An urban fantasy set in the year 2089.

Chloé slowed down the car when they reached Terraria. The gates that gave access to the lowest social class in Dacaria loomed before them in rusty decay. Behind those gates, a lone road led to a sad array of grey houses, built in no pattern at all, which had created a maze of roads and alleys zigzagging through town. Newcomers always got lost here, but this wasn’t Canea’s first visit. Chloé would have a fit when she realized how well her new partner knew her way around here. <== Excerpt from CutFreeze Chapter 1

© 2022 – First published on 31 August 2023 – Christine Duts
All rights reserved

Chapter 1

Year 2089, Dacaria
Directive Compound – Squadron
Officer Health Department

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

The soft, concerned tone of Doctor Emily Phabianc sounded out of place in the sterile, white room. The metal table in the middle awaited, ready for the procedure. Canea had never felt as certain as that moment and the doctor’s hesitance seemed to press an invisible hand of caution on her chest.

“Yes.”

“Have you thought it through?” The doctor’s voice was a little sharper as if scolding her.

“I just walked 7 miles on the beach. Yes, I’m sure.”

“The beach? What does that have to do with it?”

“It clears my head. So yes, Doctor, I’m sure.”

With a sign of defeat, Phabianc gestured toward the metallic table and instructed, “Lie down.”

Canea unbuttoned her short, ash-grey jacket and laid it over a nearby chair.

“Should I take off my shirt?”

“Yes, but you can leave your bra on.”

As soon as her blouse was dropped on her jacket, she approached the table, wearing only her grey uniform pants and bra.

“Do you want to burn him or freeze him out?” Doctor Phabianc inquired.

Canea hesitated. Fire was probably too painful. She had heard that anesthesia was not advised for this practice, and having the bastard burn out of her body without any anesthesia would be hell. Freezing probably had a numbing effect.

“Freeze him out.”

The doctor searched in one of her many drawers and produced a long, metallic, white pick. She turned to Canea, holding it up so she could see it.

“It will hurt.”

“I have to do it, Doctor.”

“You don’t have to. There is a less drastic way.”

“I want it gone now, not after weeks or months.”

Phabianc pressed a button at the bottom of the pick and it started to glow, throwing a reflection into the doctor’s glasses. An intense sheen covered the tip and spread over the rest of the pick, making the hard metal malleable. Astonished, Canea watched it spiral into an S-shaped form, quivering in Phabianc’s hand.

“Sometimes, our suffering can lead to great creations,” the doctor said, trying one last time to talk her out of it.

“I’ve done my suffering. Freeze him out.”

Phabianc nodded and set to work. She lowered the pick over Canea’s chest and pointed it straight at her heart. Then she plunged the pick into her flesh and pierced the tissue around her heart.

Canea held her breath, feeling an ice-cold sensation spread through her chest, holding her insides imprisoned. It spread through her lungs and froze her inside. A cloud of cold air escaped her nostrils.

“Focus on your breath,” Phabianc said as she moved the pick around her heart and its S-shaped form poked into her tissues, cutting its way through her chest. “Nearly done now.”

Canea’s chest was frozen and yet it felt as if it were on fire. Sharp flashes shot through her, obliterating whatever he had left in her, destroying all last remnants, and returning her freedom to her. The price of freedom had never been so excruciating, but she held on. It was worth it. She wanted nothing of him to remain inside of her. It had to be gone, all of it.

Finally, Phabianc removed the pick and turned it off. The S stretched and returned to its original shape. Canea’s flesh closed by itself and grew back at miraculous speed, covering the incisions and leaving no scars. It was as if no metallic tool had ever pierced her skin.

“Is he gone?” she asked.

“Utterly and completely,” the doctor replied. 

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