The Raising (The Torch Keeper Book 3) Page 20

  There’s no way Ophelia could have been revived like Cassius did to Digory back at Infiernos, when he pumped him up with drugs and converted him into an UltraImposer. No. The image of the Lady statue’s stone spire gutting Ophelia through the heart is a frequent visitor in my nightmares. I recoil at the memory of that sickening sound of Ophelia’s skull caving in on impact, splattering the statue’s face in a bloody geyser.

  I shake my head. “I saw you die, Ophelia.”

  She doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare, her eyes at first questioning, then narrowing. She looks a little different. A few years older. Maybe more. Well she should, considering it’s been two years since I watched her fall to her death.

  I nudge my chin toward the gleaming silver weapon still clutched in her rigid hand. “I see you still want me dead. That hasn’t changed. You’d actually be doing me a favor.”

  Cole shoves me. “Don’t say that.”

  “The child is right.” Digory moves slowly to my side, his hands raised. “No one needs to get hurt. We would just like some answers.”

  I cock my head at Ophelia. She continues to stare silently with that eerie calm. Her hair and skin are still damp from her recent thaw. My gaze wanders over to the countless pods. “It’s okay. If she fires, I’m not so sure I’ll die.” I shrug. “Or at least, stay dead. Just like she obviously won’t either.”

  She shoves the gun against my temple. “Maybe we can test your theory out. You first.”

  I take a deep breath. “If I were superstitious, I’d say Ophelia and I were trapped in some kind of metaphysical hell, destined to kill each other over and over again. What do you think, Ophelia?”

  “Stop calling me Ophelia.” Her voice is calm, no-nonsense. Dry even. No trace of the giddy, lepus-butchering, dainty, hand-hacking, ice-cold sociopath I remember so fondly. Instead, she looks…frightened?

  “And you can’t be Queran Embers,” she continues. “No matter how much you look like him. You’re too young.”

  I swallow my surprise. “Now there’s an opinion that seems to differ from the general consensus. Refreshing. If you aren’t Ophelia, then who are you exactly?”

  “Breck Flannery. But that’s the only one you get. I’m the one asking the questions here. And if I don’t like your answers—,” She sweeps us with her gun hand to make sure we get the point. “Who are you three?”

  “Lucian Spark, here.” I nod toward Cole. “That’s my brother, Cole.” Then I clap a hand on Digory’s shoulder. “And this big guy over here used to be called Digory Tycho.”

  “Used to be?”

  I sigh. “It’s complicated. Just stick with Digory for now.”

  She scans Digory up and down. “You’ve been genetically modified. Haven’t you? I see the distinct markers in your eyes. Nano technology.”

  Digory steps forward, ignoring Breck’s weapon. “Yes. We require your assistance.”

  “You know something about the process Digory went through?” My heart starts to beat faster. “Maybe there’s some way to reverse—”

  She shoves the gone in my direction. “Keep your distance. This is a restricted installation. There aren’t supposed to be any other survivors. How did a sorry lot like you breach security? And what do you want from us?”

  Digory shoots me a look, then turns to this Breck. “By survivors, we assume you are referring to the Clathrate apocalypse that released the methane into the atmosphere and wiped out most of the planet’s population, rendering the surface inhabitable. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her tone is borderline condescending, as if Digory’s stating the most obvious fact ever recorded in the history of the universe. “What else would I be referring to?”

  He leans in slightly. “That event occurred ages ago. Perhaps as long as a millennia. The surface has been capable of sustaining life for at least a few centuries now.”

  Her eyes grow wide. “That’s impossible. We would have been alerted if that was the case. All of us would have been awakened from cryo.” She’s trembling.

  “Why only you?” Cole asks.

  Despite her Only-I-ask-the-questions rule, she addresses him. “To conserve resources, we all went into deep freeze when the catastrophe was at its worse. I was assigned to be resuscitated and check systems in the event of a breach.”

  Cole nods. “Us.”

  “If what you’re saying is true,” she continues, “and the surface has been habitable, it would mean some kind of massive system malfunction occurred, something we didn’t plan for, maybe caused by the atmospheric conditions.”

  “Or good old-fashioned sabotage,” I volunteer.

  Her eyes whip around to me. She cocks her gun. “Maybe caused by you?”

  I hold up my palms. “Whoa. Hang on. What I meant is we’ve visited another one of your facilities, a branch of the Nexus known as Sanctum. I can assure you they’ve been up and running and scavenging the surface for quite some time now.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re lying. There’s no way they can be functioning without our being aware of it. That’s not the way it’s supposed to work.”

  I sigh. “Then I suggest you tell that to Dr. Sebastos Straton. I’d venture he’d disagree with you.”

  At this, Breck’s eyes open wide. “Don’t you mean Agusto Straton?”

  “Given how long you’ve been in stasis, the Sebastos Straton I met must be an ancestor of your guy.” Pain knifes through my forehead and I manage to rub it away. “The good doctor tried to cut open my brain and get cozy with my hippocampus. But I guess the fact that you recognized me as the spitting-image of the not yet fully-grown Queran Embers would probably clue you in as to why he might do that.”

  “The Sowing,” she mutters. “Clones replicated at the atomic level, capable of inheriting the memories of their progenitors genetically. The Straton I knew was trying to accelerate the memory retrieval process.”

  “Yes. And it looks like his descendants have continued his work. Since you know so much about the process, I’m guessing you were Sown, too.”

  She lowers her weapon ever so slightly. “No. I wasn’t Sown. My entire team, which is still in stasis, as well as myself, all donated genetic samples to be harvested for the Sowing protocol. The situation is—was—dire. The fate of the entire planet was uncertain. The human race was on the verge of extinction.”

  Everything she’s saying is starting to make sense. “And you wanted to—”

  Live forever. Become immortal. Fulfill every person’s secret desire.

  “—extend your life cycles,” I say, pushing the words through an onslaught of Queran’s thoughts.

  Breck’s expression grows grave. “Not at all. We wanted the human race to survive by increasing a vastly depleted population that would take generations to regrow and retrain using traditional breeding methods. Cloning people at an atomic level so they would retain organic memories accomplished both those tasks. Imagine not having to expend resources teaching people technological, scientific, and agricultural skills because they can simply access prior memories stored in their own DNA. Passing on select memories through the Sowing was a carefully planned strategy to retain knowledge of our civilization, prevent it from being lost forever.” She studies me now, eyes weary. “But during the wars there were rumors that some in high places had other ideas. Corrupt. Selfish. These individuals thought it was their right to continue to live, generation after generation, never relinquishing power, perverting the very ideals that we set out to protect, dooming us all to failure all over again.”

  I capture a deep breath and hold it prisoner for a few beats. “You mean people who resembled the hell out of me, like Queran Embers.”

  She looks away. “What can I say? I’ll have to conduct preliminary tests, but if you were indeed Sown, then you’re an exact duplicate of Queran Embers, replicated to the very core of his molecular level, right down to every last cell and memory. Not even a clone is that identical.”

  “But he doesn’t re
member,” Cole speaks up.

  At this, Breck’s eyes bore into mine. “Not a thing?”

  Digory and I exchange glances. I’m not sure how much to divulge of the procedure the Fleshers performed and the memory fragments I’ve kept silent about. After all, if Ophelia was cut from the same cloth as Breck, then according to the latter’s own theories, she’s not to be trusted. “I just remember strange fragments. Nothing really concrete.”

  Her smile’s wistful. “Enough for you to find this hidden compound and get through the security protocols. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of your memory returns. And then you’ll really be him.”

  “Shut up.” Cole hisses. “You’re lying. Just like everyone else does. You’re all liars.”

  “It’s not that simple, Cole.” I reach for him.

  He moves away, retreating into the shadows.

  Insolent, little—

  A frightening jolt of anger tears through my brain and disappears like lightning.

  Breck’s right. I’m a ticking time bomb. When I finally go off, who knows how many people that I care about will be hurt in the blast?

  Digory’s rubbing his temples. His face looks even more drawn than before. He looks up at Breck. “You said that all of these cryogenically preserved survivors like yourself were meant to serve as a template to perpetuate the human race.”

  “That’s correct,” she responds, relaxing her questioning policy. She’s obviously disturbed by what we’ve told her.

  Digory extends a hand to the rows of encased survivors. “So how do you explain how Lucian here, as well as copies of many of these others, including yourself, have existed for generations outside this complex? Who’s responsible for sowing them and re-integrating them back into society if, as you claim, this facility has been in lockdown for centuries until our recent arrival?”

  He may as well have tossed a live wire at her. Her eyes glow with excitement. “You’ve actually encountered one of my seedlings? What was she—what was I—like?”

  I clear my throat. Despite everything Ophelia did, I can’t bring myself to crush this untarnished version of her. “She was very driven. Very protective of her sister. Would do anything to keep her from harm.”

  Breck nods, her eyes clouding over. “As inspiring as that sounds, what you’re implying is impossible. If there had been a prior breach of Nexus, we would have been aware of it, just like I was awakened by the system when you three arrived.”

  Digory purses his lips, and I can tell he’s in a great deal of discomfort and is trying real hard to hold it together. “Yet logic dictates that someone did breach this facility and steal specimens. And whoever it was has been doing so for quite some time.”

  “Is there any way to check this installations records for any discrepancies?” I ask.

  She pauses for a minute, confusion and suspicion melding in her eyes. “I suppose an inventory comparison of the specimens might yield some answers. Follow me.”

  Breck leads the way into an adjoining chamber filled with gauges and monitors. Accessing one of the keyboards, her fingers fly furiously over it. Every so often, she stops to shake her head. Finally, slams her hand down on the console. “This can’t be right.”

  I move in to get a closer look. The information on the displays may as well be another language. Cryptic readouts and graphs.

  I know exactly what they mean.

  Breck tears her eyes from the monitors to face us. “An entire array of specimens is missing, corresponding to every survivor that’s in stasis. The records indicate there was no breach. Someone was authorized to remove them.”

  “Who was it?” I ask.

  “The information has been sealed. Some type of special order. I’ve tried to override the security settings, but it appears the original command has been purged from the system. Someone knew exactly what they were doing. At least I’ve reactivated the defense warnings so we’ll know if anyone else comes calling.”

  Digory steadies himself against one of the consoles and turns to me. “Could Thorn be responsible?”

  “It can’t be Cassius. He’s too young. This has obviously been going on since way before he was born.” I stare at the bodies suspended in the opaque cylinders. “Unless—”

  Digory’s eyes squeeze shut. His face contorts, and he starts to teeter.

  Breck’s expression flashes concern. “What’s happening to him?”

  Digory grimaces and clutches at his head. I race over to catch him, before he can fall. When he coughs, petals of fresh blood bloom on his clenched fist. I hold him tight in my arms, his face ashen, straining to look up at mine.

  “Lucian…we think this vessel is…seriously…malfunctioning.” His eyes roll back. His head slumps forward. Spasms rock his body.

  “Digory!” I struggle to hold him steady. “You said you were familiar with the nanotech they used to recreate him, Breck. Do something, please.”

  She holsters her weapon, grabs a tablet from the console, and enters some commands. In seconds, a hovering gurney zooms toward us and descends to ground level. Between the two of us, we push Digory’s massive bulk aboard and it lifts off again. Then all three of us race to keep up with the transport. It jets toward the medical wing, depositing Digory into a pod. The machine seals. Diagnostic scans crisscross his body like a cocooning web.

  I try to approach him, but Breck pushes me away.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I ask.

  “You and your brother should wait outside,” she barks. Then she rushes inside and seals the door, leaving Cole and I to wonder if we’ll ever see Digory alive again.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The minutes camped out in the observation theater stretch into a lifetime. My forehead’s numb from having it pressed against the cramped room’s glass wall, staring out as Breck runs a batch of diagnostics on Digory’s prone form.

  The pain of losing him during the Trials, first during the sim where his heart stopped beating while mine broke, and then when he sacrificed his serum to save Cole, comes flooding back, as does the abject loneliness that followed, suffocating me, filling me with depression and rage. I can’t go through that again. Even if Digory’s changed, my feelings for him haven’t, no matter how much I’ve tried to deny it since he’s been back.

  At one point, his lids flutter open, and we make eye contact. That imperfect coldness that I’ve been getting used to is still there, but there’s a hint of something else on his face, too. An echo of the man that changed my life forever.

  “Is he going to die?”

  Cole’s question rouses me like a splash of chilled water.

  “No. I mean—why would you ask that?”

  He shrugs. He’s not looking at me, just staring through the plexiglass. “Because that’s what happens to everybody. Mommy. Daddy. Mrs. Bledsoe. They all say they’re going to love you forever. But the only thing they do is die.” His gaze drops to his shoes. “When I grow up I don’t ever want anyone to love me. Because if they do, I’ll die, too.”

  I kneel in front of him. “Well I love you, buddy. I always will. And I’m still here.”

  “For now.”

  The doors hiss apart. Breck’s standing in the threshold, looking flushed.

  My muscles tense. “What’s the verdict, doc?”

  She shakes her head. “Inconclusive.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that he’s a new breed of nanotech. Different, and in some ways more advanced than the prototypes we were developing before the cataclysm. There are more tests to be run, and the personnel qualified to perform them are still in stasis.”

  “So unfreeze their asses and get them on it stat.” I can feel the anger percolating in my blood, and I can’t tell if it’s all mine or his. Makes no difference. “All that matters is that Digory’s in danger, and we’re wasting precious time.”

  “It’s not that simple,” she continues. “We have certain protocols in place, and it’s against regulation
s to awaken the others without proper authorization. I’m sorry, but your companion just doesn’t fit the pre-determined criteria for violating established—”

  “I knew there was a reason I never liked you.” I grab her by the collar of her jumpsuit. “Screw your damn protocols. In case you haven’t been keeping up with current events, this facility’s already been breached. Specimens have been stolen. And let’s not forget that somebody forgot to wake your collective asses up centuries ago. I’d say we’re well beyond following rules.” I lean in real close, tightening my grip, and spraying her with flecks of hot saliva. “I watched you die before. Now unless you want a repeat performance, I suggest you wake your team before I go all Queran Embers on your ass.” I shove her away.

  She glares at me, just like her clone, Ophelia, did on that stormy morning atop the statue of the Lady. “You’ve made your point. And admittedly there have been some unorthodox occurrences here.” Now it’s her turn to lean in close. “But don’t be surprised if you regret your decision.”

  She turns toward the cryo chamber. I grab her arm.

  “Can I see him now?” The tremble in my voice has shifted from anger to fear.

  “Go ahead. I’ll be a bit. But don’t overexert him.”

  Cole tugs at her wrist. “Can I go with you? I want to see how it works.” He nods at Digory then at me.

  He wants us to be alone.

  Breck nods and takes his hand. “Sure. C’mon.”

  They disappear into the corridor. I can’t help feeling uneasy watching my brother walk away with someone’s who’s an exact duplicate of a girl that tried to murder him.

  Taking a deep breath, I hit the door lock and enter the platform holding Digory’s med pod.

  He looks up at me, his gray eyes now murky.

  I move in closer. “How’s the pain?”

  “Not as pronounced. But even more unsettling.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It feels strange. Unfocused. This body’s connection to the Hive is becoming…garbled. The sensation reminds me of how things used to be. Not being a part of the whole. Filled with weakness, vulnerability…,” he looks at me pointedly. “Being human.”