The Sowing

The platforms on either side are crumbled heaps that’ll take precious time to surmount. I stare through the dark gap that might once have been this transport’s cockpit, while the Fleshers’ unearthly wail echoes behind us.

“Inside!” I scramble into the opening, pulling Digory along with me, Cassius dragging Talon right on our heels.

My feet crunch against bone and I freeze.

The interior of the vehicle is a fetid pit jammed with more bones. Only these have been picked clean. Most are intact skeletons wedged into seats, while others lie in heaps along the aisle, or hang from bars jutting from the ceiling.

At the back of the car, the flight crew from a Vulture hang chained together, arms above their heads, half naked, their uniforms in tatters, their skin pale as chalk. I dart forward and check their pulses. They’re all dead. Some of their heads are twisted, jaws pried apart in hushed screams.

A powerful rumble rocks the tunnel, the deep bass of a siren that vibrates through the tunnels like the cry of some prehistoric beast. We slip out of the car, staring into the shadows.

The siren is followed by a series of clanks and grinds from some poorly oiled machine, mixed with sickening wet squishes and the clatter of snapping teeth. This is made all the more horrible now that I’ve seen the monstrosity behind them firsthand.

For a moment the three of us stand frozen, posed like pale statues long forgotten among these grisly ruins, an eternal look of fear plastered on our faces.

Before we can backtrack, that siren blasts louder than ever. Something bursts through the opening of the tunnel ahead, surrounding us in an instant.

A big blur of creepy.

At least twenty Fleshers, looking much like the one that attacked Digory and me at Infiernos, close in on us from all sides. There are some differences among them—variations in facial structures and the skeletal armor encasing their torsos, and in some of the tools on their protruding appendages. Some are even taller than the one I encountered. But it’s obvious that they’re the same race of thing.

Once in place, the Fleshers’ servomotors lock in place and they freeze, fixing us in their sights. As monstrous statues, they’re more unnerving silent than when they were clanking and wheezing. Their strobing lights capture their ghastliness like nightmare snippets.

“What are you?” My voice echoes down the winding tunnels.

The nearest Flesher’s head swivels in my direction.

Digory steps forward, and I can see the thick cords of muscle on his arms and neck tensing as he readies to pounce. That savage look burns like blue fire in his eyes again. His lips curl into a snarl, which births a low growl. A quick reminder of the brutal ordeal that’s transformed him.

I grab hold of his granite shoulder. “Wait,” I whisper. “There’s too many of them.”

At the sound of my voice, he relaxes. But he still moves his body in front of mine like a shield.

“Easy now, Lucian. If you hold still they might not hurt you,” Cassius mutters behind me.

Their pulsing lights sync into a steady amber glow. I look up at the nearest Flesher. There’s something familiar about his face. It’s not a resemblance to the Flesher we fought at Infiernos—there’s something distinct about this one. Unique. But that can’t be right.

My shoulder brushes against Digory’s. “I don’t know why, but I think I’ve seen this one before.”

Nobody moves. I turn and grab Cassius by the throat. “What’s going on here?”

But he just smiles at me, smug.

“Answer me.” I spit the words at him through clenched teeth.

“Tycho’s been resurrected. You should be thanking me.”

Digory snarls and tears Cassius from me, lifting him into the air.

Cassius glares down at me. “You’re not the only one with a trained Canid.” He shoots the Fleshers a look. “Take them.”

In unison, the Fleshers’ jaws snap open.

“Digory—”

His name has barely escaped my lips when dark blurs burst from the creatures’ throats toward us.

The wind is knocked out of me. Something cold and slimy coils around my body, a wormlike membrane that pulsates, secreting a wetness that seeps into my pores. In seconds, my body numbs and my muscles lock. Some kind of paralytic. I drop to the floor. Luckily, I land on my side. But I can’t feel a thing. I can’t breathe.

“Don’t panic, Lucky.” Cassius’s voice sounds muffled, dreamlike. “It’s not going to hurt you. It’s a neurotoxin designed to temporarily immobilize you for more efficient transport. The fluids being put into your body are feeding you oxygen and circulating it through your system. Uncomfortable, I know. But don’t resist it like your boyfriend’s trying to do.”

As I struggle in vain to move, I catch sight of Digory thrashing on the ground beside me. Whatever dose of this poison they gave us isn’t completely working on him. He’s resisting it somehow.

Cassius walks over to him. “Impressive. It appears the Ultra Imposer Program is quite the success.”

He signals to the lead Flesher.

Snap!