The Medusa Strain (WIP 2020)

Chapter 2

Block 7. Sector 28.

We got off at the last stop right before Arcade Palace–leaving Richie and his sister to thread their way through the station terminal as Blake and I made a mad dash for the gates.

I still have a good twenty minutes left before my mom would call me on my transfer uplink and ask me what the hold up was this time. Usually, the same excuses would work because we rarely detoured from our assigned routines.

But this time I got a call and it was mom.

Touching the communication stud on the small plate behind my ear, I said: "Jeri Learner. Go ahead."

"Honey? I know you're running a bit late, but could you be a dear and pick up some eggs and milk on the way home?"

"Mom...I don't have any money on me. My allowance was last week–remember?"

"I know. But I'll transfer enough funds to your mobile account so you can at least get them and a few things for yourself–if you'd like. You kids probably haven't eaten since you got out of study hall."

My stomach growled in response to the mere mention of food and I tried to ignore the pangs of hunger the best I could. But my mom must've heard me because she started laughing a bit at my obvious distress.

"It's no good running errands on an empty stomach, dear. Even if dinner is going to be late tonight."

"It's only four-twenty." I told her as I opened the exit gate and started up the marbled staircase that would lead up to the upper levels of this part of Lake City itself.

Along the way, I saw the usual level of graffiti paying homage to either Ares or Aphrodite and sometimes Zeus himself, but a lot of the flyers taped on or stapled on the announcement screens were for the latest Blitz Ball tournaments at the local coliseum in Block 30.

"That's no excuse. I'm sending you the money now. But be sure to be home before the seven o'clock curfew. You know the Guardians won't tolerate stragglers–even those who are special."

I sighed. "You don't need to remind me, mom." I said, as my link's mini-computer processed the transaction wirelessly.

"Yes, I do sweetie. You are special. That's why we took you in as a baby."

Okay. So that bit of truth did sting. I was adopted–just like I had long expected.

But even so, I did not know the particulars of my adoption. I couldn't remember anyone's faces on that one torrential rainy day. Just shadows and high-pitched voices.

The rest was just a cloudy memory. Of my new home. Of me growing up with my step-brother and half-sister–before they moved away and I was left alone in a very large household.

I couldn't even have a pet. That's how weird my situation was. But I do remember that black onyx cage that was a gift from a my parents' mysterious benefactor.

The one hidden under the stairs and covered by a cloak. I still remember the few times I was put in when...when...

I shook my head in frustration.

Damn it.

I still couldn't remember why. That part would always black out from my long-term memories. In fact, I had so few recollections of my childhood that didn't involve my adopted parents watching me like a hawk and worrying about my social life and overall education.

"Thanks...mom. For the memories." I bit out unhappily–dragging myself out of my own troubled past and back into the present.

"Money transfer complete. You have a balance of forty univs." The electronic voice relayed back to me.

Then my mom said: "You'll understand someday, honey. Why we did everything for you."

I sighed as I continued to climb the next level of stairs up towards the surface. This had to be the longest part of my journey that gave both me and Blake a good workout.

"But shouldn't that be today? I'm eighteen now. Old enough to make my own decisions."

"Yes. But we made a promise. And that day hasn't arrived yet."

"You mean...I have to wait another two weeks before the story can be told of my secret origins?"

"That was the agreement, yes. Two weeks after your eighteenth birthday."

Okay. So that decision made me more miserable than usual. I was sure when I turned eighteen, my parents would tell me the back story to my life's origins. But that was two weeks ago and I never even got so much of an explanation, other than a birthday card with a money voucher attached to it, some nice clothes for the upcoming school dance next week, and an invite to a popular rave party by some classmates of mine down by the loading docks just outside Lake City itself.

But other than that...? Just the atypical teenage stuff to look forward during the day.

But the night was another problem entirely. Especially the bizarre dreams and nightmares of me being surrounded by snakes. The kind that slither and bite. The ones that hiss and prowl for prey while their glittering dead eyes would turn your soul into stone if you stared at them long enough.

I always had a natural fear of snakes. I couldn't explain why. But they would fill me with terror and dread.

Never mind what spiders would do to me on Halloween.

Blake brushed past me as we neared the top of the stairwell–leaning up against the metal balcony railing that overlooked a drop into the lower levels of the city itself. It was such a bizarre visual in itself: Part of the city was actually built into a cavern wall buried deep into Mount Ferris itself, so not only was the place lit up like a Christmas tree, it also had to contend with its own share of bats.

Colonies and colonies of bats.

But the sound of the electric generators in the background would always drown out their cries and keep them away from the upper levels of Blocks 7 and 8.

"It's so nice up here," Blake was telling me with a wistful sigh of his own. "Makes you forget all of your troubles of home, huh?"

I snorted softly. "Hardly."

Blake glanced over at me for a moment. "Oh, right. The agreement. The one your parents made with an unknown party when you were just a baby."

"More like a prison sentence–even if my parents meant well all those years."

"They probably did." My childhood friend was telling me off hand–leaning over to get a good view of the incoming rail car gliding along the cables at a good clip.

Then silence for the next few minutes before the next crush of pedestrians came from up from the bowels of the transit station itself. Above the station's mantle sat a stone statue of Poseidon in a regal pose.

Of course, it could have been more tasteful if the guy had a stitch of clothes on. But the Greek gods wanted their likeness adorned as a shrine to their might and presence the world over since the bombs fell so many centuries ago.

Hard to believe that humanity's end began at the twilight of that second world war and never looked back.

And with it...so much change and eventual progress governed by the old gods of lore, myth, and legend.

Which gave birth to a new understanding and humanity's quest for a more unified society–free of the old prejudices and toxic living arrangements.

But that was until some people decided that courting favor with the old gods would produce a more ideal utopia for all.

Which eventually...led to me.

And that's where my problems got started.

Fun...right?

No one said that being a possible descendant to Medusa would be an easy life.

That was for sure.