The Serum

The scalpel was a sliver of silver in my shaking hand, a tool meant to heal, now weaponized by desperation. Elena didn't flinch. She smiled, a curve of her lips that was too wide, too sharp.

"Sister," she purred, her voice a chorus of distorted echoes. "Put it down. You can't hurt me."

"Watch me," I said, backing away, putting distance between us and the observation deck where Lucius watched like a god in a glass box.

She lunged.

I dodged left, slashing at her arm. The blade cut through the fabric of her hospital gown and into the skin beneath. Black ichor oozed from the wound, sizzling as it hit the floor.

But she didn't slow down. She backhanded me, sending me skidding across the sterile tiles. The scalpel clattered away, sliding under a metal cart.

"Is that it?" Elena asked, tilting her head. "Is that all the fight you have?"

I scrambled to my feet, my ribs screaming in protest. "I'm trying to save you, Elena! Look at yourself! Look at what he's done to you!"

"He made me better," she said, flexing her fingers. The black veins pulsed beneath her skin, a map of corruption. "He made me strong."

She grabbed a heavy metal tray table and ripped it from its bolts, wielding it like a club.

"Strong enough to kill the people you love?" I shouted.

She paused. For a second, the blackness in her eyes receded, revealing a flicker of the sister I knew. The sister who had braided my hair, who had hidden me from our parents' anger.

"Aria?" she whispered.

"I'm here," I said, taking a step forward. "I'm right here. Fight it, Elena."

Then the intercom crackled.

"Disappointing," Lucius's voice boomed. "Increase the dosage."

A hiss of pressurized air. The vents in the ceiling opened. A fine, red mist began to descend.

Elena screamed.

It wasn't a scream of pain. It was a scream of rage. The blackness flooded back into her eyes, swallowing the recognition. She roared, a sound that shook the glass walls.

She threw the table. I dove, the metal crashing into the wall where my head had been a second before.

She was on me before I could recover. Her hand clamped around my throat, lifting me off the floor. Her grip was iron.

"Die," she hissed.

My vision blurred. I clawed at her arm, my nails scrabbling against skin that felt like cold marble.

I looked past her, searching for a weapon, for help.

Dante was still on the floor, unmoving.

But his hand was moving.

Slowly, painfully, he was reaching for his gun.

He raised it. His hand shook. He couldn't aim. Not without hitting me.

"Do it!" I choked out.

Elena laughed. "He can't. He loves you too much."

She squeezed tighter. Darkness crept in at the edges of my sight.

Then, a sound.

*Thump.*

A heavy, dull impact.

Elena stiffened. Her eyes went wide.

She looked down.

A syringe was protruding from her chest. Right over her heart.

She dropped me. I fell to the floor, gasping for air.

Elena stumbled back, clutching the syringe. She looked at Dante.

He was slumped against the wall, his arm outstretched. He hadn't fired the gun. He had thrown the second syringe. The antidote.

"No," Elena whispered.

The black veins began to recede, retreating from her neck, her face. She fell to her knees, convulsing.

"What have you done?" Lucius screamed over the intercom. "That serum is worth billions!"

Elena looked at me. Her eyes were clear. Blue. Terrified.

"Aria," she gasped. "Run."

"Not without you," I croaked, crawling toward her.

"Run!" she screamed.

Her body seized. She arched backward, a guttural cry tearing from her throat.

And then she collapsed.

"Elena!"

I reached her. I checked for a pulse.

It was faint. Thready. But it was there.

The red mist was getting thicker. It burned my eyes, my lungs.

"We have to go," Dante said. He was beside me, leaning on the wall for support. "The gas... it's a neurotoxin."

I grabbed Elena's arm. "Help me."

We dragged her. It was slow, agonizing work. The mist was clouding my mind, making my limbs feel like lead.

We reached the door. I swiped the keycard.

It didn't open.

*Lockdown Initiated.*

I looked through the glass. Lucius was standing on the other side, smiling. He held up a remote.

"You should have joined us, Aria," he said. "Now you can burn with your mistakes."

He pressed a button.

A countdown started on the wall monitor.

*Self-Destruct Sequence: 60 Seconds.*

"He's going to blow the lab," Dante said.

I looked at the door. Reinforced steel. Bulletproof glass.

We were trapped.

I looked at Dante. I looked at Elena.

"We're not dying here," I said.

I looked at the vent in the ceiling. The one pumping in the gas.

"Boost me," I said.

"What?"

"The ventilation system," I said. "It connects to the roof. If I can reverse the flow..."

"You can't reach it," Dante said.

"Boost me!"

He laced his fingers together. I stepped into his hands, and he heaved me up. I grabbed the grate. It was hot, vibrating.

I kicked it open.

I pulled myself up into the shaft. The gas was thicker here, concentrated. I held my breath.

I crawled. The metal burned my hands. I reached the fan. It was spinning, a bladed maw.

I jammed the barrel of my gun into the gears.

The fan screeched, metal shearing against metal. Sparks showered down.

The blades stopped.

I reversed the polarity on the motor control box.

The fan groaned, then started to spin the other way.

Sucking the gas out.

"Aria!" Dante shouted from below. "Thirty seconds!"

I dropped back down into the room. The mist was clearing.

"The door," I said. "Shoot the hinges."

"It's reinforced," Dante said.

"Not the door," I said, pointing to the frame where the gas pipes entered the wall. "The seal."

Dante understood. He aimed. He fired.

The bullet hit the gas line.

A jet of pressurized gas exploded outward, freezing the metal of the door frame.

"Now!" I yelled.

We threw our weight against the door. The frozen metal shattered. The door fell outward with a crash.

We stumbled into the corridor, dragging Elena.

The countdown hit zero.

The lab behind us exploded.

The force of the blast threw us forward. Heat seared my back. Debris rained down.

I lay on the floor, ears ringing, lungs burning.

I looked up.

Lucius was gone. The observation deck was empty.

But at the end of the hallway, a figure stood in the smoke.

It wasn't Lucius.

It was a woman in a white coat. She wore a gas mask. She held a tablet.

She looked at us. She looked at Elena.

And then she lowered her mask.

It was Chloe.

"You're late," she said.