Yolanda drove their run-down gray sedan through the night – along some forgotten road in the suburbs of Pittsburgh. Adrian sat in the passenger seat - drumming his fingers against the plasticine armrest.
The suspension moaned with the weight of grain and ammunition. Guns clattered in the backseat as they hit a small pothole.
"What do we know about this guy?" Yolanda asked through purple lips.
"Not enough." Adrian stared at the black-and-white lines running through his umber fingers – acutely aware of just how faint those lines were compared to the purple spiderwebs that ran across the backs of Yolanda's hands.
"That's not what I asked."
"Randall, he wouldn't give me a last name."
"Adrian, will you please stop fucking with me?"
He shrugged.
"Nothing I can verify."
The car screeched to a halt, throwing the back seat into disarray – a two meter-long hard guncase smashed into the back of Adrian's seat. Yolanda slowly turned to fix Adrian in her icy gaze. He stared at the purple cracks in her eyes – feeling a pang of inadequacy.
"How long?"
"How long what?"
"How long have you been looking?"
A face came to mind – gentle with heavy winding curls of black hair. A car littered with old syringes and the pain of a shattered shoulder. The face contorted into a spitting rage and Adrian pushed the memory from his head.
"Five years."
"Now tell me Adrian, in all of those five years - all that time you spent building Blood Drops and driving up and down this godforsaken coast – how many Blooded have you recruited? How big is this movement that you're supposedly building?"
"F-five..."
"And yet you still. You still waste our time with this shit every single time."
"You know that I can't-"
"I KNOW. I know okay? I know you can't verify it. I know it's a risk. I know that the internet is a scary place filled with scary people. So please, just tell me whatever he told you."
Adrian rolled down the window, sticking his face out into the spring breeze. He looked up and down the road, searching for... something.
Pinpricks of light flickered in the distance, peeking through the budding forest. Adrian couldn't decide if they were homes or the sweeping lights of a tactical team. The choppy, whooshing sounds behind them – either cars on the highway or a military chopper. Every chirp, scratch, and snap in the forest was a threat. Anyone could be listening.
Adrian got out of the car and Yolanda groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration.
"You can't be serious. We don't have time for this."
Adrian ignored her, twisting the blood running through his veins just so, filling his body with traces of potent amphetamine. Always be ready. He pulled a small knife from his pocket, slashing at his forearm. A black aerosol - the anesthetic nature of his blood - streamed out into the forest.
Yolanda pulled an herb grinder and rolling papers from the cupholder, only rarely glancing out the window at Adrian's shadowy figure.
Adrian stood behind a large tree at the edge of the road. Stretching that black cloud of blood into a long, thin arm that swept through the forest searching for... something.
YOU ARE READING
Bloodless: Origins
Science FictionBack before Ash, back before the world you saw in the original book of the Bloodless, Adrian and Yolanda had a long journey to go through to create the organization that would go on to save the world.
