PROLOGUE
He could hear it pitter-patter in the distance.
He closed his eyes and saw it in his mind. It was shaped like a tear, an oil slick, glistening and wriggling. He heard another one of them scream out. And then nothing. No, not nothing. There was a soft gurgling at first and then indeed there was silence.
How many were left? He wondered. He had lost count a while back, there was too much going on. People scrambling away, clutching their throats, running into walls, running into each other.
And then there was the blood. The once glistening ceramic floor was slick with red and vomit. He pushed himself up against a wall, slipped, and then tried again. He was too weak, the huge gash in his stomach was pumping out fluids like a leaking hose.
He saw the blue marble out of the window to his left. It looked distant, hell, it was distant. Earth, his home. Maybe a year away from completely resembling an abattoir. Unless he did something about it, right now.
With a grunt, he pushed himself up again. And again he fell back on the ground, this time heavily and on his wrist. Something else plopped out of the gash. Was it his intestine? No matter, it didn't hurt. The drugs had set him much beyond the threshold of pain.
What is it? Oh god, what is it? He heard someone shout in his mind. He pushed the stray thought away, surprisingly swiftly for someone who had just learnt how to.
He had to stop it. And he knew how. The solution lay three rooms away, on the right. If he couldn't walk there, he would crawl.
He turned around and lay on his stomach. The cold floor felt good against his wound. He clutched the leg of the operating table above him and dragged himself forward. This time it did hurt and whatever it was that had left his body, gave a rubbery squelch beneath him.
"Gaaaah!" he shouted but continued pulling his body forward. Surely, he had lost enough blood to make sure he wouldn't even be able to leave the room, forget getting into the third room ahead.
But he had to try. Oh god, he had to try.
He heard someone else shout somewhere. It was a woman, and her dying thoughts rushed violently into his own. Her thoughts looked a jaundiced yellow and smelt ridiculously like a three day old rotting pile of rice. There was her child, a plump boy no more than five, sitting on some steps and playing with a cricket ball. Then there was her husband, a balding middle-aged man reading a book. Then there were the both of them, grunting in bed, drenched in each other's sweat. Then, there was her dog...
The woman's thoughts disappeared into a buzzing cauldron of other disparate, disembodied thoughts and words. Fuck, was the most common one, followed by God. He thought it was strange the words weren't being thought together considering the fact that those thinking them were facing a violent, messy death. Well, maybe they were.
He had reached the door at the end of the room but it had not slid open. He waved his hand in front of it but he was ignored.
HA! He laughed out. He'd come all this way with his insides hanging out only to be let down by some shitty tech. He waved his hand again and this time the door slid open effortlessly.
Outside, the floor was cleaner. There wasn't as much blood, but he could clearly make out the trail that it had left in red.
Fuck you! He wanted to shout out loud, but he realised that he had no power to do so. He lolled his head around and although there was no errant furniture to help him, the corridor was narrow enough for him to grab the pipes at the bottom to propel him ahead. He grabbed for a pipe, the colour of a really clean toilet bowl, and grimaced. Even through the strong haze of sedatives, the pipe was freezing. He pulled his hand away and sure enough, a little skin from his palm tore off. He bit his tongue and grabbed the pipe again and pulled himself ahead.
Where was It? The station had three floors, and as far as he could tell all three of them manned with guards, technicians and researchers. If it took its time with everyone of them, then he guessed he would have enough time to make it to the control room even at his pace.
What did it want? He asked that even though he knew the answer. He had seen it all over and over in his head, but it was only here that he saw it with extreme clarity. And that made it even more important for him to reach his destination.
He had reached the first room and inside he saw a researcher on the floor, his glassy eyes peering out, his mouth packed with, now hardened, foam that was the colour of dried peas.
Anaphylactic shock. He dragged, he pulled.
WHAT ARE YOU?!, he screamed but this time through his mind.
The answer was quick, glaring but exceedingly simple. It made him stop and catch his breath. The tears followed and then a scream erupted from his throat with a rage that caught him by surprise.
For the next two minutes, he lay there in his blood, pus and viscera, his body racked by sobs both loud and silent. It knew what it was, and it wasn't lying. It was just speaking out the stark truth, unaware of the gravitas of the words, like a child does.
I am your kin, mother, it had said.
