Chapter 8

The scarf across Jake’s face caught the worst of the Lagoon City stench, a cloying mix of stagnant marsh water and the metallic tang of chemical runoff. He pulled the fabric tighter, stepping over a pile of rotting timber to reach the stone structure. It had once been a library, a relic from more than a decade ago, before the Genetic Conflicts turned the city of canals into an open grave. Inside, the air was marginally better, though the smell of damp paper replaced the rot. "Jake! Over here!" Chloe Vance was perched in the middle of a skeletal gondola that had been dragged into the center of the reading room. At sixteen, she was still a head shorter than him, her raven hair messy and her blue eyes bright against the gloom of the ruins. She was surrounded by stacks of water-damaged hardcovers. "I see you, Shorty," Jake said, hopping over a fallen marble pillar. "You’re practically buried in those things. If you get any smaller, I’ll need a magnifying glass to find you." Chloe looked up from a thick volume, her brow furrowing. "I am not short, Jake. I’m compact. And you can shut up anytime you like." Jake leaned against the side of the gondola, eyeing the book in her lap. The title was in a script that looked like a series of elegant accidents. "What is that? More of your French revolutionary bedtime stories?" "It’s Victor Hugo," she corrected, snapping the book shut. "And you should try it. There’s a section on the sewers that you’d find very familiar. Take a book, Jake. It’ll do you better than staring at the walls." "I like eating more than reading," Jake said, looking around the empty, hollowed-out room. "Hard to find a good steak in a paperback." Chloe narrowed her eyes. "If you eat my books, I’ll eat you. It’s a fair trade." She sighed, running a hand over the weathered wood of the boat. "You know, if the communist revolution had actually succeeded properly, this place wouldn’t be a toxic dump. We’d have clean water and schools that aren't filled with stagnant mud." Jake snorted. "If the revolution happened, this place wouldn’t be a library. It’d be a gulag. Or a very organized pile of rubble." "The concept is right, Jake!" she protested, standing up in the gondola. "A world where people actually take care of each other instead of just surviving like rats." "It’s naive, Chloe. Look around. Human nature didn’t change just because the world ended. People just got hungrier and uglier." Chloe hopped down from the stacks, her expression softening into a frown. "You’re so cynical. It’s exhausting." She looked toward the door, her voice dropping an octave. "When is my dad coming back?" Jake looked at the floor, tracing a crack in the stone with his boot. "I don’t know. He went out to scout the north perimeter. He’ll be back when he’s back." "Help me with these," Chloe said, shaking off the mood. She pointed to the heavy crates of books filling the gondola’s hull. "If we move these out, we can lay down some blankets. It’ll be better than sleeping on the stone." Jake groaned, crossing his arms. "You want to sleep in a boat? Inside a building? That’s just being homeless with extra steps. The hull is probably cracked anyway." "I want to sleep in the gondola," she insisted, already heaving a stack of encyclopedias onto the floor. "I was thinking... maybe we can find a real ship. Or make one. We could just sail out of the marsh, away from the raiders. Just go." Jake watched her for a second. "With or without your dad?" Chloe stopped mid-reach. She didn't answer. She turned back to the floorboards of the gondola, her fingers catching on a loose seam in the wood. A hollow *thunk* echoed through the quiet library. "Did you hear that?" she whispered. "I didn't hear anything but my stomach complaining," Jake said. "No, listen." She stomped her heel. The sound was unmistakably empty. "There’s a space under here. It’s a hidden compartment!" Jake climbed into the gondola, his skepticism returning. "Chloe, this place has been picked over by marauders for ten years. If there was a secret stash, someone would have ripped it out with a crowbar by now." "They were looking for gold or food," she said, her eyes gleaming with a sudden, frantic triumph. "They weren't looking for a false bottom in a library boat. It’s too specific. Help me get this plank up." "Always with the manual labor," Jake muttered, but he knelt beside her. He wedged his fingers into the gap she’d found, straining until the wood gave way with a screech of protesting nails. "If this is just more French poetry, I’m leaving." The plank came free. Tucked into the velvet-lined recess was a hexagonal metal box. It was heavy, the surface etched with a strange, double-helix pattern that served as a lock. Beside it lay a yellowed envelope. Jake lifted the box out, setting it on the rowing bench. The lock clicked open with a hiss of pressurized air—a sound that shouldn't have been possible after a decade of neglect. Inside, nestled in custom foam, were three glass syringes. Each contained a glowing, viscous fluid. One was a deep, oceanic blue. One was a shimmering violet. The third was a violent, pulsing red. "Potions," Jake whispered. Chloe picked up the letter. Her voice trembled as she read the words of the Apothecary. "To the first Gene-Mods... a divine experiment... I have sent ten million of these into the world to see what humanity becomes." She turned the page, her eyes scanning the descriptions. "The Forest is Life. The Ocean is Information. The Amethyst is Spacetime. The Ruby is Energy. The Amber is Matter. The Sun is the Abstract... and the Snow is the Nexus Syndicate." She let the paper fall, looking at the box with a mix of awe and horror. "Mr. Gallo... the man who owned this library. He never opened it. He had the future in his hands and he just kept it under his feet." "Maybe he died before he could," Jake said, eyeing the red vial. "Or maybe he was too scared to turn into whatever these things make you." Jake reached into the box, his fingers hovering over the glass. "Which one do you want, Chloe? The blue? You could know everything. We could find a way out of here." Chloe flinched back, her breath hitching. "No," she hissed, her eyes darting toward the library entrance. "Don't touch them. If my dad sees... if he senses them, Jake, he’ll lose it. He's obsessed with the Serums." "That’s exactly why we should take them!" Jake argued, his voice rising in a desperate whisper. "This is our chance. We take these, we get strong, and we leave him. We can actually run, Chloe. Not just hide in a different ruin every night." Chloe glared at him, her jaw set in a hard line. "I’m not abandoning him. He’s sick, Jake. He’s my father." "He’s getting worse! He’s barely a person anymore, Chloe. He’s a mass of blood and bad memories." "He’ll get better," she insisted, though her voice lacked conviction. "Once we get to a cleaner place, away from the radiation, he’ll stabilize. He just needs time." A wet, dragging sound echoed from the hallway. It was the sound of something heavy being pulled across stone, accompanied by a frantic, shrill whistling. "He's here," Chloe whispered, her face pale. Jake didn't waste time. He grabbed the blue and violet Potions, shoving them deep into the pockets of his heavy coat just as a shape slithered into the light. Crimson Flux didn't walk; he flowed. He was a nightmare of fluctuating red mass, a faceless entity of shifting gore stretched over a frame of yellowed bone. He moved with a jerky, paranoid energy, his many-fingered hands twitching at his sides. The creature’s "head" tilted, sensing the air. His gaze—or the space where his eyes should have been—fell instantly on the open Mystery Box. "What is... what is this?" His voice was a shrill, frantic rasp. "Dad, stay back," Chloe said, but Crimson Flux lunged. He didn't even see her, his shoulder slamming into her and sending her sprawling across the gondola’s books. He descended on the box like a starving animal. His fingers, already beginning to sharpen into claws, snatched the remaining red vial. "Vitality," he shrieked. "The Ruby! The Energy!" Before Jake could move, Crimson Flux jammed the needle into the fluctuating mass of his own chest. He didn't depress the plunger—his body seemed to drink the fluid through the glass, the Ruby Serum vanishing into his system in a pulse of crimson light. The effect was instantaneous. The shapeless mass of his body suddenly pulled tight, solidifying into a more humanoid, muscular form. His skin turned a deep, bruised red, and his fingers elongated into jagged, obsidian-like talons. Then, as the initial surge passed, the claws retracted, and his hands returned to a deceptive, fleshy shape. He stood taller now, his presence vibrating with a raw, unstable power. He turned his head toward the teens, his breathing coming in jagged bursts. "Where are the others?" he screamed, the sound vibrating the very glass in the library windows. "There were more! I can feel the resonance! Give them to me!" "There’s nothing else!" Jake yelled, backing away and keeping his hands in his pockets, his fingers white-knuckled around the hidden vials. "It was just the one! You saw the box, it’s empty!" Crimson Flux loomed over him, his body beginning to fluctuate again, small tendrils of blood-mist rising from his skin. "Liar! You’re lying to your father, Cesare! You’re hiding the medicine!" "Stop it!" Chloe screamed, scrambling up from the pile of books. She threw herself between Jake and the monster. "Stop it, Dad! You’re hurting him! There were no other potions! Leave him alone!" The monster froze. The frantic vibration of his body slowed. He looked down at Chloe, then at Jake, the murderous tension draining out of him as quickly as it had arrived. "I... I’m sorry," Crimson Flux whispered, his voice cracking. "I’m so sorry, Chloe. The hunger... it’s just so loud." He turned to Jake, reaching out a hand that was now soft and shaking. "Smile for her, Cesare. Don’t be sad. Your sister needs to see you happy. Smile for me, boy." Jake felt the bile rise in his throat. He forced his lips into a jagged, hollow grin. "I'm smiling, see? Everything's great." Crimson Flux let out a wet, cheerful sound and patted Jake’s hair. His touch felt like cold, damp meat. "Good boy. Good boy. We’re going to be okay now. I have the strength." He looked toward the horizon, toward the poisonous mists of the marsh. "We’re going to Aqua World. You always liked the water, Chloe. We’ll find a boat. We’ll go where the air is blue." "Yes, Dad," Chloe said, her voice small and hollow. "Aqua World. That sounds perfect." Crimson Flux turned and began to shuffle back toward the entrance, humming a discordant, tuneless melody. As soon as he was out of the room, Chloe turned to Jake. They didn't speak. They didn't have to. She threw her arms around him, gripping him so hard it hurt. Jake held her back, his hand still buried in his pocket, clutching the two remaining Potions. They couldn't stay here. They couldn't stay with him. The blue and violet vials felt like ice against his palm, a weight that promised either a way out or a faster way to the end. Jake looked over Chloe’s shoulder at the dark hallway where her father had vanished, knowing that the "good boy" act had a very short expiration date. ════════════════════════════════════════