Leaving Level Five

by L. S. O'Dea

  Charlie shook his head. “Are you trying to talk to me?”

  “Not trying.” He sighed. Apparently, the Guard couldn’t understand him.

  “Are you thirsty? Do you want some water?”

  He nodded furiously. The blood had been juicy and good but a little salty.

  “Stay there.”

  “Like I have a choice.” He pointed at the opening of the container.

  “Right.” Charlie laughed. “Not like you can go anywhere.” He hurried to the sink and filled an eye dropper with water. He came back and tried to get the tip of the dropper to Glick’s lips, but it wasn’t long enough to reach the bottom and Charlie’s hand was too big to fit into the opening. “Dang it. I guess, I’ll have to drop some down for you. You may want to move so you don’t get wet.”

  Glick pressed himself against one side of the glass as Charlie dropped a few pearls of water into the container.

  “Okay. Go ahead. I’ll give you more if you want it but I’ll make sure you’re out of the way first.”

  Glick hurried to the small puddle, falling to his knees again and slurping up the water.

  “Do you want more?”

  “No.” He shook his head, rubbing his belly with his uninjured hand.

  “Okay.” Charlie watched him closely. “You’re hurt pretty badly.”

  Glick looked at himself. His dark brown body was covered in yellow blood. Although most of his wounds had sealed shut, his hand still dripped fluid. He held it up, showing it to the Guard.

  “That looks bad.”

  It hurt bad too.

  “I don’t know much about fixing creatures like you.”

  Glick had no idea what to say to that.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  Glick shrugged. That depended on what the Guard was going to do to him.

  “If you need help, I can tell McBrid.” Charlie frowned. “But he’ll be pretty angry at me for helping you.”

  “No. Don’t tell him.”

  “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

  Glick shook his head. McBrid was an Almighty. The other Almighty had cut Flea.

  “You’re saying, you’re not going to be okay?”

  Glick shook his head.

  Charlie frowned. “You are going to be okay?”

  He nodded vigorously. He had to convince this Guard there was no need to get the Almighty.

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  Glick nodded slower now. He was too, although he had no idea why this Guard cared. Guards killed his kind for no reason, but this one had saved him.

  “You’re a smart little Brush-Man.” Charlie’s eyes darted to the cages where some of the small Brush-Men still watched the window and door. He turned back toward Glick. “Can they all understand us?”

  Glick shook his head.

  “Hmm. Why can you?”

  Glick shrugged. He had no idea.

  “Maybe, I should tell McBrid about this.” Charlie straightened. “He’ll want to know that you can understand us.”

  “No, please. The Almighty will kill me. Please don’t.” He raced to the side closest to the Guard, shaking his head and slapping the glass.

  “Calm down. I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

  “I’m not trying to say anything. I’m saying it.”

  “Stop. You’re hurting yourself.”

  He stared at his hand. He’d reopened the part of his wound that had closed and it was bleeding more heavily. He licked at his skin, trying to make it stop.

  “I think, you’re trying to say that you don’t want me to tell McBrid.”

  Glick nodded, hand still in his mouth.

  “He’s not going to be mad at you.” Charlie frowned again. “Just me. I’m always messing up.” He shook his head. “That’s not important. McBrid will be happy you’re safe and can understand us. You don’t have to be afraid of him. He’s okay, especially for an Almighty.”

  Glick shook his head, removing his hand so he could speak. “Maybe to a Guard but not to someone like me.”

  “I guess we can wait. I don’t really want to tell him anyway, not after what happened with Fersia.”

  “Who?”

  The Guard’s brown eyes were sad. Whoever Fersia was, it wasn’t a happy story.

  “Listen to me.” Charlie glanced at the door. “I’m going to take you with me tonight. If you start to look sick, I’ll have to tell McBrid.”

  “No. Don’t tell the Almighty.” Glick shook his head.

  “Shhh. If you make too much noise, someone will hear you and that’ll get us both killed.”

  Glick put his hand over his mouth.

  “Good. Be quiet and rest.” Charlie picked up the container. “I have to go back to work. I’m going to hide you for now.” He opened a drawer in a corner cabinet. “It’ll be dark but don’t worry. You’ll be safe and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Okay?”

  Glick nodded. He was used to being in the dark and alone. That didn’t scare him, being found did. So, he’d be quiet and see if he could figure out how to escape.

  CHAPTER 6: Glick

  Glick curled in a ball, trying to stay warm. The glass floor of the container was cold and hard, making his body ache even more. He blinked, not realizing that his eyes had been open. He could see nothing, not even his hand in front of his face. He was used to being in the dark, but in his home there were glimmers of light shining into the cage from the laboratory machines. In here, there wasn’t even a speck of brightness and he was so alone. He hated the other Brush-Men for killing Bumpers, but at least in his enclosure he’d never been completely by himself. The Guard wasn’t coming back and there was no escaping this container. He’d tried everything—climbing, digging, chewing. This was some new way to kill him. Bumpers’ and Flea’s deaths had been horrible but at least they’d been quick. He was going to starve or die of thirst alone in this cold cave.

  He had to think of something besides how long it’d take to die. The dark wasn’t so bad. It’d been dark when he’d been in his egg. He closed his eyes, remembering the quiet movements and chattering of his clutch-mates. The memory was fuzzy, perhaps more imagination than recollection. Everything had fallen quiet so long before he’d hatched. The silence had happened slowly, the poison seeping first into the outer layer of eggs and then dripping into the inner until all were dead but him.

  He opened his eyes, preferring the dark emptiness over those memories. Footsteps moved closer. He sat up. What if the Guard was coming to kill him? He had nowhere to hide and no weapon. His body shook, his shoulder bumping into the wall of glass. The drawer opened and light burst over him. He shielded his eyes, squinting into the brightness as the container lifted into the air.

  “You doing okay?” Charlie stared at him, his face distorted from the glass.

  Glick blinked. Actually, the light was dim in the room and had only seemed bright because of the absolute darkness of the drawer.

  “Oh, you messed in there.” Charlie put the container on the desk and began looking around. “I’m going to have to find somewhere else to put you while I clean this up.”

  “Let me out of here.” Glick scurried around, slapping the sides of the container. “Don’t put me back in that drawer. You might die or forget me, and then I’ll die.” Or worse, another Guard, like Stink or Topper, could find him. He’d be trapped.

  “Stop running around. You’re smearing your poop all over.” Charlie shook the container a little.

  Glick bounced against the walls but as soon as his world stopped moving, he began running again. “Let me go. Please.”

  “Shhh.” Charlie put the beaker down and snatched another one from a shelf. “Here. This should work. It’s smaller but you only have to stay in there while I clean this one.” He tipped the container.

  Glick’s legs dropped from under him as he slid across the glass. He was not going into that other death trap. He tried to crawl upward, his finger grasping for anything to latch onto but everything was smoo
th, slick glass.

  “Come on.” Charlie tapped the bottom and some of the poop tumbled past Glick toward the opening. “Dang it.” He put the container back down. “This isn’t going to work.” He looked around the lab. “I have to find something to get you out of there.”

  Glick collapsed against the wall of the jar, his heart beating hard against his skinny chest. He shook his head but the Guard wasn’t watching so he began yelling, “No. Let me go. I don’t want to go in another cage. Please.”

  “Shhh.” Charlie looked at him, frowning. “Calm down, little guy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Let me out.” Glick jumped up and down.

  “Give me one minute.” Charlie looked around the lab, his lips pursed with thought. “Ahh. That might work.” He walked to the desk and came back with a pencil, slipping it inside the opening. “Climb on this, okay?”

  This was his chance.

  “Be careful. I don’t want you to fall and get hurt. Your hand is already in bad shape.”

  His hand wasn’t healed, but the area where his fingers were missing had crusted over and no longer hurt too badly. Nothing that’d stop him from escaping anyway. He waited until the pencil was as far down as Charlie could reach before he jumped, wrapping his arms and legs around the wood.

  “That’s it. Now, hold on.” Charlie slowly pulled the pencil upward, careful not to bump it against the side.

  Glick shifted, gathering his legs under him and getting his hands ready. As soon as he was clear of the container, he was jumping. His stomach lurched at the distance between him and the counter. It was a long way down and that flat surface didn’t look soft—at all—but he had to risk it. He wasn’t going to spend days alone in a drawer, starving to death.

  “That’s it.” Charlie pulled the pencil the last few inches from the beaker. “Wait to jump off until I get...”

  Glick wasn’t waiting for anything. He closed his eyes and leapt. Flying was as wonderful as he remembered. This was just like jumping from bush to bush—fun, exhilarating—until...He cried out as he landed on the rock-hard counter, sliding across the slippery surface. He spread his arms and legs, trying to stop when one of his legs bent backward. He screeched.

  “No! Stop!” Charlie dropped the pencil, his huge hand coming straight for Glick.

  That Guard was not catching him again. He rolled to the side, dodging Charlie’s giant fingers before crawling away as fast as he could, ignoring the pain in his hand and leg.

  Charlie glanced at the door and lowered his voice. “Come back here. I have food

  Even that wasn’t enough. He could survive being hungry. He scrambled to his feet, but his leg buckled under him, so he hopped across the counter, swinging his leg back and forth to work out the kink.

  “I mean it. Stop,” whispered Charlie.

  The Guard’s hand scooped toward him. He hopped in the other direction, barely escaping. This wasn’t going to work. Charlie was fast. He tried putting his foot down. It hurt but it didn’t buckle. He raced, half-hopping and half-running. There was nowhere to hide on this blasted counter except the beakers and he wasn’t going near them.

  He skidded to a halt at the edge. He’d thought jumping from the pencil to the counter had been a long drop. It was nothing compared to this. The floor loomed below him—bright white and shiny. It was going to be a lot harder than the dirt, maybe, even harder than the counter.

  ”Don’t. Don’t do it. You’ll get hurt. Bad.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the Guard. Charlie wasn’t reaching for him anymore.

  “Come on. Come back. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” The Guard sidled along the counter, moving closer. He raised his hand, his fingers twitching a little.

  The Guard was trying to get close enough to capture him again. He couldn’t let that happen. His eyes locked with Charlie’s and he stepped off the edge.

  CHAPTER 7: McBrid

  Every day, McBrid postponed this task until the last possible moment, even though she’d be waiting. He wiped his hands on his pants, wishing the guilt could be cleared away as easily, before opening the door. He strode into the room, plastering a smile on his face.

  “Fersia, I have a present for you.”

  The large Aranea hung upside down on the ceiling of her cage. Her four hairy legs clasped around the bars as her eight eyes watched him. She dropped to the floor, twisting her body to land on her feet as he approached.

  He stopped at the red line painted on the tile several yards from her enclosure. They were friends of a sort. He’d given her the opportunity to kill him a long time ago. She’d chosen to let him live, but he didn’t fully trust her. She may decide to amend her mistake one day. He deserved nothing more.

  He held up the pad of paper he carried. “This is for you.” He bent and put it on the floor, shoving it toward her.

  Her long, hairy leg stopped the notebook as it slid into her cage. She opened it and flipped page after page. She glanced up at him, her black eyes showing no emotion but he was pretty sure there was a hint of moisture in them.

  Now for the bad news. “It’s from the new Servant. The one who’ll be your mate.”

  She shoved the book toward the back of her cage and grabbed the bar to the left of the door.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to do it.” He stopped himself from stepping toward her. “Conguise will kill me if I don’t.”

  She chittered at him, a high-pitched screeching sound.

  “He’s already suspicious. He caught sight of the last one. I told him the new serum made them look older but I don’t think he believed me.”

  She clacked her large fangs and grabbed the left bar over and over—her way of communicating with him, her way of telling him no.

  “Please, Fersia. You’re sad. You’re lonely. This Servant is young and nice.”

  She screeched.

  “It’s not like that.” He covered his ears, but the sound still made his bladder clench and the hair on his body stand on end. “He’s sick. He’s dying. This is the only chance he has to live.”

  She quieted.

  He dropped his hands. “I told him what he’d become. I gave him a choice.” Unlike her. The guilt hit him again and he wanted to drink himself into unconsciousness. “He still want to do it.”

  Her leg slid off the bar.

  “You should give him a chance. I told him about you.”

  She tapped the left pole.

  “I did. I think he’s already a little in love with you.”

  She backed away, her leg flailing about.

  “I told him how you loved books and reading and you were so smart.” He inched closer, glancing down to ensure he was still behind the line. “He’s not educated. He’s a little rough. He was a stray his whole life but he’s smart and funny and kind.” He took a deep breath. “I like him.”

  She hissed, snapping her fangs together and racing toward the front of the cage. She reached for McBrid, her hairy leg waving inches from his face.

  “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t do this to him if I had another choice or”—he gently ran his finger over the wiry looking bristles of her limb, once again amazed at how soft it was—“if he had another choice. I swear, Fersia, without these shots he’ll die. He has leukemia.” He dipped his head, letting her leg dance over his face. “I’d never do what I did to you to anyone else. I promise. This is the only way he lives. Please, give him a chance. Get to know him. I told him you’d been locked up a long time and that you liked the forest. He drew those pictures for you. He thought you might want to see the outside again. He grew up near the Lake of Sins. It’s a beautiful area.”

  Charlie’s faint scream drifted into the room. He straightened and she dropped her leg. They looked at each other both quite aware of whose voice that was.

  He raced for the door, stepping over the red line and into her territory, but Fersia didn’t grab him. Charlie was her friend too.

  CHAPTER 8: McBrid

  McBrid raced out of the Aranea
lab. He had to find Charlie. The damn kid should be in the barracks by now, not creeping around Level Five. He ran down the hallway and stopped. He had no idea if he was going in the right direction. He sniffed, trying not to raise his head. Usually, the cameras in the hallways weren’t monitored but he couldn’t risk being questioned. Almightys did not sniff out scent. A slight scuffling sound came from the Phasmatodea room.

  “No. Not the Brush–Men.” He should’ve known better than to let Charlie work with them. Those things were extremely sneaky and Charlie was too trusting. He burst through the door.

  Charlie was in the back of the room on his knees by the cabinet. The kid stared up at him, eyes wide. “McBrid?”

  “You okay?” The enclosures were sealed. Everything looked good.

  “Ah, yeah.” The young Guard stood.

  “What happened?” His heart was slowing to an almost normal rate.

  “Nothing.” Charlie stared at his feet.

  “You yelled.” And scared him to death.

  “Did I? Sorry.”

  “What’s going on?” The young Guard was acting suspicious.

  “Nothing. I...ah...dropped something.”

  “What?” He moved toward the Guard. Charlie was not a very good liar. “Maybe, I can help you find it.”

  “No.” The kid almost yelled again.

  “No?”

  “I mean, thanks but that’s okay. It’s not important.”

  “It was important enough to make you scream and to cause you to crawl around on the floor.” His gaze roamed the room. “Why are there two beakers out?”

  Charlie hurried to the counter, grabbing the glass containers and carrying them to the sink. “I was getting ready to wash them.”

  “Wait.” But it was too late, the young Guard splashed water into both, wiping away whatever had been staining the bottom of the larger one. “What was in there?”

  “I don’t know. I found them like this.” He shoved the scrub brush inside, cleaning the jar thoroughly.

  “Charlie, you need to tell me the truth. I didn’t leave them dirty. I need to know if someone else was in here.” He wouldn’t put it past Scottsmoor to sabotage the experiment. Although the other scientist had been glad when this project had been reassigned to McBrid, Scottsmoor certainly didn’t want anyone else to succeed where he’d failed.