware of the feeling I was being watched. I paused, peering around me. A man in the bar to my left busied himself, pushing his food around his plate.

I turned back to the beach, sneaking a peek at him out of the corner of my eye. He was still playing with his food.

A hint of suspicion nagged at me, but I started walking again. When I reached a bronze statue of a surfer at the end of the pier, I turned again to see him chatting to one of the waitresses. Nothing strange there.

I slipped back into my own thoughts as I pushed off my shoes and stepped onto the sand. Sitting down on the ramp of a small white building I stared out to sea. The water was mostly flat. Occasionally tiny waves danced toward the shore on an angle, pushed off-course by the breeze. Not many people were on the beach, even fewer actually in the water.

Taking a deep breath, I could taste the salt in the air. I let out a sigh and leaned back against the wall of the hut. There was no way I was ever going to go back to those labs.

I let myself relax for a moment, enjoying the ice cream, before my thoughts returned to the creatures.

What were we going to do about them?

Chapter Ten

"You know, after trying some of the stuff that passes as food in the real world, I'm starting the think the cooks at the labs had a little something going for them," Mouse murmured, poking at what the cook had decided a salad should look like.