Ripple in the Pattern: Dead in 15, Part 2 (IWA) Jul 29, 2013 13:22:24 GMT -8
Post by Jenn on Jul 29, 2013 13:22:24 GMT -8
Ripple in the Pattern: Dead in 15, Part 1 (IWA)
It took every ounce of strength Amina had left to crawl out from under John’s dead weight. She was bleeding heavily from the face and shoulder. From the way the blood pulsed with her racing heart, he had hit at least one artery. She had to calm herself down if she was going to live through this.
She dragged herself to her bag and pulled a shirt from it. She pressed it hard to the gash on her shoulder, trying to staunch the blood flow. Amina took slow breaths, trying to calm her pounding heart. As weakness flowed through her, making it impossible for her to apply pressure, she knew John had killed her after all.
Tears filled her eyes. Betrayal from the one person she trusted above all else, even herself. She guessed he’d fulfilled his mission to the mysterious “Sayyid” after all. Recruit or eliminate. She couldn’t find enough energy to look at John’s body as she muttered, “You suck as a recruiter. Just for the record.”
Closing her eyes, Amina felt the approach of death. The last time it came for her, she welcomed it. This time, she fought, trying to ward it off. She didn’t want the peace of that release. She’d come so far. But it came, as John had come, and pulled her into darkness.
Then there was light and blood. Her mouth filled with blood, an exquisite taste, and she wasn’t dead. An unfamiliar male voice above her, commanded her in Russian. “Drink, girl. Drink! Heal yourself.”
Another voice, female. “She’s lost too much blood.”
“Damn him anyway. Damn him!”
She felt herself lifted and taken down the stairs. There was strength in that blood. It burned through her. Pain ebbed away. The man’s arms were cool. His body was hard but not warm, not right. The cold night air came as a shock. She moaned as her body shivered, still fighting to live with a renewed sense of strength.
“Good, child. Fight.”
Amina felt herself put on the cold metal floor of a van. She forced her eyes open. A woman bent over her. An Egyptian looking woman. There was a hardness in her concern.
“She’s lost too much blood. You can’t save her.”
As if waiting for its cue, Amina felt death creep near again. Though she fought against it, she was unable to keep her eyes open any longer. The strength so recently gain, dribbled away.
“Ana, get me someone no one will miss.”
“I owe him.”
“You must owe him big.” There was a pause. Then her voice, cautious. “You don’t have the Right.”
“When has that mattered to the Children of Haquim? Now move. And call Victor. Tell him to get the plane ready. You’re going to take her to Cairo.”
The van door closed. The man leaned over her. Amina didn’t care enough to open her eyes anymore. Death promised release. With her strength gone, it seemed welcoming. Then the man was speaking. “Amina Sarah Weiss, listen to me. I’m Alexi Tarasov. I owe one close to you. I owe him much. I choose to make you a Child of Haquim. I give you the opportunity to continue to serve as you ever have in life. You will have the most important job in the world. You will find information. You will judge who is worthy and who is not. Do you accept?”
The fact that he wasn’t Sayyid, as she had begun to suspect, forced her to respond. She opened her eyes to look at him. She had nothing more than the impression of dusky skin, crow’s feet around sharp black eyes, and a neat beard. He took her response as an answer. Grabbing her wrist, he bit deep and sucked hard. The bite was as pleasurable as it was terrible. Then, the sensation was gone as her heart stuttered in her chest.
There was pressure to her mouth and, once more, blood. Blood that made her want more. He whispered, “Fight death, Amina. Choose a new destiny.”
Amina did… and, with no real understanding, was reborn.