by L. S. O'Dea
“Oh, the professor wouldn’t like that.” He couldn’t believe Scottsmoor had even uttered the words. Conguise wanted bioweapons, fertile bioweapons.
“That’s why I’d never do it.” Scottsmoor glanced around. “You need to kill those eggs before they hatch.”
“I will.” He stood. Soon, he’d have Scottsmoor’s notes. He didn’t need the Almighty’s lecture.
Scottsmoor grabbed his arm. “I mean it. If you don’t want to do it, I will.”
“It’s my project now.” He stared hard at Scottsmoor until the other Almighty dropped his hold. “I’ll eradicate on my schedule, not yours.”
CHAPTER 23: McBrid
McBrid was still fuming when he entered the Brush-Men laboratory. The worst part was that Scottsmoor was right. He needed to kill the eggs before they hatched.
He turned off the camera and opened the drawer. “Son-of-a...” The Brush-Man was gone. The small cage which had served as the creature’s sickbed was empty.
He grabbed a flashlight and searched the corners of the drawer. Nothing. He dropped to his knees scouring the cabinet and floor. Not one trace of the little bugger. He crawled around to the side, looking in every crevice big enough to hide a tiny, brown Brush-Man.
The door opened and McBrid spun around. He’d forgotten to lock it. If anyone saw him on the floor with a flashlight, they’d know he had an escapee. “Be careful. I broke a—”
“McBrid, what are you doing here?” Charlie closed the door behind him. “I mean, you’re early.”
He sat back on his feet, his heart no longer trying to beat its way from his chest. “Thank Araldo, you’re here. Grab a flashlight and help me find the Brush-Man. He escaped. I have no idea how, but he did.” He began searching under the counters again.
“Ah...Don’t be mad.”
A tingle ran down his spin like a swarm of ants. Charlie couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. He turned, staring up at the young Guard who was looking down at his feet. “What did you do?”
“Uhm...Glassick couldn’t—”
“Glassick?” The damn kid had named the creature.
“Yeah.” Charlie glanced up. “That’s his name or close enough anyway.”
“Where is he?” McBrid stood. He was going to kill this kid. No, he wouldn’t have to. Something else would get Charlie first.
“With me.” The Guard pointed to his shirt pocket.
“You’re kidding.” No one would walk around with a Brush-Man.
“You can come out now, Glassick. It’s just us and McBrid.”
Tiny hands were the first to appear, holding onto the pocket of the shirt, and then the top of the Brush-Man’s head came into view, slowly rising until blue eyes peered over the cloth. The creature scanned the room and then, apparently feeling safe, lifted himself all the way up so that his arms were dangling down the front of the pocket.
“Holy Araldo, Charlie. How long have you been walking around like this?” He dropped onto his chair. He’d made mistakes that could cost him his life, but this kid was rushing them all to the executioner.
“Not long. Right after you patched him up.”
“You’ve had him with you for over a day?” His heart was going to explode. It was inevitable. One way or another, Charlie was going to kill him.
“No. Kind of. Not all the time. He was in the cage until I cleaned in here but Glassick didn’t like being in there.”
The Brush-Man shook his head, frowning.
“I’m so sorry because that’s what matters. His happiness.” McBrid felt like he was acting a part in a farce. The only problem was this wasn’t a play. It was his life.
“He’s scared alone in that container. He’s been really good. He stays hidden. No one even suspects—”
“You can’t keep doing this. You can’t.”
“Why?” Charlie’s hand cupped the pocket as if to protect the Brush-Man.
“Because we’re all dead. All of us. You. Me. Your brother and”—his eyes landed on the Brush-Man—“your new friend, Glassick. If anyone sees him, if anyone suspects what he can do...” That’d be the worst because it’d mean more torture, more death.
“No one will see him. I promise.”
The Brush-Man’s eyes were darting from one to the other.
“He can’t leave the lab again. Promise that or I have to take him and put him somewhere you can’t get to him.” He had no idea where that’d be.
“No. Please, don’t do that.” Charlie dropped his hand. It was fisted as if the kid was willing to fight McBrid over this creature.
The Brush-Man turned, trying to hug Charlie but instead flattened himself against the Guard’s chest.
“I have to. It’s for you own good, both of yours.” Now, he sounded like his father.
“I won’t take him out of here, I promise.”
Glassick hit Charlie’s chest.
“It’s the only way,” said Charlie.
The creature chirped and hit Charlie again before pointing to the table and shaking his head.
“He doesn’t want to be locked up,” said Charlie.
“You understand him?” All he’d heard were chirps.
Charlie shrugged. “Not his words, but I know what he means.”
McBrid stared from one to the other. He was going to regret this, but he needed that creature’s cooperation. “If he promises not to escape, he can be loose in the lab when we leave.”
“And when we’re here?” asked Charlie.
Glassick watched them, eyes wide.
“He can be with you or me.” He was an idiot, a soon to be dead idiot.
CHAPTER 24: McBrid
McBrid glanced at Charlie, but he was actually looking at Glassick. That little thing sure loved to ride around on the Guard. It was always hiding in Charlie’s pocket or scurrying up the Guard’s chest and playing along his collar. The creature’s leg had mended quickly. The other morning when he’d arrived, Glassick had already removed the tape. The little Brush-Man’s gait was uneven but it didn’t seem to slow him down. Too bad the outside of his body wasn’t working as well.
He looked back at the computer. He needed blood, blood from the Brush-Man. That was going to be tricky but he had a plan. “Hey Charlie, I have to talk to you.”
Charlie stopped straightening the cabinets and walked over to him. “What’s wrong?”
“We should talk alone.” His eyes darted to Glassick who was standing on Charlie’s shoulder, holding onto the Guard’s ear.
Glassick tugged on Charlie’s lobe.
“Hold on.” Charlie held his hand out and the Brush-Man jumped onto his palm. “I think he wants to hear.”
“Don’t guess, Charlie. He can communicate with us if he wants to.” He raised his brow at the little Brush-Man. “We taught him yesterday.” He’d used a similar strategy to what he’d done with Fersia except Glassick was to raise his hands instead of touching the bars of a cage. Left was no. Right was yes and both were either he didn’t know or couldn’t answer. “What I have to say is about you, Glassick, and it’s not good.”
The Brush-Man’s eyes widened.
“Are you sure you want to hear it?”
Glassick nodded and raised his right hand.
“Okay.” McBrid stared down at the little Brush-Man. “I’ve tested the skin samples that you allowed me to take.”
“And?” asked Charlie.
“Your skin is brittle.”
Glassick raised his right hand again.
“Yes, I’m sure you realize that.” Unfortunately, the little thing didn’t know what it meant. He still wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to say anything unless he was positive. “I need a sample of your blood to see if there’s anything we can do to make your skin more flexible.” It needed to be supple enough to grow with Glassick’s body and right now it wasn’t.
Glassick backed across Charlie’s palm, shaking his head and raising his left hand, stopping when he bumped into the Guard’s thumb.
“I don’t thin
k he wants to do that.”
“I can see that.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve prepared a needle. A small one.” He pulled a tiny syringe from his desk drawer.
Glassick’s eyes widened and his head shook furiously.
“That’s still pretty big,” said Charlie.
“It’s the best I can do. The only other option is to cut him and gather the blood that way.”
Glassick chirped, his left hand waving in the air.
“Please. We need to do this.” He had to calm the little thing down.
“Why?” Charlie pulled his arm to his chest.
“I’d rather not say anything unless I’m sure. I don’t want to scare him or you.”
Glassick raised his left hand, waving it in the air.
“He doesn’t want you to take his blood. I guess you’re going to have to tell us if you expect him to change his mind.”
He could force them but they all knew he wouldn’t. He stared at Glassick and Charlie. “His skin isn’t growing.”
“He is kind of small, but so what.” Charlie smiled. “I like him this size.”
Glassick rubbed his face on Charlie’s thumb.
“You don’t understand. His skin isn’t growing but his organs are.”
“What does that mean?” Charlie’s hand trembled and Glassick froze, his bright blue eyes on McBrid.
“It means that eventually, his insides will outgrow his outsides.”
“No. That can’t be. He heals fast. His hand. His leg. This will heal too.”
“Charlie, his outside isn’t growing. It repairs itself quickly, yes, but it’s not getting any larger and his cells are multiplying very fast. He should be growing but he isn’t.” He shifted his gaze to Glassick. “Are you any bigger than when you hatched?”
Glassick nodded, raising his right hand.
“See. He’s fine,” said Charlie.
He frowned sadly at the little Brush-Man. “How much bigger?”
Glassick shrugged.
“A lot? Four times the size you were?”
Glassick shook his head.
“Two times the size you were?”
Glassick looked down, shaking his head again.
“Are you sure, you’re bigger than when you hatched?”
Glassick raised both his hands.
“That’s why I need the blood sample.” His gaze drifted to the enclosure and his heart began to claw its way up his throat. “I’m going to need samples from the smaller Brush-Men and the original hosts too if we want a chance to save Glassick’s life.”
CHAPTER 25: McBrid
McBrid stared at the Brush-Men in the enclosure, waiting for the gas to take effect.
“Why do we have to do this again?” Louis was as still in his nervousness as his brother was fidgety.
“To save Glassick.” Charlie paced. The little Brush-Man clung to his shoulder, eyes wide in his small, dark face.
“There’s no other way?” Louis sent his brother a disgusted look. Apparently, that wasn’t a good enough reason for him.
“No.” McBrid moved to the controls. “I don’t trust the data that Scottsmoor left. I need to see this for myself.”
“Why can’t you use the blood from that one.” Louis pointed to the small Brush-Man in a cage on the counter that they’d gassed and grabbed earlier that day.
“I looked at his blood and it’s too different. I need a sample from the Originals.” The blood from the smaller Brush-Man had very little DNA from the host House Servant, unlike Glassick’s blood which was abundant with Servant DNA.
“They’re starting to sit down on the ground.” Louis’ voice was steady but the scent of his fear filled the room.
Many of the smaller ones were already sleeping, but the larger ones were fighting the effects of the gas. They’d succumb but McBrid had no idea how long the sedative would last. Scottsmoor’s notes regarding that were vague, but even if the other scientist had detailed the times to the millionth of a second, McBrid couldn’t trust the calculations. He wouldn’t put it past the other scientist to add additional time to ensure that errors occurred if the creatures were ever gassed again.
“I think they’re all sleeping. Charlie, turn on the fan and open the vent. We need the air breathable before we enter.” He grabbed his bag with syringes and a knife, just in case. “You know how to work the doors, right?” If the young Guard panicked and left them locked in there...He gripped his thigh to stop his hand from shaking. He didn’t want to die like that—torn apart by those monsters. He glanced at Glassick. They weren’t all monsters.
“Yeah.” Charlie pointed to the controls. “This one opens the doors. This one closes them and this one locks them.” He turned toward McBrid and his brother. “I could leave them open and—”
“No. Absolutely, not. If those things get out...” A lot of innocents would die. Not everyone who worked in the laboratory deserved to die, only the scientists on Level Five.
“Okay.” Charlie’s hand trembled, hovering over the button that would open the doors. “Ready?”
He glanced at Louis.
The Guard nodded.
“Yes.” He moved closer to the cage, pulling the knife from the bag and sticking it in his belt. “We get in, get what we need and get out.”
“Right.” Louis’ face was tense.
“It’ll be okay.”
“Right.” This time there was a hint of sarcasm in the Guard’s tone.
“Open the door.”
Charlie pressed the button and Glassick chirped.
The door glided open and McBrid forced himself to step inside with the Brush-Men. Louis was so close behind him that his chest bumped McBrid’s back with every breath.
He took another step and the door slid shut. He jumped at the soft sound, but the Brush-Men didn’t stir.
“Let’s get this done.”
The Brush-Men were everywhere and even though most were only about two or three feet tall, they were vicious when awake. Two of them could easily take him out and he was moving into the midst of hundreds.
He stepped over one, gingerly placing his foot along the thigh of another. “Be careful.”
“No kidding,” mumbled Louis.
McBrid grinned. The Guard had said it too quietly for an Almighty to hear, but he wasn’t pure Almighty. “Almost there.”
He wandered past the sleeping Brush-Men, stopping at the side of one of the original hosts. He grabbed his syringe from his bag before handing it to Louis. “Keep your eyes open for any movement, especially from the big ones.”
“Got it.” The Guard’s shirt was soaked with sweat and McBrid was pretty sure his was too.
He squatted, grabbing the arm of the Original. The bark-like skin was soft and supple, completely different from Glassick’s. He jabbed the needle into the creature and it flinched.
Louis took a step backward.
“It’s fine. She’s not waking.” The movement had been a natural reaction but McBrid had to fight not to drop everything and run to the door.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. She’s still sleeping.”
“Some of the others are moving.”
“How much?” McBrid finished drawing the blood and stood. The littler ones were stirring in their sleep.
“You got it? Let’s go.” Louis was already taking small steps toward the door.
“Uhm...Not yet.” He snatched the bag, dropping the syringe inside and pulling out an empty one before handing it to the Guard. “You take this and go.”
“What are you going to do?” Louis took the bag.
“I want a sample from both the original hosts.” The male Original was at the back of the cage. It wasn’t really that far but since death waited at every step even a foot seemed like a mile.
“Why?”
“They were different House Servants. This”—he tapped the Original with his toe—“is the female. Glassick is a male. I should get a sample from the original male too, just to be thorough.”
>
“Oh.” Louis’ large body seemed to deflate.
“I want you to go back. Any sample is better than none.”
“Not if you don’t make it.” Louis held out the bag. “I’ll do it.”
“No, I can’t ask—”
“You ain’t asking. I’m offering.” Louis glanced over his shoulder at his brother. “I can’t protect Charlie. You can.”
“Louis...” He couldn’t leave the Guard alone.
“Go.” The Guard’s eyes darted around. “They’re moving more. Give me the needle.”
“I’ll do it.” He headed for the back of the cage.
“No.” Louis grabbed his shoulder. “The sample is no good without you and Charlie needs you more than me.”
“But—”
“Go.” Louis hesitated a moment before dropping the bag at McBrid’s feet and taking the syringe. “I’ll be right behind you.”
He didn’t move as the large Guard made his way past the twitching Brush-Men. He hadn’t planned on doing it this way, but if he died, Charlie wouldn’t be far behind. Another scientist might let both Guards work for him but no one would keep Charlie very long. He caused too much trouble.
Louis’ large foot bumped a Brush-Man and its eyes fluttered.
“Forget it, Louis. Come back.” McBrid grabbed the bag.
“I’m already here. I got it.” Louis dropped to his knees.
“No, they’re waking.”
All around them the littler Brush-Men were moving, in small twitches or spasms causing an eerie sound like sticks rubbing against leaves. Louis looked away from the Original, his eyes widening as some of the smaller Brush-Men began to shift and stir. Their movements more controlled as they woke. Charlie hit the glass and McBrid jumped. His legs taking that opportunity to stumble toward the door, toward safety before he was able to get control over his instincts.
He waved at Charlie. Pounding on the glass wasn’t doing any of them any good. Charlie yelled something but McBrid had forgotten to show him how to use the intercom. The young Guard pointed at the stirring Brush-Men. “I know. I know.” He nodded and turned back toward Louis. “Come on. Let’s go.”
