Page 30 of Mistletoe

“I sense you are upset?—”

Hal repeated the slamming. It was very satisfying. Blood dripped from Draven’s nose. Very satisfying.

Hal released his brother, shoving him away.

Draven stumbled back, falling to the cold ground. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose, smearing blood. “Careful, or you might rouse my guards.”

Hal glanced toward the doors. All was quiet.

“Two hundred years,” Hal said, his voice weary and his body exhausted. He sank to his knees. Everyone he knew was long dead. His coworkers. The passengers. The captain. While he never expected to see the friends he left behind on Earth, he took some comfort in knowing they were out there. Now they were gone.

The only one left was his brother, the monster.

“What—” He couldn’t even form the question.

“You must understand the chaos at the time,” Draven said. “We knew the planet had higher levels of radiation than an unaltered human could tolerate, so I altered the humans. Every single soul. What we did not anticipate was the surge of Nexus energy.”

Draven paused, expecting Hal might ask for an explanation.

Hal sighed dramatically. “What is Nexus energy?”

“Electromagnetic radiation. Scans indicated acceptable levels when we landed, but it fluctuates with the seasons. It’s a very interesting phenomenon. Those with a more poetic leaning say?—”

Hal gestured with his hand for Draven to skip this part of the story. “Not interested in poetry.”

“Yes, well, the result was the destruction of all of our electronic equipment.”

“Like an EMP blast?” EMP attacks had been common, but their scale had been limited. One or two city blocks, maybe a sector at the most. Hal had a memory of hanging blast-blocking curtains in his apartment, which offered very little real protection but made him feel better.

“Yes, but planetwide. Anything requiring a circuit was fried. The terraformers only completed a fraction of their work before they broke. Much of this planet is inhospitable. In addition to the loss of our equipment, we lost nearly all our data. Histories. Medical texts. Blueprints. The paper books that people brought were sentimental, not practical.”

“That explains the regression in technology.”

“Then there were mutations,” Draven said. “In retrospect, I could feel the change coming in the days prior. I was quick to anger. Hungry, but nothing would satisfy. On that first summer equinox, some people changed into beasts and slaughtered their families. The next day, they shifted back, only to find themselves covered in the blood of their loved ones.”

All of this was new information to Hal. “You’ve had two centuries to tell me this. As interesting as it is, I don’t care. I’m more concerned about my specific situation.”

Draven sighed, lifting his eyes to the ceiling as if asking for patience. “This is relevant. Listen. Some people changed and shifted back. For some, the change was permanent, like myself. You were still in the cryo chamber. Your metamorphosis was peculiar. Unstable. By the time I found you, your body was changing before my eyes. Still growing. Shifting. Mentally, you were absent.”

“Absent,” Hal repeated.

“You…couldn’t be reasoned with. You fought everything. Everyone. I had to sedate you for your safety.” Draven sighed. “And that’s how I kept you. Sedated. Drugged. I went to the mountains because I heard the military had built a bunker underground. With the surviving equipment, I worked on a cure for you.”

“You took a military base? By yourself?” That seemed improbable.

“You helped. Two monsters against a weakened force. Do you remember?”

Hal did not. It was unsettling to think he had contributed to his own torment and had no recollection.

“When I had access to a functioning cryo chamber, I?—”

“Locked me away in it,” Hal interrupted.Thathe remembered.

“Preserved you while I did research. Studied the effects of the mutation. Tried to find others.”

“And did you find others?”

“You are unique. There were other oddities but nothing like you. I,” Draven raised his cuffed hands and touched his chest, “was not unique. Vampires were an exceptionally common mutation, but our life spans were tragically short.”

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