Instinct Ascending: Rabids Book 2 (24 page)

“Did you see the actual watch close enough to know it was yours without doubt?” Harley pressed.

“No. He just yanked it out and tossed it. I only saw it for a few seconds. He said he’d put in a good word for me and I wouldn’t get fired over it.” The kid was shaking now.

“Did ya ever think maybe he tossed his own watch in the disposal and then swiped yours?”

“No… no, I didn’t.” The kid’s face fell. “I swear I didn’t know anything about this. Please, you have to tell them I was framed.”

“Keep your mouth shut about this and you just might keep your job. Not a word to anyone, no matter how much ya trust ’em. Foundation doesn’t want the people behind these attacks to know they’re onto ’em.”

The guy nodded eagerly. Harley leaned closer. “Foundation’s watchin’. If ya go back on your word, they’ll send me back, and no sob story’s gonna save ya.”

The guard gasped in air as Harley shoved away from him, turned his back on him and swiftly walked away.

“Take better care of your watches from now on, dude. They’re breakable and shiz.” Cajun tossed the watch back to the dude, swiftly moving to catch up with Harley.

“Now we pay the Rat a visit,” Harley growled darkly.

Harley

He sniffed the air once more, searching for the rancid scent of Rat. Following the faint taint in the air, Harley strode through the underground facilities of Foundation, mind hell-bent on one factor: finding the Rat and making him pay out the nose.

“So… Amiel’s got you by the clangers.”

Harley tripped, stumbling a step before catching himself and turning a glare on his brother.

“What?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a bunch — it happens to the best of us.” Cajun smirked, holding his hands up. Harley’s frown grew.

“Shut up.”

“No need to be embarrassed about it, mate. It's a natural part of life; when a man loves a woman, magical things happen to the nether regions of a man...”

“You don’t know anythin’,” Harley growled, continuing to walk.

“I may not be up-to-date on everything happening in ‘the vast void of the love life of Harley Dip Face’, but I know women pretty well. And from what I gather, I’d say she’s got you one step away from a marriage proposal.”

Harley tripped again, which caused a gut-deep chuckle to issue from his know-it-all brother.

“Seriously? Now is not the time to try screwin’ with my head, Caj,” Harley warned angrily, his Hybrid already dangerously close to the surface in his anger over the Rat.

“Fine, fine.” Cajun paused, mischievous grin growing as the silence stretched between them, and Harley knew it was only a matter of time before he opened his dumb mouth again. Seconds later, Cajun did just that. “Did you tell her you love her yet?”

“Holy hell, Caj!” Harley growled.

“Well, she deserves the right to know, don’t you think?” Cajun poked at Harley again, and this time he’d pushed too far. Harley stepped closer, lowered his voice, and took the gloves off.

“She deserves the right to know? For all your claims of knowin’ everythin’ about women, ya sure don’t follow your own advice.  How long are ya plannin’ on keepin’ your secrets from Charleen? And don’t play it off like ya don’t got none, ’cause we both know that ain’t true!”

Cajun’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “We’ve all got our secrets.”

“That’s right. So shut your yap about the crap ya don’t know nothin’ about. I’ve kept mine shut, lettin’ ya work through whatever you got goin’ on, givin’ ya space. But I’ve just about reached my limit.” They glared one another down for a long time, Cajun’s eyes flaring and narrowing, flaring and narrowing as he fought with his other side. Suddenly his gaze shifted to the side, narrowing in on something behind Harley.

“We’ve got ourselves a stickybeak.”

Harley slowly turned, following Cajun’s gaze and colliding with Darvey’s. The Rat’s eyes widened in fear, and he promptly turned and dashed into an area Hybrids were strictly forbidden from entering.

“He’s playing hard to get.” Cajun grinned, eyes filled with dark anticipation.

“That’s what rats do best,” Harley growled. “But what we do best is hunt. And if he thinks a flimsy door is gonna keep me from kickin’ his ass, he’s dumber than I thought.”

Cajun rubbed his hands together. “Oooooh yeah!” His eyes scrunched as he paused. “So... are we really going in there?”

“We’re goin’ in, and he ain’t comin’ out,” Harley promised darkly, slinking toward the doors. Cajun reached out, clasping his shoulder before they slid into the room.

“I’m sorry Harl, about earlier,” Cajun apologized, his voice carrying hundreds of unsaid things. Harley nodded.

“Me, too.” Harley knew Cajun thought the matter was set aside now. That’s how it always worked between them. And it was, for the time being. But some matters were too big to ignore, and Cajun’s secrets were a huge elephant in the room.

Harley pushed the matter to the back of his mind and slipped inside the door, Cajun following swiftly in his wake. They followed Darvey’s scent as it led them down many twists and turns. Finally they came to a large, dark room with a rolling metal door at the far end. Harley took a deep, searching breath and cringed.

“Smells like fart in here.” Cajun read his mind.

“Smells like dead rat,” Harley grumbled, leading the way down the ramp.

“What is this place?” Cajun’s nose was pinched off to guard him from the smell, lending him a nasally tone. Harley shook his head, ignoring his brother’s antics, focusing instead on the task at hand.

“Looks like the garbage collection room,” Harley muttered, walking by particularly stinky bags. The Rat had chosen a good hiding place. The stench masked his. The dim lights suddenly blinked off, and they heard the running scuffle of feet. Harley homed in on the sound, running toward them, his senses quickly adjusting to rely on the ones useful in the dark. The sound of rolling metal met his ears moments before he grabbed hold of the Rat.

“Leaving so soon, Rat?” Harley growled, shaking the man.

“Get off me, you filthy Hybrid!” Darvey spat, kicking and flailing about.

“Too bad ya don’t got your handy stolen watch now, ain’t it?” Harley growled. The man stilled for a moment before his flailing doubled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Harley slammed the man against the still-opening metal door, momentarily stilling his flailing.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I knew ya wouldn’t give up on your obsession with Amiel so easily. But that was a stupid way of tryin’ to get me outta the picture. The Cut planned to kill Amiel, too.”

Darvey fell still as the light from the rolling door moved halfway up the room. Clearly visible now, his eyes gleamed with a crazed sort of hatred.

“Or maybe you already knew that,” Harley mused in disgust.

“You soiled her. Made it so she only sees you,” Darvey sneered, leaning closer. “And if I can’t have her, neither will you.”

Harley’s Hybrid roared to the surface, ready to beat Darvey’s face to a bloody pulp. But someone else beat him to it. The man was suddenly yanked from Harley’s grasp, thudding to the ground before being yanked out from under the door.

Harley crouched down to see Darvey being hauled away screaming, clawing at the ground as a beautiful, curvaceous blonde dragged him into the high brush. The woman glanced over her shoulder, met Harley’s gaze across the distance. A chilling grin stretched her features as she disappeared with Darvey in her grasp. And then his screams stopped.

Harley turned his attention to the other Rabids that now poured into the opening of the building, doing his best to kill them with his bare hands. Hybrids were not allowed to carry weapons within Foundation, leaving them unarmed now. The infected climbed up into the opening, thirty strong. Cajun plowed into the others on the far side of the large door.

“How do we shut this damned door?” Harley shouted across the distance, slamming a Rabid in the face with his knee.

“Hell if I know!” Cajun replied, breaking the neck of a smaller Rabid. Suddenly gunfire sprayed across the distance, ripping through the Rabids that surged around them. Harley and Cajun sat as perfectly still as they could, hoping one of their rescuers wouldn’t take this moment to rid the world of a couple more Hybrids, too. When all fell silent, Harley turned to see a large group of guards at the entrance.

“Toss the bodies out the door while we find the controls,” one guard ordered as the others fanned out. Harley and Cajun immediately began shoving the bodies outside, knowing all too well that the orders had been for them alone. No one else would dare get close enough to touch the infected unless they had to. Once all the bodies were tossed outside, the lights had come on and the door was well on its way to shutting. When the door closed with a deafening clang, the lead guard came forward, gun pointed at Harley and Cajun.

“Move it. The General wants to see you.”

Cajun grinned as they walked back through the corridors, the blood sprayed across his face only making his eyes sparkle brighter.

“I feel like we’re going to see the Queen.” He glanced around. “Or Darth Vader.”

Harley shook his head with a quiet chuckle. Leave it to Cajun to always have a joke, even on the walk to death row.

Harley

The General sat at his desk, staring them down. His hair had grayed significantly since they first met him upon arriving at Foundation, when they were still just as Clean as him. He’d given them the chat, the initiation into Hybrid lifestyle. Now he was clearly wondering if he was going to initiate them to the grave.

“What were y’all doin’ in the secured areas?” The man’s tone was bored to the bone, and carried its own Texan twang.

“We were followin’ a Rat, sir.” Harley replied in just as bored a tone.

“A rat?” The General blinked slowly, waiting for the punch line. “Ya don’t expect me to buy that malarkey, do ya?”

“His name was Darvey, sir. He worked here.”

The General looked to one of his aides, who quickly moved forward and whispered. Which was pointless, because Harley could hear every word of it.

“He is one of the originals, sir. From Genetics: lower level,” the man whispered.

“Ah.” The General stood, pushing away from his chair. “And what were y’all doin’ followin’ a seasoned Foundation employee?”

“He tried to have me killed while on patrol, sir.”

The General’s brow rose as he waited for more details.

“If you please, sir, a guard by the name of R. Morris will be able to substantiate my statement. Darvey tricked the guard into thinkin’ his watch was destroyed in a garbage disposal.” Using the Rat’s real name so many times was giving Harley a sour stomach.

“In truth, he switched his own watch with the guard’s, and then handed the Foundation watch off to a Cutthroat on the street in order to kill me. Today we followed him to investigate, and he opened the doors wide for the Rabids in his effort to escape.”

“These are very serious allegations, Hybrid,” the General growled. Harley stood silently, offering no further explanation. “And where is this Cutthroat now?”

“Dead,” Harley stated firmly.

“By your hands, I suppose?”

“Rabids, actually.”

“And this Darvey, where is he?”

“Rabids, again,” Harley stated simply.

“Of course. And the watch?”

“Crushed.” Harley dumped what was left of the watch from his pockets onto the desk. He’d swung back by the alleyway to ensure loose ends were cleaned up: what was left of Duane and the watch. The General poked at the watch remains with the tip of his pen, entirely unimpressed with the whole situation.

“Rabids again, I suppose.”

“Rock, actually, sir.”

“Naturally.” The General sighed heavily, motioning to his aide again. “Fetch me the guard, R. Morris, so I can close this matter and get their filthy Halfer stink outta my office.” The aide quickly left the room, leaving the General alone with Harley and Cajun.

“Y’all are gonna kill me off with this shit.”

Cajun snorted out a chuckle at the General’s free-speaking statement. Cajun and Harley had a bit of an unorthodox relationship with the General.

He hated them. But it was all for show, as the man had a secret soft spot for them. They had Charleen to thank for that. Her mama, Sia, had been married to the General before the Hybrids came to be. And for much of her pregnancy, the General had thought the baby was his, a perfectly normal child. He was in for all sorts of rude awakenings down the road. Yet he’d still done what he could to protect Charleen as she grew, though it was under gruff and angry appearances. No one had known of his soft spot for her, Charleen included.

Inevitably, Cajun had worked his charm mojo on the General after their arrival, furthering the man’s soft spot for Hybrids; especially once Charleen showed interest in Cajun, and Cajun’s gentle nudging steered Charleen toward a soft spot for the General. Turned out like one big, happy, dysfunctional family. Of course, all of this remained undercover. On the outside, everyone still believed he hated them. It was safer for all of them that way. The man glanced at the door once more.

“Y’all know I’m still gonna have to punish ya. Whether ya killed off a rat in the system, tied up loose ends with that watch, and held off a buncha Rabes till the guards got there or not. People still gonna want a show. Are lashin’s still your preferred method?”

“Yes, sir.” Harley noticed Cajun flinch at his side, seconds before the door opened. The aide entered with a very nervous R. Morris in tow. The General promptly began his interrogation of the boy, and Morris stumbled through his explanation. Wisely, he avoided any mentioning of Harley’s own interrogation of him just a few hours earlier, his eyes nervously eyeing everyone as though he’d be able to tell who was trustable and who wasn’t. When he finally finished, the General sent him out with another order of silence so as not to incite unrest amongst the Hybrids or guards. That boy was going to be a nervous wreck if he had to keep any more secrets. Harley fought the grin from its appearance.

“Fifty lashings each in the courtyard, with immediate patrol to follow.”

Harley swallowed. The General must be feeling some heat, questions toward his leniency of Hybrids, because he’d never issued so many lashings at once before. Steeling himself, Harley spoke, invoking the rights of leadership progression.

“I claim the rights to my First’s punishment as well, sir.” In the hierarchy of Hybrids, there were rules naturally ingrained in their systems. This allowed those in leadership positions to take the brunt of a punishment for another they deemed highly in respect. As Cajun’s lesser, he could ask for the right to carry his brother’s punishment. Foundation had long since accepted this practice, knowing it was a matter of pride amongst Hybrids, and their agreement to allowing it kept the Hybrids from rocking the boat or pushing their boundaries.

Cajun stiffened, but didn’t argue Harley’s claim. They both knew he wouldn’t be able to control his other side under such an attack. He never had been. This wasn’t the first time Harley had taken his brother’s lashings. And it wouldn’t be the last. As much as it rankled, Cajun would have to let Harley take the right.

“Fine. Now get the hell outta my office.” 

Harley and Cajun silently followed the guards from the room, neither speaking a word as they traversed the distance between the General’s office and the courtyard. The courtyard was in the center of Foundation, open upward through all six levels of the building to the sky. It allowed multiple levels from which people could watch the display below, like a small, pristine sort of gladiator arena. The ground was grassy, the walls made of thick, unbreakable glass. And in the center stood a massive, solitary pole so thick Harley couldn’t reach his arms more than halfway around it.

“Inside!” A guard shoved Harley’s shoulder, pushing him toward the only entrance in or out of the boxed punishment area. Harley fought the annoyance at the back of his mind, forcing it to stay clear, unfeeling. Reaching to his waist, he yanked the shirt over his head, tossing it at Cajun, who already held his jacket. Harley had learned his lesson long ago. If he didn’t take the shirt off, they had the tendency to cut it off. He’d lost a lot of good shirts that way.

Without further ado, Harley held his head high and marched into the punishment room. Word had already spread about his lashings, the levels above his head swiftly filling with gawkers. A good portion of them were Hybrids.

It was mandatory that they watch: a reminder of what they would suffer should they step out of line. For some of them, it was more of a reward than a punishment. They were those who enjoyed seeing their leaders beat down; it meant opportunity for their own rising in the levels of hierarchy. It offered them the perfect opportunity to attack while their leaders were injured.  He was going to have to be extra mindful of his surroundings in the next few hours.  He eyed the pole as they clamped his hands to the thick chains that wrapped his arms around the pole and raised them above his head. Make that “careful for the next few days”. Fifty lashings were rough enough; one hundred was unheard of. He’d be lucky to walk out of here under his own power by the end of this.

“Harley Coaver, Second to Hybrid leadership,” the guard loudly intoned, despite the fact that it was being broadcast over a sound system. Harley ignored the words, sinking deep into his consciousness, preparing for the battle ahead.

“You are sentenced to fifty lashings for reckless breaking of Foundation Law. Having invoked the right to leadership progression, you shall also take the First Hybrid’s punishment of another fifty lashings. Meet your fate.” Immediately, the second guard in the room pulled back his arm and sent the whip flying at Harley’s back. The crack was deafening in the small, enclosed room. He winced, locking down the shields on his feelings.

By lash thirty, it stung like a Rabid raking its razor sharp nails down his back over and over, the pain pushing past his best efforts to block it out. Times like this, it really,
really
sucked to have Hybrid skin. Hybrids might be fast at healing, but that skill lent to intense pain reception, as well. That meant lashings were Hell on earth.

By forty, Harley’s limbs shook, his heart raced, and he was grateful for the chains and pole that held him upright. All of his energy went into holding back the screams.

Lash sixty brought an involuntary shout of pain. His eyes drifted across the distance of the room, landing on Charleen as she stood at Cajun’s side. Harley steadfastly avoided his brother’s gaze, unable to meet his eyes. If he did, Cajun would lose it. Charleen’s deceptively comforting grip about his waist proved that. She wasn’t comforting him, she was restraining him.

Seventy brought a growl from his throat, as he battled with his Hybrid’s will to tear out the guards’ throats. Charleen’s face melted away, shifting into the face he longed to see most. Amiel. Amiel’s emerald eyes shone brightly, their depths encouraging him to stay strong. Her smile was like the rising sun within him, the warmth spreading slowly across his body. She gave him strength, she gave him will.

His muscles tensed, rhythmically pulling on the chains over his head in a primal drum beat of impending war. His Hybrid was at the surface, staring at the hallucination of Amiel’s face, its will joined wholly with Harley’s.

Amiel. Amiel. Amiel. Amiel
.

Her name sounded in the recesses of his mind with each tug of the chain. It sounded every time the lash found his skin, ripping it, shredding it to the bone.

Lash eighty saw the hook, which held his chain, bending and snapping off the pole. The guards stopped, and he could feel their stares boring through his ravaged skin.

“Keep going,” the first guard hesitantly ordered the other. The lashes continued. Lash ninety brought a deafening roar of pain and anger from his throat. He arched backward, straining against the chains that still held him captive. The link, already weakened from its ill treatment on the hook, broke. It snapped in two, freeing him from the pole, the chains lashing outward under the pressure. The guards gasped, immediately clinging back against the wall, their fear so great they didn’t even think to press the buttons on their watches. Harley stayed exactly how he was, shoulders hunched, breathing labored and ragged.

“Finish it,” he growled, voice black, unrecognizable. When the guard didn’t move, Harley’s eyes shifted toward him, his teeth bared. The guard flinched back further, skin paling to ghostly levels. “I said, finish it!” He returned his gaze to the distance, no longer sure if it was Charleen he stared at, or another. Whoever it was, Amiel’s face stayed permanently etched before his vision, his constant, his tether to the mortal world.

“Ninety-one. Ninety-two. Ninety-three.” Harley counted each of the last ten lashes, as the first guard seemed to have lost his voice. When the final lash landed, Harley forced his stance to straighten. Slowly, he turned toward the first guard, wrists extended as he blankly awaited the removal of the broken shackles. The chains fell to the ground, and the guards quickly stepped away, as though afraid he would release the demons in his eyes. Instead, he patiently waited in front of the door.

It slid open, and he placed one foot in front of the other, stomping through the silent crowds toward his room. No one approached him; no one dared. They watched in mute fascination as he passed. He didn’t notice the blood that seeped down his pants, soaked the floor in a trail behind him. He didn’t notice the way each Hybrid he passed bowed to him in respect. He merely followed the floating image of Amiel before his gaze.

Entering the room designated as his, he set about the task of woodenly pushing every piece of furniture he owned in front of the door, creating a barricade of sorts. When that was finally complete, Harley collapsed on the bed, belly down.

“Amiel,” he breathed out, her gaze still floating in his vision, her smile still warming him. His hand extended, as though he could touch her skin. It fell limply across the bed as he slipped under the cloak of unconsciousness.