PROLOGUE // CALYX

Nox stands rooted to the spot, staring at the lights above the cargo bay door, waiting for them to turn on at any moment; helmet clutched in his gloved hands as if the thing might bite him if not properly restrained. I smile at his anxiousness, remembering my own when I first stood in his shoes. We’re all afraid the first time. It’s the unknown that’s terrifying. All our lives we’ve been told to fear the outside world, and a smart man listens to what he’s told.

“Nervous?” I ask him. I feel slightly strange as the one offering consolation when I was in his position not all that long ago. In truth, he’s probably only a few years younger than I was when I had been recruited. He doesn’t see me as I step up beside him, gaze too fixed on the alarm. I only feel half guilty for scaring him.

“No,” he says, doing his best to restrain the quaver in his voice. It’s a valiant attempt, but his body betrays him. Even beneath the bulk of the exosuit, I can see him shaking. I offer him a grin if only to pacify his anxiety. What I get in return is something awkwardly caught between a smile and a swallow.

“Of course, he’s nervous,” Hyder says from somewhere behind us. He has an uncanny ability to place himself into conversations he was never meant to be a part of. “Look at him,” he says, the disdain clear in his voice. “Boy’s gonna piss himself.” He bites down on the strap of his glove, assisting himself as he cinches it at the wrist.

“If I remember correctly, you shat yourself on your first evac,” Cerque calls from where he stands running diagnostics on his equipment, voice mirthful and louder than the distance requires. He, too, can insert himself where he’s not concerned, but somehow manages to do it with a little more charm. Looking up at Nox and I, he continues the story with little prompting. “Waited until we were already outside the city limits. There was no turning back. Had to fester in it all damn day.” Cerque lets out a laugh that seems to fill the entire holding area. “Either of you ever smelled sun-baked shit patties?” Neither of us answers, but Cerque doesn’t wait for that. “Not a scent I recommend.” Cerque looks directly at Hyder, who has grown silent in his anger. “It’s always the ones that wanna talk shit that forget where it is they came from,” Cerque says with a grand finality. “Ain’t that right, Hyder?” He gives the other man a playful wink, but Hyder’s gaze aims to kill.

The three of us break into a laugh, and I can tell it relieves a little bit of Nox’s tension. Hyder is the only one who doesn’t partake in the fun. He never seems to when it’s at his expense.

Our laughter doesn’t last long, though. Jedrek, our unit leader, cuts through it like a knife as he enters the cargo bay from the airlock entrance. The thick, plate glass doors hiss open and shut around him. He looks up at the lot of us, eyes narrowing at the lingering expressions on our faces. “Better have been a good joke,” he says.

“Oh, it was,” Cerque replies, head bent into a computer screen and a grin on his face.

“I know we can always count on you to make an ass of yourself,” Jedrek says, adjusting one of the straps on his suit. The unit leader approaches Nox and I, his gaze shifting between us. “You must be the new recruit.”

“Yes, sir,” Nox says. I can tell he’s unsure as to whether or not he should perform some sort of salute. That or he’s unsure of his footing.

“You have a name, lad?”

“Nox, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“That’s enough with the sir shit. I may be old, but I’m not your father,” Jedrek says and Nox gives a nervous laugh. Of the five of us, Jedrek has the most experience outside the city limits. Old isn’t a word I’d use to describe him, but he’s seen some things. “Seems you two’ve already been acquainted,” Jedrek continues. He turns to me. “Calyx, show Nox here how to secure the rigging on the carts.”

“Will do,” I say.

“Make it quick. We’re prepping to leave in thirty.”

“Understood.” I turn to Nox, taking note of the helmet that is still in his hands. “You can leave that here.” He sets his helmet down next to mine on one of the workbenches before following me to the loading area.

We walk between two long rows of carts. They’re rectangular in shape, lidless, and made of three inches of carbometaline alloy. Thick and heavy. Durable enough to carry some of the city’s more robust and toxic waste.

“Your job is to secure the carts,” I say, stepping up to one of the oversized bins and gripping the edge with a free hand, as if to signify that these are, indeed, the carts in question. “Make sure they’re linked. Otherwise, once we start moving them out of here, the ones that aren’t secured won’t be going anywhere. Jedrek won’t be happy if this becomes a two-trip mission. Got it?”

“Got it,” Nox says with a firm nod of understanding.

“Good. The sooner you pick things up, the easier this job is going to be for all of us.” I walk around to the end of the first bin to stand opposite the locking mechanism. “At the rear of each cart is a latch like this,” I say, lifting away the metal latch from its upward position. “Each cart interlocks with the next like so.” I flip the latch into the receiving port of the opposite cart, which drops smoothly into place.

“Easy enough,” Nox says.

“Right. But the most important thing is to make sure you turn the locks on.” I gesture to a small button on the conjoined unit and jam it with my fingertip until it glows a translucent green beneath my touch. Whatever slack there was between the latch and the receiving port is instantaneously removed as a current travels through the metal.

“They’re electromagnetic,” Nox says, catching on.

“Exactly. And unless the magnets are activated, the latch system is virtually useless… Won’t do us any good.” I look at the lock on the cart and then back to Nox. “Think you can handle this?”

“I think so.”

“As Jedrek will tell you, ‘I need you to know so. Thinking is indecision and indecision can get you killed.’”

I can see the tension rise back into Nox’s throat, swelling into that familiar lump. “I can handle it,” he says with what must be a dry swallow.

“Good. You handle all the carts on this track and I’ll take the next.” I leave Nox where he stands, walking over to the second line of cargo bins to begin activating each of their locks.

“Fifteen minutes on the clock, lads,” Jedrek calls aloud, indicating how much longer we have to wrap up inside the cargo bay. It takes me no more than five minutes to make it down the line of carts, gripping and shaking each lock to make sure that every one is secured. When I turn back to find Nox, I see Hyder has managed to get him alone.

“How’s it going over here?” I ask, taking it upon myself to interrupt what seems like a one-sided conversation. Hyder looks up at me with his yellow eyes. They’re the color of unfiltered urine and equally as unpleasant. He’s boxed Nox in, one hand up on the edge of a bin and the other wrapped around one of the activated locks. An intimidation tactic. Hyder’s the one who, in a group of men, makes a point to mark his territory.

“I was just checking on our new recruit. Making sure he’s doing his job,” Hyder says, lips peeling back into a greasy smile. His teeth make me uncomfortable, if only because they seem too small and square to fit his head.

“This lock system isn’t exactly neuroscience, but I don’t see why you need to worry about that, Hyder. You should be worrying about taking care of your own shit.” I offer just enough extra emphasis on that last word to remind him of Cerque’s little story.

Hyder’s eyes narrow, and I know he’s thinking up a thousand ways of how he could get his hands on me. “No, it’s not. But remember, Calyx… If the boy fucks up, it’s on you.”

As if a result of the mounting tension, the alarm above the cargo bay door blares loud enough to fill the room. The three of us look up and turn at the sudden, unexpected sound. I look back to Nox, and the both of us watch Hyder walk away.

 “Don’t let him intimidate you,” I say, struggling to be heard above the alarm. “He tried to do the same to me on my first day. Initiation, that’s all it is. Do as your told and you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” he says, and I nod my response.

“Now’s the time to put that helmet on,” I say, and the pair of us run back to where we had set our helmets on the workbench.

Picking it up, I lower the thing over my face and lock it into the neck of the suit. The comm system boots up, giving a whoosh of sound as it receives power from the internal battery.

“All right, lads,” Jedrek says, his voice filling the cramped space surrounding my head in high definition. It’s almost as if he’s in the helmet with me. One by one there’s the sound of each of us coming online. “Let’s get a role call—Cerque?”

“Live.”

“Hyder?”

“Live.”

“Calyx?”

“Live.”

“Nox?” I look at the new recruit as I hear his name called. He’s struggling with aligning the helmet into the threading of his exosuit. After a couple attempts, he manages to get the thing on correctly. There’s a brief moment of silence, long enough for Jedrek to have to call Nox’s name a second time.

“Live,” he says. “I’m live.”

“Now’s the time to do any last minute checks on your suits. If you’re good, then find your station.”

We rank up on Jedrek’s order, two lines of two with the unit leader at the fore. The two rows of carts flank us at either side. A thunderous boom echoes through the receiving bay as the massive outer doors begin to sink back into the walls. A sliver of golden light grows within the widening crevasse, the ground rumbling beneath our feet from the heft of the large machinery. It’s not long before the two halves of the gate retract fully into the walls with a resonant shudder, laying bare a vast stretch of sun-soaked wasteland. Wind swirls into the cargo bay, wild and untamed, pelting our suits and visors with dust and grit.

Nox’s breathing intensifies with each new sound, raking in and out, filling the commlink that connects each of helmets.

“You gonna be okay, kid?” Cerque calls over the comm system.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m—I’m fine.”

A fervent buzzing echoes through the bay as the two lines—six cars each—of refuse rock to life around us, skittering along a tracked path toward the open expanse.

“Okay, let’s go,” Jedrek calls over the commlink.

We move, the five of us between the two rows of large metal carts, until we’re clear of the receiving bay. Outside, the sun is blinding. I’m forced to squint against the light, but I fight it and try to look up at the blazing ball of fire in the sky. It’s a rare sight, even for those of us that work outside the city. I can count on both hands the number of times I’ve seen the sun and still have some fingers to spare. When I look away my vision is marred with spots, like burn marks on a photograph.

“Sun visors on today, lads, if you ever want to be able to look at your woman again.” Jedrek calls over the comm, receiving a few laughs in return. As if in tandem, each of us activates the sun shield on our helmets, the clear glass of our visors tinting to lessen the strength of the light.

“Hyder, might be worth leaving yours off. Cerissa might be easier to come home to if you forgot what she looks like.” Cerque. Always one with a quick remark, especially at Hyder’s expense. There’s another round of laughs. Again, the sound is short a voice. I can feel him seethe in his silence.

Most of us turn back to look at the great domed city of Enoch. For all of us, it’s the only home we’ve ever known. Nox, whose stationed opposite me, cranes his head to take in the city’s full height.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” I say, taking in the view of the high walls. Sunlight gleams off the dark, matte metal, catching in the small grooves and rivets that run vertically along the surface. The force field hovers over the city like a behemoth, red phantom fading into the clear blue sky.

“Fucking incredible.”

“Better watch where you’re walking, kid, before you trip,” Cerque says, cutting through the moment with an air of indifference.

“The gate!” Nox calls as we both watch the cargo bay doors grind shut.

“Protocol,” I say, unenthused. It’s a typical, preventative practice overseen by Border Patrol to keep the people of Enoch safe from the virus and whatever else might lurk outside the city walls. As practical as the idea may be, it is one I always find to be unnerving.

“But they open them again, right?”

There’s a swollen silence that hangs amidst the five of us, everyone thinking the same thing. Jedrek once admitted to me that of the five thousand and forty-seven times he’s stepped out into the waste, he always wonders when the day will come that those doors never reopen. He may not know this, but ever since then, the same knot of unease grows inside my stomach. Our unit leader isn’t afraid of much, but what makes him uncomfortable terrifies the average man.

As if to defuse my thoughts of being stranded, the refuse carts around us clatter to a stop, having reached the end of their line. Everything from here on will have to be done with manual power.

“Calyx, Nox.” I hear Jedrek call my name over the commlink. The new recruit and I turn in his direction. Aside from height, if it weren’t for knowing everyone’s individual body language, it would be hard to tell who’s who in these suits. “Help me get these carts off their rigs and down to the compactor. Cerque, Hyder. You’re on the incinerator.”

“Sounds like it’s you and me again, ugly,” Cerque says, doing little to hide his annoyance. With the tinting on our visors it’s difficult to see Cerque’s face, though I can imagine that crooked, playboy smile. No one likes working with Hyder. Jedrek deals with him best, but I have a feeling that’s because he tries to lead by example and not out of a particular love for the man. “One of these days you’ve got to break in these little warts.” Cerque gestures to Nox and I, waggling two gloved fingers at us. “Let ‘em know what it’s like to play with fire.”

“One day I will, but I need lads that can muscle these carts, and from what I can tell, the strongest muscle on you is your jaw.” Jedrek says in response. “So when I’ve got a good use for your mouth, you’ll be the man for the job.” There’s a moment of quiet snickering from the rest of us. Except for Hyder. He has a strange gauge of emotion. What you would think might entertain him doesn’t, and vice versa. Hyder’s unpredictable. For that reason alone I don’t trust him.

“Girlfriend slacking on her responsibilities, Jed?” Cerque asks, always one to have the last comment. Silent tension fills the commlink as Jedrek’s response could go either way.

“Don’t you worry, Cerque, your mother takes good care of me.”

Laughter crackles over the radio. Even Cerque is able to amiably admit defeat.

“Alright. That’s enough.” Jedrek says, restoring order. “We’ve got a job to do, and if any of you shits make this harder than it needs to be, I’ll have your ass for it.”

Without further word, Cerque and Hyder split away from us, walking down a small decline in the dusty landscape to the waste compactor. It’s a squat thing, built specifically for its purpose. Meant to crush even the thickest of metals before spitting it out into a wide pit. Once everything has been reduced in size, we incinerate it. I’ve heard most of the other precincts have other, more modern methods of handling their waste, but in Two, we prefer to do things the old way. My father would argue it creates more job opportunity—that young men these days don’t know what it’s like to work for a paycheck. He was a man of labor, having worked his whole life in the sewer system beneath the city, installing and repairing the network of pipes. That is until one of those pipes burst and he, along with two of his crew, drowned.

Jedrek unlatches the first cart from the rig, the rusted lever whining in protest as he pulls it toward him. The cart releases, and Nox and I saddle up to the hunk of metal to slide it off the tracks into the dirt. It lands with a thud, losing kilter on a bit od debris we failed to clear. Loose bits of plastic and circuitry fall out, but we’re able to save the cart before it topples over all together.

“Woah, woah!” Jedrek’s voice crackles over the commlink. “Fucking hell, lads! Get your heads out of your asses and pay attention to what you’re doing!” He’s not typically quick to anger, but if you do anything to make him spend more time outside the city than is desired, he’ll cuss your mother for it.

Nox and I apologize and right the tilted cart. I sweep my foot against the dirt to clear away whatever caused the jam. My boot hits something hollow, and I look down to see half the remains of a yellowed, cracked skull. One of the eye sockets is broken and the lower jaw is missing.

“Eden’s tits,” Nox says, uttering the first swear I’ve heard him speak all day. His voice echoes in through my helmet as he watches me brush the fragmented skull aside. “Is that—?”

“Human. Yeah.”

“Mother’s Mercy.”

“Not everyone made it through that gate, lads,” Jedrek says, suddenly appearing beside us. He, too, has taken notice of the skull. Based on his reaction, I can tell it’s not the first he’s come across. Nor possibly the tenth. “Be thankful you’re one of the ones who survived. Now back to work.”

As we pick up the scraps that fell and toss them back into the cart, I imagine the thousands of people who flocked to Enoch’s gate seeking salvation. What must they have thought when those doors didn’t open? When they were told there was no room for them. History tells us that the new population of Enoch had to fight back in order to preserve everything they had built. The Battle of Eden’s End they call it, when mankind hinged on a razor’s edge of extinction, threatened by the Cain virus and nearly exacted by man himself. It’s also known to be the definitive moment that the Corvants, Enoch’s law enforcement, were born. The bloodbath was the most ever spilled in recorded history. My skin prickles in the suit, my sweat running cold. How many more remains lay beneath our feet?

“First day on the job?” Cerque calls over the commlink, his voice wafting away my thoughts. “What’s taking so damn long?”

Nox and I push the first cart down the slope toward the compactor where Hyder and Cerque stand beside the loading port to the machine.

“Piss off,” I say, but my words are swallowed by the sound of the compactor as he and Hyder begin to feed the machine, tossing in the waste handfuls at a time. Leaving the first cart behind, Nox and I go to retrieve the others. By the time we return to the tracks, Jedrek has unlatched the most of them. One by one, we do the same. Pushing the carts off their rails and guide them down through the dirt to the compactor for unloading.

It’s laboring work, and with the sun beating down in earnest, my suit is damp with sweat. The cooling system in the suit does its best to moderate the temperature, but no matter how vigorously the exhaust fans try to regulate it, there’s minimal reprieve from the heat.

“Calyx,” Jedrek says, calling me over the commlink. “Come help me with this last one.” Unlinking the last cart from its rig, Jedrek and I throw both our weight against the metal, finally garnering enough force to send it down the line. Nox receives it, and I maintain my position at the rear to assist the cart off the tracks. Heavier than the rest, it needs little assistance down the dirt slope leading to the compactor.

“Eden’s tits!” Cerque calls, receiving the cart as gravity pulls it down toward him. “This fucker’s heavy! What’s in this thing?” He begins to fish through the scrap, pulling out sections of what looks like medical tubing and other parts I’ve never seen before. “What the…”

He holds up what looks like a metal spinal column, complete with reinforced vertebrae. Small wires protrude from the sides where it appears they once connected to something before being severed by a blade.

“Wait. Is that blood?” I say, narrowing my eyes as I stare at the piece in Cerque’s hands, trying to make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.

“My old man’s always going on about how we don’t know about half the shit the Archon and his Labcoats are up to,” Cerque says, rotating the spine-like contraption in his hand, giving it no more regard than if it was a holy relic. “Cooked up all these conspiracies…”

“He reads too much,” I say, disregarding the idea.

“What are you pricks doing down there?” Jedrek calls over the commlink. He sounds as though he’s standing just beside us despite being a hundred feet away at the top of the hill; only privy to our conversation and not the objects that are the subject of it.

Reaching into the cart, I look to see what else there is to find and retrieve a long, thin needle. Something I imagine might be used to sedate a large animal.

“Fuck’s sake, that’s big,” Nox says, coming down the slope and wresting one of the empty bins out of the way to make way for a cart that has yet to be unloaded.

“Betcha never heard those words, have you, Hyder?” Cerque snatches the needle from my hands with an obnoxious laugh. He makes a lewd gesture before tossing both pieces noisily back into bin, the metal clattering against each other.

“Shut your hole, Cerque, and get back to work or I’m dockin’ twenty cogs from your day’s pay.” Jedrek appears at the crest of the hill, the sun casting him in silhouette so we can only see the outline of his bodysuit. Vivid yellow glows around his form, giving the impression there’s a man-shaped burn in the horizon.

Hyder says nothing, but I know he’s pissed. Two years he and Cerque have shared this shift and I doubt one single day of it has seen any admiration, mutual or otherwise. The two of them are natural opposites, like the same end of a magnet.

“Let’s go, lads. Get a move on bringing those carts back up.”

“Yes, sir,” Nox replies and we step into action, hauling the empty carts back up towards the tracks.

It only takes one of us per cart now that they’ve been unloaded, the wheels moving more smoothly through the dusty soil. Nox is first up the hill, but I’m quick behind him, the tread of my boots clawing at the dirt for traction. We almost collide at the top as Nox draws up short. I manage to divert my cart from knocking his over, but the sudden movement causes the heavy metal bin to glide into a divot, the front right wheel getting stuck.

“Damnit, Nox. What the hell are you doing?” I call after him, but the kid is staring off into the distance, leaving his cart unmanned.

“Look,” he says, voice cutting through a rash of static on the commlink. I follow his gaze into the distance. Off beyond the walls of the city is the faint image of a massive waterfall carving its way through a mountain range. Water cascades majestically into a large basin, the end of which flows right into Enoch. It’s an impressive sight, and one that neither of us has seen before.

“Good day for it,” Jedrek says, stepping up beside us to take in the view himself. “Usually don’t get to see the falls unless the sun’s out.” He turns, looking up at the sun as if to double-check that it’s still there.

“That’s the Protea? It’s beautiful,” I say, awestruck by how delicate the water seems from so far away though I know its millions of gallons that ebb downstream. “All of that feeds the city?”

“Every last drop. It’s what you drink and piss in and it’s what keeps that roof over your head.” Jedrek points up to the force field that covers the entire city, arcing so high and far that it fills the sky like an endless, red rainbow. Staring at it now, I can’t tell if it fades off into the distance or if my eyes are sensitive to the magnetic light. “Take it in, lads. May be the last time you see her for a while.” He claps each of us on a suited shoulder before steering Nox’s cart back toward the docking point.

After all of the carts from the first line are returned to the rig and reattached, we begin the unloading process on the second. Once again, it takes both Nox and I to manhandle the carts down to the compactor. Cerque and Hyder alternate turns feeding the hungry machine. Large scraps of metal are pulverized beneath the force of the plate and hydraulic cylinders. Items that were once several feet in length are reduced to six times their original size, but double their density. It’s a fierce thing to watch how steel can appear no more durable than a piece of paper.

Setting the cart aside, we make the ascent back up the hill for the next. We’ve only just turned when I hear Jedrek yell from above.

“Move! Get out of the way!” He calls over the comm system. Before I can make heads or tails of what’s happening, I see one of the metal bins careening down the dirt slope toward me. I react out of instinct and shove Nox to the side. My bravery is my own stupidity. As the cart speeds toward us, it catches on the uneven ground. Lurching forward, it tumbles end over end, gaining speed as it falls, and launching bits of scrap into the air like projectiles.

I don’t notice the force of the cart when it hits me. All I register is how limp I feel, like a doll that is carelessly tossed aside—as if knowing I have limbs and understanding they are connected to my body are mutually exclusive. Something catches my left arm, a sliver of metal maybe. I’m too disoriented to know. It all happens so quickly I don’t feel any pain. Collapsing onto the dirt in a cloud of dust, I find myself thrown onto my back. A ringing fills my ears as I stare up at a cracked, blue sky and a fragmented, haloed sun. It winks and shifts like a kaleidoscope as I try to move.

An alarm blares, assaulting my ears with its sharp, high-pitched sound. The display on the lower left of my visor flares red, indicating a breach in the exosuit. I begin to panic, terrified the helmet could crack any second and expose me to the open, infected air. Voices flood the comm system in my helmet, though I can’t hear what they’re saying. My own breathing, heavy and labored, eclipses every other sound.

Someone appears above me, bending into the light so they are cast in shadow. He stands there, staring down at me through my visor. Garbled noises fight their way through my numbed senses, as if someone were trying to speak to me underwater. Slowly, the sounds form into coherent word. My name.

“Calyx! … Calyx!”

It’s Cerque.

“Can you hear me! Calyx!”

Cognition comes back to me all at once, as though I’ve been temporarily removed from my body and then forcefully returned. Sweat drenches my clothes beneath the suit to the point that I feel I’ve been submerged in water. There’s a warm, tingling sensation in my right arm, and when I turn to discover why, I nearly blackout. Three quarters of my arm has been severed. Blood pours from the open wound in my exosuit, staining the dirt and even darker shade of brown.

“Mother’s Mercy…” Jedrek appears beside Cerque. The two men stare down at me in quiet terror. Their lack of composure frightens me, building an overwhelming sense of nausea. Bile bites at the back of my throat, and I try to quell the sensation by breathing deeply. “Calyx, I need you to respond if you hear me, lad. A thumbs up, anything.” I give a weak thumbs up with my left hand though Jedrek seems not to notice. “Fucking hell, he’s hemorrhaging! …Hyder, Nox. Get over here now!”

Two more shadows come into view. Nox and Hyder.

“Lift him up, lift him up! Let’s go! Get him into one of the empty bins! We’ve got to get him to ReGen,” Jedrek says.

Cerque and Jedrek stoop to each take one of my remaining limbs. Nox remains motionless, staring at me like I’m something he should be wary of touching.

“Nox, we need your help,” Jedrek says with more composure than I’m used to. Cerque is far less accommodating.

“Fucking today, Nox, let’s go! Get his other leg!”

The three of them crowd around me and suddenly I become weightless as I’m hefted into one of the empty cargo containers. For several minutes all I see is the bulky shapes of my teammates and the empty, clear sky as I’m carted back up the hill. Occasionally I glance at my arm, hoping that what I saw earlier was some sleight of the imagination. It wasn’t. What I see instead is my own blood pumping out of my body and into the dusty bottom of the cart beside me.

Turning my attention away, I notice the long dark spot that has appeared along my left leg. At some point I must have pissed myself, but I don’t feel remotely affected by it. The only thought that crosses my mind is how I can no longer harass Hyder for shitting his pants.

“Border Security, this is unit leader Jedrek of Second Precinct Refuse Disposal requesting clearance for entry, do you copy?” Jedrek calls over the commlink, his voice fighting through bouts of static. “I repeat, this is unit leader Jedrek of the Second Precinct Refuse Disp—”

“We copy,” a woman’s voice slices through the disturbance. “What is the nature of your request? Your unit was not due back for another two hours.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Jedrek says at her inquiry. We hear him, though she is unable. “One of our unit has been badly wounded. ReGen assistance is needed. Again, we are requesting clearance for entry. ReGen assistance is needed!”

“Copy that,” the woman responds.

“Thank the Mother!” Jedrek says, but only our unit is able to hear him.

As we make it up over the hill and past the docking rigs, the outer doors to the cargo bay begin to open. I only pray that they open soon enough for us get through unhindered. I glance down at the bloody stump where my arm should be. Blood lines the creases of the metal, spreading along the grooves like some gruesome irrigation system. Life seeps out of me in thick red streams, and I wonder how much time I have left.

Enoch’s outer wall looms large overhead, offering some shade from the sun. The unexpected change in temperature sends a chill through my body, though I’m uncertain if it’s due to the lack of sunlight or the lifeblood that’s leaving me.

“Hang in there, lad,” Jedrek calls over the comm. I don’t know where he is above me, but I offer another thumbs up.

“Just hurry,” I say despite knowing they are all moving as quickly as they can.

We pause at the gate as it slides open, the massive metal doors grinding in their tracks with the sound and feel of thunder. Soon the outside world disappears as we reenter the cargo bay once more.

Awaiting us is a squadron of Corvants. Just like us they are fully suited, but where ours are a bulky, oversized grey, theirs are a fitted, sleek black. Also like us, tinted visors cover their faces although theirs aren’t meant to keep out sunlight. Blue patches sewn onto the upper portion of their arms indicate their position. Border Patrol.

“What is your status?” One of them says, patching into our commlink system. Their presence is less than welcome. Especially with they way they hold their guns at a low-ready as if anticipating attack. Do they think this is a trick?

“We have an injured unit member,” Jedrek says, gesturing down to where I lay reclining in the cargo bin. “He needs immediate medical attention.”

The commanding Corvant gestures to a couple of the other officers amongst his squad with two oil-black fingers. They step out of formation, guns raised.

“Step away from the cart. All of you.” Nox is the first to let go, as if the edge of the cart has suddenly turned white-hot.

“Woah, woah,” Jedrek says, not so easily relenting. I can sense his body tensing at the unexpected aggression. “What is this ab—”

“Quiet,” the squadron leader says, giving the word enough gravitas without needing to raise his voice. Jedrek doesn’t contest, falling silently away from the cart as directed.

With the area around the cart cleared, the two armed Corvants approach me cautiously. They must suspected foul play, thinking we’re baiting them. In any other circumstance I would appreciate their apprehension. But not right now.

“Please,” I say, not even sure if anyone can hear me. My vision starts to blacken around the edges and the tightness of the helmet becomes claustrophobic. Near to hyperventilation, I press the helmet’s emergency release button and pull the thing off my head with great relief. The soldiers tense at the sudden movement, their assault rifles jerking into an attack position. “Please,” I say again, my voice fuller that it was over the commlink. “Help me.”

Seeing my arm torn from my body, the two Corvants must come to the realization that this isn’t a ploy. “They’re telling the truth.”

Their commander steps forward to have a look for himself. If he flinches at the sight of me, he offers no indication of it. Instead, he speaks more evenly than before. “What happened?”

“For fuck’s sake, can we ask questions later?” Cerque calls from somewhere beside me.

“We ask questions now,” the Corvant says with zero sympathy for my situation. “Now what happened.”

“One—,” I try to tell my account to the best of my memory, though it seems blurred and impartial. My lightheadedness is also not helping. “One of the cargo carts came loose from the line and hit me.”

“I swear I secured the locks,” Nox says. The guilt in his voice is clear. I should assure him it wasn’t his fault, but I also don’t feel compelled. “I checked them. Twice.”

A shiver works through my body. My focus and my vision are waning. “Please,” I say for a third time, though the word seems to hold no effect. “I need to see a medic.”

Jedrek intervenes to address the commanding Corvant, reigniting urgency. “He’s going to bleed out if we don’t get him to ReGen.”

The commander turns in my direction, but all I can see is the dark, polished glass of his visor. I try to picture the man within, to match the aggressive voice to some concept of what he might look like without that damned, intimidating helmet. “His suit has been compromised. He cannot pass through this gate.”

“No…” I say. The word takes the form of a whisper. My stomach constricts. The urge to vomit resurfaces.

“What do you mean he can’t pass through?” Jedrek asks, his incredulity matching my own. “He’ll die if he doesn’t get medical attention!”

“And a hundred more will die with him if he’s been infected!” It’s the first time I hear the Corvant show any sort of real emotion. “We can’t risk bringing this man into the city. He’s been exposed.”

As far as we know, the Cain virus still exists out in the wild. It is the reason we wear these awful sweatboxes and why Enoch’s force field shuts out the rest of the world. Exposure could lead to another epidemic. Only this time it would be shooting fish in a hermetically sealed proverbial barrel—finishing the job it started.

The Corvant is right. Bringing me back into the city could be catastrophic. But I don’t want to die. I can’t die. Tears fill my eyes at the thought of my mother and sister. Two strong, beautiful women and my anchors in this new unforgiving world. Since my father’s death they depend on me for everything. I can’t leave them behind.

“We can save him!” Cerque says.

“No. You can’t. He’s a dead man. And the sooner you get that through that thick fucking skull of yours, the sooner we can move on here.”

I become a bystander to the conversation, knowing it’s me they’re all talking about yet I might as well not be in the room. My faculty to communicate seems to have diminished entirely. My vision constricts, turning everything into non-distinct, blurry shapes.

“What do we have to do to convince you this man can be saved?”

“Nothing. This was never a negotiation.”

“You’re a fucking officer of the law. You’re supposed to protect the people!”

“Wrong. I protect the city.”

Someone steps toward me—a shadow, black from head to toe. I look up at him like a newborn, attracted and curious by shifts in the light. Muffled voices echo in the far reaches of my mind, warring with one another in a heated argument. There’s the sound of a gun cocking, a click of a bullet rising into the chamber. Then everything goes completely and totally dark.