Chapter 6:
The Safe Zone
The answering horn call didn't just echo through the safe house. It slithered through the cracks in the walls, vibrating in my teeth, in the fillings I'd gotten as a kid. My vision blurred for a second as the sound waves hit me, and I had to press my tongue hard against the roof of my mouth to stop myself from gagging. Nia's fingers were vise-tight around my forearm, her ragged nails breaking skin. I could feel her pulse thundering through her fingertips, a rapid-fire staccato that matched the sudden jackhammer rhythm of my own heart.
"They're hunting," she breathed, her voice barely audible over the ringing in my ears.
The words sent an electric jolt down my spine. I'd heard that tone before. In the lab, when test subjects started showing Stage Two symptoms. That particular blend of terror and resignation that meant death wasn't just possible, it was already in the room with you.
Sarin, the name clicked in my memory when one of the others muttered it, didn't so much as blink at the sound. The lines around his dark eyes deepened as he scanned the room, his gaze lingering on each shadowed corner like he could see things the rest of us couldn't. When he turned toward us, the lantern light caught the silvery web of scars radiating from his barcode, turning them into grotesque filigree.
"You're the one from the lab." His voice was rougher up close, gravel grinding against rusted metal. It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.
I swallowed hard, tasting bile. My throat clicked dryly. "Yeah."
The single syllable hung between us, swollen with everything I wasn't saying.
Yeah, I was from the lab.
Yeah, I'd seen what they did there.
Yeah, I'd walked past the containment cells every damn day pretending not to hear the screams.
Sarin's nostrils flared as he exhaled, the sound whistling slightly through what looked like a badly healed break in his nose.
"And you're immune."
Not a question either.
I nodded, my neck muscles so tight the motion sent sharp needles of pain radiating up into my skull. The movement dislodged a strand of hair from my greasy ponytail, and it stuck to the sweat on my temple. I didn't bother brushing it away.
Sarin studied me for three heartbeats longer than was comfortable, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then he jerked his head toward the back of the room. "Then we need to talk."
The heavy tarp behind him fluttered as someone passed through it, revealing a glimpse of darkness beyond. It smelled different back there. Less like unwashed bodies and more like old motor oil and something acrid I couldn't name. Chemical, almost medicinal.
Nia's grip on my arm tightened briefly before she let go.
"I'm coming with," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. There was something new in her tone now. Not quite protective, but proprietary. Like I was a puzzle piece she'd fought too hard to obtain to let out of her sight.
The staircase groaned under our combined weight, each step flexing ominously. The wood felt spongy, rotten in places, and I caught myself holding my breath as we descended into the garage bay below.
The space hit me like a physical blow. Where upstairs had been all makeshift survival, this was something else entirely. The cots lining the walls were military-neat, blankets folded with hospital corners. The lanterns weren't just hung. They were strategically placed to eliminate shadows. And the laptop on the workbench, despite its cracked screen, hummed with the quiet confidence of serious hardware.
This wasn't just a hideout. This was a command center.
Sarin motioned me toward a crate near the laptop. The wood was rough under my thighs, splinters catching on my jeans as I sat. Nia positioned herself behind me like a sentry, her crossed arms brushing my shoulder blades. I could feel the tension radiating off her in waves.
"You've seen the barcodes." Sarin yanked his shirt up without preamble, revealing a torso mapped with scars and burns. His marking wasn't like ours. Where mine was crisp black ink, his was a ruin of melted flesh and distorted symbols. Some of the numbers were still barely legible through the scar tissue, but the letters... the letters had been deliberately obliterated.
"HelixMed's tracking system," he continued, letting the fabric fall back into place. "Every 'immune' gets one." He spat the word like it was a joke. "Lets them monitor us, herd us, control us. Like fucking livestock."
I frowned, my fingers automatically going to my own barcode through my shirt. The raised skin burned under my touch. "But mine doesn't—"
"Yours is different." Sarin cut me off with a slash of his hand through the air. The laptop screen flickered to life at his touch, casting his face in an eerie blue glow. My employee ID photo stared back at me, surrounded by columns of data that might as well have been hieroglyphs for all I understood them.
"Because you're not just immune." He tapped a key, and the screen changed to display a series of molecular structures that made my vision swim. "You're clean."
The word landed like a grenade in the quiet room. A sharp inhale from someone in the shadows. The creak of a cot as someone shifted position. The drip of water from a leaking pipe suddenly deafening.
Nia went very still behind me.
"That's why Rina sent me to find her," she murmured, more to herself than to the room.
Sarin nodded once, sharp.
"And that's why HelixMed wants you back." His eyes locked onto mine. "You're not just a subject to them, Catara. You're the control group."
The cold that spread through my gut had nothing to do with the damp basement air. It was the kind of cold that started in your marrow and worked its way out, turning your blood to slush in your veins.
The Null members emerged from the shadows like ghosts materializing, a dozen pairs of eyes reflecting the laptop's glow. Their expressions ran the gamut from open suspicion to something far more dangerous: hope.
The wiry woman who stepped forward moved like a knife fight waiting to happen. Her shaved head gleamed under the lantern light, the scar running from temple to chin pulling her mouth into a permanent sneer.
"How do we know she's not a trap?" she demanded, her voice rasping like sandpaper on rust. "HelixMed plants spies. They've done it before."
I opened my mouth to protest, but Sarin was already moving. From beneath the workbench he produced a handheld scanner. The industrial kind we'd used in the lab to track specimen vials. The sight of it sent an involuntary shudder through me.
"We check," he said simply.
Nia went rigid beside me.
"You scan us?" Her voice had gone low and dangerous.
Sarin didn't flinch.
"Standard procedure. We need to know if they've tagged you with anything else." His thumb hovered over the power button. "Trackers. Kill switches."
The words landed like punches. Kill switches. The phrase conjured images of explosive implants, of remote-activated toxins. Of bodies dropping mid-sentence when someone in a clean lab coat pressed a button.
Nia's jaw worked silently for a moment before she gave a sharp nod. "Fine."
The scanner beeped as it passed over her barcode, the green light flashing almost immediately. When it was my turn, the machine hesitated. The pause stretched, the silence thickening, until finally, blessedly, it beeped.
"She's clean," Sarin announced, but the tension in the room didn't dissipate. If anything, it thickened, settling over us like a shroud.
***
The food they gave us tasted like ashes. The beans were cold and congealed, the crackers so stale they practically disintegrated on my tongue. The water left a metallic aftertaste that made me wonder if we were drinking from old pipes or something more sinister.
Nia ate like someone might snatch the can away at any moment, her eyes darting constantly to the exits. I forced myself to swallow a few mouthfuls, my stomach rebelling at each one.
"They don't trust us," I muttered under my breath, watching as a pair of Null members exchanged quiet words near the stairs.
Nia snorted, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"They'd be idiots if they did." She jerked her chin toward a young man in the corner methodically cleaning what looked like a homemade grenade. "That one? His entire family turned Stage Three in front of him. He had to put them down himself."
The cracker in my hand crumbled to dust between my fingers.
"How long have they been here?" I asked, watching as Sarin consulted with a woman who was missing two fingers on her left hand.
"Since the first wave." Nia licked the last of the bean juice from her fingers. "Sarin used to work for HelixMed. Lab tech, not management. Saw what they were really doing, ran before they could tag him with the full barcode." She nodded toward his chest. "That's why his is different. He burned part of it off with battery acid."
My stomach lurched at the image. The pain must have been unimaginable. The smell alone...
Sarin materialized beside us as silently as smoke.
"You're staying the night," he said, his arms crossed over his chest. The stance pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders, revealing the outline of something bulky tucked into his waistband at the small of his back. "But tomorrow, we move."
"Move where?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded in the cavernous space.
"Somewhere safer." His gaze flicked upward, as if he could see through concrete and wood to the blood-red sky beyond. "They're getting closer."
As if on cue, another horn sounded in the distance. Closer this time. Hungrier. The note vibrated through my bones, settling in my molars like a bad toothache.
Nia's hands curled into fists, her ragged nails leaving fresh crescents in her palms. I watched as a bead of blood welled up and dripped onto the concrete floor, black in the dim light.
Sarin exhaled through his nose, the sound weary beyond measure. "Get some sleep. If you're still here in the morning, we'll talk about what comes next."
Then he was gone, melting back into the shadows like he'd never been there at all.
I turned to Nia, my voice barely above a whisper. "Do we trust him?"
She didn't answer right away. Outside, something heavy dragged across the pavement. Something with weight. Something that didn't walk so much as... shuffle.
Finally, Nia leaned in so close her lips brushed my ear. Her breath was warm and smelled like stale crackers and fear. "We don't have a choice."
In the darkness beyond the safe house walls, something scratched at the bricks. Not random. Not animal.
Patterned.
Deliberate.
We didn't sleep.