Page 74 of Invasive Species
To my left branches another corridor, this one pure metal rather than the xylem-plasteek hybrid. It might lead somewhere, or at worst case, allow me to hide out in the Oasis until the Parthiastocks start searching elsewhere. As long as an Apex doesn’t come to start combing through everyone’s minds, I should be fine.
I break out of the river of Selthiastocks heading to be scanned and slip into the corridor. The Parthiastock doesn’t seem to notice, or at least I don’t hear him call for me to halt. Metal rings under my boots as I stride purposefully down it, locked glass doors either side of me. The rooms inside are the experimental suites, suitable for conducting research.
A red light flashes overhead. “Scanning,” a smooth computer voice informs me.
Drok na.
The red light intensifies to crimson, drenching the walls and floors. “Anomaly detected. Alert, alert!”
Through the drench of adrenaline spiking my system, my focus narrows to the few remaining options. Stay put, run, try to fight, or die.
A shout rings out behind me, followed by the unmistakable clatter of claws on metal. “Stop that… thing!” the Parthiastock from the corridor orders.
I turn to face it and, with clinical detachment, I make my choice.
TWENTY-FOUR
ARABELLA
When I wake,my eyes are crusted over like I slept in paint again. The paint smells like licorice mixed with floral scents, nothing familiar. Are those birds singing right in the same room as me? Something's tweeting away.
I sit up, or try to, but my midsection is fucked like I’ve done a million sit ups. Have I been coughing, or throwing up? Maybe I got really stupid drunk at movie night. I wait with trepidation for memories to come flooding back of me dancing on the table to Taylor Swift like the last time I got absolutely hammered.
The last thing I remember is Gara. Gara’s green eyes close to mine. His breath warm against my cheek. Gara… at the party, yes, worried about me. But that's it.
How fucked did I get last night?
“Gara,” I call out, trying my hardest to open my eyes. Hopefully he’ll be close by. My fingers twitch. I want his thick chest right next to me, smelling of eucalyptus and helping me breathe, and I want his serious face in kissing distance. Even though my skin tingles unpleasantly, I know with one rub of his hands he’ll make it all go away. “Gara?”
Light cracks through my eyelids, and I squint against it as I slowly prise them open. My head feels foggy, thick, like I’ve been sleeping for days. Weeks, maybe.
The first thing I notice is the bed I'm lying in—huge, soft, and a day-glow orange. I drag my gaze around the room, blinking against dizziness. The walls and ceiling are pure white with sleek, clean lines curving gracefully across them.
But it’s the glowing that gets me—the walls are shifting, almost like they’re alive, strobing between blues and purples and swirling like the northern lights. It’s soothing.
And alien as fuck.
“What the devil?” My voice cracks, throat dusty and unused. Where are the colors coming from? Is it like LED whatsits or are they… living? I crane my neck to see. The tweeting of the birds is actually beeping from the walls, colors swirling into little peaks and valleys. Wait, is that my heartbeat?
A balcony stands across from me, framed by floor-to-ceiling glass, an inviting burst of greenery set against the red horizon. Maybe I can figure out where I am from there, although I am definitely not in Bristol anymore, Toto.
I manage to swing my legs over the side of the bed, but the moment my feet hit the ground, my knees almost buckle under me. Good grief, it’s like I haven’t used my legs in weeks. My thighs wobble as I stagger upright, gripping the end of the bed for balance. The floor beneath me is warm glass, hundreds of tiny circuits flashing with bright colors zipping by under my feet. I’m walking on a futuristic rainbow.
“Oooh.” I want to get to my hands and knees to see, but each step is a challenge, like my limbs don’t quite remember how to work. What was I doing? Oh, yeah, balcony. And Gara. Where'd he go?
“Gara?” I try again, raising my voice.
Nothing.
I hobble toward the window, keeping my hands in front of me to avoid walking straight into what I assume is a glass wall. I step closer, my hands hitting nothing. There’s no glass. Just a wide, clear view straight out across a desert.
“A desert. Where the fuck is the nearest desert? Africa somewhere, the Sahara… rah rah.” A breeze hits me the moment I step out, fresh and lush, bursting with the scent of greenery that shouldn’t belong in a desert. But here it is. I blink again. All around me, balconies spill over with plants—vines, flowers, little waterfalls cascading down from level to level.
This building is mad. I crane my neck, looking up. The architecture swoops in organic curves, featuring balconies just like mine. Explosion of colors from the plants mark each balcony, reds as fiery as a setting sun, cool lavenders, sunny yellows, and sharp, piercing blues. They're all mismatched, like they grew organically.
Like they were grown.
I glance down, instantly regretting it as vertigo slams into me. We’re super high up. Very super high up. The balconies recede below like an endless illusion. My grip on the railing tightens as the world spins for a second, but I force myself to focus on the flowers, the greenery—anything to stop the ground from dropping out beneath me.
