CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Scylla stepped off the elevator, still in a foul mood, the blood of the driver she had killed drying on her shirt. She still saw that Miller bitch's smug face, heard her mocking tone over the radio. Scylla ground her teeth together again as she walked down the corridor, but she hid her emotions from the soldiers around her. It would not do to let them see her so enraged. That would suggest Miller had gotten the better of her, which could potentially call her leadership into question. After all, if she was unable to maintain control over a young girl with one hand, how could she control their society?
Pushing these thoughts from her mind, Scylla approached one of the two soldiers standing guard outside a pair of doors. They stiffened at her approach, as though afraid she might pull out her gun and shoot them both.
Word travels quickly, Scylla thought, though not without some satisfaction. If they still feared her, they would still respect her.
"Is he in there?" Scylla asked one of the soldiers.
"Yes, Ma'am," the soldier replied. "He hasn't left. And he won't let anyone else inside."
Scylla nodded once to show she understood, then waved the soldier aside. He quickly stepped away and pressed the button to open the door for her. Scylla stepped through the doors without hesitation as soon as they slid smoothly open, then paused as she took in the sight before her.
Boroslav was sitting on the edge of one of the infirmary beds. He was staring down at Vasilii's lifeless face. Boroslav appeared calm, his own face being void of emotion, almost as lifeless as that of the boy he had raised. But Scylla knew him well, and she could feel the emotions radiating from him like heat from a furnace. It was no wonder that none of the soldiers would enter the room.
As Scylla approached Boroslav, he didn't look up at her. She saw that he had one hand placed over Vasilii's chest, as though feeling for the heartbeat that wasn't there. Boroslav's other hand sat limp in his lap. The fingers looked twisted and broken, the hand itself having swollen and changed to a dark purple color.
Scylla sat down on the neighboring bed, regarding Boroslav silently, scrupulously. Boroslav gave no indication that he knew she was there, but Scylla had no doubt that he knew she was there the second she entered the room. Scylla let a few seconds pass in silence between them, as though she was trying to compose herself. It would not do to appear indifferent right now. Vasilii had meant a lot to Boroslav. Scylla had no idea why, but the fact remained.
"I'm sorry, Mikhail," Scylla said at last, forcing herself to sound regretful and saddened. "You have my sincerest condolences."
Boroslav remained silent for a moment longer, though Scylla could almost feel the rage burning inside him.
"With all due respect, Scylla," Boroslav began, "you can keep your condolences. My only comfort will come when those Diviners are all dead by my hand."
Scylla nodded, giving the appearance of understanding. Boroslav would be free to kill the Diviners, of course, but not all of them. Miller would be hers alone. She would spend as long as it took working her over, making her feel unspeakable pain and suffering until she gave up the vital metric. Then Scylla would make her suffer more. Only when Miller begged for death would Scylla end her life.
Regarding Boroslav with a calculating look in her eyes, Scylla wondered if her right-hand man would prove a hindrance in getting information from Miller. Boroslav would undoubtedly seek revenge, and Scylla knew Miller would be his primary target. Security footage showed that it was Miller herself who had killed Vasilii, smothered him with a pillow. Scylla had been surprised by this, as she had been certain Miller wasn't capable of killing anyone. It wasn't often that Scylla was surprised. The feeling both angered and intrigued her. As much as she longed to slit Miller's throat, Scylla also found her to be a fascinating entity. Had they met under different circumstances, Miller might have made a useful ally. Now, however, there was no chance of that. Despite the fact that Miller would definitely die, Scylla first needed her alive.
Mikhail won't like that, Scylla thought. He doesn't fully understand what I'm doing. If he gets in the way, I might have to get rid of him.
As Scylla considered this possibility, she said aloud, "You should let someone take care of your hand. It looks broken. Nano-bots can have the bones healed in just a few hours."
"No," Boroslav snapped. "The pain helps me focus."
"I understand," Scylla replied, though she felt irritated. Why allow yourself to be without the use of one hand? It seemed stupid and pointless.
"I will find them," Boroslav said softly to Scylla, still staring down at Vasilii's face. He had closed Vasilii's eyes, making the boy almost look like he was merely sleeping. "I will find the Diviners. I will make them all suffer. But Miller will suffer the most. She will watch each of her friends suffer. She will watch each of her friends die. Then she will endure everything her friends suffered through and more. She will beg for death, but I will not give it to her. Her life will be nothing but agony and despair, for as long as I desire."
"Miller will pay for what she has done," Scylla assured Boroslav, hiding her annoyance. How dare he decide the fate of Miller without consulting her? "But first we need the metric she has stolen. We need her to make the computer give us the missing information."
"Why?" Boroslav snapped. "What do I care about some useless equation? Vasilii is dead. Murdered! And I will have justice be done, damn your metric!"
Scylla reacted faster than even Boroslav could move. Her hand lashed out and she dug her thumb into his cheek, pushing as hard as she could on the nerve she knew was there. Boroslav looked surprised, his eyes bulging and his mouth open as he stifled a yell of pain, though not before a sharp cry escaped him. He started to raise his hand as though to defend himself, but then he looked into Scylla's eyes and froze. His hand hung suspended in mid-air for a moment, until he lowered it back down. His face quivered with the effort it took not to scream. The nerve Scylla was pushing down on filled his face with an agony he had never known. He longed to pull away, to escape Scylla's clutches, but knew better. If he resisted, Scylla would make it worse.
"That metric," Scylla began, speaking through her teeth, "is more important than the lives of every soldier we have. I will sacrifice a thousand men to get it. That's how important it is. You will have your revenge. But before that, we have to get that metric."
"Why?" Boroslav grunted through the pain. "Why is it so important? You have not told me what we are doing."
Scylla smiled sweetly. "It was for our own good, Mikhail. No one must know what I have planned. If they knew, there would be more trouble than even we could handle."
Scylla finally let go of Boroslav's face and he gasped with relief as the pain began to ebb away at once. He held his hand over his cheek, glaring at Scylla.
"I know more than you think," Boroslav said coldly. "I'm no idiot, Scylla. I know you keep me in the dark on purpose, hide things from me, keep secrets. I do not question these things because I trust you have good reasons. But I do know some things. As I said, I am no idiot. And from what I do know, your plan seems foolish, with no hope of success."
"You only know what I allow you to know," Scylla sneered.
"Then tell me more," Boroslav hissed. "Tell me everything! Let me bring the Diviners back, let me get the information you need from Miller! Then let me take my vengeance on her. She took Vasilii from me. I will take everything from her!"
Scylla stared at Boroslav for a long time, considering. Weighing the options. Boroslav was a loose cannon at times, that much was certain. But he was fiercely loyal, he had proven himself a useful ally. If he got in the way of Scylla's plan, she would kill him without hesitation, but as long as he was on her side, he was invaluable. And if she extended this small amount of trust towards him, let him completely in on her secrets, then he would be that much more loyal.
"Very well," Scylla nodded. "I will tell you everything. But it must stay only between us."
Night fell quickly over the desert. Mackenzie,
Jesse, Abbas and Bell all huddled inside the back of the truck to hide from the elements. It was cold, but lighting a fire at night right now was not an option, as Abbas quickly pointed out.
"Most likely, they'll be looking for us," he had said. "A fire would just let them know exactly where we are."
So after driving until the sun went down, they parked the truck close to the cliffs and huddled together for the night. Mackenzie dressed Bell's gunshot wound and Jesse found some thermal blankets in the truck's survival gear. He handed one each to Abbas, Bell and Mackenzie, then sat down without one for himself, a brooding expression on his face. Once, Mackenzie had thought that expression meant Jesse was in a foul mood, but now she understood him better. He was thinking, trying to come up with a plan.
"Don't you have a blanket?" Mackenzie asked, taking a seat beside him. Abbas and Bell sat across from them, both looking exhausted.
Jesse shrugged. "There were only three. It's fine, I don't feel the cold that much."
Mackenzie glanced down at Jesse's arms and saw them covered in goosebumps.
"You don't have to pretend to be a badass to impress me, you know," Mackenzie teased.
Jesse stared at her for a moment, then started laughing. "Way to throw my words back in my face," he chuckled.
Grinning, Mackenzie pulled her thermal blanket around Jesse's shoulders until it covered the two of them. There was no space for even a hair to slip between them now and Mackenzie, for the first time in days, felt like she was relaxed. She felt safe here, the blanket around her shoulders and Jesse so close beside her. The two of them fell silent as they each got lost in their own thoughts.
"So," Bell began, stifling a yawn. "Mr Navigator-Man. How do we get home from here?"
Abbas frowned, sighing heavily. "It'll be tough without all of our usual equipment. No nav system, no thermal imagery... On the plus side, this truck is faster than Rhiannon-"
"My poor baby," Bell interrupted quietly.
"-so we can cut some travel time off the trip home," Abbas continued. "We travelled at a consistent south-by-south-west direction, so if we drive north-by-north-east, we should get to land we recognize within a week."
"That's a long time to be out here," Jesse pointed out. "The weather alone could kill us. Then there's the wildlife, we don't have much food or water, not to mention Scylla will likely be chasing us before long."
"And Boroslav," Mackenzie added quietly, thinking of Vasilii.
Silence filled the truck as all of this information sunk in. Mackenzie began to wonder if they should have prepared their escape better, but knew they hadn't had time for anything more than what they did.
Bell was glancing between the others with a look of surprise. Then she groaned loudly and rolled her eyes.
"God," Bell sighed in frustration. "You're all such bloody downers! We're alive, people! Alive! We're heading home! Yeah, it'll be dangerous, but what isn't these days? We've got the water map, too! We'll be able to figure out the best place to relocate to and everyone will survive! We should be celebrating, people!"
Abbas grinned through his beard and nodded. "You're right. We've been in tough spots before and we made it through. We'll get through this one, too."
"You still have that hard drive?" Jesse asked Mackenzie.
Mackenzie pulled the long, white, data stick out of her waistline and held it up. "Right here."
"Then we're set," Jesse grinned. "Bell's right. And as much as I'd like to party with her right now, I'm freaking exhausted."
"Yes, me too," Abbas agreed. "We should all get some sleep."
"Should someone stay awake to keep watch?" Mackenzie asked.
"Not much point," Abbas shrugged. "If anyone found us, they'd be on top of us in this dark before we knew it. But we're shielded by the cliffs, they should give us some cover if anyone is looking for us right now. Everyone just rest up. We're gonna need to be fully alert for the next few days, I think."
Bell climbed into the front of the truck to sleep in the driver's seat. Mackenzie suspected Bell found that more comfortable than even a bed. Abbas stretched out on the seats opposite Mackenzie and Jesse, rolled over and sounded like he was softly snoring almost immediately. Mackenzie slid to the floor and tried to get comfortable, which she knew was a losing battle. She looked up and saw that Jesse was still sitting above her.
"Plenty of room on the floor, Jesse," Mackenzie pointed out.
"I, uh..." Jesse began, sounding somewhat hesitant. "I thought I might keep a lookout for a while."
Mackenzie grinned at his awkwardness. "You're not afraid to sleep beside me, are you?"
"What?" Jesse scoffed. "Of course not."
"Then get your ass down here, Greaves," Mackenzie insisted, sliding over to make room.
Smirking, despite himself, Jesse slid down to the floor beside Mackenzie and she pulled the thermal blanket up over them both.
"Got to admit," Jesse began, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. "A few days ago, I never thought we'd end up sleeping together."
Mackenzie grinned, but narrowed her eyes at Jesse and thumped his arm with her fist. "Don't get any ideas."
From the front of the truck, Bell sleepily said, "If you two are finally gonna make out, can you at least do it quietly? Some of us are sleeping."
Mackenzie instantly felt her face burn hot, but Jesse simply grinned and laughed. Mackenzie lay flat and closed her eyes, welcoming sleep.
It wasn't long before the dreams came. Mackenzie saw Vasilii's glassy eyes staring back at her, judging, accusing. As Mackenzie stared into his face, Vasilii opened his mouth and whispered a raspy, drawn out, choked word.
"Why-yyyyyy?"
Mackenzie forced the ghost away, tried not to think about him. But once Vasilii's face was gone, Mackenzie saw Ileana's, the way it had been the last time Mackenzie saw her. The blood staining the pillow from white to red.
Gasping, Mackenzie awoke with a start, a scream forming in her throat, but she clamped it down at the last moment. Jesse sat up beside her, having been woken by her fitful sleep.
"Hey, hey," he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. You were having a nightmare."
Mackenzie was holding her hand over her heart, feeling the fast and strong beats as she tried to slow her breathing. Jesse placed his arm around her and told her to breathe, that it was all right. Eventually, Mackenzie's breathing slowed and where there had once been panic, she now only felt hollow.
"You okay?" Jesse asked her, looking worried.
"Y-yeah, I..." Mackenzie stammered. "I just had a bad dream, is all."
"What was it about?" Jesse asked.
"Huh?" Mackenzie asked, stalling. "I, um, don't remember now."
"Really?" Jesse asked, clearly knowing she was lying. "You were talking in your sleep, you know."
"I was?" Mackenzie asked, horrified. "Wh-what did I say?"
Jesse regarded her closely for a moment. Mackenzie could only imagine how she must have looked. She could feel her hair was a shambles and there was still a cold sweat on her brow. Mackenzie swallowed hard as she looked back into Jesse's dark eyes.
"You said Vasilii," Jesse finally said. "And Ileana."
"Was that it?" Mackenzie asked quietly.
"No," Jesse said. "You also said you were sorry."
Mackenzie wanted to say something, she wanted to tell Jesse the truth. She so desperately wanted to get what she had done off her chest, but the shame she felt weighed too heavily on her. She opened her mouth to say something, but then immediately closed it again.
I can never tell anyone about Ileana, Mackenzie thought. Never.
"Mackenzie," Jesse began gently. "Remember what Lowe said? What Vasseur said? There are no secrets between Diviners. The pain one of us feels, we all share. So tell me... what happened with Vasilii? What happened to Ileana?"
Mackenzie could feel the panic tightening around her chest again. She damned the tears that betrayed her feelings and turned
her face away to try and hide them from Jesse. Before she knew it, though, she was talking, but she couldn't bring herself to look at Jesse as she spoke.
"Vasilii," she began, choking on her tears. "Vasilii tried to stop me. He found me with Ileana, trying to escape. So he attacked me. He tried to kill me. But I... I killed him. I smothered him with a pillow, Jesse. I held it down over his face until he was gone."
Jesse nodded slowly. "He didn't give you a choice."
"But that's just it," Mackenzie whispered. "Maybe there was a choice. Maybe I didn't have to kill him. What if... what if I wanted to kill him? I-I-I'm a murderer, Jesse."
"No," Jesse said firmly. "You are not a murderer. You only defended yourself. You didn't do anything wrong. Vasilii was a monster raised by a monster. No one will blame you for what happened."
Except for Ileana, Mackenzie thought bitterly.
"So what happened to Ileana?" Jesse asked.
Mackenzie felt the sobs trying to escape her, but she forced them down. "I... I..."
"It's okay," Jesse said. "You can tell me."
Mackenzie nodded, but knew he was wrong. She couldn't. She wouldn't.
"Vasilii killed her," Mackenzie lied in a breath. She didn't think about the lie, she just spoke and let whatever words that came to her fall from her lips. "He tried to get the gun from me. It... It went off and..."
"Hey, hey," Jesse soothed, holding Mackenzie closer in his arms. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything else."
Mackenzie allowed Jesse to hold her, but couldn't let herself feel comforted. Now she was a liar as well as a murderer.
I'm as bad as my father, Mackenzie thought bitterly.
She and Jesse fell asleep in each other's arms and stayed that way until morning, though Mackenzie's dreams were still haunted by ghosts, and the whispers of those no longer there.