Authors: Jade Allen
Rayne nodded and bit
her inner cheek; she didn’t want to blubber in front of this amazing man.
“You have anyone
waiting for you at home? Parents, friends, partner? Because there’s always hope
that they will also sound the alarm.”
At that, Rayne blinked
a few large fat tears.
“Hey, hey, hey...don’t
cry, Love. We’ll be fine; I’ll figure it out.” Malcolm propped up onto an arm
and, with his free hand, gently stroked the tears away. “I would never normally
say this, but you are just breaking my heart.”
“This is the worst
date I have ever been on.” Rayne sniffled, muffling her choked laugh. Malcolm
beamed back, and despite the matted blood on his face, he looked more handsome
than ever.
“What do we-” Rayne’s
voice was cut off by a delicious kiss from Malcolm. He snaked a hand through
Rayne’s damp hair and cupped her head ever so gently. The danger and rush of
surviving pumped wildly in her veins, Rayne couldn’t help but return the deep
kiss.
“So,” Rayne managed
breathlessly, “what do we do now?”
****
There was blood
everywhere. It coated the walls, the floor--there were even spurts on the
ceiling. Rayne held a double-ended canoe paddle in both hands and braced
herself;
this was not in the brochure.
Rayne stood in the
middle of the killing floor, a secret chamber within the airplane hangars where
the “resort” managers checked out their guests. Bile threatened to spill out
from Rayne’s throat, but she swallowed firmly and started to breathe through
her mouth.
A large stainless steel
table sat to the side of the room. Installed at regular intervals were several
built-in circular power-saws sitting idly, the teeth riddled with shards of
bone and strips of tissue. Beside the table stood large dripping containers
filled with the putrefying meat of their fellow guests. Rayne could see a tuft
of matted magenta hair poking out through one of the mounds.
Rayne crinkled her nose
as she walked around the room to see if there were any hidden holding chambers
or computers. Earlier, Malcolm had stolen a biohazard suit from a wandering
worker and handed it to Rayne; he pocketed a small taser found on the suit’s
belt to complete their disguises as captor and captive. Since leaving the
shack, they had clambered and slipped down the forest hillside following fresh
tire tracks leading back to the airport. It was the only clue they had.
They entered the hangar with
the most footprint tracks leading inside, Rayne wearing the yellow biohazard
suit and holding the paddle as though she confiscated it from Malcolm. The
hangar concealed a suite of industrial-like office rooms and was eerily quiet.
With no one to stop them, Rayne followed a small trail of blood to what she
would learn was the killing floor, while Malcolm followed footsteps that led
further down into the building. He had shown Rayne a flash drive which he hoped
to load onto an encrypted website that would alert his friends to send help.
Finding a computer was their prime goal. Lost in the horror of the bloody room,
Rayne almost missed the hissing voice of Malcolm behind her.
“I think I found the
place we need, but we need to make a distraction first. Follow me.”
Rayne stepped out of the
blood and wiped her feet on a nearby cloth before running after Malcolm and
back to the undergrowth. Malcolm scurried down the forest running parallel to
the hangar, coming to a stop at the two-thirds mark.
“You’re not going to
like this, but I think there are surviving guests in this part of the
hangar—it’s like a hospital wing. I took a quick look and saw a ton of
computers, but there are medical staff working on the group. They keep using
ear thermometers on them for some reason. For me to get in there, we need to
make a distraction.”
Rayne thought back to
her memories of the runway;
I’ve got it!
“How much do you like
your shirt?” she asked.
****
An almighty explosion
rocketed the side of the compound, sending sheets of metal and debris soaring
through the air. Workers milled out of every building to converge on the
explosion, only to be faced with smaller explosions dotted around the hangars.
Malcolm, now shirtless and shielded by Rayne in her yellow suit, sprinted to the
access door that led to the hospital wing.
They watched several
staff run from the room before they barged through the doorway and into a
pristine white space filled with gadgets and machinery. All the remaining
guests were hooked up to a bevy of monitors and pumps. At the end stood a
doctor reading charts.
“Oh, what a
surprise--another one! We have just one left out there now: a female. I wonder
if she’s the reason behind that kerfuffle outside.” The doctor picked up one of
the strange ear thermometers and crammed it into Malcolm’s ear. When it failed
to go off, he recalibrated and tried again. This time when it didn’t go off,
Malcolm stuck him with the taser and let him spasm to the ground.
Rayne ran back to the
entry door and hauled some heavy gas cans into the room before bolting all the
doorways.
“It’s too late,” the
doctor slurred from his collapsed position. “Doesn’t matter what you do, these
hosts will be sent back into circulation tomorrow to beckon the beginning of a
new world order.”
“
Hosts?
Is that
what you’re calling these people? What have you done to them?” Malcolm had
leapt to a monitor and was feverishly tapping keys.
The doctor was unable to
control his limbs and continued to tremble on the floor, “Done? You mean
improved.
Ha, one by one, the elite will find their lofty heights crumbling
to ruin, never realizing it came from within.”
Around the ward were
shimmering tanks. At first glance, they looked like decorative screens, but
seen up close, the tanks were filled with millions of tiny clear and silvery
bits. Rayne held her hand up to the glass of one tank and a cluster of silver
converged on the spot, mimicking the shape. She gasped and stood back. “What is
this?”
“It’s new
nanotechnology--my nano-bites.” The doctor had pulled himself up to sit,
slumping against a bedpost. “These critters do amazing things when they’re
inside the human brain. They love patterns, you see. You’ve already felt the
effects of these nano-bites, but you two were highly resistant.”
Rayne looked up at the
doctor. Malcolm paused as he typed frantically. “What do you mean?” he
ventured.
“Remember that night
with the loud music? You were all fed large amounts of nano-bites in your
cocktails. The bass-driven music was chosen to allow the nano-bites to activate
your most basic survival needs. We ended up with twenty nine people having
intercourse uncontrollably--all in the name of cross contamination.” He had
pulled himself to his knees and was attempting to stand back up, but Rayne
grabbed her paddle and smacked him hard against the ribs, sending him back to
the floor.
“Are these people still
alive? Can these nano-bites be removed?” she snapped.
The doctor sputtered and
laughed, “No, they’re as good as gone. The nano-bites will have destroyed
enough of the brain during the replication process. They’re on life support
until the nano-bites reprogram themselves.”
“And what about us?”
The doctor motioned to
the ear thermometers. “Find out for yourselves. They’ll beep if they make
contact with nano-bites; your friend over there with the taser doesn’t have
them.”
Rayne grabbed a
thermometer and crammed it into her ear. There was a painful, long wait and a
quiet click. Nothing.
“Rayne, we have to go,”
Malcolm said, grabbing his flash drive.
Rayne grabbed a gas can
and started to shake its contents out over the floor and the machines. Once the
doctor got a whiff of the gasoline, he started to panic and yell. Malcolm
slammed a foot into the doctor’s side and hurled an open gas can across the
room, smashing it into a tank of nano-bites and sending them splashing onto the
ground in a gloppy mess.
“Quick, get out! I have
the suit on!” Rayne yelled.
Malcolm threw her the
taser and ran to the doorway, pausing at the threshold. Using her paddle, Rayne
knocked over the closest remaining tanks and upended her gas can. The doctor
gave one final scramble and grabbed for Rayne’s leg. She reacted instinctively,
plunging the taser into his back which set his gasoline-soaked lab coat ablaze.
Rayne slipped and ran from the room, following Malcolm’s fleeing body across
the compound and out into the forest. There were several audible cracks and
final a whooshing sound that preceded an almighty explosion which rocked the
ground and sent Rayne airborne, landing in a hollow.
Taking the opportunity
as she lay out of sight, Rayne frantically kicked off the yellow suit and
scrambled out of her hiding spot to follow the direction Malcolm had seemed to
take. Hardly a few steps into her sprint, she was snatched from the ground by a
pair of familiar arms—it was Malcolm.
“To the beach?” he
gasped; Rayne nodded and they took off into the growing darkness.
****
It had taken only an
hour for army jets to scramble and do their first set of flyovers, and another
hour for the military to arrive. With the runway ruined by the explosions, none
of the island staff could leave and were forced to surrender to the arriving
army. Rayne and Malcolm had lit a fire on the beach and waited for the scouts
to come to them.
After the military had
arrived, Rayne and Malcolm were stationed back at her huge cabin and given
thorough once-overs by army medical personnel. They were both slightly singed
from their earlier pyrotechnics at the compound. Rayne explained they had
stolen gas cans and poured them around the compound before laying a trail to
the large fuel tank, using Malcolm’s shirt as a wick.
They were sitting in fresh bathrobes when an official
walked into the cabin.
“Rayne Baker? Malcolm
Derby? I can’t imagine the things you’ve seen today.” He had taken off his hat
and a sadness filled his demeanor. “We found the remains you spoke of, and our
team thinks it has found a site for a mass grave. It will be some time before
we know for sure.”
“Where are the workers?”
asked Rayne. She had insisted that she felt the on-site staff were not directly
involved in the malicious activities on the island.
The official sucked on
his teeth, “We think there are two groups of people working here: legitimate
resort staff and the project operators. The resort staff were found holed up in
bunkers beneath us. They have access through the atrium and a private track.
They are all being questioned and detained.”
It was Malcolm’s turn to
ask a question, he had been very quiet since they’d been picked up. “Do you
know what the purpose of this plan was?”
This time the official
gave a pointed look at the duo, then he shrugged, “We found documents in other
areas of the hangars. It looks like the nanotechnology could be manipulated to
create influence within the brain. There were drawings and samples of simple electronic
transmitters. I’m not exactly sure of how they worked, but one of our teams
thinks they would be inserted under the skin and a control station would send
out signals.”
“But that doesn’t
explain why they would make them so contagious. You’d end up killing people and
enforcing a quarantine.”
“Exactly. We’re
discovering content that shows the nanotechnology evolving so it doesn’t attack
the medulla oblongata, the part of the brain that regulates respiration and
heart rate. They believed that second generation nano-bites would be virtually
undetectable and could be controlled through long-range communications--like
how a mobile phone picks up a signal.”
“But why invite
us
?”
“
You?
You were
accidents. You, Malcolm, were supposed to be Ben, a womanizing advertising
agent. And you, Rayne, were a complete accident of fate. We saw a chart with
lists of people and institutions. It looks like they were planting agents in
locations that would help spread the infection or could directly affect
outcomes. Imagine if you had the ear of some of the world’s most powerful
financiers? Or, could encourage oil magnates to restrict sales by the flick of
a switch?”
“But, the resort
get-up—why not just capture people?”
“Now that we’re still
speculating on. I side strongly with the argument that this resort was another
way to spread infection to the ludicrously rich. If they felt unwell, they
could blame it on the climate or being bitten by a tropical bug rather than
thinking they’ve been infected with an aggressive piece of nanotechnology. It
was a smoke-and-mirrors ploy.”
Malcolm and Rayne sat in
stunned silence.
The official stood up
and wished them a restful night. As he left, a nurse reappeared and said that
they should get some rest, enforcing the condition they don’t go on the balcony
as specified in their short-term home quarantine. Just as the door closed and
locked, Rayne stood up and walked to the bedroom. With one backwards glance,
she beckoned Malcolm.
In a rush of kisses,
Malcolm scooped up Rayne and held her close. They collapsed onto the king bed
and started throwing off their robes.
“Wait,” Rayne pushed
Malcolm back, “what if this isn’t real, but a hangover from the other night’s
drugging?”
“I don’t know about
that; this feels pretty real to me. Does this feel real to you?” he asked,
placing Rayne’s hand on his swollen bulge.
B
efore she could control herself, Rayne had flung off her
clothes and was writhing on the bed underneath Malcolm. Malcolm’s touches were
gentle, but firm and full of promise. He had unbuckled his jeans and yanked out
his engorged member, which was pulsing with anticipation. Rayne let her hands
wander over Malcolm’s muscled back, coming to a rest on either one of his pert
buttocks. She gave a squeeze and relished the feeling of Malcolm’s cock jolting
against her belly. Malcolm fed one of Rayne’s nipples into his mouth and licked
hungrily. Despite his earlier injuries, he was adept at moving quickly and let
his mouth wander down her body toward her freshly-waxed center. He parted
Rayne’s thighs and sunk his mouth to her swelling clit, sending electrical
buzzes through her body.
Slurping and swirling
his tongue hungrily, Malcolm teased her engorged slit with the tip of his
tongue, slipping the tip of his fat pink tongue into the wetness. Rayne muffled
her moaning and dragged Malcolm back up, her hands feverishly feeding his
thickness into her throbbing core. Malcolm dropped his face, trailing his
tongue alongside her neck as he drew his cock in and out of her. Every thrust
widened and then tightened Rayne’s slippery hole--Malcolm was a tight fit, and
his girthy cock was lapping up the firm squeeze. Grunting with effort and lust,
Malcolm increased the pace of his thrusting, and Rayne dug her fingers into his
buttocks. The intensity of their lovemaking was magnified by the quiet breaths
they passed, until finally, in a rapturous end, the hot splash of Malcolm’s
seed sent Rayne spiraling into a rhythm of toe-curling orgasms, each one
milking his exhausted length.
“I think I’m going to
enjoy house detention,” Rayne gasped.
THE END