Bound to Ashes (The Altered Sequence Book 1) by Maranda Cromwell
Authors: Maranda Cromwell
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the forehead, tied to a chair, blood on the white floor—
I pull again but it’s just another pointless effort. My hands are tingly and cold. I tilt my head down until my chin rests on my chest.
Maybe I’m the only one they got...? About this time, they’re all sitting around, waiting for me, and at least two of them probably worry I’m dead. The sun will set and rise again. But when they go to look for my body, they won’t find it. Then they’ll leave without me.
I want to scream. I wish that pistol the human had was loaded with actual bullets.
The door creaks open again. The human from before, Vinder or whatever, walks in first and looks behind him at another human, and they’re finishing a half-conversation:
“...nice, to me!” Vinder says.
“Too risky,” the woman’s voice says. “I’m bringing it, Vin. Just trust me, it’ll work.” Then she turns to look at me.
It’s her. The one who tranqed me.
“You,” I spit. The cords still won’t budge.
“Calm down,” she says, but it sounds like an order. Her tone just makes me want to kill her more.
Not even the thought of my fire backtracking into my lungs can quench this. I take a deep breath and the muscles contract around the fuel sacs, I can feel the fuel building up....
The human strides forward, whips an aerosol can out of her pocket, and points it a foot from my face. The ‘WARNING, FLAMMABLE’ sign glares at me in red print. But it’s too late.
I cough, and even though I could force down most of the fuel, some of it comes out. I spit it out on the floor beside me, a little flaming glob, and it sits on the white floor and sputters out. I can still feel the slight wavering heat in my mouth and try to put it out. The coughing won’t stop. My body won’t let it get back in. Stop it, stop it—
“Holy shit,” Vinder says, jumping away from the little fire on the ground.
I look up at the woman, who hasn’t moved a muscle. How the hell did she know? I never use my fire. Almost ever. How could they have known?
She lowers the can with a clink and says, “I don’t have time for this, and we need to talk.”
My mouth is clamped shut to stop the coughing and calm the fuel sacs. Fine. Let her talk.
“Okay?” She’s glaring daggers at me.
I let a few breaths pass through my nose and I say, “Fine.”
She flips the can back into her coat pocket and puts her weight on one foot, arms crossed. “My name is Alessandra Mead. I have lived and worked at this facility since before the war came and before the virus hit. I’m the one my people count on for survival. Now can I trust you to not attack me if I let you go?”
If things get bad, I can take these humans out with no effort. Even if my head is still pounding. “Yes.”
She looks at me a while longer, as if to try and discern if I’m lying, then procures a pair of wire cutters from her other pocket. “Hold still, then.”
She’s way too close. I try to get out of the way, but she doesn’t mess around— the cords holding my wrists are cut in one snip. I yank my arms down and back away as soon as I can, putting a comfortable distance between me and the humans. Vinder looks at me almost sadly, or concerned, and the Alessandra woman just gives me that steely glare. I want to tear the looks right off their faces— I don’t need their sympathy.
“Alright,” she says, patting the wire cutters on her open palm. “Now. Let’s just get this out of the way. We know who you are. We know what you and your friends are capable of. We read about you in the papers, we saw you on the news. The fact that Caduceus Technologies got away with playing god was all over every form of media. Even after that, after all the shit went down with the virus and societal collapse, we knew you were living nearby. Got it?”
I break out into a cold sweat from the mere mention of the labs. I try not to show it.
“About a year ago a guy calling himself Heydrich came around commanding a small army of
I pull again but it’s just another pointless effort. My hands are tingly and cold. I tilt my head down until my chin rests on my chest.
Maybe I’m the only one they got...? About this time, they’re all sitting around, waiting for me, and at least two of them probably worry I’m dead. The sun will set and rise again. But when they go to look for my body, they won’t find it. Then they’ll leave without me.
I want to scream. I wish that pistol the human had was loaded with actual bullets.
The door creaks open again. The human from before, Vinder or whatever, walks in first and looks behind him at another human, and they’re finishing a half-conversation:
“...nice, to me!” Vinder says.
“Too risky,” the woman’s voice says. “I’m bringing it, Vin. Just trust me, it’ll work.” Then she turns to look at me.
It’s her. The one who tranqed me.
“You,” I spit. The cords still won’t budge.
“Calm down,” she says, but it sounds like an order. Her tone just makes me want to kill her more.
Not even the thought of my fire backtracking into my lungs can quench this. I take a deep breath and the muscles contract around the fuel sacs, I can feel the fuel building up....
The human strides forward, whips an aerosol can out of her pocket, and points it a foot from my face. The ‘WARNING, FLAMMABLE’ sign glares at me in red print. But it’s too late.
I cough, and even though I could force down most of the fuel, some of it comes out. I spit it out on the floor beside me, a little flaming glob, and it sits on the white floor and sputters out. I can still feel the slight wavering heat in my mouth and try to put it out. The coughing won’t stop. My body won’t let it get back in. Stop it, stop it—
“Holy shit,” Vinder says, jumping away from the little fire on the ground.
I look up at the woman, who hasn’t moved a muscle. How the hell did she know? I never use my fire. Almost ever. How could they have known?
She lowers the can with a clink and says, “I don’t have time for this, and we need to talk.”
My mouth is clamped shut to stop the coughing and calm the fuel sacs. Fine. Let her talk.
“Okay?” She’s glaring daggers at me.
I let a few breaths pass through my nose and I say, “Fine.”
She flips the can back into her coat pocket and puts her weight on one foot, arms crossed. “My name is Alessandra Mead. I have lived and worked at this facility since before the war came and before the virus hit. I’m the one my people count on for survival. Now can I trust you to not attack me if I let you go?”
If things get bad, I can take these humans out with no effort. Even if my head is still pounding. “Yes.”
She looks at me a while longer, as if to try and discern if I’m lying, then procures a pair of wire cutters from her other pocket. “Hold still, then.”
She’s way too close. I try to get out of the way, but she doesn’t mess around— the cords holding my wrists are cut in one snip. I yank my arms down and back away as soon as I can, putting a comfortable distance between me and the humans. Vinder looks at me almost sadly, or concerned, and the Alessandra woman just gives me that steely glare. I want to tear the looks right off their faces— I don’t need their sympathy.
“Alright,” she says, patting the wire cutters on her open palm. “Now. Let’s just get this out of the way. We know who you are. We know what you and your friends are capable of. We read about you in the papers, we saw you on the news. The fact that Caduceus Technologies got away with playing god was all over every form of media. Even after that, after all the shit went down with the virus and societal collapse, we knew you were living nearby. Got it?”
I break out into a cold sweat from the mere mention of the labs. I try not to show it.
“About a year ago a guy calling himself Heydrich came around commanding a small army of
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