Page 6 of Calico Descending

“He kills without conscience, or remorse, which is why we had to modify you a bit.”

“Modify me?” For four years in Calico, I’ve been used as a guinea pig. Poked with needles every day. Examined by doctors. Constantly watched. Constantly monitored. Fed certain foods, separate from the other subjects in this place. Separate from my sister, even, who works on the obstetrics wing of the hospital, helping to care for and deliver babies. Never once has anyone bothered to explain to me what these tests were for, and if I so much as asked, well, I only asked once. That night, I underwent electrotherapy that rendered me immobile for two days. There’s a slight bit of hesitation in asking now, but I almost get a sense the doctor is coaxing me into the question. “What did you do to me?”

“You recall, back in the room, when he sniffed you?”

I do, and I was fairly certain he was getting off on the terror pulsing through my veins in that moment. “Yeah.”

“It’s an olfactory binding. You carry some of his DNA inside of you, so what he smells is familiar. A match for him.” He threads his fingers together, holding them up in demonstration. “It’s like two puzzle pieces coming together perfectly. Very comforting to him.”

“He didn’t seem comforted.”

“Well, many of them reject the binding. They tend to be suspicious. Wary. It’s something of an animal instinct that keeps them alive.”

If this is true, there’s no reason I should be alive. As he said, everything about me was a threat.

“Why are we not permitted to use their names?” It’s undoubtedly not their real names, because no one in this place is called by their birth name. For most, they’re nothing but a number, including me.

His lips tighten to a flat line, and he rests his palms against the desk. “Allow me to show you.”

Spinning away from me, he tinkers with the screen behind him, turning it momentarily black, before a new image pops up. This one in motion.

“This was recorded just two weeks ago. Cadmus is one of the three Champions, like Valdys, who has never lost a fight.”

“Fight?”

“We condition them by pitting them against the mutations. The failed human trials who are … let’s just say, no longer human. They’re very hardy. Difficult to kill. So we keep them contained, which, in turn, makes them quite violent over time. Should we become compromised at some point, the Alphas are our only hope of survival against them.”

These men are trained to throw themselves into the path of a deadly predator? No wonder they’re pissed.

I lift my attention back to the screen, where a young woman enters a room, with a bit more grace than I did, carrying a tray full of food. She sets the tray onto the floor, and backs away, crossing her hands over the front of her. Something about her seems vaguely familiar to me.

Seconds later, the shadows come to life, as a large figure emerges and steps toward her. Deep inside my belly, a sickness churns, recalling why he chose to show me this video. To show me what happens when we speak their names. Moisture gathers on my palms as I rub my hands together in my lap, the fluttering in my chest making me all too aware that I’m nervous for what’s to come.

The male crouches down to the floor to sniff the food, then jumps to his feet, and accosts her. As she was no doubt instructed, she doesn’t move, hardly even flinches while he seems to smell her. At this point, her meeting is far more composed than mine. Once he seems satisfied, he backs away from her, into the shadows once more. I’d almost believe she was far less nervous, if not for the trembling of her hands and rapid rise and fall of her chest. She glances back toward the door.

“Go on,” Medusa says, prodding her along like a shepherd herding her toward a wolf.

“Hello?” Fingers fidgeting, she steps closer to the shadow. “I’m Neela.”

The name strikes a chord of familiarity, and a flash of memory zips through my brain. Bright lights. Sterile scents. The terrified expression on her face. Hands clasped together.

Except, this girl seems far more demure to the one inside my head.

“I … understand you’re my Champion.” The sound of her voice snaps me out of the memory. Another glance back at the door, and she’s scratching her arm, clearly growing more uncomfortable with this strange encounter. Her face scrunches, as she sets a hand to her stomach, drawing on my memories of feeling the need to puke during my first meeting. “Cadmus?”

Blackness slams into her, knocking her backward, and my heart catches in my throat. The beast pins her to the ground and tears away her clothes. In seconds, his wide, massive back is flexing and moving in the indisputable motions of sex. The girl screams, and her hands flex and ball at her sides, as if it’s the most excruciating pain she’s ever felt.

The phantom sounds of her screams echo inside my head. Images zip through my mind in rapid succession. Memories of those screams blaring through my head.

Doctor Ericsson pauses it, just as armed Legion soldiers enter the onscreen room. When he turns around, brows winged up, he doesn’t seem particularly disturbed. Not nearly as disgusted as I am, when I think how stupid it was for me to make the same mistake.

“She’s the first and only subject to use their name … aside from you.”

Shock squeezes my throat, strangling the question slamming against my brain. What happened to her?

“It seems to affect them differently, and we’ve not had the luxury of wasting subjects to test each Alpha’s specific trigger.”

“Is she dead?”

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