Leaving Level Five

by L. S. O'Dea

  “Dang it. I don’t have time for this.” Charlie grabbed him again. “You need to stay.” He dropped Glick onto the shelf and quickly backed away. “I’ll come get you as soon as they’re gone. I promise.” He closed the door behind him.

  He wasn’t going to hide in here and do nothing. Bumpers would expect him to save the eggs and Charlie should too. The Guard hadn’t just watched when the Brush-Men had attacked Louis and McBrid. The Guard had acted and so would he.

  He scrambled down the shelves, ignoring the pain in his leg. He hesitated on the last ledge. It was a long way to the floor. He’d never make it without hurting himself. His leg was a testament to that. He smiled as his gaze landed on the broom. It was propped against the wall. He should’ve gotten on it a few shelves up but it wasn’t a problem. He’d jumped longer distances when he and Bumpers had traveled from bush to bush. He hopped the short distance, his hands clasping the wooden handle. He scurried downward, sliding through the straw to the floor and darting under the door. It was time to save the hatchlings.

  CHAPTER 29: McBrid

  McBrid’s face was a placid mask of ennui as Charlie put the broom away. He’d utilize the lessons of his past to hide his fury. Scottsmoor, the twit, was playing a dangerous game.

  Charlie stepped out of the closet, closing the door behind him.

  “Come here.” Stink held up the backpack which had two poison containers strapped to it. “I’ll help you get this on and show you how to use it.”

  As Charlie headed toward the other Guards, McBrid faced the two Almightys. Glassick was safe. It was time to let Scottsmoor know with whom he was playing.

  “I’d thought that using the same chemical would hopefully produce the same results.” He challenged the other scientist with a raised brow.

  “This will have the same results too. The larva will die.”

  “But last time some survived. If that happened again, I could study them. See if the chemicals had any beneficial effects on the creatures.” It had. Being able to communicate with Almightys and the other Brush-Men was huge. “If it does, I could experiment with lessening—”

  “There were no beneficial effects,” said Conguise. “Did you read Scottsmoor’s notes?”

  “I read the ones he left for me.” His eyes met Scottsmoor’s. “Was there something missing?”

  “No.” The twit began to sweat. “I gave you everything.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” snapped Scottsmoor.

  “Hmm. I’m surprised you weren’t able to save any part of the survivors, not even enough tissue for a slide.”

  Conguise’s narrow lips thinned even more. “Scottsmoor, didn’t you give him the samples and notes on the Phasmatodea you were able to capture?”

  The Guards were strapped up and heading for the door. Ready to kill every living thing inside that enclosure. McBrid didn’t care for the Brush-Men but this was wrong. They couldn’t help what they were no more than a spider or the sea.

  “I did. I’m sure of it.” Scottsmoor shot him a glare. “He must’ve missed it.”

  “I didn’t miss anything.” He’d seen the miniscule amount of data the other scientist had documented on the surviving Phasmatodea. He hadn’t trusted one bit of that information as accurate.

  “You must have because I left the samples,” said Scottsmoor.

  A small movement on the floor caught his eye. Glassick raced from the closet and toward the Guards. McBrid tried to slow his breathing, tried to keep his face placid but if they saw the little Brush-Man it was over. “Let’s look at the computer.” He almost groaned. If they did that, they’d see that Scottsmoor had left some data but it didn’t matter. He needed their focus off the Guards. He’d brazen this out. He walked to his desk. Fortunately, the other two didn’t move.

  “You could’ve erased it,” said Scottsmoor.

  He should’ve. He would’ve had he even suspected that something like this would happen. “Why would I do that?” He couldn’t keep from glancing at the Guards. Glassick was clinging to Charlie’s pants about half-way up his calf, and the Guard had no idea.

  “We’re going in,” said Topper.

  “Go.” Conguise waved his hand but never looked away from McBrid.

  The tension eased a bit from his chest. As long as Glassick stayed on Charlie, no one should notice him.

  “You’re trying to sabotage me,” said Scottsmoor.

  “That’d be stupid.” He wasn’t trying anything. He was going to do it. “If I did that, I’d be starting behind where you left, having less information.”

  “I gave you everything. It’s not my fault you didn’t read my notes.”

  “Stop squabbling,” said Conguise. “I’m aware of the competition amongst the scientists. I encourage it, but when I tell you to turn a project over to another, I expect you to give him or her all your information.” His blue eyes were like ice.

  “I did, sir. I swear,” whined Scottsmoor.

  McBrid wished he could enjoy the other Almighty’s chastisement, but his focus was on the cage—on the accident waiting to happen. Charlie and the others were already spraying the poison, Glassick still clinging to his pants. His dark brown color allowed him to blend in with the material. McBrid was pretty sure that if Scottsmoor and Conguise looked into the enclosure they wouldn’t see the Brush-Man, but it was safer if they didn’t look.

  “Well, I didn’t receive it.” He’d rather let this die, but he had to keep pushing until Glassick was safe.

  “Scottsmoor, you’ll give me your copies and I’ll give them to McBrid.”

  “But—”

  “Enough.” Conguise turned toward the cage. “I’m done listening to the two of you argue like children. Who finally creates the perfect weapon isn’t as important as saving our people and our way of life.”

  “Of course, sir.” Both he and Scottsmoor muttered.

  Gruntshit was what he wanted to say. Conguise bred this unhealthy competition by eliminating those who didn’t deliver.

  “Make sure they get the sides.” The professor watched the Guards who walked in a line of three saturating everything in their path.

  Glassick jumped from Charlie’s leg. McBrid’s mind scrambled. He’d say the creature must’ve not moved with the others. The only problem was Scottsmoor might recognize that this one looked like the survivors. Plus, Glassick was so small. He’d be blamed for letting them hatch. He tore his eyes away from the little Brush-Man but neither Conguise nor Scottsmoor had noticed the creature.

  Scottsmoor walked to the cage and tapped on the glass. The three Guards turned. Glassick hesitated, staring at them for a quick moment before hurrying to the far side of the enclosure. What in the name of Araldo was the little guy doing besides trying to get them all killed?

  Scottsmoor pressed the intercom button. “Get the sides too.”

  The three Guards nodded and spread out.

  Charlie, please go toward Glassick. Please, please, please. McBrid almost sighed in relief as Charlie moved in the right direction. He’d be the only one near Glassick, wherever that little thing had gone. He scanned the cage but the Brush-Man had disappeared. He searched again, slower this time, paying particular attention to the dark spots of earth.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Conguise pointed at the other enclosure where the Brush-Men were congregated at the glass, chirping and clacking.

  “They want to get to the Guards,” said Scottsmoor.

  “I don’t think so.” Conguise moved closer.

  McBrid’s eyes landed on Glassick. The Brush-Man was half-buried in the soil, only his thin legs sticking up. He straightened, dirt dropping from his head as he unearthed an egg sack. It was white and clear and gleamed like a beacon in the dark.

  “They aren’t looking at the Guards.” Conguise’s gaze began to follow the path of the Brush-Men’s stares.

  He had to do something. The Brush-Men, the betraying bastards, weren’t watching the Guards. They were focused on Glassick w
ho was now running across the cage, carrying the eggs.

  Araldo, help them. Conguise and Scottsmoor wouldn’t miss the floating, white dot. He had to do something. Now. He shoved a beaker with his elbow, knocking it to the floor.

  “What the...” Conguise spun around.

  Scottsmoor jumped and turned.

  “Shit, sorry.” He glanced past them. Glassick was safe on Charlie’s leg, slipping the eggs into the cuff of the Guard’s pants.

  “Be careful,” said Conguise. “Lab equipment isn’t cheap.”

  “Of course, sir. Sorry.” His hand shook as Glassick dropped from Charlie’s leg and ran back to the hole he’d dug. “Ah...” He bent. “Would one of you get the broom and dust pan from the closet?” The two Almightys looked at him like he was insane, but he didn’t care as long as they were looking at him. “It’s in there.” He pointed to the closet where Glassick was supposed to be.

  “Get up,” sneered Conguise. “Almightys do not clean up messes.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” He straightened. He was going to kill that Brush-Man. Glassick was putting another egg sack into Charlie’s cuff and then the little idiot was racing off again.

  Conguise gave McBrid one more disgusted look before turning back to face the cages. “The sounds they make are...”

  “Incredible,” said Scottsmoor.

  Conguise glanced at him. “Disturbing.” The professor watched the Brush-Men as they clicked and swayed, pressing against the glass. “I could imagine that sound causing nightmares for whatever they hunt.”

  He’d had nightmares from those sounds well before his attack.

  “But what are they trying to tell us?” Conguise once again began to search the enclosure where the Guards were spraying and like before Glassick was waving a beacon of an egg sack as he ran toward Charlie.

  The professor was going to see the little Brush-Man, but there were no more beakers on the desk. Charlie kept the lab too neat. McBrid took a step forward. He’d have to hit Scottsmoor. He had no other choice. It might get him fired which meant killed but if Conguise saw that creature he was dead anyway. He’d never let the professor learn of Glassick’s abilities. The female Original raised her hand and silence filled the room.

  His gaze darted to the Brush-Men in the other enclosure. They were parting, making way for the Originals. Conguise and Scottsmoor were also focused on the other cage, giving Glassick time to make it to Charlie.

  The Originals stopped at the front, staring into the other cage, staring at Glassick. It’d only be a minute before Conguise searched for what had captured their attention. McBrid hurried forward, as if to watch, but instead he slammed his hand on the glass.

  The Guards jumped.

  He pressed the intercom. “Hurry up.”

  Conguise, Scottsmoor and the Brush-Men were now looking at him.

  “I don’t want the Brush-Men to get too excited. They tend to fight when that happens.” It was a stupid excuse, but the best his frazzled mind had found.

  “Then feed them more.” Derision dripped from the professor’s words.

  “Doesn’t always stop the fighting.” It did but he’d never admit that. He tried sending Charlie a message with his eyes to look down but the Guard was oblivious.

  “Of course, it does,” said Scottsmoor.

  “Maybe it used to, but it doesn’t now.”

  “Then you’re doing it wrong.” Scottsmoor sneered. “Of course, they prefer live food over meat.”

  “You’re feeding them meat?” Conguise was not happy.

  “Of course not.” The little tattletale was going to get it. “I mean, not all the time.”

  “Never. You are never to feed them meat.” Conguise moved closer to him. “They were bred to hunt not to be fed.”

  “Hunt? You call devouring House Servants who are dropped into the cage with no chance of escape hunting?” He shouldn’t have said it. He knew better but there was nothing he could do about it now. The good news was they weren’t paying any attention to the Guards. Glassick dropped another egg sack in Charlie’s cuff. His little chest heaving with his effort. The stupid thing should quit. He was getting slower with each trip.

  “I do but we’ll speak about this later.” Conguise’s eyes were brittle as he strode to the door.

  McBrid was not in a good place right now, but then again, neither was Scottsmoor. As soon as the door closed behind Conguise, he turned to his new enemy. “You’ll pay for this.”

  “You’re the one in trouble.” Scottsmoor backed away.

  “Because of you. I would’ve eradicated the eggs on my terms.” He should’ve done it days ago but every time he’d looked at Glassick, he’d hesitated. He didn’t want to kill all those creatures.

  “When? Every day you waited, you put us all at risk.”

  “Risk? You have no idea how much trouble you’re in.”

  “Not sharing information. Ha.” Scottsmoor smirked. “Conguise doesn’t care about that.”

  “What about breeding siblings? He’ll care about that.”

  Scottsmoor’s face paled. “How do you...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Keep practicing. Maybe, Conguise will believe you.” He moved closer as Glassick dragged another egg sack toward Charlie.

  “I’m telling the truth. I have no idea about breeding siblings.” Scottsmoor backed away.

  “The professor may have accepted a mistake but you falsified bloodwork.” He could smell the other Almighty’s fear and it was driving him forward.

  Charlie glanced downward. The white of the eggs must’ve finally caught his attention. The Guard’s eyes widened and he glanced around before dropping his sprayer. As he bent to retrieve it, he grabbed Glassick and slipped the Brush-Man into his shirt pocket.

  “I swear. I didn’t falsify anything,” Scottsmoor continued to stumble backward until he hit the door.

  “But you did. I know and I have proof.” He stalked closer.

  “Please. He’ll kill me.” Scottsmoor’s face was beyond white.

  McBrid wanted nothing more than to pull the caps from his teeth and tear this guy limb from limb but he’d never escape. He leaned forward, putting his hands on each side of Scottsmoor’s head. “That’s the plan.”

  “Please, don’t do this.”

  “You’ve sunk me and I’m not going alone.”

  “I-I didn’t. You did this. This is your fault.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I’ll fix it. I swear.”

  “How?” He’d dug his own grave questioning Conguise. He’d been on the professor’s radar ever since Fersia, but now he was as good as dead.

  “I’ll...I’ll admit that I didn’t give you all the data.”

  “He already knows that and like you said, he doesn’t care.”

  “I’ll tell him I lied about the meat.”

  “How’s that going to help. I didn’t deny it.” The man was an idiot.

  “I’ll say that I suggested it. That it was my idea.”

  McBrid leaned away. “That’ll get you in trouble.”

  “Not as much as falsifying bloodwork.”

  “No, but—”

  “I’m not you. I get along with the professor. I don’t argue with him. H-he won’t be as angry with me for doing it because I’ll make him understand that I did it to supplement not to replace.” Scottsmoor was getting behind his lies now. “I’ll tell him I suggested you do it when you took over and that...that I meant for you to use meat on occasion but maybe you misunderstood.”

  “I misunderstood?” Now, the other man was painting him an idiot.

  “Or...maybe, I wasn’t clear. He’ll buy that especially since you just accused me of keeping information from you.”

  “Which you did.” McBrid straightened, giving Scottsmoor some space. This might work.

  “No more than you kept from Parson.” The other scientist tugged on his shirt and ran his hand through his hair. “I want the reports you have about the Rattus experime
nt.”

  “Agreed.” He had more than one copy.

  “All your copies.”

  “Of course.” So, Scottsmoor was a little smarter than Parson. He still wasn’t going to give the other Almighty all his copies.

  “We’re finished, sirs,” said Topper.

  “And”—Scottsmoor was getting braver, especially now that his Guards were in the room—“I want to know how you discovered this information.”

  “Of course.” He wasn’t going to tattle on Parson.

  “Now. I want to know now.”

  “I suspected you withheld information, so I went looking. I found a lot of interesting data that you thought you’d deleted.”

  Scottsmoor’s face paled but he struggled to show bravado. “You’ll hand over everything and show me how to thoroughly delete it from the system.”

  He had no plans on doing either of those things. “As soon as I know Conguise isn’t going to kill me.”

  “I could let him. That’d solve my problem.”

  “You don’t actually believe he’ll kill me without telling me exactly how smart he is and why I have to die. Think of how much time I’ll have to beg for my life. How many secrets I can tell. Will tell.”

  “I’ll talk to the professor.” Scottsmoor opened the door. “Come on.” He waved at his Guards. “We’ve given him more than enough help already.”

  CHAPTER 30: McBrid

  McBrid moved to the door, motioning for Charlie to be quiet. As soon as the footsteps of Scottsmoor and his Guards disappeared, he opened the door and looked into the hallway. It was empty. He shut the door, locked it and hurried to his desk.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” asked Charlie.

  He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote his father’s address on it. “If something happens to me, I want you and your brother to go here.” He held out the paper.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I mean, maybe nothing. I don’t know.” He turned on the computer and started modifying his files.

  “McBrid?” Charlie’s brown eyes were worried. “Maybe, we should go now.”