‘No. At least I don’t think so.’
‘Would we remember if we did?’
Zara shrugged and yawned. ‘You know where Pasco is?’
Cor shook his head and looked out through the window. The high clouds parted for a second and he thought he caught a glimpse of sky through the murk. He smiled to see light reaching this far down into the depths.
‘I ain’t seen him,’ he said. ‘Figured he went out late with Strang and Hetta. Maybe Oskyr sent them for some more compounds.’
‘I thought I heard him come back.’
Zara rose from the bed, steadying herself on its iron frame. Cor offered her his arm and the two of them walked towards the doorway. Cor felt weirdly light-headed, exhausted from the late nights and all-day supply runs up-hive.
When this was all finished, he’d sleep forever.
They reached the top of the stairs and gingerly made their way to the lower hallway. Halfway down, something struck Cor as out of place.
‘Can you hear anything?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘You ever know this place to be quiet?’ asked Cor.
Zara screwed up her face, as if he were asking her to describe the inner workings of a warp-engine. She gave up and simply shrugged, using the wall to support herself as she took the last few steps down to the ground floor. She made a half-turn and screamed at something beyond Cor’s line of sight.
He ran down after her and it took him far longer than it should have to process the scene before him. A low-lying vapour drifted through the hallway, a noxious yellow green, and Cor covered his mouth at its reeking stench. He saw Sister Caitriona on her knees, her head resting on the floor in a pool of blood. Zara sank to the floor, staring in horror at the grisly sight.
‘Sister!’ cried Cor, and the fog wreathing his thoughts blew away like morning mist. He ran over to Sister Caitriona and lifted her shoulders, trying to shake her awake. ‘What happened? Where is everyone?’
Sister Caitriona’s forehead was bloody where it had been bashed on the floor, and her eyes were rolled back in their sockets. Thin ropes of greenish saliva drooled from her slack mouth. He saw the timber floorboards were splintered where her head had been lying. Cor tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but the only conclusion he reached was insane.
‘Looks like she did this herself,’ he said.
‘What?’ said Zara, pressing her hands over her mouth. ‘Why would she do that? It don’t make no sense.’
‘None of this does,’ said Cor, cradling Sister Caitriona’s body in his arms and feeling his world come crashing down around him again.
He looked up as he heard a scrape of metal.
‘Look out!’ screamed Zara.
Cor threw himself to the side as a hulking form emerged from the door to the basement. He felt searing fire burn his shoulder, swiftly followed by warm wetness spilling down over his chest. He rolled to his feet in time to see Strang coming at him with his sharpened bolt-shiv. Its entire length was wet with blood.
‘Strang? What are you doing?’ yelled Cor.
‘I’ll kill you!’ yelled the older boy. His eyes were wide and bulging, and yellow green saliva coated his lips.
‘No, wait!’ cried Cor, but Strang wasn’t listening.
He charged Cor, swinging his bolt-shiv wildly. Cor ducked and threw a punch with his good arm. More by luck than judgement, it connected with Strang’s chin and sent him sprawling. Pain shot up his arm from what was likely a bunch of broken fingers. Strang had a jaw like iron.
‘I have to kill you!’ yelled Strang, pressing his fists to his temples and drawing blood where the bolt-shiv sliced his skin. ‘The worms in my head! It’s the only way to get them out! Gnawing, gnawing me. They want your eyes, Cor! They’re so pretty and wet!’
‘Strang, please! What are you talking about?’
The older boy threw himself at Cor again, and this time there was no evading him. Strang’s speed and strength was too great, and Cor was barrelled to the ground. The bolt-shiv stabbed down into his wounded shoulder again and he screamed in agony. He tried to throw a punch, to get his attacker off him, but Strang pinned his arm to his side.
‘The worms, Cor! They wanna eat your eyes!’
Strang lifted his bolt-shiv high, ready to plunge it down into Cor’s chest. He heard a screeching roar somewhere nearby. Cor screamed, but the blade never fell.
He looked up to see Strang staring in disbelief at the juddering teeth of a chainsword jutting from his chest. Blood dripped from its rusted edge. The blade tore clear and Strang toppled sideways, crashing to the floor with a bubbling sigh.
‘But the worms are hungry…’ said Strang, before the life fled his eyes.
Cor saw Zara standing over Strang with Sister Caitriona’s chainsword held tightly in both hands. She was breathing heavily, looking down at the weapon she held. Whatever charge was left in the weapon died, and Zara let it fall from her fingers with a cry of horror. The ancient blade clattered to the floorboards.
‘I killed him,’ she sobbed. ‘I killed him…’
Cor struggled to push himself upright, but only succeeded in propping himself up on one elbow. Thick mist was drifting from the basement, and Cor coughed, wincing as the wound in his shoulder sent a jolt of pain down his spine.
‘You had to,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘He was gonna kill us.’
She shook her head. ‘No. No. No… this can’t be happening. What’s going on here, Cor?’
Before he could answer a blurred shape loomed out of the mist behind Zara. Cor shouted a warning, but it was too late. Tall and powerful, yet slender and wiry, the figure wrapped one arm over Zara’s chest and planted another over her face. The bronzed mouthpiece of a rebreather covered the girl’s mouth and nose, thick with wadded gauze that dripped chemicals from its outflow nozzle.
She struggled briefly, but whatever concoction was in the mask swiftly overcame her strength to resist. She slumped against the figure, who dropped her limp body to the floor.
