In the Hall of the Mad-God

By Audrey Higgins

A desperate quest for a stolen friend. An unlikely partnership. A deadly enemy, and a young woman willing to risk it all.
When sole-survivor Effie "Tuck" Tucker lost her artificial intelligence and best friend, Echo, at the hands of a careless mistake, she also gained two followers: Adam White, a "Taken" telepath, charged with deadly powers controlled by the supreme alien race, the Proditori, and Samuel Zook, a plucky Amish boy determined not to let the other two kill each other. In the dwindling summer months of an uncertain year in the future, a signal is heard by the trio that could indicate the location of another "AI," one which could help them all recover Tuck's lost friend. Adam and Tuck seek out this AI in hopes of becoming one step closer, only to discover that the city housing the AI, one they call the "Nothingness," is absolutely nothing like it seems.
A deadly, mysterious enemy known as the Terror, horrible and unknowable, is uncovered, also revealing a newer and far deadlier plot than any of them could have ever imagined. The aliens plan to Harvest the area for resources in a sickening ritual known as Absorption, and if Tuck and Adam don't act soon, Tuck, Adam, and even Echo will be lost forever in the unrecoverable recesses of the great and terrible Proditori Hive Mind. Naturally determined, though grossly out of her league, Tuck, with single-minded determination bordering on recklessness, decides to follow Echo even into death to a place where the alien Hive Minds are said to reside: the Necropolis. From the farthest reaches of the abandoned forest in which they all live to the furthest depths of the parent underground Hive Mind, Tuck and Adam must track down Echo through the daily obstacles the Proditori throw in their way in a race against time before Adam, and Echo, are lost forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Audrey Higgins
• Release date: May 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311281920

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In the Hall of the Mad-God

Audrey Higgins

Smashwords Edition

Publisher: Audrey Higgins

Copyright 2016 by Audrey Higgins

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise transmitted without explicit written permission from the publisher. Circulation of this publication for resale with any other party in any format, professional or otherwise, is strictly forbidden.

Thank you for respecting the hard work and dedication of this author.

Also by Audrey Higgins:

Dwindle

Caught in the After-Wake

For Caleb, whose inimitable power of belief influenced me to face the dreaded jaws of defeat, and overcome.

Table of Contents

Chapter One: Instinct is Everything

Chapter Two: Hide and Seek

Chapter Three: The Night Terror

Chapter Four: Life, the Difference Engine

Chapter Five: Being Caught Upstream

Chapter Six: The Warnings of the Wanderer

Chapter Seven: Forcing the Issue

Chapter Eight: Deteriorating Minds Want to Know

Chapter Nine: The Absolute Truth

Chapter Ten: Doomsday Preppers

Chapter Eleven: The Mall

Chapter Twelve: The Wrench in the Plans

Chapter Thirteen: The Resurrection and the Life

Chapter Fourteen: Recuperative Truth-Telling

Chapter Fifteen: Follow Directions, and Make it Count

Chapter Sixteen: The Whims of the Providential Sign

Chapter Seventeen: Triage and Tribulations

Chapter Eighteen: The Snapping of the Cord

Chapter Nineteen: Lost in the Dark

Chapter Twenty: Darkness and Dreaming

Chapter Twenty One: Descent

Chapter Twenty Two: Finding the Way Out

Chapter Twenty Three: The Getting-to-Know-You Stage

Chapter Twenty Four: Unexpected Reunions

Chapter Twenty Five: Alpha and Omega

Chapter Twenty Six: The First Step to Separation

Chapter Twenty Seven: Resolve to Finish the Job

Chapter Twenty Eight: Escape!

PART ONE: HARVESTING

Chapter One: Instinct is Everything

Four Weeks, Six Days to Harvesting

TOP

Human beings, fickle as they are, have a habit of ignoring the futility of trying to control the world around them. Nevertheless, trying to control the uncontrollable is an inherent part of the determination that comes with existing in the species. Human nature dictates that humans ought to harbor perpetual control over black cats on dark nights in shadowy labyrinths of time and space, and humans are nothing if not determined.

However, control is, was, and always will be an illusion, one which man quibbles over incessantly while God laughs from his throne up in the almighty heavens. As a matter of fact, in most instances, human beings’ desperate attempts to alter their immutable fate, to make best laid plans and follow them to fruition, more often than not hastens the inevitability of the final destination decided upon by the powers-that-be. Most times, to me, anyway, it just seemed like the power that got to decide was something that just didn’t want to show up that day, and they’d make you all take the pain for forcing them into it.

So it was, then, that our little group had a plan, fully intending to carry it out, not entirely aware ourselves that our intentions were in vain, dedicated and sincere as they may have been. A force far beyond our understanding had already begun to burrow holes into our little quest.

And we were already in a hole.

We just didn’t know it yet.

Adam was to bring me to a place called the Necropolis. It was a death camp, or such was as it had been described to me by those who had survived it. It was a place in which undesirables who were incompatible with the alien machine of the future were processed and regurgitated in a new fashion. I had agreed to this, on the premise that he would keep his word to me and recover my friend Echo, a computer whose program was housed in a small, two-pronged key. This key had been lost to me when he stole it, and lost to him in a moment of weakness, a momentary slip up of false control, and now our existence was driven solely with the purpose that we would eventually recover Echo from his nefarious extraterrestrial captors. It was at this point that Adam would deliver me to the very aliens who imprisoned him, a place somewhere north. To the Necropolis.

The details were hazy, but it was my understanding that if Adam strayed far from his path, if Adam travelled too far south, out of the range of his Hive Mind, his mind would deteriorate and he would attack anything that moved like a feral beast. They assumed control over him, the aliens – the Proditori, he called them – and he was their thrall. They used some kind of brain-wave mechanic that I tried to associate with understandable science. It seemed to me kind of like a radio losing a signal.

That signal goes out, we all die.

Because Adam would hunt us and kill us relentlessly.

He strays too far from me, his signal alerts him to the fact, and we still all die. Because Adam would hunt us and kill us. He didn’t even have any say in the matter. A remote source of power located at the source of the signal, at the Hive Mind, would take control of his body while he watched, and he would do terrible things. In a sick kind of way, they made it so that he needed them, just as much as they needed him. After all, who wanted to watch their own hands claw out throats and bite necks for the fun of it? He had to rely on them, or he’d go off the deep end.

That was, unless I could stop it. Somehow, I was the deciding factor, and I could help him fight it, or so he said. It was the unspoken hope fostered by all but me that he would figure out how to overcome his detrimental mind connectivity with them before we reached the Necropolis, severing himself from their control so that I wouldn’t have to undergo reconstitution of some horrible fashion or other.

As for me, I’d already accepted my fate. I had a rare incurable disease that ate away at me, and I’d already decided long before I’d met Adam that I wasn’t going to die an old maid. I was going to go down swinging, even if that meant recovering Echo was my last, best gift that I could give him.

So, the way we saw it, our little group didn’t have much choice but to stay together, whether we liked it or not. Resistance to this plan was futile. We would find Echo, who couldn’t be too far from us, or so Adam said, and all the while we would make sure, with tempered caution, that Adam’s signal was never lost – or broken, or tampered with.

Too bad for us that this plan was all futile from the very beginning. We were all prisoners of what was to come.

In order to help me prepare for my assimilation back into human society, Echo liked to coach me on things I always saw as stupid and irrelevant, one of which was the social patterns of various forms of primates.

We didn’t discuss that, mostly likely, these social patterns might not apply to humans anymore, nor did either of us bring up the fact that, even if I was reconstituted, the chances of me ever behaving normally ever again were miniscule, at best. I grew up alone, and the secret fear that I carried with me daily was that I would also die that way.

Didn’t matter. Not to Echo.

Even at the earliest stages in our relationship, Echo was doing everything he could to look out for me. He was the father I never knew I needed. We would study and we would prepare, sometimes ad nauseum, for the day I would reintegrate into a society that no longer existed. After three years of study, I felt fairly adept at the theoretical intricacies of primate social patterns. It was the only thing that kept me from instantly abandoning my two human counterparts.

But, even so, I was no fool. Never had been. Maybe I was paranoid, maybe I was bitter, but a fool I most certainly wasn’t. I had always known that I’d never actually get to apply that knowledge of social behaviors. The human race was all but extinct, and the study of it was sort of like studying ancient history of times come and gone.

As the heavy footfalls of my feet beat into the cracking cement of roads from a dead civilization like the piercing shrieks of a howler monkey in the silence of the empty ruins of a jungle of buildings, I realized that all I had to do while approaching this group of potentially hostile strangers was to remember my preparation – my training – for life after humans.

Echo’s biggest takeaway concerning monkeys: most primates spent their lives in isolated social groups. Big groups, mostly closed contact to the rest of the world. That was where they learned to develop the skills they needed to survive as a collective species, and that was why they learned to fear and despise anything that wasn’t in their group.

Humans were no exception.

In fact, I suspected that in this day and age, in the Age After Man, higher beings would resort to animal-like behavior in order to survive. Echo had a motto about this.

Instinct is everything.

That was why the group I approached at the end of the road clustered closely together. Instinctive behavior. The huddle was largely defensive, I noticed: backs bent, but never quite entirely exposed to strikes from the outside, aligned in a circle so as to allow the group to overwhelm me, the interloper, at a second’s notice if need be. The body language was careful and calculated, measured from months of fear of death. The group expected a strike, and anything that was different was to be treated as an enemy.

There were five humans, none of whom spoke. At this distance, and I was still fairly certain that they were male, the thought brought me a chill. Groups of males together could be effective. Loyal, operational, meaningful. But, when that same group was introduced to a female, things usually went haywire. At least, that was what Echo’s studies had taught me.

And last time I checked, I was most certainly female.

Once, Echo told me that some male chimpanzees would conduct raids on other troops in neighboring territories, territories that were perceived as a threat to the perpetrators. In each raid, the raiding party would find an individual chimpanzee from the neighboring group and beat and bite that individual to death. Then, the raiding party would retreat back to their own territory, pretending like nothing had happened, slowly and one by one picking off the enemy chimpanzees because…reasons.

People didn’t need a reason either.

Because instinct was everything.

That instinct didn’t bode well for me. I was the interloper this time. For once, I was on the other side, I was the other, and I was invading their neighboring territory. This troop would defend their own viciously and without remorse, without giving me a second glance, simply because I wasn’t them. I’d already seen a glimpse of murderous rage from other humans. I shuddered at wondering what human beings were capable of when being cornered into a wall.

That was where I was. A wall.

We were starving. Extreme malnutrition had driven us to extremes, and the caravan, which we’d finally managed to track to a place called Basin City, was our last chance. Adam’s goal had once been to pawn off my artificial intelligence to them for food and medicine, and I was hoping against hope that this bartering chip still remained on the table.

If it didn’t, we’d all be in trouble.

The raids from the other side were becoming more intense every day. Creepers popped out at every turn, and Adam, who reacted poorly to their proximity, was frequently out of sorts because of it. He would space out, eyes wide, staring deeply into the fabric between reality and dreams, and it would take a violent clashing to bring him out of it.

This was problematic because we couldn’t touch him. Neither of us could. This was why they called those they controlled Taken. They took away the person that lived inside and assumed direct control of the husk that was left behind.

This was also problematic because it meant that I couldn’t leave him alone with the boy. We needed food. Water. I was on my last capsule of medicine. The Creepers prevented us from resupplying, and the strangely evasive caravan, which was supposed to be mobile, had taken up a bizarrely sedentary location in the strangest back alley of all of Basin City.

There was work here at play larger than my understanding, but my instinct to find food and shelter drove me to ignore it.

Because instinct was everything.

I became aware of the crunching of my footsteps, but my non-human primate friends continued to fail to notice me. Apparently, peripheral vision went out the window after people everywhere were destroyed.

In a moment of strange heightened sense, a rarity with the severe deficiency in calories I’d been ingesting lately, I wondered if this was a bad idea – if separating was stupid. If this instinct was a bad one, if rising above instinct was what made us human, what kept us going. I glanced over my shoulder, hoping for direction. In the whistling of the wind through hollowed out shells of buildings, there was none.

We were in a series of ruins, no more than five stories high but as far and long as a person could see in every direction. This was apparently what a city looked like. Basin City, to be exact, was a hollowed out shell of a place built into a crater deeper than I was comfortable with.

The buildings looked blown out and browning, as if the long-since-set sun that had been beating down all afternoon had cast explosions onto the earth, leaving only shattered remains and death in its wake. Grass grew up around the cracks of wilting roads, appearing as scattered pathways in some places, even, and plants emerged from out of the corners of buildings, up along the sidewalks and curling around the windows of buildings that people no longer needed to use. The place felt as dirty as it looked – a dusty haze clung to the hair in the humidity of the waxing summer months. As afternoons turned into evenings, that was when the haze would form into a mist, white and thick, which cast a tone over the scene that wasn’t entirely welcoming, especially with the threat of a deadly alien attack around every corner.

My own troop of monkeys told me that humanity’s resources were devoted to developing the giant settlements known as City Stations. I came from one, the second largest in the world: New York. Giant machine-buildings run by computers or other technology. The rest of the world was left to decay or to use as resources for the boom of population that giant skyscrapers a mile high afforded.

This generally meant that there were giant, empty expanses, like the one sloping gently away from the view I’d once had a mile up and miles away from the place in which I now stood. The buildings here were old and decrepit, few in number and ancient in design and material, built into the ground in a way that suggested stubbornness. This new world, unaffected by the plastics I grew up with, was made of woods and bricks and metals. It would have almost seemed unfettered by the qualms of man had the scene not looked so eerie in its desertion. The stillness was, as it always had been, unnerving.

I hesitated for another extended moment and glanced back again, seeing my own troop of baboons far off in the distance with my mind’s eye: a dog, a murderer, and a boy. I saw Sam, the boy in question, and Flash, my dog, huddled behind a far off sign, the boy’s feet slipping from behind his hiding place before hastily returning to their position behind the damaged advertisement board. Inherently fearful, I could just see the boy’s nerves bettering him as his hands shook around the butt of his gun.

The third had his rifle – well, really, my rifle – which was extended out from the topmost tier of a far off billboard sign advertising some restaurant or other. The flash of the scope’s lens was visible for only the briefest of seconds from the most specific of angles. This third gun-holder was the last of the troop of primates in my little party – the murderer.

It didn’t brace me to have a murderer with a gun watching my back, but that was why the boy, who had salvaged another a few weeks back, had one always and forever pointed adamantly at the murderer’s temple. I could just see it: the boy with long black hair, whipping in the wind, eyes trained just as the gun was in his hand single-mindedly on the man’s temple. The man in question, exasperated and brooding to the last, would roll his sharp, gray eyes, blowing quick growing dark brown hair – so dark it was a shade between a vermillion and a black – from his eyes before leaning, his muscular figure lithe, into the scope of the gun – my gun – to watch me with critical eyes.

Against all odds, I was sure Adam could see in the fog. He had abilities I couldn’t explain. He was stronger than any man I’d ever met, but not too muscular, seemed nearly immune to pain, and he could sense my feelings like I had them drawn out on my forehead.

Adam, the murderer, operated almost exclusively on instinct, so in matters of subversion and deception, I deferred to his superior judgment.

That was why my approaching of the caravan was his plan.

He couldn’t do it, he said, because he wouldn’t react well.

I’d seen that a few times. His reactions were usually violent. The boy, in fact, kept a rope on hand daily to tie the man up if he started to bare his teeth like an animal. So, a bad reaction was one we couldn’t afford, especially when my survival was personally on the line and the loss of it would accomplish nothing.

Adam told me that approaching the caravan with a weapon was a suicide mission for someone like me. Most likely, approaching with a gun would register me as an immediate threat, which would cause shooting to occur first and questions later.

Baboons, to the last.

No, the murderer suggested instead that I show up empty handed with a scowl on my lip and steel in my eyes, making demands of them that would make a grown man cower. He said making demands came naturally to me, so this ruse would likely work.

I wanted to believe him. I really did. I wanted to trust him.

But an aching in my gut and the palpable dread of my impending confrontation was too tangible for me to really trust anything the murderer said anymore.

I just wanted my family back. All of this cloak and dagger, sneaky, new-world bullshit was beginning to wear at my long since frayed nerves. Sooner rather than later, my nerves would snap.

Little did I know that sooner would be today.

I approached the group, deciding to implement the latter of Adam’s suggestions, turning my lip into a pronounced scowl and concerting all of my efforts to focus on the kill radius of my eye’s gaze. I felt about as intimidating as a fly on a doorstep, but I, a novice in primate social behaviors, knew nothing of the politics of intimidation.

So, I did everything that felt inherently threatening or that I had noted Adam to do when he was particularly angry. I fought for eye contact, I squared my hips to my offenders, and I puffed out my chest as best as I could to look bigger than I actually knew that I was.

I walked up to the group of brigands and thieves with gritted teeth, fists clenched. So determined was I to recover my lost friend that the silly gestures and meaningless exchanges with random assholes didn’t faze me. Even my own safety felt null at this point if it meant that my family would be recovered. More and more, in ways that were increasingly disturbing, my willingness to thrust myself into danger was becoming clear.

I needed Echo.

To get to him, I needed food first.

That was my instinct.

And instinct was everything.

The males were crouched around a fire. New York at my back, towering over us all in the pale darkness of the evening, I felt the strength of my solitude rush into me again as the knowledge that I had been capable of existing on my own instill power into my voice.

Gentlemen, I announced.

My voice was deeper, louder, and brassier than I ever remembered it. It sounded sad and angry, perhaps because that was what I was.

The word was met with curses I hadn’t even heard yet, with the flipping of trays of food and the dropping of glasses of what I hoped was water. The crackling of the fire served as the background ambience to the cacophony, which caused me to stare into it gratefully for interrupting the eerie, uncanny silence of a typical night in the city my troop called the Nothingness.

Who the fuck are you? a man asked, his voice deep.

He was tall, black, with powerful eyes and a boom in his throat. His voice had a twang to it, Southern, I thought, and his forehead was wrinkled with thick lines that indicated advanced age. Probably the oldest man I’d ever seen in person. Maybe forty five? His figure was lean, almost too much so, and he had thinly cropped, sloppily shaved hair, longer in certain places, like he’d done it himself for years.

Probably had.

I’d done the same thing, and this shared experience, as asinine as the reasoning was, made me want to trust the man, despite his harsh greeting.

My name is Tuck, I told them, resisting the urge to smile or bow or nod or reach out my hand.

People didn’t do that anymore, did they? People didn’t touch each other. Skin contact was dangerous for Taken, and nobody was going to risk the other person being Taken. I didn’t want to reveal the fact that I wasn’t.

Tuck? another voice asked, familiar and terrible.

A second man, the second of five, stepped forward through the mist, revealing a face I knew. A gaunt face now, tired and frustrated, as my own murderer’s looked. Eyes, beady and shifting, aware but terrified to be in his own skin.

He looked unwell. Maybe a little green.

My heart began to race, and I nodded at the second man.

Kyle, was my greeting.

An unexpected and unpleasant turn of events.

Tuck, he replied, a cold greeting as icy as his stare.

You know her? the black man asked, gesturing wildly with his left hand, his right hovering closely to a bulge on his hip that looked awfully like a gun in the darkness.

My eyes flitted to Kyle before settling back on the black Southern man, who was clearly in charge.

We met – once, Kyle explained.

Take it your little parley didn’t go well? the man asked casually, glancing between us.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Kyle cut me off.

She left us for a Taken who killed our little friend, he snapped harshly.

The man narrowed his eyes, glancing between me and Kyle as if the distance between us would close at any moment.

Why’d you do that, girlie? the black man asked accusatorially.

Lesser of two evils, I admitted honestly, shrugging. I don’t need to explain myself.

The black man’s eyes widened after a second’s thought.

You ain’t Taken…

Shifting on the balls of my feet, I decided honesty would have to do for now.

No, I’m not, was my reply.

Then what are you?

Another shrug from me.

I don’t know, I admitted again. Screwed up, I guess. The reject.

She can ignore command, Kyle informed the group, as if it were a disgusting secret. Not just ignore it, she can fight them. She fights them – and us.

A murmur of fear, tension rising in the air. I couldn’t help it. A shudder passed through my back and neck, causing the hair there to raise slightly.

Is that going to be a problem? I asked the clear leader, the black man, but he ignored me.

Who did you leave with? the black man asked.

Adam White, I whispered.

Another spattering of feverish whispers.

A murderer among murderers.

Adam’s name was a big deal, and he had a gun pointed at my back.

I’m sorry he did that to your friend, I told Kyle, ignoring the black man as he stepped forward. It wasn’t nice.

Yeah, well neither was fucking with us, but you managed that too, didn’t ya?

His accent, foreign as it was, came out especially clearly here, and somehow it made me feel sad.

You and I both know there’s nothing I could have done, I replied nebulously, hoping he’d back down.

But he didn’t. Kyle rushed forward at this. He closed the space between us instantly, face red with anger that seemed disproportionate to the snub itself, if you could call it that. I struggled to hide the surprise I felt at this, and wasn’t sure if I succeeded.

The rage of the Taken never ceased to amaze me.

You could have just come with us and then my friend would still be alive!

And why should I have? I snapped back, rising and pretending at fearlessness as I leaned forward to meet his sneer. What would you have done that Adam hasn’t? What could you do that he wouldn’t?

Kyle clenched his jaw, and the look in his eyes seemed to suggest to me that he was unaccustomed to being talked back to.

No answer, I provided, hoisting my bag up to release some of the tension in my hands. What a shocker.

I furrowed my brow, hoping to look stern instead of guilty.

Kyle was breathless, but his rage had subsided somewhat. We both knew I was right, and arguing would do nothing to convince me otherwise.

Why are you even mad at me? I snapped. I’m sorry about your friend. I am. But it clearly wasn’t my fault.

He wasn’t my friend, Kyle snapped at me sullenly.

Certainly seemed that way when Adam shot him in the face, I replied back.

I’d gone too far.

Pain flashed loudly across Kyle’s face, and the guilt magnified now – as did Kyle’s anger.

He was an android, Kyle explained to me loudly. He worked with the aliens in the area to keep the beasties at bay. For me. For all of us. So watch your fucking mouth, girl. Got it?

I looked around, narrowing my eyes.

What beasties? I asked him, trying, and failing, not to take the fact that he was swearing prolifically very personally.

Proditori – what did you call them? Clingers? Clashers?

Creepers, I informed him pointedly.

Yeah…and other stuff too. None of it really matters now, does it? Thing’s shit now. We’re all lost.

I narrowed my eyes. The defeatism seemed uncharacteristic.

Where are the rest of you? I asked quietly.

Dead, he shot back before I could even finish.

A third man stepped forward.

When she came, they all died. We’re all that’s left.

He had a thick beard, a round belly, and another accent, this time…Spanish? With so little to compare it to, I had nothing to go on. But his skin was dark, like Adam’s and his hair jet black. Only his eyes were different, and even then, I had no idea how to describe them other than narrow.

This news upset me, but I had to not let it show.

I’m sorry to hear that, I told them all.

Save your sincerity for someone who cares, Witch, the Spanish man snapped. You didn’t come with us, and now it’s all too late.

Too late for what?

Too late to live, the black man snapped back. I think we all know that we’re never getting out of this fucking crater alive. Not you. Not us. Not now.

Why not?

Because everything that comes from another planet is tired of quietly tolerating the sick anomalies that are the Husks.

That’s you? I asked, resisting the urge to step back.

I knew what the Husks were – nasty, sick beings who attacked anything that moved without reservation. They were the deteriorated result of a Taken without a Hive. The eventual inevitability Adam – and Kyle, now – faced.

Nobody spoke.

Why are they tired of you now? I asked with genuine curiosity.

Because it’s Harvesting time, the black man informed me. We were gonna try to get out, but it’s too late. Harvester is in place, and we’re trapped.

My heart raced and my sweat ran cold against my back, trailing nervous, but urgent, lines down my spine. I wanted so badly for Echo to be here, to feel the familiar and comforting whirring of his processors reverberating gently, almost imperceptibly, along with my pulse.

Slowly, too slowly, the connection was made.

What’s a Harvester? I whispered.

What’s wrong with you? the black man asked, leaning forward to look as if at a zoo animal.

I shrugged, struggling to swallow.

Harvester’s the last piece. After the Taken. They suck up the first tier of undesirables. The Harvester is the weapon that feeds the Necropolis. They bring that out after everything else is dead. That’s our job.

Is that around? I asked casually. The death camp? The Necropolis?

Underground, the Spanish-sounding man answered. Where’ve you been?

She’s been living in New York, Kyle offered snidely.

How is that possible? I questioned, ignoring the only man of the group that I knew.

We don’t want to be around to find out, the Spanish man replied. Or…we didn’t. Too late now.

Why do you keep saying that? I snapped, beginning to feel genuinely annoyed. It’s never too late.

Spoken like a true hero, Kyle drawled, smirking bitterly. Tell me, how did you plan to get back out of the city with this place running you in circles?

My heart beat louder. The sensation hurt in my chest, and I had to struggle not to cough. We were having trouble finding our way forward too.

This is a maze, Witch, Kyle informed me. And none of us are ever going to get out. Think it’s why they lured us here.

They did? I asked, my face paling.

They’d lured us here too. With an –

AI transmission, the black man replied. We thought it might help. But we haven’t been able to move an inch without one of us disappearing without a trace.

Eerie.

That’s how I felt too.

They were unusually coordinated here. Knew when. Knew how. Knew what to do and how to make me upset, to get me sick. Adam seemed worse here, and even attempts at getting out were futile. They seemed to know where the exits were.

Was this a trap?

Look, what do you want? Kyle snapped, interrupting my worries.

This is the caravan, right?

Like he couldn’t believe I’d just asked, he repeated what I said under his breath before taking another step forward aggressively.

Of course this is the fucking caravan! he nearly shouted at me.

The black man held up his arm to protect me. Thankfully, I eyed the man, whose eyes seemed to be shifting in mood towards my favor all the time. Almost like he could tell I was far out of my depth. An incredible kindness seemed to peek out from the blackish brown of his eyes, and I tried to latch onto that with my own.

Yo, back off, man, she’s just asking a question, the black man cooed. Just let the girl talk.

I paused, willing my gratefulness over to the man, before continuing.

I need supplies, I explained, making a point to meet eyes as sternly and with as much disdain as I really felt as was humanly possible. Food and medicine. Water.

Then go get some, Kyle snapped dismissively.

We can’t, I informed Kyle pointedly. We’re pinned down all the time with fighting, and Adam’s sick. The boy too. Think something’s wrong in the air here.

The mist is alive, the black man informed me.

Yeah, I knew that much already, I said.

Yeah, but it’s what keeps the mind control going, see? It’s the way the aliens reel in the people.

But Adam and Sam already have Manipulation in their heads, I argued more pointedly, annoyed at being instructed like I was an idiot. They’re acting strangely. Have trouble waking up lately, and the aliens seem to know where to come and how. I don’t have a chance to get to a store or a place where there might be safe water and medicine.

The black man peered at me for a long moment.

Pinned you down too?

A swell of disquiet rose in me.

Is it really that bad for you? I asked, voice full of dread.

The man nodded.

We’re running out as is. Can’t go anywhere without losing a guy. No warning. No fighting. Just picking us off, one by one. Something’s out there, man. Something bad.

Don’t you trade with other people? I asked, my voice becoming slightly desperate. We’re hungry and tired and –

Join the club! Kyle snapped. We’re hungry and tired more than you are!

Somehow I doubt that, I thought to myself, scowling inwardly.

I was dying of a heart condition. But I wasn’t about to broadcast that information for all to hear. Even Adam didn’t know.

Well, what about information? I asked, feeling disappointed. I’m looking for something.

What? the black man asked.

The AI. Did you find it?

Isn’t this precious? Kyle drawled. We’ve come full circle.

He was talking about our first meeting when he’d nearly kidnapped me to take Echo away from me. Ironic now that I was returning to him, asking for the very same favor.

We’re heading to City Seventeen out west to resupply since we’ve been hounded too, the black man offered, but our boy’s gone, and we’re not going anywhere until we find this bitch who’s getting to us.

Yo, man, why are we still talking to this puta? the Spanish man asked, stepping forward. I haven’t even seen a woman in months!

Kyle advanced too.

Yeah, you have an AI already – why are you asking us for it?

The two of them began to advance in earnest, and I took more than a few steps back again.

Yo, back off, man! the black man shouted suddenly, flipping around to square his shoulders to the obviously much smaller Spanish man.

He backed off. Kyle, less so, but he yielded for the present.

A territorial threat display: also a facet of monkey culture.

The black man turned back to me, this time a little sterner.

Do you really have an AI already?

No! I defended, a half-lie. I just wanted to know if you’d heard of one around these parts. I need to ask it something.

Ask it what? the black man asked, genuine curiosity clearly motivating the question.

I’m in trouble, and I need help.

Well, that’s an answer, Kyle quipped suspiciously.

I’m not comfortable telling you more, I replied honestly. Did you find it or not?

The black man shook his head.

Sorry, can’t be more helpful, the black man replied dismissively, finally. But if you’re with Adam, I’d say you’d need more than anything we could have given you. An AI won’t save you now.

Why do you say that?

If Adam’s got a gun, you better hope you’ve got some sweet leverage over that boy, because he’s gonna gun it for you. You have a Blood Pact.

I raised my eyebrows.

What’s that?

We’re all from his Hive, the man admitted. The coward probably just didn’t want to face us.

Really? I asked, not daring to glance over my shoulder.

Yeah. And the Blood Pact just means that whatever’s out there – and Kyle, and the rest of these fools – are gonna be looking for you now. Think of it like vampires – drawn to you. Only the Creepers can assume direct control whenever they want if they’re in a Hive. But these idiots have left their Hives, which means they’re basically grenades waiting to go off. Nobody’ll know when.

I destroyed the Hive, I announced.

Another murmur, this time with some anger as well as fear.

Is that why I’m feeling like shit? Kyle asked. Is that why the Terror wants us dead?

The Terror? I repeated.

Nasty bitch, the black man said. Clean up crew. That’s who we think’s out there.

Clean up for what?

For what’s left for the Harvester, the black man said.

As if the man realized what he was saying as he said it, his eyes darkened at the explanation. I just furrowed my brow again and wondered if I did it anymore if my brow would just grow into my eyes.

Why do you call her that? The Terror?

She’s the one that gets us, the Spanish man explained gruffly.

I didn’t get it, and my face must have said it.

Taken, sweetheart, Kyle interrupted loudly, making a loud noise. Tell me – where is Adam? Is he really hiding in the shadows or is that just some bullshit bluff you made up for laughs? You know, that’s just an awful idea, sweetheart. I know these poor bastards didn’t want to tell you, but Blood Pact means it isn’t just Adam who’s stuck to your scent.

What do you mean?

It means he wants to bite into your neck until you die, Kyle nearly drooled, his eyes taking on an inhuman glare. We all do. Once we smell it, that’s all we want. It’ll be all the Terror wants, too, I bet.

Why is that?

It’s what we were made for, he spat out bitterly. It’s what they’ve made us to be. But without a Hive we’re…goddammit.

He ran his hands through his hair.

That explains a shit ton of the bullshit we’ve been through in the last few days, Witch, he said to me. An awful lot of it.

How?

We’re like guns without bullets, the Spanish man offered. No bullets, no weapon. We’re just dangerous, blunt instruments now. Useless and dangerous. So, we’re being disposed of.

Familiar guilt erupted in my stomach. I felt it creep into the back of my mouth from my throat.

I’m sorry, I told them. Is there anything I can do?

Pf… Kyle interjected. If you really want to help, you could destroy the Necropolis.

The men all laughed derisively.

Like that’ll ever happen, the black man spat.

Why do you say that? I questioned, feeling lost. I could try. Would it help you?

But what I really meant was, would it help Adam help me?

No, nobody does that, the Spanish man averred. The Necropolis is where people go to die. Nobody’s come out. Ever. The Harvester comes and gets you, and that’s the end. Period.

Things began to sink in slowly. A resounding thumping of fear pulsed through my chest as my heart raced in earnest. Futility suddenly overwhelmed me.

I was never going to get out of this place.

What does the Terror want?

We’ve lost four guys since last week, the black man said. Don’t know what she wants, but she sure as hell doesn’t want to tell us what it is.

Alarm shot through me.

We hadn’t expected Kyle to be here, that was true. We hadn’t expected there to be any Taken, and here there were at least three here in front of me. If Kyle was telling the truth, the chances of another Taken – of a woman called the Terror – coming were high, higher than ever. I’d never met another Taken besides Kyle and Adam, and beside a minor inability to control anger or behave normally, with some physical restrictions, like physical contact, the two of them seemed nearly fine.

Invincible, but fine.

So, the thought of a creature, woman or man, man or beast, overcoming their sheer power made me feel a little sick. If the Terror could really find them both and move to kill them, I was sure that she would want me dead too.

That which was unfamiliar had to be hostile.

Basic instinct. And instinct was everything.

Why didn’t this Terror take away Adam? I asked them all.

Silence.

Where is she taking them? I asked further.

The Necropolis, most likely, the black man offered disconsolately. Maybe she’s reconstituting them. If you killed our Hive, maybe she’s actually helping. Plugging us back in, as it were.

Doesn’t feel like helping, Kyle disagreed, snorting. Feels like pain. A lot of it. Like drowning. It’s worse every day…

He ran his hands over his face, and the pale, shaken visages of the rest of the group confirmed this testament.

This was my fault, my doing.

I felt awful guilt, especially since the man who’d been trapped for years in their care was now also supposed to be someone who at least pretended to try to help me. It meant something.

I didn’t mean for this to happen, I admitted honestly. I’m so sorry.

Why don’t you throw yourself into the Necropolis? Kyle shouted, advancing at this. Your sorries don’t mean a damn thing! We’re all lost because of you! We’re all vulnerable against an enemy we’ve never faced because of you!

The other two, who had yet to speak, began to shuffle around nervously at the noise. One clasped his hands together and began to hum, twisting his head backwards and forwards rhythmically. He was clearly wrong somehow.

What’s wrong with him? I asked the black man shrilly.

Hasn’t been right since a few weeks ago, he told me. Noises are hard. Think it’s the Harvester. Maybe it’s her!

Don’t help her! Kyle shouted, stepping between us. Don’t you fucking help her!

I’m just talking, man, chill! the black man shouted back.

Kyle turned slowly towards the man, whose arm went limp at the action.

You think just because my network has been severed that I’m not dangerous? Kyle challenged the man.

The black man’s hand went limp next, and the rude clattering of a gun hitting the cement was met with the firing of a shot. We all jumped, and the fifth man cried out in fear like a wild animal, sprinting off in the far direction of the road into the darkness.

Freddie! Come back! the black man called, limbs still limp.

He looked back at Kyle.

Now look what you did! the black man said.

You don’t think I hunger for your neck? Kyle hissed, stepping towards the man. You don’t think I want to eat your face off? You don’t think I’m fighting it right now?

The black man’s knees went next, which collided with a crack against the cement, causing the man to howl, casting his head backwards to reveal straight, white teeth.

Come on, man, fight this! the black man growled through gritted pain. You see Freddie? That’ll be you! That’ll be you if you let it in! Fight it! I know you can! I know you can! You’ve been doing it this whole time! You’ve kept us together, Kyle, listen to me!

Fight it? Kyle repeated, laughing bitterly. Fight it? You have no fucking idea what you’re asking, mate! Don’t you fucking tell me to fight it! I fight it every day!

I know, man, I know, but just take a breath. Listen for a second, hear yourself.

SHUT UP! Kyle roared, advancing a step. HER HEAD IS IN MINE, AND I FEEL LIKE I CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING!

A long, penetrating silence.

Then, things began to move very fast. The dread came alive.

The black man and Kyle both turned to me, eyes wide with fear.

Yo, get outta here, girl, the black man urged now. Run – run, now!

But Kyle looked close to tears. I’d seen Adam like that, fingers deep in his hair, clawing at his temples, as if he were actively resisting biting into forbidden fruit that something inside of him urged him to take.

I knew that look.

I pitied that look.

Kyle… I muttered, stepping forward.

I reached out.

No! the rest cried, but it was too late.

My hand rested on Kyle’s arm and he flipped around, teeth bared like an animal, eyes widened with the fervor of a predator. The irises of his eyes were fully black, dilated past what a human’s ought to be, and he looked distinct from me now.

Don’t touch me! Kyle roared.

Kyle’s hand wrapped around my wrist as he reached down and sank his teeth into the flesh of my forearm. I writhed away, but to no avail. Kyle’s grip, like Adam’s, was strong, and his anger was just as intense.

Only this was the first time really that it had been directed at me.

The feel of his teeth digging into my arm was surreal, and tears immediately flushed my eyelids, blurring my vision, as I realized that these were not the actions of a thinking, reasoning man. I struggled to get away, but the foreign man’s jaw was strong, his grip on my arm so tight that I thought he might break my wrist. I caught a glimpse of his eyes, fully dilated, black with what appeared to be an unearthly desire for my flesh, and a guttural, animalistic sound emitted from his throat that sounded awfully like a growl of pleasure.

Whimpering, I tried to tear away, but it only made it worse.

Kyle! I shouted. Stop it! Please! I’m sorry!

A sound stopped me then. Or, not a sound. A sound-not-sound. A vibration in the air, a feeling. Metallic and ringing, hauntingly rhythmic, it reverberated from beyond the thin veil of darkness surrounding us, and I looked around.

Kyle’s grip loosened, his teeth removing themselves, mouth covered in blood. Guilt rushed into his face as his eyes filled with fear, and once more I saw the man that lived inside.

Tucker? he asked me, clearly dazed.

I withdrew my forearm at the loosening of his grip instantly, moving it to cradle in my other hand. Blood gushed from my arm alarmingly, deep and dark, as I realized that his mouth had cut me very deeply. I would need stitches, or immediate medical attention.

But probably years of trying to forget.

He took a step forward.

I’m…

He sounded choked.

Jesus, I’m sorry, I’m…

Tears were in his eyes.

I didn’t mean it, I…

Then, his face darkened.

It’s because of her! he growled vaguely.

Tears streamed down my face now, and I was afraid to move an inch for fear of all of this falling apart at the seams, thrusting me deeply into the madness that was life with other people.

She’s here, she’s trying to make me…

He cut himself off again, eyes widening.

She’s here… he whispered, voice full of dread.

The Terror? I mumbled, looking around frantically into the darkness.

Run! he whispered, before collapsing limply at my feet.

Then, the bearded man. The humming man. Even the black man, who turned with a helpless expression back to me, mouth wide, as if he was trying to scream out to me but couldn’t. I too, tried to move my legs, but I was taken with the sudden sensation of falling.

My head and neck became heavy, my eyes watery. An overwhelming sensation of horror encapsulated my stomach as nausea threw me to the ground. I landed on the meat of my palms, grit tearing into that soft flesh, feeling my throat close up at the black death I felt all around me.

My eyes met Kyle’s one last time. He looked up at me, arms convulsing as if in seizure, and he gritted his teeth at me to form the word:

RUN!

Launching forward from the ground, I shoved down the nausea, feeling heavy at first, and slow. My legs fell automatically. Running was a natural impulse, and my feet collided into the ground to keep me from falling into the sky. Dizziness overwhelmed me, but I pressed on. In a fog, I knew I had to overcome. But my breathing gave easily. Too quick to think. I was tired, and starving, sickly and weak.

The darkness began to overtake me again. This time, an addition. Sound. A real sound. Clacking. Clicking. Clacking.

Aliens.

My legs pushed faster now, but aliens were faster than even me. To my right, movement. Shadow sized movement. Hard to see. I pushed harder, resisting the heavy impulse that told me to sleep. The pull of the unnatural rest they taunted me with was tangible. Like a tether connected me to them, I felt my head roll.

The clacking came faster. Faster. A huge black mass in my peripheral launched forward. Powerless, I fell to the side, a weight on top of me.

Huge weight, a black monster with tendrils in a thousand places, assaulted me. My brain continued to fight the sleep, even as my limbs actively began to resist my hands’ attempts to keep the claws from reaching my face. Vibrations disturbed the grit on the ground beside me, and my head ached. Crying out in pain, I shoved forward with all my might.

No use.

My legs curled into my chest to meet the body of the alien awkwardly. An unnatural movement, the alien’s underbelly, covered in proboscis of a thousand kinds, simply