Subterra Heart

Chapter 21: Connor Rocha

Connor's shoulder burned with a white-hot pain. His ribs ached. He couldn't breathe. His stomach lurched as his good hand grappled with the nails at his throat. A brief, stupid thought flashed through his mind. When had he last taken a dose of parlin? The damn meds wouldn't be much help if he got throttled first.

He'd been following Bastet in near total darkness. The Dweller had taken him along a route dotted with bioluminescent fungi, so he'd given the lighter a rest for a bit. Visibility was faint, but the glow was just enough for him to keep up with Bastet. It'd been like trying to follow a shadow through shadows. Connor didn't like it. And he was right to be wary. Bastet up and disappeared the moment things started to brighten up a bit more in this shiny-walled space. He'd liked her better when she was still just Bug.

There'd barely even been a chance for Connor to flick on his lighter before this batshit crazy bloodrot girl had him pinned to the wall, strangling him. His vision was starting to dim, and he couldn't move his damn arm.

Suddenly, she released him, and his knees buckled. He fell to the ground, gasping. The pain in his arm was intense. He forced himself to hold back a whimper.

"What is this?" rasped the girl. Connor watched her bare feet stumble backwards. They were covered in cuts. "Wh – what is this?" she repeated, and Connor looked up. It was Tess. She looked pretty bad.

Her white blouse was all torn up and crusted with dirt and blood. One sleeve was missing. That was on the ground, still burning. Her once neat braids were a tangled mess. It was her face that scared him though. It was like a dead mask that had turned a strange shade of grey. Deep nail-marks and scratches shredded the skin, and fresh blood that was far too dark was smeared across her pores. Hundreds of tiny blood vessels in her eyes had burst, lacing them with black blood. It was like someone had dug her eyes out with a spoon and shoved in a pair of coals instead.

Bastet's words hung in his mind. Fenrir had already gotten ahold of this girl. Whatever sanity she had left would be gone before long.

"What's wrong with me?" Tess whispered.

"Bloodrot," grunted Connor.

Tess looked at him with an eerie sort of clarity. Connor didn't like that. He'd seen a few people with bloodrot, and while it was a terrifying thing, they'd all been fairly braindead. Not Tess. She seemed to be very much conscious. It was unnerving. He rubbed at his throat with his good hand, wishing that he hadn't dropped the Anai knife when she'd attacked him. He still had a pocketknife on him, but that thing was practically a toy. Even so, he started reaching for it.

"What is my name?" asked Tess. "Who am I?"

Connor sighed. His fingers inched ever so slowly towards his pocket. There was no telling how long Tess would stay lucid. He should keep her talking. Try to buy some time.

"Your name's Tess," he said. "And you're my friend's little sister. I think you're a student – can't remember what you're studying though." None of this should matter, according to Bastet. Backstabbing little demon cat. He looked away from Tess, glaring at the floor.

"I am supposed to kill you."

"Yeah, I know."

Tess sat down in front of Connor, cross-legged. She was far too close for his liking.

"I don't really want to," she said.

Connor grimaced. He'd shifted just a bit, and now his bad shoulder hurt like a busted nut.

"Good for you," he said. She really didn't have much of a choice, but that wasn't something he was going to say out loud. His fingers had reached his pocket now. How else could he keep her talking?

Tess stared at him for a long time with those strange eyes of hers. Her body was tenser than a tightly wound spring. The burning sleeve threw thin, wavering blue shadows across her. Coupled with the mirror walls, it almost looked like they were underwater. Connor looked away again. With or without the pocketknife, he was a dead man.

"Give me a reason not to kill you. Please," said Tess. There was a note of human desperation hiding in her voice. Connor watched her out of the corner of his eye. She'd doubled over now. One hand was clasped over her left eye, nails digging into her hairline. Fresh blood spattered over the smooth, cold floor. The other hand was balled up in a fist against the ground, shaking.

"I can give you any number of reasons," he muttered. This Fenrir character that Bastet had described might be holding the Dwellers back from Heart, but Connor really didn't like what was happening right now. "How about, 'I never asked for this, and neither did you,' 'This isn't you,' 'You're being mind-controlled by a brain parasite that's just been using Heart as a food-farm because he made a stupid deal with a stupid kid named Rourke a stupidly long time ago'? How about that?" His voice had gotten loud, and he'd taken on a snide tone. That probably wasn't the best idea, given the circumstances, but the immediate threat of death was messing with Connor's head.

He turned to face Tess again, but she was gone. And so was his lighter. And the Anai knife.

The embers of Tess's sleeve burned low. Soon he'd be left in darkness.