Soulless (The Immortal Gene Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  “It’s not ideal. A few lives back, I accidently fell into a hot spot. The poison that tore through my body was nothing I had ever felt…err, never mind, I don’t want to worry you. Just follow my lead and we should be fine.” He then turned and addressed the rest of the group who were packing up the supplies into their sachets. “Okay, you know the drill guys. Before we go in, everyone, I want to introduce you to Nadia. Nadia this is Phil, Joel and you’ve already met Justin.” He gestured to them as we exchanged brief nods. Except for Justin who was chewing his way through a tooth pick with his face scrunched like I was a dead rat he found in a wall.

  “What’s it like in there?” I asked.

  “There’s a small community who trade in the warehouses by the docks, mostly stuff you’ll find on the black market. You can’t trust anyone in here; they’re all out for themselves.”

  Following Tristan’s lead, we moved carefully along the debris of the nearest high-storey tower that had been blown open on one side from an airdrop. The entire building was off centre. Anything that wasn’t bolted down had slipped across the floors and stacked up at the bottom of the incline. We used the remaining walls to help us from slipping and the entire floor creaked and groaned in its struggle to remain upright.

  Vines of green curled their fingers through shattered windows and along the splinters on the ceiling and floors. I could barely see through the cracked lenses of the gas mask as we pulled ourselves through the rooms and toward the other side of the floor level. Carefully, we then scaled down the jagged rocks leading out into the open asphalt road. The surrounding buildings had been gutted and burnt into crisp black shells. The rest of the broken city opened up like an overgrown zoo. Birds took off from the treetops, squawking and flickering into the blue sky. The entire area had been ripped apart by underground bombs as cracks split the roads and crumbled the old factories lining the curb. Trees and plants overtook the streets like an inflamed sore, covering every surface with green.

  “Just through here,” Tristan called up as we made our way across the roads and toward an abandoned petrol station.

  “Petrol?” I peered up at the display sign. “What the hell is petrol?”

  “Something that used to power the cars and planes. It’s been long gone now.”

  As we walked between the petrol pumps, a pack of eight starving dogs leaped at us from the neighbouring fence. I jumped and swung around at the sudden noise. Their canine teeth bit into the wire, their gums bleeding as frothing saliva drooled down their matted coats.

  “Scared?” Justin teased as he walked past. “Good luck shooting them.”

  “Believe me, it wouldn’t be the dogs I would be trying to shoot down,” I snarled back before turning toward Tristan. “Why are there dogs here?”

  “Have you ever heard about the old way of the canary?” I shook my head. “Like when people went down into mines, they would use canaries as an early warning system. If there were any toxic gases, it would kill the bird first before affecting the miners. The locals keep the dogs here for pretty much the same reason. If the dogs can survive, then we know the place isn’t radioactive.”

  I glanced back at the pack of snarling strays to notice moulds of matted corpses sprawled across the yard. “Those ones are dead.”

  Tristan nodded slowly. “Not from radioactive poisoning. Let’s just keep moving.”

  The closer we wandered to the docks the louder the market appeared above the rubble. At the sight of the docks, we pulled our masks off and took in a big breath of fresh air. There was a small ticketing booth surrounded by steel gates that separated us from the warehouses. Even from the top of the hill, I could see the movements of the locals intertwining among each other. Looking at them reminded me of home, back in Sector 5 where the technician was. They walked with guns strapped to their hips and fresh bruises lining their knuckles. Their eyes had sunken with insomnia, skin scarred from years of fighting and surviving. Next to the small booth was a rotating steel gate, which appeared to be the only way in and out of the area. We had to walk one by one through the spinning bars that squeaked as they turned.

  Tristan went first, followed by Joel and Phil. As I went to step through, Justin shouldered me aside, forcing himself in front of me.

  As they waited on the other side of the gate for me, I gripped onto the rust-covered bar and pushed my way through. The bottom pipe caught on the ground, causing a loud screech as I pushed it across when a sudden red flashed my vision. Caught by surprise, I tripped through the swinging gate and stumbled to the other side. Immediately I turned around and checked over my shoulder.

  “Come on, Nadia,” Tristan beckoned but I ignored him.

  “What the hell was that? Is there…” I twisted around myself, looking up into the rafters of the ticketing booth for cameras. “Is there a Sweeper here?”

  “You mean that old thing?” Tristan pointed to the left of the swinging gate, where an old limbless Sweeper had been dumped at the back of the booth among piles of rubbish. Its head had been turned toward the doorway and its eyes were a fading flare of red. Panicked, I ran at Justin, snatching the pistol from his sheath and shooting the Sweeper twice in the head. The ring from the gunshot caused a wave of panic from down at the warehouse as the rest of the guys jumped away.

  From beside me, hands grabbed my wrist, throwing my aim down as I was body slammed into the fence. I released the gun quickly and held my hands up in my surrender. Justin, who had thrown himself at me, quickly grabbed the gun back and pointed the hot barrel against my temple. Tristan quickly grabbed onto Justin’s collar and yanked him back.

  “You stupid bitch!” Justin hit me with the gun piece before Tristan managed to wrestle him off. “You’re blacklisted, aren’t you?”

  Phil and Joel had their pistols out and pointed their guns toward my chest. I kept perfectly still, my hands remained up just above my shoulders and my face turned away so my hair veiled my eyes.

  “I’m not blacklisted!” I muttered.

  “Bullshit! BULLSHIT!” Justin turned to Tristan who was speechless. “We can’t let her stay! She’s blacklisted!”

  I caught Tristan’s unsure glance at he looked at me. I didn’t know how I was going to convince them I wasn’t blacklisted when I couldn’t tell them the truth.

  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions,” he muttered but it only angered Justin more.

  “She shot the Sweeper! What more proof do we need?”

  “What are you going to do, huh?” Tristan snapped back. “Kill her?”

  “I sure as hell not going anywhere with that murderous psychopath.” Justin jabbed his gun in my direction, his finger lingering too close to the trigger for my comfort.

  “I can explain,” I said as Tristan and Justin went quiet. “I’m not blacklisted but I am wanted by the Elite.”

  “Why?” Tristan asked.

  I bit my lower lip. “It’s a complicated story but I promise you I’m not lying. Why else do you think I was with the I.O.S? I swear I’m not blacklisted.”

  “She’s wanted by the Elite,” Justin repeated. “That’s just as bad as being blacklisted, who knows what they’ll do to get her back. If she stays, you’re putting everyone at risk.”

  “Hey!” We all spun around at three approaching men, all dressed in a uniform of red jackets with gasmasks around their necklines. They had their rifles cradled against their chests but weren’t aiming them at us. “What’s going on?”

  Tristan stepped forward. “Everything’s fine. Just a misfire.”

  Joel and Phil quickly lowered their guns out of sight as Justin turned his attention back to me. I eased myself off the fence and smeared my wrist across my forehead. I had been cut, but not badly. The guard looked between us and then made a ticking noise with his tongue.

  “Everyone against the fence to be scanned.” The group grumbled as they shuffled back toward the fence line.

  “Careful, this one may just shoot you,” Justin muttered under his breath and Tristan elbow
ed him.

  “Shut it.”

  “Against the fence, now! Everyone drop your weapons to the ground.” We all stood against the fence and held our hands to the back of our heads for scanning. The guard brought out his mobile phone that he used to scan each of our eyes.

  “This isn’t necessary,” Tristan said as the guard stood up to him and scanned his retinas. With each scan, the phone dinged in its acceptance before he sidestepped along. As he reached me, I didn’t know what I was going to do. Like the others, I stood perfectly still, looking up into the camera dome as the flash of red hit my eyes. The phone made a rejected beep and the man slapped it with the side of his hand.

  I could almost hear the rest of the group hold their breath, waiting for the siren call of the blacklisted. He scanned me again but the phone beeped in its acceptance before he stood back. I let my breath go but covered my relief.

  “Any more noise outta you and you’ll be shot, got it?”

  “Yes,” Tristan nodded as he urged us all into a walk toward the warehouse. Justin and the other two walked past with muddled doubt. Tristan eased up beside me and took my wrist. “What was all that about with the Sweeper?” he whispered.

  “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

  “It’s the Elite, isn’t it? You have nothing to worry about; these cameras and scanners aren’t linked to the Elite like those in normal Sweepers. It’s a one-way circuit. We can see into the database but they can’t see us. You really think a bunch of low life criminals are going to let their true identities and whereabouts get reported to the Elite?”

  “I guess not, sorry. I panicked.” I slowed and looked up at Tristan side on. “Thanks for standing up for me before. I really am telling the truth.”

  He nodded. “I believe you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE:

  We neared the congested entrance into the warehouse and took our spot at the end of the queue. Five men in red jackets sat beneath two large signs with NO WEAPONS painted in spray paint. The entrance was heavily guarded. Each person was scanned with metal detectors, forcing them to strip out of their weapons that were placed in separate boxes with tags to identify them with. After a pat down by the security guard, the person was allowed inside the massive warehouse, which I could only imagine used to house aeroplanes. It neared our turn to be searched. Before they reached me, my stomach churned and I quickly stepped out of line.

  Tristan followed. “You okay?”

  “I’m still feeling overwhelmed from before. Think I may just sit this one out.”

  “It’ll be fine. Just in and out, okay?” he reassured.

  One by one, we went through the security checkpoints. I lifted my arms up as the man ran his hands down my legs and torso before allowing me through. The first thing to hit me was the heat. The tin warehouse had about eight tiny windows but only three were cracked opened a centimetre each. Among the noise of their bargaining and arguing the disarray of bodies knitted together like a patchy quilt. I didn’t know where one person started and the other ended. They all moved in impatient zig-zag paths around the stalls when I felt someone shoulder me as they walked past. I couldn’t see their face beneath the heavy black but I did notice a large broach on the collar as it reflected light from the tin walls.

  “Excuse you,” I snarled as the cloaked figured glanced back. Brown eyes peeked beneath the hood before they turned away and were swept away with the tide of bodies.

  As I walked, hands pulled at my pockets by passing thieves. I didn’t carry anything worth stealing but I still felt my neck snap over my shoulder at every unwelcomed grope. Among the tables lining up and down the warehouse, there was a diverse range of goods. On some tables, they were selling bullets, guns and more exotic weapons like nun chucks and maces. On others, they had coolers filled with animal organs, hooves and cowhide. The thick scent of clogging blood and raw meat collated in the air. There was one table in particular that was heavily guarded and flogged with onlookers. It appeared like they were selling jars filled with jelly and large marbles. I squinted to get a better look to notice that the marbles were actually blood-shot eyeballs.

  “Wait, are those human eyes?”

  “Yep,” Tristan confirmed calmly. “The most sought after organ on the black market, extremely expensive. For people who want to buy another identity.”

  I perked my brow interested. “Does it work?”

  “Depends. The soul imprint scars the eyes but sometimes, with transplants, it can become smudged and unreadable. People with unreadable soul imprints are almost instantly thrown in jail.”

  “You don’t say,” I scoffed. I could’ve told him that.

  I slowed as we approached a table offering dry canned food and common aid supplies. The merchant manning the station recognised Tristan immediately as he stepped around and welcomed him with a firm handshake. “Tristan, good to see you.”

  “Hello Paulie, good to see you too. Thanks for coming out on such short notice.”

  “I trust you brought the supplies.”

  “Yes, as promised,” Tristan signalled Phil and Joel forward as they carried the produce. Inside their sachets, they confirmed the bottle of milk and the bags of wheat. My eyes glistened over the jars like they were made of gold.

  Paulie peered into the bags but pulled back with his lips twisted in disappointment. “That’s not enough.”

  “It’s what we agreed on,” Tristan instantly argued.

  Paulie shrugged. “It’s not enough. Come back with some sugar cane and then we can do business.”

  “You’re joking right?” Justin snarled as he stepped forward. “We travelled all the way out here-”

  Tristan held his hand out to stop Justin’s advancement. “We can’t go back without the medication. We had a deal, Paulie.”

  Paulie turned away implying the conversation was over. Feeling the pinch of desperation, Tristan stepped up to his table and leaned forward onto the palms of his hands. He dropped his voice into a whisper, “You can’t do this. Three litres of milk and five wheat bags is a fair trade; we can’t give up any more especially only for that small handful of meds.”

  Paulie scratched beneath his pits, his face anything but sympathetic. “I feel your pain and believe me when I say it saddens me to turn you away. I would never cheat you, Tristan. You are my dear friend but medicine like this is getting harder and harder to track down. I lost two men with this shipment. I need more compensation.”

  Unable to bite my tongue, I scoffed, “What a load of bullshit.”

  Paulie looked at me sharply, surprised to see me there. He then glanced back at Tristan, his smile dropping quickly. “Who is this?”

  Angered, I stepped forward. “You don’t need to worry about who I am. You know this is the best deal you’re going to get for those meds. Don’t be an idiot.”

  Paulie stepped away to face me head on. He scanned me up and down with a less-than-pleased look. “These are perishables, woman! By the time I get them back to my place, half of them would be spoiled.”

  “They’re sealed,” I said. “The wheat will be fine.”

  “And the milk?” he argued. “If it truly is fresh from the cows’ tits, then it’ll be off within a week.”

  I stepped up to him, rage clenching along my lower jaw. “You ungrateful pig. Do you have any idea what people would do to get their hands on fresh produce like this? I used to wait for months for fresh milk without seeing a goddamn drop. I know hundreds of people who would kill each other for this, and you stand here moping because you’re scared your milk may go off before you get home? Get over it. If you’re so worried about it being spoiled, then drink it fast.” I reached over and shoved the wheat sachet into Paulie’s chest. “Now give us the meds or you can go home with nothing.”

  He snatched the sachet from my hands and turned sourly back toward his table. In a locked tin box, he pulled out a bag of labelled meds and handed them over. Tristan glanced over the bag to ensure everything was there before nod
ding in confirmation.

  “Good, now get lost,” Paulie snarled and we turned to leave.

  “Wow, Nadia,” Tristan chuckled once we stepped out of earshot from Paulie. “Thanks for that.”

  I nodded. “People like him have no idea what it’s like to struggle. Next time, make sure you spike the milk with laxatives and charge him double.”

  Tristan laughed as we returned to the entrance and equipped all our weapons back into the belts of our pants. “You know what; we could really use someone like you with us. Have you thought about staying?”

  I paused on the suggestion. “Staying? You mean you want me to live in Sanctuary with you guys?” I looked between Joel, Phil and Justin to judge their reactions. “But… I’m wanted by the Elite.”

  Tristan shrugged. “We live for a very long time. Tell me who the Elite haven’t wanted once or twice during their life cycle. I’m serious, Nadia. You’re not like the others. There’s something special about you. Think about it.” With a brisk nod, Tristan put on his backpack and started the climb up the banks.

  The idea of having a place among their community rendered me speechless. Maybe I could even bring Annie to live with me too. All I could say was, “Hmm…”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR:

  We started to return to the car, our pace doubled with the weight lifted from our backs from the milk and wheat. I slipped my gasmask over my face and ensured to tighten the straps at the back of my head. The cracked lenses did make it difficult to see the scattered debris around my feet, giving me an uncomfortable blind spot. We pushed through the turning gates and marched onwards toward the petrol station and across the open asphalt roads.

  Unable to help myself, I glanced toward the silence of the dog pack. The wire still glistened with salvia and blood, but the dogs must’ve taken refuge at the back of the block. The mound of fur from the dead canines didn’t even look like animals anymore, but sagged into the ground in deflated skin. We continued onwards into the open clearing when the scratch of shoes sounded from behind us. I slowed, checking over my shoulder while the rest of the group continued onwards. Tristan noticed me hang back and stopped as well.