by L. S. O'Dea
The Brush-Man clicked and chirped.
“Get in the small cage and I’ll hide you. Keep you safe.”
The Brush-Man shook his head, yanking on the wires.
“I can’t let you out. They’ll find you for sure.”
The Brush-Man shook his head again, still pulling on the cage.
He had to keep trying. “Please. I swear, I won’t hurt you.”
The Brush-Man kept clacking and chirping.
Honestly, he wouldn’t believe an Almighty either. He needed to prove himself but he couldn’t let the little thing go. He headed for the door. The Brush-Man’s chirps grew in frequency and volume.
McBrid quickly closed the door behind him and hurried to his office. He grabbed some food and water from the refrigerator before going back to the lab. The Brush-Man had quieted but was once again running around the cage, searching for a way out.
“I brought you some food.”
The Brush-Man stopped, staring up at him.
“I thought I could prove that I don’t want to hurt you.” He lifted the top corner of the cage and dropped a tiny hunk of a sandwich inside.
The Brush-Man didn’t move.
He sat on the floor. “It’s not poison.” He took a bite. As soon as he swallowed, he said, “See. It’s good.”
The Brush-Man crept closer and sniffed at the food before grabbing it. The creature’s tiny face opened unbelievably wide, giving McBrid his first up-close view of a Brush-Man’s long, thin mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. He’d seen the bigger ones eat, but they were always covered in blood and snapping at one another.
When the Brush-Man was done, McBrid made a point of taking a drink of the water. The creature’s eyes never left the bottle.
“Are you thirsty?” McBrid almost wet his pants when the Brush-Man nodded. The creature really could understand him. All the other actions could’ve been his imagination but this was communication. “I can give you a bowl with water if you get in the other cage.”
The Brush-Man’s eyes narrowed.
“Or, I could dump some on the floor. Personally, I don’t like to drink off the floor.”
The Brush-Man bent, slapping the tile.
“Floor it is.” McBrid wanted to race out of the room and tell the world about this little guy, but just like with Fersia, this had to be kept a secret.
He poured some water into the cage and then stood. The Brush-Man dropped to his knees but stared up at McBrid.
“You saw me drink it.”
The Brush-Man waved his hand in the air.
“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.” He bent over the top. “Unfortunately, I can’t understand you.”
The Brush-Man chirped.
He shook his head. “Sorry.” He straightened and the Brush-Man ran toward him. He had to brace himself not to take a step back. Even though the creature was little, he’d seen what a group of the small ones could do.
It shook the cage.
“I can’t let you out. The only choice you have is to go into the little cage. If you do that, I can keep you safe and maybe...” He frowned, pretending to ponder something and then shook his head. “No. I could never trust you not to run away.”
The Brush-Man’s chirp was quieter than before.
“If I could...If you could trust me and I could trust you, I could let you roam this room. Maybe, even set you free in the forest one day.” He could never do that, but his job was to sell hope to the hopeless. He inhaled. “Imagine the fresh, cool air. The breeze dancing over your skin and the sun warming you.”
The Brush-Man’s little eyes glistened with tears.
McBrid shrugged. “But you have to trust me first.”
He’d done all he could for today. If the Brush-Man didn’t go into the cage on his own by morning, he’d have to use the net. For now, he’d given the little creature something to think about. He turned and left, locking the door behind him.
CHAPTER 16: Glick
Glick stared at the closed door, his mind tumbling with questions. Did he dare trust the Almighty? Could he really be free one day? He’d never known freedom but somehow, he remembered the outside—the wind and sun, the grass and trees. He wanted that again. He glanced at the enclosure where the other Brush-Men lived. Did they all remember? Unlike him and the Originals, the two largest Brush-Men, the others couldn’t understand the Guards and Almightys. If they were lucky, they also didn’t have vague memories of a different life.
He bent and lapped the water from the floor. He looked at the door and then the small cage again. No, trusting an Almighty was too dangerous. There had to be another way out of this cage.
He moved along the perimeter, looking for any weakness in the wire or gap in the construction, but there was nothing. He dropped to the floor, stretching out on the cool tile. He’d never see the moon or the stars, only darkness covering metal bars. He sat up. That was it. The Almighty had lifted the top. He could get out that way.
CHAPTER 17: McBrid
“McBrid, McBrid.” Charlie whispered through the door, kicking it slightly.
McBrid sat up, his back aching from sleeping on the floor. He blinked, his mind still clinging to his dream. Him, his dad and uncle had sailed away, left this nightmare behind.
“McBrid. Please. I need your help.” Charlie kicked the door again.
Araldo, what had Charlie done now? He jumped to his feet and hurried across the room, unlocking the door.
“Close the door. Quick.” Charlie pushed past him, walking to the examination table.
McBrid did as he was told. Something was wrong. Charlie was always respectful of his place and Guards never gave orders to Almightys.
“You gotta help him.” Charlie’s hands were cupped together and tucked close to his chest.
“What do you have?” His jaw clenched. He really didn’t want his suspicions proven correct.
Charlie slowly opened his hands. The little Brush-Man tried to wiggle its way to the edge of his palm, dragging its leg.
“You took him out of the cage?” He hurried to the cabinet. There were no beakers or large containers of any kind in here. He pulled out a glass dish, hoping it was tall enough so the thing couldn’t escape.
“I couldn’t leave him like this.”
“Yes, you could’ve.” He put the container on the table. “Put him in here.”
Charlie stared at the dish, his hands coming back toward his chest. “It’s cold and hard.”
“If he escapes—”
“How’s he going to do that? He can barely move.”
“We have no idea how quickly they heal.” All those he’d seen injured had been eaten by the other Brush-Men.
“Can you help him?”
“I don’t know. Let me see.” It was a pathetic little thing. Its hand was already partially gone and now one of his legs looked broken.
He opened a drawer, shoving the knives and equipment he used for necropsies out of the way. He grabbed an old towel. It was thin and frayed, but it was the best he had. He laid the cloth on the table. “Put him on that.”
Charlie raised his hand until he was eye to eye with the creature. “McBrid’s going to help you. He’ll fix you right up.”
“I’ll try.”
Charlie placed him in the middle of the towel. “Hold still and let McBrid take a look at you.”
The Brush-Man nodded.
“Amazing.” It made no sense that this creature understood them. He grabbed the magnifying lens and leaned closer.
The Brush-Man’s eyes were wide with fear and his little body trembled.
“He ain’t gonna hurt you.” Charlie rested his hand near the Brush-Man.
McBrid’s breath caught as the creature clasped onto the Guard’s finger with his hand. This was more than understanding. This was trust and obedience. It was everything Conguise wanted and it was happening because of a Guard with a big heart.
“Keep still. This won’t hurt.” McBrid used this opportunity to study more
than the Brush-Man’s leg. Its skin was dark and brittle. Small scars peppered his body where it looked like pieces had been broken or torn off. This little guy had been through a lot in his short life.
He put the magnifying lens down and picked up a tiny scalpel. The Brush-Man squeaked and climbed on top of Charlie’s hand, trying to get away.
“Hold him still.” The creature was so tiny, even a small mistake could cause irreparable damage.
“What are you going to do with the knife?” Charlie flipped his hand, rolling the little Brush-Man into his palm before pulling it to his chest.
The Brush-Man chirped and pointed at McBrid, shaking with fear.
“I need a little of his skin. It won’t hurt.”
Charlie frowned, his gaze on the scalpel.
“Okay. It’ll hurt a little, like a scrape. Nothing major.” He looked down, addressing the Brush-Man. “I was going to tell...ask you before I did anything.” Okay, that was a lie. He’d been going to tell the creature but not ask.
The Brush-Man shook his head, his eyes darting between McBrid and Charlie.
“He doesn’t want you to do it,” said Charlie.
“I have to.”
“Why? How’s that going to help his leg.”
“I can’t believe you think I’d hurt him.” He had no idea why this bothered him. Charlie had seen him kill and mutate hundreds of creatures, but the Guard should trust him. “I can’t treat him unless I know more about him. I don’t want to accidentally poison him.” It was true...mostly. He also wanted some samples. This creature could understand them. He’d seen no indication of that in any of the others. He’d have to test his theory, but if he were right, he needed to know what was different about this little guy.
“Hmm.” Charlie looked at the Brush-Man. “I think you should let him do it.”
The Brush-Man shook his head and then fisted his hand, pretending to slam it into his gut before screaming and flopping onto Charlie’s palm.
“I think he believes you’re going to stab him.” Charlie looked up at McBrid.
“Even I got that.” The little creature was a tad dramatic. “What if I used something else?”
The Brush-Man leaned up on his elbows and shrugged.
McBrid put the scalpel away and pulled a small brush from the draw. The bristles were wire and would hurt more than the knife but hopefully the little creature wouldn’t be as scared of it. “I can use this to get a skin sample.” He held it out for the Brush-Man’s examination.
The thing tipped his head and crawled around on Charlie’s hand, trying to see it from all angles.
“All I’ll do is run it over your skin a little. Like this.” He pretended to scrape the brush over his hand. He didn’t want to contaminate the sample. “Would that be okay?”
“He needs to fix your leg,” said Charlie.
The Brush-Man nodded, gripping Charlie’s little finger.
“Good boy.” Charlie put the creature back on the towel.
The Brush-Man closed his eyes and held on to Charlie’s pinky as McBrid slid a tiny piece of paper under him.
“You ready?” he asked.
The Brush-Man nodded, his body tensing.
He ran the wire brush gently along the creature’s uninjured arm and part of his torso. The Brush-Man’s ugly, little face contorted, probably more in fear than in pain, but the thing never made a sound.
“All done. Now, I need to look at the cells.” He lifted the Brush-Man, sliding the paper from under him, before placing him onto the towel. He carried the paper, careful not to spill any of the sample, to the back counter. He tapped a few scrapings onto a slide and placed it under the microscope.
The cells were amazing. They were Brush-Man but different. The makeup was more a hybrid of Servant and insect, than the other samples he’d seen. Of course, those had all been Scottsmoor’s samples and could’ve been altered. He needed to gather his own before he made any firm conclusions.
“How is he?” asked Charlie.
“Uhm...good. I’ll have to run some other tests though.” He forced himself to walk away from the microscope. “But first, I’ll take a better look at his leg as soon as we give him something for the pain.” He prepared a very tiny amount of a sedative that should be safe for a Servant and a bug. He added it to a drop of water on a slide and carried it to the table. ”Drink this.”
The Brush-Man stared at the slide and then looked at Charlie.
“He needs it.” McBrid met Charlie’s concerned gaze. “I’m going to set the leg and it’s going to hurt.”
“It’s okay, little guy. You can drink it.” Charlie bent so he was looking into the creature’s face. “It’ll make the pain stop. I promise.” The Guard sent McBrid a look, stating that this had better not be a lie.
The Brush-Man nodded slightly before bending and lapping at the water. He stopped, making a face.
“He needs to drink it all,” said McBrid.
The Brush-Man sent him a dirty look but bent and finished the medicine.
“You should lie down and relax.” He looked at Charlie. “We’ll give it a few minutes to get into his system.”
“Rest, little guy.” Charlie gently touched the Brush-Man’s head.
The creature clicked one short sound and stretched out on the towel, his clawed hand still clasped on Charlie’s pinky.
“How did he get hurt? When I left last night, he was safe in the cage.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t do anything.”
McBrid couldn’t help the tiny zing of vindication. Now, Charlie knew how it felt not to be trusted.
“This morning, when I went into the lab he was curled on the floor in the big cage. When he heard me approach, he tried to run away but he could barely move.”
“Hmm.” He glanced at the creature who was watching them, his face relaxed instead of tight with fear. “He probably tried to escape and hurt himself. This wouldn’t have happened if he’d gotten into the smaller cage like I told him to do.”
The Brush-Man looked away.
“McBrid only lectures because he cares about us,” said Charlie.
The Brush-Man turned toward McBrid, a glimmer of hope in his brilliant blue eyes.
McBrid forced himself not to look away. He cared about Charlie but this creature? He needed it alive because he wanted to study it, but care? He wasn’t so sure about that. “I think he’s relaxed enough.” He leaned closer to the Brush-Man. “We’re going to have to put your bones back together and tape them up. It’s going to hurt but we’ll be as quick as we can.”
The Brush-Man’s eyes were luminous—fear sparking through the sedative.
“Try to relax. It’ll go faster that way.” He looked at Charlie. “I’m going to hold his leg. I need you to wrap the tape around it.”
“But he’s so tiny and my hands are so big.”
“Mine too.”
“Can I hold him and you tape?”
“You’ll have to make sure you get the bones together properly.” He sounded more confident than he felt. It wasn’t like he was an expert. He’d taken anatomy but not on a Brush-Man.
“Oh. Maybe, it’s better if you hold him.” Charlie looked down at his little friend. “I’m going to need both hands.”
The Brush-Man moved his fingers away from Charlie.
“Get the tape ready.”
Charlie grabbed it, tearing a tiny strand free.
“On the count of three.” He wished he could’ve X-rayed the creature but those rooms were monitored. He stared at the small twisted leg. This was going to hurt. He hoped the thing was sedated enough to stay still. “One. Two. Three.” He grabbed the leg and felt along the bone, looking for the break. His fingers stilled. This was it. It was unmistakable—twisted completely around. He had to move fast and get it done in one try. He rolled the bone and the Brush-Man screeched. “Hurry Charlie, tape it now.”
The Brush-Man thrashed, trying to get away, but he held tight, praying he wasn’t crushing the leg.
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br /> “Hold still. Please. It’ll be done in a minute.” If the thing got away, he’d have to start again.
His hands were sweating as the creature chirped from the pain. Its entire body trembling as Charlie’s big hand wrapped tape around the bone.
“Get more. This needs to be strong.” He’d clip it later if needed.
Charlie tore off another piece, winding it around the limb.
“Keep going. It needs to be tight.” He moved his hand out of the way. The Brush-Man clasped onto his finger. It was staring at him with fear, pain and trust. Charlie was right. He did care about the damn thing.
CHAPTER 18: McBrid
McBrid knocked on Scottsmoor’s office door. He needed to find out everything he could about the poisoning, specifically what wasn’t in the notes.
“May I help you?” A young, male Almighty opened the door.
“Who are you?” McBrid had never seen this kid around the laboratory.
The young Almighty’s vibrant blue eyes widened a bit at his brusqueness and then one side of his mouth turned upward in a smile. “Gruder. Jonathon Gruder.” He opened the door wider and offered his hand.
McBrid shook the younger scientist’s hand as he stepped into the room. “I heard Conguise hired two new scientists.”
“Yep, me and Bing.”
“I’m looking for Scottsmoor.” He studied the younger Almighty. There was something off about him.
“Haven’t seen him since this morning.” Gruder sat down at the desk.
“I thought he was mentoring you.”
“I thought so too.” Gruder’s eyes were sharp, but his tongue too loose to survive long on Level Five.
“You should watch your comments.” He wasn’t sure why he said it. This kid was his competition but the guy didn’t move right. McBrid inhaled in short sniffs, trying not to be obvious. There was a hint of something unusual in Gruder’s scent.
“I usually do, but I have a feeling I can trust you.” Gruder’s eyes locked with his.
