by L. S. O'Dea
“Ah...” Charlie’s eyes darted between the door and the cage.
“If someone is coming in here, we could all be in danger. You. Me. Your brother.” Louis was Charlie’s weak spot.
“You’re gonna be mad at me.”
“I might be, but I promise you won’t get in trouble. Just tell me the truth.” The scientists were all competitive which could explain someone sneaking around his project, but it also might be Conguise and that was infinitely more dangerous.
“You swear you won’t punish me?”
“I swear. We’re friends. Aren’t we?”
“I guess.”
That hurt. He considered the two Guards more like family than friends, but the feelings obviously weren’t returned. “I’m trying to protect you. To protect all of us.”
“That’s all I was trying to do too.”
“Did someone threaten you?” He couldn’t allow that. He wasn’t always around to watch over the young Guard.
“No.” The Guard shook his head. “Nothing like that, but...” His eyes glanced to the newly replanted Brush-Men cage where the smallest of the creatures scurried around the bushes and grasses.
“Did something happen when you and Louis fed the Brush-Men? Did some escape?” Araldo, he was dead if anyone found out about this.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?” He wanted to shake the young Guard, but that’d make the kid shut up faster than anything. Guards, like Charlie, saw more abuse from Almightys than caring. He pushed aside his impatience. “Please, tell me exactly what happened.”
“Well....” Charlie backed away a step. “We were done feeding them. Louis left and I was tidying up when....when they started attacking a smaller one.”
“Dear Araldo, what did you do?” He grabbed a chair and sat. This couldn’t get worse, but he was pretty sure it would.
“I didn’t think. I just ran into the cage and–”
“They didn’t attack you?”
“No. Yes. I mean, at first, they scattered and I was able to grab the little guy. By the time they regrouped and came at me I was almost to the door.”
“You grabbed one?” His voice rose.
Charlie’s big, brown eyes pleaded with him. “They were going to kill him. They’d already bit off most of his hand.”
“That’s the stupidest...” He stood. Fury, fear and relief that the kid was okay raged through him. “How in the name of Araldo have you managed to live this long. You’re too stupid to work here. You’re going to get us all killed.”
“Sorry.” Charlie stared at his feet, his shoulders drooping.
McBrid took a huge breath, calming his fears. “No. I’m sorry. You’re not stupid but damnit, Charlie, you have to think with your head”—he tapped the young Guard on the temple—“and not with your heart.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” There were tears in the Guard’s eyes. “I just felt so bad for him. He was screaming and those other ones were all over him.”
“What did you do with it?” He looked around the lab. Those little things could hide almost anywhere.
“I put him in a container.”
“He needs to go back inside with the others.”
“They’ll kill him.”
“Maybe, but maybe he’ll be smarter this time and stay away from the bigger ones.”
“How’s he supposed to do that? They’re all bigger and now he’s hurt.”
“I’m sorry about that, but he has to go back with the others. He’s not a pet. He’s dangerous.”
“He understands me.”
“Charlie...” Now, the Guard was being fanciful.
“I’m not lying. I talked to him. I can’t understand him but he understands me. He tries to talk to me but all I hear are chirps and clacks but sometimes he shakes his head yes or no. I understand that.”
“Don’t lie to—”
“I’m not. I swear.” When Charlie lied, he usually looked away. Right now, his brown eyes were locked with McBrid’s.
“Where is he? I need to see this for myself.”
“Ah...” Charlie glanced away.
“Please tell me you didn’t remove him from the lab.” If the Guard turned the little Brush-Man loose, Araldo, help them all. Those things would annihilate the population. They bred like crazy and were both voracious and aggressive.
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Good that would’ve...It wouldn’t have been good.” McBrid could breathe again.
“Ah, this ain’t so good either.”
So much for breathing. “What happened?”
“The little guy had dirtied in his container and I needed to clean it so...I...ah, I put a pencil inside to lift him out and he...ah...he jumped.”
“Jumped where?”
“To the counter and then the floor.”
“You lost him?” This couldn’t be happening.
“Kind of.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“He ran under the cabinet.” Charlie pointed to where he’d been kneeling. “I was trying to find him when you came in.”
McBrid hurried across the room and dropped to the floor. He couldn’t see a thing under the counter. “We need a flashlight.” He sat back on his feet. “There’s one in that drawer.”
Charlie grabbed the flashlight and handed it to McBrid before kneeling next to him. They both ducked and peered under the cabinet.
“I don’t see him, do you?” McBrid moved the light, looking in every crease.
“No,” said Charlie.
He searched again and again, but there was no Brush-Man to be found. He sat up. “He could be anywhere by now.”
“We could set a trap. He was really hungry and thirsty when I found him.”
Great, now he had to try and trap a Brush-Man.
CHAPTER 9: McBrid
McBrid ran his hand down his face, trying to wipe away his exhaustion as he sat in his office watching the video from the Brush-Men lab. This was the second night he’d stayed up, waiting for the Brush-Man to take the bait. Perhaps, the creature had already fled the room.
Something moved on the side, just out of range of the camera. They should be motion activated but Conguise was too cheap. He shifted, trying to see what was lurking around his lab but the only thing visible was a shadow.
He stood. If Charlie was in there, he’d wring the kid’s neck. The young Guard couldn’t afford to be sleepy at work. It was dangerous enough for him, but he was older and more careful. Level Five did not tolerate mistakes.
He left the lab and made his way down the hallway, trying to stay out of the view of the other cameras. He was already on Conguise’s radar. He didn’t need any questions about why he was working late.
He hesitated at the Brush-Men lab, took a deep breath and flung the door open, keeping a hold on the handle in case whatever was in there was deadly. He wouldn’t put it past Conguise to turn something loose, hoping it’d catch and kill him.
“Ah!” Parson squeaked and jumped, spinning around. “McBrid! What are you doing here?”
“I think the better question is what are you doing here?” He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
“Uhm...I was looking for some”—Parson’s eyes darted around the lab—“beakers. I’m...ah...out.”
“And you thought to find them on my computer?” He locked the door and Parson’s large Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.
“Ah...no. I was shutting it down for you. I was—”
“It wasn’t on.” He took a step closer, keeping the door between them. “Only a fool would leave his computer on and unlocked and I’m not a fool.”
“Of course, you aren’t. I didn’t mean—”
“How did you get in here?” The doors to the stairwells were key-coded and could be hacked, but the locks to the laboratories were old fashioned. He lifted his foot a fraction, feeling the slight wobble of his lock picks. He’d been carrying them since he was old enough to go to school. His f
ather and uncle had taught him how to pick locks in case it’d ever been discovered that he was a mephi, a mixed breed.
“Ah...your door was unlocked.”
“Liar.” Not one scientist here would leave their lab unlocked. “You broke in.”
“No. I didn’t.”
He didn’t care about the how. It wasn’t surprising that others here could pick a lock. “Who told you to steal my notes?” If the professor figured out how he controlled the Araneas and some of the other creatures, he’d be expendable.
“No one. I swear.” Parson backed away, his eyes darting to the door.
“Then why are you here?”
“I-I’m having issues with the Slug-Mugs. I mean, Gastropodas. They won’t listen to me. The experiment is moving backward and Conguise is less than happy.” Parson’s eyes almost bulged from his skull.
“I told you how to control them when I gave you the project.” Kind of. Some secrets he’d kept in order to stay alive.
“Yeah, but I forgot what you said when they were given back to you. After the...ah, escape, I didn’t think I’d ever have them again.”
“Why were you looking in here? This is the computer for the Brush-Men?”
“Don’t you mean the Phasmatodeas?”
“Only a pompous Grunt’s ass uses their scientific names.”
“Conguise insists.”
“Like I said.” He winced. His exhaustion was loosening his tongue and that could get him killed.
Parson giggled and clamped his hand over his mouth.
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Thank Araldo, he was safe from that confession. “Now, back to why you’re breaking into my lab.”
“Yes...well, I have the computer for the Slug-Mugs and your notes on how to control them aren’t on there.”
“They are unless you erased them.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I’m more concerned about why you’d think to look for the answers here. Have you been going through all my computers?” He’d kill Parson if the scientist had hacked his Aranea notes.
“No. I started here.”
“I’d suggest you end here too. The Aranea lab is not a place for a novice.”
“I would never go in there.” Parson shivered, his lean frame twitching as if having convulsions.
“Not even if it meant your life?”
“No.” Parson’s face was white.
“Liar. We’ll all do whatever we have to in order to survive.” He moved a little closer. “Remember that.”
Parson nodded and took a step toward the door.
“Don’t.” He didn’t buy this story. “The Slug-Mugs are easy to control with food, but don’t get too close.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Parson took another step toward safety.
“We’re not done.”
The other scientist froze.
“Get back to my desk.” He didn’t want to fight but the other Almighty wasn’t leaving before he had some answers.
Parson stared at the door longingly as he moved to the desk.
“What did you learn by going through my notes?”
“Nothing. I swear.” Parson’s eyes dropped to the floor where the cage was set up to capture the Brush-Man.
“Ah, noticed that did you?”
“I didn’t notice anything.” Parson’s eyes sharpened. “An escape is not good.”
“No, but not necessarily deadly. You should know that.”
Parson blanched a little. “The Slug-Mug’s escape wasn’t my fault. It was your Guard’s fault. Your fault. It was the dinner for your Aranea who turned my Slug-Mug free.”
“Conguise wasn’t too happy about that, was he? But he didn’t blame me. As a matter of fact, I was the one assigned to your projects while you searched for your creature.”
“He’ll blame you for this.” Parson’s eyes darted to the trap and then back to McBrid.
The younger Almighty had him there but he hadn’t played all his cards yet. “I wonder how the other scientists will feel when they discover that you’ve been stealing all our secrets.”
“What? No. It’s not like that.”
“Conguise will probably applaud you, but the others...” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to be you if that happens. We all work with some extremely deadly creatures and we all have access to some very dangerous fluids, especially when injected.”
“They’ll kill me.” Parson’s pallor had turned grayish-green.
“Probably.”
“I-I wasn’t doing it to hurt anyone but I’m not making the progress that Conguise expects.”
“And because you did make unbelievable progress with the River-Men, the professor sees you as a genius. Now, you have to keep delivering. I and many of the others have wondered how you’ve been able to make such leaps and bounds with the River-Men.” He smiled. It wasn’t friendly. “They’ll be so excited to find out the truth—that you stole it from them.”
“Please, you can’t tell them.” Parson stepped toward him.
He held up his hand. “Don’t come any closer.” He didn’t trust the younger Almighty not to inject him with something deadly.
Parson stopped. “Please. I won’t say anything about the escape. I swear on my mother, I won’t.”
He should kill the other scientist, but he just didn’t have it in him. He’d brought enough destruction and pain to mothers. Fersia’s mom still searched for her. His mother had spent her life mourning his father. If he would’ve been stillborn or had looked more like an Almighty, his grandfather would never have known and his father would’ve lived.
“You need to stop sneaking into my labs.” He didn’t care about the others but... “I suggest you stop doing it all together.”
“Yes, I will. I swear.”
“And I want to know any little secrets you may have found.” Knowledge was always power, especially around here.
“Okay. Scottsmoor is working on—”
“I don’t want to know their scientific breakthroughs. I’m a good enough scientist to make my own successes.”
Parson’s face heated a little.
“I want to know what they’re hiding from Conguise.”
“Uhm...Crackderr. He’s been going through Conguise’s papers. I think he’s compiling information so he can quit one day.”
“Smart.” He couldn’t stand the old scientist. The man was cruel beyond need but McBrid did respect his intelligence.
“Scottsmoor is hiding”—Parson’s eyes darted to the door—“the fact that he modified the blood from the Rattus project.”
“Why?” He’d been doing the exact same thing with the Araneas, but the real value was in the reason.
“The first three Guards he bought were siblings.”
“Holy Araldo.” Conguise would be livid. One of the three main tasks on Level Five was to create viable offspring. Interbreeding would not be tolerated.
“I know.” Parson’s lips twitched. “Not too bright of him.”
“The female died during birth, didn’t she?”
“That’s what his official notes state, but Scottsmoor may have helped her along. I managed to find the non-modified bloodwork and she should’ve lived after expelling the offspring.”
“Didn’t the babies die too?” Oh, this was good stuff. This would get Scottsmoor fed to a monster in a heartbeat.
“Yep. Stillborn. Both of them.”
“Go on. Tell me everything.” Apparently, Parson had been snooping for some time and he couldn’t wait to harvest all that lovely knowledge from the other man’s skull.
CHAPTER 10: Glick
Glick hid in the dark corner under the cabinet, listening to the two Almightys talk. He was starving. He’d found a few dried bugs but they’d been like eating dirt—all dust and shell, nothing chewy or delicious in them. He pushed on his stomach to try and stop the ache. If he didn’t eat soon, he’d die.
He crept toward the front of the cabinet, eyes locked on the food that’d been left f
or him by the Almighty. He wasn’t stupid. He saw how the meat was tied to a thin wire and the wire was hooked to a door. He was fast but not that fast.
The Almightys walked across the room and left. The laboratory once again fell into darkness. He waited. When it’d been quiet for some time, he slipped from his hiding spot and darted from shadow to shadow, searching for any food. There was nothing but what waited in the trap.
If he poked it with something, he might be able to get a bit of it. There’d been a small stick under the rail near the enclosure. The other Brush-Men rushed toward him as he neared their cage—his old home. They stopped at the glass, staring at him. He bared his teeth, hating them even more than the Almightys at this moment. They were his kind and yet they felt nothing for him, except a desire to kill.
He grabbed the stick and carried it to the trap. He slid it into one of the small openings on the wire surrounding that delicious, juicy, chunk of meat. He steadied it, pushing it farther inside the cage. As soon as it touched the food, the door to the trap slammed shut.
Glick jumped, dropping the stick and racing under the counter. Nothing moved. No one came running. He waited, but everything was still. He crept back to the cage and picked up the stick. The meat dangled from the wire, not even a small piece had broken free.
It was time to try again. The door was already closed, so this time he rested it against the wire. He leaned to the side, pulling the stick and the wire closer. His arms trembled but the meat was getting closer. He had to stay strong, just a little more. The chunk of meat bobbed against the wire. He took a deep breath. He only had one chance. He’d never be able to hold the stick long enough to do this again. He wedged the end of the wood against the cage, and carefully loosened his hold. It didn’t move. He stuck his arm through the opening, snatching the food and pulling it flush against the cage. He wanted to shout in victory as he clawed off a hunk of that meat with one hand and stuffed it in his mouth. His other hand clutched the food so it wouldn’t swing away. His knees wobbled at the bloody deliciousness and he feasted, hanging on the side of the cage.
