James Axler – Rat King

that still flowed like the blood through his legs, pulsing in time with his

hammering heart.

Almost counting between breaths to keep some sort of rhythm to his actions, Dean

trotted across the empty expanse of earth that stood before the building,

keeping an eye out for the guards. Yet it was quiet. Too quiet Not even the cry

of the whippoorwill disturbed the air.

Why was there no one else around?

“WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?” Wallace snapped.

The tech squinted at the flickering monitor, where various lines were changing

pattern and tone at a rapid rate. He glanced up at the Gen. It was hard for

Murphy to discern anything on the strange little face, but he was sure there was

an aura of fear.

“I, uh, I’m not too sure, sir. We don’t usually register such readings when we

run tests.”

“Do you run tests on subjects, then?” Murphy asked, trying to keep the sarcasm

out of his voice.

The geek tech shot Murphy a glance of pure venom, “There aren’t any subjects as

a rule,” he muttered in his high, penetrating voice. “We only run simulations.”

Wallace snapped the technician’s head around to him with a blow from the flat of

his hand. His fat jowls wobbled in fury. “You mean that we could lose these

outsiders?”

The tech shrugged. “I don’t think so…”

THE ROOF on the veranda was made of sheets of corrugated metal that allowed any

rainwater to flow into the eaves troughs that had given Dean easy foot-and

handholds. The roof was steeply angled, but the corrugation made it relatively

easy for him to scramble up, even though his aching calf muscles protested.

Clinging to the rough texture of the dormitory’s outside wall, the youth

steadied his breathing and counted the number of windows. Three along would

bring him to where Phaedra was waiting. It seemed a long time since he had left

the school with his father and their companions. A long time since he had seen

Phaedra, and since she had kissed him, stirring feelings in him that were still

strange.

Stranger still was the fact that, despite he was clinging on to the outside of

an out-of-bounds building at a school he no longer attended, with aching muscles

that felt as though they could give way at any moment, and that he could be

discovered by the guards Brody employed as much to keep the sexes apart as to

keep the school safe from outside marauders, Dean felt safe. As if he were

coming home to a safe place.

Third window along. Dean edged his way across the veranda roof until he was

directly underneath. The tip of his nose could touch the sill, and as the window

was open it was a simple matter to push it up and then lift himself up over the

sill and into the room.

Inside, Dean was immediately aware that things were, once again, not as they

should be. The room was larger than those he remembered, and cleaner. There was

virtually nothing in the room except one bed, square against the wall opposite

the window. Strange—there were at least two occupants to each room in the

dormitory buildings. So why was this different?

The bed was covered with an insect net, draped over the poles that held the net

four feet above the bed, like a canopy, and falling to the floor, gathering in a

pool around the feet of the bed.

“Dean? Is that you, come back again?”

Dean’s heart raced, but not from exertion. It was Phaedra’s voice, just as he

remembered.

“I guess it is,” he said slowly, trying to control his breathing. “I don’t know

exactly how I got here, but…”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, cutting across him. “The important thing is

that you’re here now, and it’s safe.”

Dean wanted to speak, but some instinct stopped him. Why should she use a word

like safe? He’d been thinking that, sure, but why would Phaedra say it?

The net over the bed stirred, and was pushed aside. Phaedra emerged from the

misty depths, and Dean caught his breath as she rose from the bed and stood in

front of him. Her long hair fell perfectly straight, parted in the middle and