Lavender, Ch. 1

Jul 06, 2007 08:11


Chapter 1
Surano: Life and Death

Things were dancing before my eyes that were strange and ridiculous, but I knew them.

I remember dreaming of triangles, bird wings, blues and oranges and grays. Each image pressed against my brain, then faded, leaving an outline against the outlines of those before it. Names rose on a tongue I couldn't yet feel. I struggled with them. Long before I ever opened my eyes, ever sensed, ever realized there was a world around me, I dreamed of things and longed to touch them. Longed to speak their names. Longed to know more.

"Surano?"

My world of blackness and outlines faded, leaving me cold. Some kind of static field tingled around me, and throughout my body I felt a determined beat -- some exuberant rhythm that kept me alive. I struggled under a weight attached to my every inch.

"Open your eyes, dear. Can you hear me?"

Such an impossible command; first I could hardly tell where my eyes were, and when I thought I could locate them the muscles did not want to move. I may as well have been stone.

"She's breathing. Is she comatose?"

"Well, she... no. Whoops."

I had found my mouth -- it felt like sand. I choked, forced my eyelids apart, and winced as a small but sharp light bounced from one eye to the other. Several more attempts at speech threatened to gag me; I had to swallow something thick to prevent choking again.

In these first few moments, thought was not a conscious action. There was only instinct and physical sensation, and I found myself stunned and in more than one type of discomfort.

I couldn't see; everything was too bright and made my eyes burn. I sat frozen, feeling nothing but the pain and the heaviness, until time eased it away enough for me to begin taking note of my position. I was half sitting, knees drawn, a hand clutching either side of my head. I lifted my eyes just enough to see my own bare feet resting on a cold, white table top.

The first voice, a deep, gentle one, gave a pleasant kind of chuckle. "There she is. You can see for yourself that she's awoken just fine. Didn't you want to warn the rest of the team about it?"

"I'll tell them," the second replied, and I noticed the particular rhythm and tone of his speech, almost frightened by it. "But Swibb, be thorough with the examination. If you observe any abnormal responses, take careful note of them."

A door closed. Still squinting, I forced my head up by degrees, taking in the sight of things as they were revealed to me. It was hard to distinguish most things from others -- the white-tiled floor melted into the smooth white walls, the white shoes of someone standing beside me, the bottom of that person's white coat. Pale fingers pulled something back and pressed against my wrist, and I felt my own pulse against them.

I realized that my skin was in fact not blue; I was wearing a suit of some smooth, light-catching material. It felt cool against my skin, though not so much as the table I was sitting on.

"That's called microfiber," the pleasant voice explained. "Your body temperature needs to be regulated."

I raised my head. Smiling down at me was a man with short white hair and a large nose that gave him a kind, silly appearance. He seemed young, with a smooth face and energetic disposition. A young woman, long blonde hair dropped over her shoulder in a braid, came around the other side of the table and put a glass of water to my lips. I drank it, shuddering at the sensation of cold working its way down my throat, though it wasn't unpleasant. The grit and congestion disappeared within seconds. But only as I finished did I notice that at some point the glass had transferred from her hand to mine, and my whole arm shook with the effort to hold it up.

"Ms. Ann, let the doctor know I'd like to take a few extra minutes to speak with the subject -- test her reaction time, cognitive skills and all -- in addition to the original examination."

The lady nodded and slipped out the door, pausing to send a smile my way before she closed it behind her. I wrapped both hands around the water glass and closed my eyes for a long moment, trying to force away the strange pressure building behind my temples. The lack of color was harsh, and the lighting did nothing to help.

"Subject," I said, and my throat vibrated so that I paused, startled. Then, "W-what... What..."

The doctor lowered the thing he'd been poking in my ear. "Well... forgive me if I'm not sure how to put this," he said, and smiled. It was different from Ms. Ann's; weaker, and it only lasted a second before being replaced by a droopy look. "You are an experimental creation. Part of a project begun to determine whether scientifically refined genes, as well as a specific increase of dominance-programmed genes, will enhance the physical and mental abilities of an otherwise normal human being."

I tried to sort this out in my head, and the pressure behind my eyes intensified. I ended up asking only, "I'm human?"

He hesitated, then nodded once. "Humanoid."

"Humanoid. Then I... am not normal."

"Well..." He laughed. Taking the empty glass from me he went to a small sink in the corner and filled it again. "I say humanoid because you have no birth parents -- that is... you were not 'born' as normal humans are. Each and every cell in your body was created synthetically, but works as if it were living material." He paused, frowning down at the floor as he handed the glass back to me. "No... speaking in a very scientific manner, your cells are living material. You are very much an independent, organic being. Well, anyway. Depending on your age and environment, and whether there is need for them to, those cells can replicate at a rate of up to fifty times that of a normal person's, which is the reason for your appearance now -- but since you've awakened, that should have slowed significantly."

I gulped down most of the water as I listened, amazed by the slight burning in my chest as I chose the liquid rather than air.

"Some of the genes we altered just enough to be compatible with the others, in order to bypass a few problematic deformations, that is. You see, you have an unnatural number of dominant genes, which is necessary for the experiment to take place. In most cases one dominant would dominate the other dominant as well -- this is a little overwhelming, isn't it?"

I paused in my own experiments with the versatility of facial expression. "I'm sorry," I said. "It's hard to process so much information..."

He smiled again, and this time the kind of smile it was put me at ease. "You'd think I would know that by now. Come then, we'll finish this up as fast as possible and send you on to bed. You've been through a lot more than you realize."

Before he could pick up the next instrument from the metal tray, there was a knock at the door. Three pale, round faces peeked inside. "Dr. Swibb, can we see the new one yet?" three voices chimed at once.

Without waiting for an answer, the children crowded inside and swarmed around the table on which I sat, peering up at me with a range of expressions and sounds of amazement. They were nine or ten years of age at the very most, and wore dark blue body suits identical to mine, with a triangular badge on each arm. I was surprised to find that every face, apart from expression, was the exact same as the others; then my eyes were caught by the brilliance of their hair. The first was blonde, or could be called such; each strand shone like white gold. The second and shortest had hair that glittered as dark green as emerald, and the last, ruby. I recognized the colors from my dreams, but even there they hadn't been so vibrant. I wanted to touch it, but was afraid to. So we all just stared at each other for a long moment.

"He's tall," the blonde one stated at last.

The red-head nodded. "And his hair is looong."

"And funny-colored," agreed the first.

"His eyes are like that, too!"

"Eh, not really... I like them..."

"He looks like Ms. Ann!" said the green-haired one. He pointed at me and grinned, flapping his arm. "See, see, he really does!"

The doctor caught me as, forgetting about the table's dimensions, I almost scampered backwards off of it. He then pushed me forward so that I had to slide down into the midst of the children. My bare feet hit the ground and my entire body shook as I put my weight on them. But I managed not to fall. Knowing that wouldn't last long, I shared the weight with my arms, bracing them against the table behind me, and took a deep breath. "W-what are they?" I asked. The blonde child burst into laughter.

"Hi, I'm Cepheus," said the red-haired boy. Turning to his brothers with a smile more pleasant than the blonde's, he remarked, "He's prettier than Ms. Ann!"

I'm sure the doctor had realized by now the misconception of me being male; I knew already that I wasn't, somehow, but he decided not to comment on that. He chuckled and said, "Okay, okay. Boys, I'm sure Surano would like to get this over with. All of you go have your dinner and I'll see you before bed. Yes Aiden, go."

I yawned as he ushered them past me toward the door, wondering if the action looked as strange as it felt. My eyes were weighted again, though not as much as before. I let them close, just sitting as I was for a second, trying to classify each different sensation in my body. Then something prodded me, so that my eyes flew open and a scream almost escaped me.

The flaxen-haired boy had jabbed a finger in my breast and was now grinning over his shoulder as he ran after his brothers. Dr. Swibb didn't notice.

I hoped not everything I experienced would be felt as sharply as that.

But pain, it seemed, was intent on following me. Dr. Swibb finished my examination, apologizing for any awkwardness and explaining that as soon as she finished her training, Ms. Ann would be the one to give me check-ups. In truth, my only true misgivings were having to stand upright for a long time and having to struggle with my uniform. I was so tired by the end, so sore in my arms and numb in my feet, that I wanted to just fall over.

But I couldn't yet.

I was escorted across the hall, to another white room that smelled of such pungent chemicals my nose was overwhelmed. Four scientists were waiting there: a physician, a psychiatrist, and two others who didn't feel the need to introduce themselves. As soon as I arrived they sat me down on another table and began an endless series of tests -- pinching, stabbing, standing on weary feet until they were satisfied. I was poked when they injected liquids into my system, poked again when they took blood out. A button was set in front of me, to be pushed when I saw it light up. They had me throw a beanbag against the wall so hard I put a hole in the paint. They told me to stand straight, then they told me to slouch, then they told me to never slouch again. I sang for them, up and down a C scale as loud as my sore throat would allow. I walked from one end of the room to the other while they watched. I moved how they told me to move. I didn't say anything unless they told me to. At the end of it, they set in my palm a small, plastic-wrapped object and said I could eat it.

Ms. Ann came back and led me down the long white corridor, past two men in black uniforms at the corner, and down again to a small room with deep crimson and gold wallpaper. As soon as I was in, my eyes relaxed to the gentler tones. I was satisfied, despite the size; the bed, desk, and dresser took up all but a little space, making it feel comfortable to me, and though the window was just a small rectangle near the ceiling, I could see past the black drapes to the half moon outside.

By this point my body was in a state of shock that defied even exhaustion. I sat myself cross-legged against the wall nearest the door and looked around the room before examining myself again. One of the doctors had said I was physically about fifteen to seventeen years old, an age that had been decided on while I was still in what they referred to as "the tank." Because of the unique control they'd had over my body in that state, I had aged that much over only a few months.

My skin was almost as white as the walls of the hallways. I pulled a lock of hair up to my face -- a deep purple-red color that flowed at least halfway to my waist, thick but straight; and the doctors had earlier noted my eyes as being a much lighter purple-blue. These traits were all a result of the feuding genes that I'd been gifted with. I had also been told my height, but the numbers meant nothing to me; all I could do was compare myself to Ms. Ann, who went around before me fixing the bed. She wasn't too short, I supposed, weighing her against every other person I'd seen so far, but when walking beside her in the hall I'd noticed the top of her head came even with my eyes.

I watched as the woman struggled with the bulky comforter she was trying to fix over my bed, glancing from her small arms to mine in confusion. I didn't think the "physical" aspect of the experiment had been a success, considering Ms. Ann and I had the same body type.

As for my intelligence, I had nothing to compare that with. I had been able to sort out some of what I'd heard the doctors discussing, true, but that told me very little. How was I to know if those things were what a child could understand or what only a scientist could understand?

I breathed deeply, still staring at my hands. I would have answers tomorrow, Dr. Swibb had said, though I was not eager to suffer through the final tests. It had been hinted that I may start training right away as well.

Carpet appeared safer than a small levitating rectangle, so I pulled the comforter off the bed and settled myself in the corner behind it. Ms. Ann giggled from the doorway, switched off the light, and left. I wasn't interested in the dark, though it was quite a relief to be in it again. I fell asleep as soon as I closed my eyes and was undisturbed for six hours.

I finished the last of my examinations over the next few days, wondering what the results were but too weak to argue when the doctors refused to tell me. Dr. Swibb had a surprise for me on the fourth day: instead of jumping right into my training, he'd convinced Zayto to let me start off easy, meet my tutors and then look around the gym. The general ideas of history, math, and English were explained to me as I was introduced to the respective master of each, but as interesting as the subjects sounded I couldn't bring myself to care about the people who taught them. Instead of having any kind of enthusiasm about their work, they all lectured in dull tones, staring at me without any emotion at all.

After lunch Dr. Swibb led me to the third floor where the gym was. Somehow, the fatigue that had dictated my first few days had suddenly turned into an electric current that had me fidgeting, wanting to leap every step. I was so anxious to release the overflowing energy within me that, in the middle of Dr. Swibb's explanation about exercise being good for the body, I walked over to inspect the climbing wall. Simple red brick, a soft but sturdy rope dangling over the side. It towered over me in such a way that I felt challenged, felt as though it wanted me to conquer it. I reached up, grasping the rope in both hands above my head.

Without even bothering to ask permission, I pulled my body off the ground, pressing my feet into the brick. It took less trouble than I'd expected to scale the wall, hoist myself over the top, and switch my hold to the next rope to swing down, nailing the narrow beam meant for landing. Since I was already going, I continued straight into the rest of the course, feeling the speed and the movement and nothing else. I can't even remember what the following stations were. When I finally made my way back to stand, a little out of breath, in front of the doctor and Ms. Ann, he held up a stopwatch and smiled. "I was slow in getting the watch," he said, "but with speed like that, imagine what you could do if you were trying."

Ms. Ann only stared, her face lacking its usual delicate composition, and I wondered whether I'd done something good or something bad.

"I would have thought you'd be planning your escape by now."

Ms. Ann finished polishing my katana and handed it to me. It was late afternoon, and my physical trainer had the day off so I was reviewing what I'd already learned. In actuality our gym was a dance hall converted into a haphazard collection of exercise stations, with warm-up courses all along the perimeters and self-divided areas for more concentrated practice within. The walls, like in most other rooms, were blinding white, but the existence of actual windows here cheered the place up a good deal, despite the iron bars on the outside. The sun streamed in and turned the floor and opposite wall into living, liquid gold.

"It's beautiful out there," Ms. Ann continued. "At least, what I've seen of it. And everyone has a right to a little piece of this world, don't you think?" In her dainty manner she shook out the cloth she'd been running along the blade of the sword and began to fold it up. Then paused. "...Unless they've shut themselves away from it, that is. Listen, all those daydreamers, they'll never get anywhere. You can't spend your whole life just thinking about doing things. You must do them."

I nodded, as usual uncertain how to respond. Ms. Ann tended to take the odd views of life: karma, reincarnation, and other things everyone else at the mansion laughed about. Sometimes she said things which made sense, but made me uncomfortable. I just couldn't see how a person could live more than one life, or how they could be punished in one for things they'd done in a previous one. I didn't understand why some things were a "necessary evil," as she called them.

"The doctors try to hide it, but you're living like a prisoner," she said out of nowhere.

The image I received was of a person in rags, begging for water from a small stone cell. I shook my head. "That's not how they treat me at all. They encourage me to think for myself, they don't lock me up or starve me--"

"There's a difference between deciding how to write an essay and deciding to not do it. They only encourage you to think how they want you to think."

"They want me to live," I said, "and they allow me to be me. Even if I was in a cell, being alive is a freedom in itself."

She paused to check the grammar in that statement, then said, "But you've never been outside these grounds, have you?"

I started to reply, but hesitated. It was true that in my three months there, I had never been allowed beyond the huge walls that surrounded Zayto's property, and very seldom even gone outside. But there was no idea of cruelty behind it; my schedule was just too full for frequent trips outdoors. Every day I would see my academic tutors, and then practice swordsmanship in the gym. I thought only of what would benefit my studies, not just because I found learning fun but also because it made all the doctors proud of me. Little of my free time, even, was spent on idle thinking.

Before I could formulate words for that, Ms. Ann looked down at her watch, gasped, and ran out the door without so much as a good-bye. I was confused until I remembered it was Wednesday, and her turn to help cook for the entire population of ZGR.

I was not the only experiment living at the mansion. There were many, in fact, though only a handful had been "born" here as I had. The triplets, Kikei, Aiden, and Cepheus, were the first generation of an accelerated evolution experiment, though as such were still rather normal aside from gill-like patterns behind their ears. Their mother had died in birthing them, so Zayto brought them from another one of his mansions to the main one. There was a quiet girl who wandered around sometimes, a clone-child with implants of "humanized" feline DNA. Since many animal sicknesses were developing human strains lately, the idea was to test whether the two species would be compatible as far as genetic therapy, thus eliminating diseases one might be immune to from the palette of both. It was Zayto's favorite subject: that the enhancement of mankind was possible through such research as accelerated evolution and genetic manipulation and mixing of certain species. He was one man who liked to believe he could stave off the extinction of the human race.

All of the children held a curiosity-driven interest in me, and Cepheus and Aiden even invited me to play often, but unlike them I had come into existence in a fully formed body and was constantly being pushed both mentally and physically. Besides a few morning lessons, they were able to enjoy being children. I was the one nobody could understand.

Ms. Ann was only a few years older than me. Because I went through most of my routine with her present, I was closer to her than anyone else, even Dr. Swibb. She'd given me the nickname Lavander Eyes not long after I was born, and when I told her I liked that color she laughed. "Lavander is not a color," she'd replied.

I finished my warm-up and began concentrating on my target the way a warrior is trained to: distance to, obstacles around, plan of attack best suited for this type of opponent. I held the gleaming katana before me, the flesh between my thumb and forefinger perfectly aligned with the back of the blade. The tip pointed at my opponent's neck. I checked the position of my feet, hips, and shoulders, and finally the distribution of my weight. Then, with a swiftness I always took for granted, I stepped forward with the right, raised the blade; followed up with my left, and swung the sword straight down. The invisible target was vanquished.

I bowed. "I apologise for having to destroy you. Thank you for assisting me in my practice."

Sheathing my katana, I ignored the expressions of amusement from almost everyone else in the gym. I had explained already why I felt the need to give my respect even to sparring partners that didn't exist, but I also knew that there really was no good reason. I just did it on impulse.

Cepheus waved to me from the balance beam, where his instructor was teaching him how to vault, and almost fell off. "Surano!" he called, grinning as he righted himself, "Dr. Swibb wants to see you before dinner time!"

"Thank you, Ceph." I hid a small chuckle on my way by, knowing that he would fall off at some point. He always did.

Likewise I was not surprised at the request from Dr. Swibb. Almost every day that week, he had interrupted my schedule in order to ask about my health, or have me carry out some small errand. Sometimes it seemed as though he were trying to say something else, but Dr. Zayto seemed to have as much need of him as Swibb did of me. Whenever he came in, Dr. Swibb's words died away.

Zayto was our founder and sponsor, as well as the owner of the mansion. His name was everywhere, on plaques decorating the hallways and even stitched onto the badges everyone wore on their uniforms: Zayto Genetic Research Center. The man himself was not very approachable. He had graying hair, a thick gray mustache, and his squarish face was characterized by a permanent scowl. I did not care for him very much because that scowl was more often than not directed at me, and even when it wasn't he put me on edge. It was clear to almost everyone that he detested me for some reason I couldn't unearth.

I hung my weapon back on the wall with the others (a bow and quiver of arrows, several daggers, and many other types of blade -- guns in those days were banned pretty much everywhere and were easily detected) and paused at the water fountain for a sip. Then, deciding the long way around would allow me a little time to think, as well as a better view, I left the gym and started across the breezeway that separated that wing of the mansion and the next. The doctors had of late been complaining it was too cold for being so early in October, but I liked it: the crisp air and vivacious wind. The touch of it against my skin after a sweaty practice reminded me of the degree to which things could be felt. The sun had disappeared around the other side of the gym by now, but there was still plenty of light. A dark cloud over the mountains to the east emphasized the red-tinted paleness of the northern skies. As I stopped to look out over the scarred, colorless land I really did wonder, if only for a moment, what lay beyond this small world of mine.

It didn't look like much.

The door of Dr. Swibb's office was open just enough to let his voice carry into the empty hall. Even before I was near enough to make out the words, I knew something was wrong: his usually composed, good-humored tone had given way to anger and something dangerously close to panic, two emotions I had never before heard from him.

"Please!" was the first word I could decipher, and a missed word as he lowered his voice a bit, "...a living being. It would be different if this had been decided while she was still dormant... I won't allow it."

Zayto's voice rumbled out next, a warning in his every word. "I told you last time, if you become attached to the problematic ones..."

I paused outside the door, knowing better than to intrude upon such a discussion, and leaned against the wall to listen. I could hear Zayto's footsteps as he paced around the room. There was a faint smell of sweat.

"She shouldn't have to suffer for such a trivial thing!"

"She must be disposed of, as quickly as possible."

It was hard for me to stay and continue listening. Zayto's voice put me on edge when he was speaking normally; hearing him now, I was beginning to feel terrified.

"It would be different if she'd progressed as planned; I might have been willing to take the risk. But as we are, this center does not have the resources to sustain a failure. Surano is dangerous -- even worse than Kyo."

A voice new to me drifted out of the room, deep but unaffected by the feral quality of Zayto's. "All the same, I'm not sure I can approve of your extreme solution. As your chairman, Dr. Zayto, I suggest you take an action that will not worsen your reputation further."

"We've already tried or considered everything. When I learned of the tampering during her tank stage, I woke her early to try and stop the damage. It didn't work." Zayto's breathing was ragged; his step quickened. "Her body... if she ever finds out, what kind of situation do you think we'd be in?!"

"It isn't as though she's a walking bomb, Dr. Zayto. It's true there was tampering, but not all of it had a negative--"

"Think back to the last time you defended someone, Swibb, and just try to finish that thought."

"But you can't just kill her!"

I jumped, hearing Ms. Ann's voice, but didn't dare peek in to see. Of course she'd be called to such a meeting, being my personal assistant.

The conversation here was suspended for a long, tense moment. I filed through every option I had: negotiate, find out what's wrong with me and ask to be fixed. Pretend I haven't heard, and let them decide what needs to be done. Escape, escape now. Even had I been able to think further, my body was not ready to comply with the necessary motions. I could only stand there, knowing something had to be done and unable to do it. It took a while even to notice I'd stopped breathing.

"Dr. Swibb?" questioned Zayto.

There was the sound of chair legs sliding against the plastic floor as Dr. Swibb stood up. "No," he said, voice low. "No one touches Surano. I'll take care of it."

My legs fell out from under me. One hand flew against the door to catch my weight, and just like that it slammed closed.

Through the wood, I heard Zayto mutter, "What the hell?"

I ran. With every muscle being stretched to its limit I flew back along the corridor and almost fell down the stairs. Behind me echoed a quick command from Dr. Swibb -- "Run, Surano!" -- and drowning it out on the intercom a muffled blur of words in Zayto's voice. Unable to decipher them, I took the most direct route I knew toward escape; and because I acted so predictably I ran straight into a cloud of officials waiting on the second floor landing.

All thought vaporized, half-formulated, as I collided with a black uniform and the person wearing it. I barely noticed the flare of pain in my chest, the catch in my lungs as they momentarily failed me. My arms were pulled behind me and up at an odd angle, an immobilizing move I'd just learned earlier in the week. I stopped fighting. A strange sound came out of my throat. Then I saw Zayto, Swibb, and Johnson on the stairs and kicked backward, foot colliding with some solid part of the officer's body.

"Surano," Zayto said as I broke away. His voice was so calm that I paused again, confused. "Whatever you heard was a misunderstanding. Come back upstairs and we'll explain the situation to you."

I didn't move, didn't say anything. My chest was heaving, my eyes stuck to the ground. I felt as though I was experiencing the past, present and future at the same time; seeing every slight twitch made by living things in every corner of the world; the feeling of my feet on the floor, the material of my shoes and clothes against my skin, every alteration in the air. The sensations attacked me from everywhere and were so overpowering I couldn't even think. Where am I again? Who are these people surrounding me? Behind me, the guard I'd kicked groaned and tried to stand, but only managed to get to his knees before falling over again.

"Surano," Zayto repeated.

Something escaped me, at first attempt nothing more than a squeak. Then my mouth moved on its own to whisper, "I heard you..." My voice was both firm and ragged at once.

I was on the landing between the third and second floors -- I really hadn't managed to get far -- and Zayto, Dr. Swibb, and their Mr. Johnson were paused on the flight above me. Behind me were four armed guards, only one of which seemed to be immobilized for the moment. And from the second floor hallway I could hear children's voices. If I was fast enough, I could make it down to the second floor and swing around the corner before Zayto opened fire. But I didn't know yet if I should run or not.

I met Dr. Swibb's eyes. "I won't let anyone harm you," he said, and started toward me down the remaining steps. Zayto followed, one hand up, signaling the guards to keep their weapons ready without shooting. "Come here, Surano," Dr. Swibb said, stretching a hand out to me.

His hand was as pale as mine, but larger, smoother. The hand of someone who worked inside day and night, ensuring the health and happiness of those he would later laugh with, smile for, even treat as his equals when everyone else did not. He held culture dishes and small cylinders of synthetic fetuses instead of swords and guns. But right then he was holding my hand; and as simple as the gesture was it took me a moment to realize where the warmth was coming from.

One second later it was gone.

Dr. Swibb pushed me to the right and I fell into abyss, the stairs peeling solid ground away from me, spinning beneath my body so fast my eyes couldn't catch a thing. I missed the sound of the gun chiming upon detonation. Then suddenly I was on my rear end at the bottom of the stairs, able to see and hear with more acuity than ever. I saw Dr. Swibb land in the middle of the stairs -- upside-down, on his back. I saw the little silver "x" that had exploded from the gun to cling to his shirt, the bit of red that was starting to seep from it. I heard the thump of his landing long after his body had stilled.

His eyes were still straining to meet mine. They twitched as though wanting to close, but he wouldn't give in. He just kept staring at me. There wasn't a sound, not a movement from anyone. But my ears were ringing so loud in the silence.

It was Ms. Ann who cut through it. She appeared like a ghost on the stairs above Zayto and slammed into him with purpose. He was thrown toward the wall on the other side of the landing, but Ms. Ann regained her balance, clung to the wooden banister, and screamed at me, "Surano get the hell out of here! Run before the bastard tries to shoot you again!"

I stood up, wobbled a bit, but turned myself enough to see the next flight of stairs below me.

Zayto grabbed at a small table to try and get back to his feet. "Surano!" he barked. With that all my senses returned and I threw myself toward the stairs. Something hummed past my ear, right through my hair, and hit the metal box on the wall behind me. Gray smoke erupted with sparks that hissed against my right arm.

The smoke and heat pressed against my back all the way to the front doors.
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