Leaving Level Five

by L. S. O'Dea

Those eyes—they were too blue, too vibrant. The other scientist was slender, which wasn’t uncommon for a young Almighty, but his every movement was fluid and graceful. McBrid’s nose twitched and Gruder smirked. The kid knew. He recognized that McBrid wasn’t pure Almighty because Gruder was mixed too.

  “I don’t recommend trusting anyone in this place.” He nodded and left.

  This guy was dangerous. Gruder wouldn’t say anything about his suspicions about McBrid’s parentage. It’d cause too many questions and possibly DNA tests. However, if the other scientist didn’t perform well or made too many mistakes, Conguise would get rid of the kid. If that happened, Gruder would spill all his secrets—known or perceived—to save his hide. He needed to find Scottsmoor. Now, he had to learn about the Brush-Men and about his new assistant.

  When Scottsmoor wasn’t at the Rattus Norvegicus laboratory, McBrid slipped into the wing where Scottsmoor’s new project was being hosted.

  It was quiet on this side of the building. Only the soft hum of a few machines and the echo of his footsteps broke the cold silence. The project was so secret that no one else was assigned to this section of the lab.

  He stopped at the door and knocked. No one answered. He glanced around. The hallway was empty. No one knew anything about this project and secrets were never good, unless they were his. He turned the handle. It was locked, of course. Scottsmoor wasn’t a novice. He leaned his ear against the door. Something moved inside that room—soft sounds, barely a whisper, like sheets blowing in the breeze. He closed his eyes, listening, but he had no idea what was making the noise. That wasn’t unusual on Level Five. Whatever was in there was something no one had ever seen.

  Footsteps tapped on tile. He straightened. Someone was coming and by the shoes it wasn’t a male. He turned and strode in the other direction, taking the Servant’s hallway into the main section of the lab and tamping down his curiosity. The other project wasn’t his concern, not at the moment anyway.

  He wandered into the breakroom. A few scientists were scattered about, perusing notes as they ate or drank coffee. Scottsmoor wasn’t one of them.

  He left, passing Parson’s office, and stopped. This was who he needed to see. Scottsmoor probably wouldn’t tell him anything, but Parson would. He knocked once and strode into Parson’s office.

  “Yes.” Parson looked up from his computer, not happy to see him.

  He closed the door. “I need information.”

  “About what?” Parson’s hand began to twitch slightly. Poor guy wouldn’t live long working here.

  “Two things.” He lowered his voice. “What do you know about the new project Scottsmoor is working on?”

  “Nothing.”

  He raised his brow.

  “I swear.” Parson closed his computer and lowered his voice. “I tried to get in the lab but they’re using a different kind of lock.”

  He shouldn’t say anything but he felt bad for the guy. “You need to stop sneaking around. You’re going to get caught by someone not as understanding as I am.”

  “I’ll take my chances. Not producing is even more dangerous.”

  “True.”

  “What else do you want? I have work to do.”

  Steal was more like it. “What do you know about the eradication of the Brush-Men eggs?”

  “You have Scottsmoor’s notes.” Parson’s thin lips tensed.

  “I’m pretty sure I don’t have all of them.”

  “He killed the eggs with pesticide.”

  “Did any survive?”

  “You tell me?” Parson’s eyes brightened.

  “Not that I’m aware of but there was a partial notation left in one of his documents that makes me think some of them did survive.” He had to make sure that Parson didn’t suspect anything. “It’d be exactly like Scottsmoor to keep that little secret to himself so I’ll look like a fool. Conguise won’t be impressed if I can’t even kill the little buggers.”

  “Yeah.” Parson’s eyes dimmed a bit. “That does sound like something he’d do.” His eyes darted to the door and he leaned forward. “I did see something in his files before you were assigned the project. I’m sure you’d find it very interesting. We could trade. I could use help getting these things to obey.”

  There was no way he was giving up that secret. “I’m sure Crackderr will find it interesting that you’re stealing his hard work as well as secrets from all the other scientists.” He smirked. “Which monster would you like to feed? I suppose, I could be generous enough to let you pick who you want me to tell first.”

  “I’ll tell Conguise about the cage. Your escapee. He’s not going to be happy about tiny Brush-Men scurrying around his lab.”

  “Problem with something transient like that is it can disappear so quickly. No cage. No escapee. Only your word—the word of a thief—against mine.”

  “You can’t prove I did anything.”

  “I have videos and not just of you in my office.” He sat down on a chair across from the other Almighty.

  “You don’t have access to the footage in the other offices.” Parson sent him a smug look.

  “No, but I do have access to the hallway recordings. Do you actually believe the others won’t be curious as to why you’re outside their laboratories, picking the locks and disappearing inside for hours?”

  Parson’s pale face turned greenish-gray.

  “You should go back and tape over all that footage. Anyone could stumble across it.” Protecting his ass was second nature to him but apparently, not to everyone.

  “I...I...”

  “So, what did you discover about the poisoning?”

  “You won’t tell anyone?”

  “Not if you cooperate. I do suggest you wipe the tapes. I did the ones that I copied, but I’m sure you’ve continued your nocturnal jaunts since then.”

  “I will.” Parson stared down at his hands. “Will you show me how to erase them?”

  McBrid’s jaw tightened. This kid shouldn’t be here anymore than Charlie. “Yes, but first tell me what you know.”

  “Some survived. Many died as they crawled from the soil and the ones that didn’t, the Guards stomped.”

  “Why would they do that? Those creatures should’ve been studied.”

  “I know.” Parson’s lips twitched. “I heard that Conguise wasn’t happy when Scottsmoor let that slip.”

  “No, he wouldn’t be.” The professor would’ve been livid and Scottsmoor was a fool for telling him.

  “I also heard two somehow escaped.”

  “Really?” He had to force himself not to lean forward.

  Parson nodded.

  “Does Scottsmoor still have them or did he put them in with the others?”

  “No and no. One did flee into the cage with the others. They tore him up and ate him.”

  “They do have cannibalistic tendencies. I assume this one was smaller than the others since it was a hatchling?” If it was anything like the one Charlie had found, it was considerably smaller.

  “Yes, and according to Scottsmoor’s notes, the two were also a different color—darker and their skin was brittle.”

  “Hmm. Interesting.” It sounded exactly like the one he had.

  “Apparently, the poison altered their chemical composition.”

  “He studied them?” There was no way Scottsmoor knew they could understand Almightys and Guards. The other scientist would’ve painted the hallways with flyers, proclaiming his brilliance.

  “Yes. He caught the second one and studied it.”

  “Does he still have it?”

  “Some of the remains, I think.”

  “Remains?” He clamped his mouth shut. The idiot had killed it to study it. “I need you to get everything you can on that creature.”

  “Why?” Parson may be naïve but he wasn’t a fool.

  “Because I need to recreate the process. I need to poison them in the exact same way.”

  “Why would you want to do that? According to Scottsmoo
r, they were small, weak and brittle.”

  “Because Conguise expects me to succeed where Scottsmoor failed. I need to remedy the poison so it works properly. I can’t do that unless I know how they survived.”

  “The professor wants them dead. If you let them survive on purpose—”

  “Not all of them. A sample. A small sample of eggs.” He needed to figure out what had altered the Brush-Man’s DNA, enabling him to understand them. But first, he needed to verify that the others could not.

  “Okay, but I want the tapes of me going into the labs.”

  “Deal.” He had more than one copy.

  Parson’s smug smile would’ve made him laugh if it weren’t so sad. The younger Almighty wouldn’t make it a year around here.

  CHAPTER 19: Glick

  Glick woke with a start. He was alone in the dark, again, but this time pain was shooting through his leg. He’d climbed that great big cage and had slipped. He’d thought he was dead, especially when the Guard had found him, but instead of killing him, they’d helped him. It didn’t make sense.

  He was in the small cage now, not the beaker. He dragged himself to the side and rolled so his back was against the wall. He used his arms to push himself upward. His body throbbed an insistent rhythm of pain, but he had to get up. If he didn’t, he’d die. He knew it. It was in his blood, his every cell. Injured and down meant death. He sat, panting, his back braced against the side. Now, came the hard part. He started walking his way up the wall with his hands, using his injured leg as little as possible. The pressure and the weight on his lower half made the previous pain seem like the slightest prick of a thorn. He closed his eyes, fighting the blackness that called to him, promising a respite from this agony. He had to stand. He had to. He gave one last push and cried out, but he was on his feet. He’d done it. He’d fought this battle and won. Bumpers would be proud of him. He closed his eyes, waiting for the sharp agony to dull.

  He had no idea how long he stood, straining to hear but the only sounds were the soft movements of the Brush-Men in the other enclosure. He should be used to it, but he hated being alone. He missed Flea’s laughter and Speckles’ doom and gloom attitude but mostly he missed Bumpers. It should’ve been him who’d died not them.

  There was a click and then footsteps. His body trembled, causing the pain to ramp back up into a roaring flood of anguish. Someone was coming. He prayed it was Charlie or McBrid, but it could be Scottsmoor or his Guards. Something scraped the cabinet and the drawer slid open, the bright light, causing him to shade his eyes.

  “Hey, you’re up.” It was Charlie’s voice.

  His heart slowed. It was his friend, not Stink or Topper. He blinked, opening his eyes a little. The Guard was smiling at him and he smiled back. He’d never imagined that he’d consider a Guard a friend but Charlie wasn’t like the others.

  “Are you hungry?” Charlie lifted the cage from the drawer.

  Glick nodded. He was starving.

  “Here.” Charlie placed him on the counter, pried open a corner at the top and dropped a piece of meat. It landed near Glick’s feet but bounced away.

  Glick stepped forward and it was like someone torched his limbs with fire. He quickly leaned against the wall, removing the weight from his bad leg.

  “Still unsteady? Let me help.” Charlie stuck his hand inside the cage and Glick latched onto his finger.

  He wanted to race over and stuff all that delicious, bloody meat into his mouth, but Charlie moved slow and steady. When they were finally there, he tried to squat but the tape kept his leg straight. He bent at the waist, stretching his arm but the meat was too far away. Drool dripped from his mouth and his stomach growled. “Please. I’m starving.” He flapped his hand, but all he could do was hit the meat with the tips of his fingers.

  “Hmm. I shouldn’t do this,” mumbled Charlie as he cupped his hand. “Promise you won’t run away.”

  Glick tore his eyes from the meat, staring up at his friend. Honestly, he had nowhere to go. He nodded.

  “Get on.” Charlie waggled his fingers.

  Glick turned, sitting on the Guard’s hand.

  “You good?”

  Glick tried to push himself farther back on Charlie’s palm but his leg was sticking straight out and his arms trembled, weak from his earlier climb up the wall.

  “Let me.” Charlie used his thumb to gently scoot Glick toward the center of his hand. “How’s that?”

  “Perfect.” Glick nodded so the Guard would understand him.

  Charlie lifted him out of the cage. Glick stared down at the world. It was wonderful being this big. Bumpers would’ve loved it.

  Charlie lifted the meat and handed it to him. “Here.”

  He grabbed it, keeping one arm wrapped around the Guard’s finger. He lowered his face, tearing into the food. It was so good and juicy. He ate faster and in no time, it was gone. He licked his lips and his fingers.

  “All done?”

  He nodded, smiling at the Guard.

  Charlie started to lower his hand.

  “No. Stop.” He didn’t want to go back inside the cage, inside the cabinet where it was dark. He shook his head. “Please, don’t make me go back. Not yet. Please.”

  “What’s wrong?” Charlie’s brow was wrinkled with confusion. “Are you sick? The meat wasn’t bad. It was fresh.”

  The Guard didn’t understand. Glick pointed at the cage and shook his head.

  “Oh. That. I’m sorry, but I have to. McBrid will be furious if I don’t put you back.”

  “Don’t tell him. I won’t say anything,” Glick chittered as he wrapped his arms around Charlie’s finger.

  “I suppose, I can leave you out while I clean the lab, but you have to swear you won’t run away.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” Glick nodded, his cheek rubbing against the Guard’s smooth skin.

  “Don’t make me sorry I did this.”

  “I won’t.” Glick patted Charlie’s finger.

  The Guard walked to the cleaning cart and stopped. “I can’t clean with you in my hand.”

  “You promised.” Glick tightened his grip.

  “I got it.” Charlie lifted him and slipped him into his shirt pocket. “How’s that? Are you comfortable?”

  Glick clung to the top part of the cloth, his head and arms sticking out so he could see. This was wonderful. It was like being a giant. He nodded.

  “Great. Now, what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you little guy or something like that.”

  “Glick,” he chirped.

  “I didn’t understand that.” Charlie grabbed the spray bottle and wet the counter.

  “G...l...ick,” Glick said it slower.

  “Chirp?”

  Glick shook his head and said his name again.

  Charlie made some weird noise.

  Glick elbowed him.

  “I’m trying.”

  Glick poked him with his claw.

  “Hey, I said I was trying.” Charlie took him out of his pocket.

  Glick pointed to his face and said his name very, very slowly.

  Charlie’s giant, brown eyes narrowed. “Ick?”

  Glick frowned and shook his head. He looked around and pointed at the glass beakers.

  “Beakers?”

  He nodded.

  “What you said didn’t sound anything like beaker.”

  Glick shook his head and pointed at the beakers again. When the Guard just stared at him, he pointed at his eyes and then the beakers.

  “You want to see them?”

  “Yes.” He nodded.

  Charlie carried him to the counter. Glick motioned for the Guard to pick up one.

  “I don’t know how this is going to help.” Charlie held it out to Glick.

  Glick tapped it and said his name.

  “Yeah, it’s glass. They make that noise when tapped with a nail or claw.”

  “Come on. Listen to me.” Glick took a deep breath. This wasn’t that hard. He pointed to himself a
nd then tapped the glass, saying his name.

  “I don’t understand. It sounds like Ick to me.”

  “Close.” He tapped the glass again.

  “Ding-ick?”

  “No.” He shook his head, tapping the glass furiously.

  “Stop it. You’re going to break the gl...”

  Glick bit Charlie’s finger.

  “Ouch! Why’d you do that?”

  He slowly repeated the “gl” sound while tapping the glass.

  Charlie’s eyes darted between the glass and Glick’s face. “Are you...Glass-ick?”

  “Nooo. Just Glick.”

  “Gl..ass..ick.”

  Glick motioned for Charlie to come closer before saying his name again.

  “Gl...”

  Glick grabbed Charlie’s lip.

  “Why’d you do that?” Charlie mumbled against Glick’s hand.

  “Gl...ick.” He pointed at the beaker. “Gl”—he pointed at himself—“ick.”

  Charlie pursed his lips. “Gl...”

  Glick grabbed his lips again.

  “Gl? That’s a weird name.”

  “Yes, it is and it’s not mine.” Glick took a deep breath.

  “I’m trying.”

  “I know.” He pointed at the glass again. “Gl...ick.”

  “Gl...ass...ick.”

  Glick dropped his head in his hands.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” Glick patted Charlie’s lip.

  “Is it okay if I call you Glassick?”

  Glick rolled his eyes but nodded.

  “I’m sorry I don’t understand you.”

  Glick shrugged. Not much he could do about that.

  “I do have to get to work.”

  Glick nodded and Charlie slipped him into his pocket before starting to clean the lab. Glick listened while the Guard talked about his life, his brother and things he’d read in books. Glick only understood some of the words Charlie used, but he enjoyed every second in that pocket with the beat of Charlie’s heart so close to his back and the heat from the Guard keeping him warm.

  CHAPTER 20: Glick

  “Okay. I’m done cleaning. You’ve got to go back in your ca...home,” said Charlie.

  Glick clung to the Guard’s shirt pocket, shaking his head. He didn’t want to go into the dark drawer.