Bricks by Tony Bertauski

Author:Tony Bertauski
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction romance, techno thriller, synthetic biology, alternate realities, dystopian science fiction, strong female protagonist, cyberpunk
Publisher: DeadPixel Publications
Published: 2016-02-18T00:00:00+00:00

Raine

A wild animal slammed through the front door—the whites of his eyes, the exposed teeth, the clawed fingers. Raine’s mind registered a snarl then a roar, saliva spilling over the lower lip.

Paul!

He came with hands steeled to collar the old man’s frail neck, to twist it, wring it and shake it until it snapped like a dry twig. But his momentum slowed. Raine felt a change in the atmosphere, the crackling sensation, the static electricity.

The old man’s mind filled the room.

Curly whiskers straightened across Paul’s chin, his wild hair thrown back. He was attempting to run underwater, the air congealing into a thick, fatty essence, hardening like viscous tar.

Paul stopped, a wax figure hung in mid-stride, an accusing finger aimed at the old man. Lips tight and blue, a word worked through his windpipe, crawled over his tongue.

“You.”

With sleet driving through the doorway, Marcus sat with his legs crossed, hands resting on his thigh. Not looking at the murderous hands twelve inches from his neck.

Ripples splashed Paul’s cheeks.

“Let him go!” Raine shouted.

The rarefied air tightened around her, locking her down before she could bend a knee. The grip held her from the inside, the invisible hand of God, her biomites betraying her, freezing muscles into rigid cables.

The old man looked like someone waiting for tea to be delivered. He nodded. After a pause, he nodded again. She noticed that he was sitting on one side of the couch, not in the middle, as if next to someone. He’s listening.

A deep sigh and he looked up.

Paul began moving. Very slowly, he was forced to the opposite couch. His movements were jerky; his breath gurgled, the real struggle on the inside, a battle he was losing as he sat down. Teeth grinding like rough-hewn marble.

When it was her turn, she didn’t resist, letting the inner force take her; her motions were so smooth and effortless it looked like she chose to do it, as if the illusion of free will brought her to sit next to Paul.

Marcus stood like a creaky old contraption, pausing like a disc had slipped. He closed the front door. Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, he sighed again before starting up the fireplace. The cabin soon smelled smoky warm. He then shuffled into the kitchen. Several minutes later, he emerged with coffee.

Once again, he sat at one end of the couch, across from Paul. Contemplating the moment, he stared into the cup, seeing his thoughts swirl on the oily surface.

“I didn’t want to do it this way,” he said. “Not this soon, not so rash. But things change, as they often do.”

He looked at Paul with soft eyes.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Paul. Death is an odd transition and it’s not what it used to be. We’re all dead, the three of us, according to the People. We aren’t human. But I think you’ll agree we’re very much alive.”

Raine didn’t know what had happened to Paul, what he’d seen or done to come back a psychopath.

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