Escape from Harrizel

by C. G. Coppola

  “You’ll want to stay back there for this. Drenz, Rooney, if you don’t mind keeping yourselves close by,” he indicates for them to stand on either side of him. The Carpenters follow his order, both still carrying eight babeebs over their heads and glowing like lanterns. Reid pulls me behind Sampson, but end up on Able’s right side, peering just over Pratt’s shoulder at the unfolding scene.

  Sampson stands dead center while Jothkore and Vix keep to either side, behind the Carpenters.

  “Time check?”

  “Fourteen minutes until Reminders,” Vix looks to Sampson.

  “Then we’re right on track,” he glances over his shoulder to the rest of us with a silly grin, “I hope they’re not late.”

  A long, silent moment goes by before the Dofinikes step off their evibolas and into the opposite end of the corridor. There are two at first. Then four, then six and suddenly, a giant queasy pit grows in my stomach. Can we do this? Even as ready as we are, are we strong enough for this? I hold my breath as the eight of them stop, glaring at us through yellow slits of fury.

  The first two race toward Sampson, dropping to all fours in a full-on run. Sampson, calm as ever, holds his pose until they are mere feet away. Just when the first one claws at him, Sampson effortlessly scoops two babeebs from Rooney’s head, tossing the golden spheres in each of the Vermix’s faces. It all happens so quickly that I almost don’t see the babeebs wake up. I nearly miss their eyes opening all over their bodies with stinger-like teeth emerging between. The babeebs land on the Vermix who screech and scream at the contact.

  Both guards fall to their knees, grasping their faces and yelping in pain as they try to pry the carnivorous babeebs off. The rest of the guards—all six—rush down the hall but Sampson only repositions himself. With quick, casual movements, he scoops more babeebs from the Carpenters, launching them through the hall to each impending Vermix. One by one they go down, tumbling to the ground and grabbing the babeeb latched to them. They try peeling it from their skin but it only buries itself further, eating its way through their bodies. All of them start hissing, two trying to rise but quickly fall again, diving into a new terror of pain after Sampson releases a few more in their direction.

  Before a sigh of relief is let out, three more Dofinikes emerge, down on the other side of the yelping Vermix. The trio looks around, aghast at the scene, all three pairs of yellow eyes flashing to us with unknown rage.

  I’ve seen them before—in that trio.

  The tallest remains back, surveying the number of guards still peeling the insatiable mini suns from their bodies. He allows the other two to advance slowly toward us, climbing over the screaming bodies of their fallen brethren.

  Rooney and Drenz only have one babeeb each but to everyone’s surprise, Sampson doesn’t go for them. He doesn’t make any moves other than inching up slowly, peacefully, as if intending to meet them half way. But just as they come within feet of each other, Sampson slows to a stop, pausing.

  Yerza and Norpe fly forward, withdrawing their staffs and aiming at Sampson as they charge him. But he doesn’t move. Not even a flinch.

  Until he deflects their strikes. Delivering block after block, Sampson knocks Yerza and Norpe unbalanced. Disarming them in a lightning-fast series of movements, he slips his leg out, sweeping the floor in a complete circle. Both Vermix jump over, but not in time to dodge the roundhouse kick to their heads, Sampson sending them flying. They crash back into the marble and barely start to rise when Sampson delivers the final blows, leaving them twitching. He backs up in a straight line, returning to his peaceful stance.

  Tetlak starts forward with slow strides. Through narrowed, yellow eyes, he watches as Jothkore and Vix seize Yerza and Norpe, dragging them back behind us. With a low growl, Tetlak extends his arms, running his talons along the walls. The shrill sound increases with each taunting step but even as my heart races with the promise of certain death, Sampson remains still. Head lowered, he doesn’t bother offering him a glance.

  Tetlak pounces forward, intending to crash into Sampson who leaps to the right, scaling the wall to the ceiling. Following in quick pursuit, Tetlak races after him, hissing as Sampson’s legs fly free and kick him back to the floor. He lands with a thunderous smack and Sampson meets Tetlak on the ground, the two leaping at each other. Or, at least, that’s what I expect. They start off diving at one another but after a few seconds—and movements I don’t really catch—Sampson is standing over a hissing Tetlak, who lies on the floor.

  “Come now, lad, surely they trained you better?”

  Tetlak replies in the same language I’ve heard several times before. He’s cursing by the sound of it, spitting out long raging vowels. Already shaking his head, he hisses up with yellow, searing slits.

  “You will. You will and you are,” Sampson confirms, glancing up, “right now, in fact.”

  Vix and Jothkore move out to collect Tetlak, each taking an arm. The Rogues part ways as they drag the head guard through us and toward the giant black arch in the wall. In the back corner with Jeb and Ergiloff, the rest of the guards lay bound by wrist, ankle and snout, all together in one massive heap. They watch in horror, squirming and struggling, attempting to pry at the brown coils wrapped around them. It’s all in vain. Only able to move the exposed parts of their bodies, it’s like they’re paralyzed beneath restraints made of steel, helpless to watch.

  “Ready when you are, son,” Sampson has Tetlak brought to his feet.

  “It will bring you nothing but death,” he hisses.

  “No, it will bring you nothing but death… if you don’t open it for us.”

  “And why would you want to?” he sneers, narrowing his scowling yellow eyes on him. “A Fychu like you? You do not believe in…”

  “I believe in preparing for the worst…” Sampson tilts his head, startled slightly at the revelation, “or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  “Beshib will know what has transpired here,” Tetlak shakes his head furiously as Jothkore slams him against the door. “He will know of…”

  “Open it and be done,” Sampson is growing impatient now. “I know you know a thing or two about orders.”

  With a fierce growl, Tetlak lowers his head hissing and swearing in his own language. For a second it looks like he’s going to do it, do whatever he needs to get that door open. But just as his head rises, so does the volume of his words, cursing and hissing. He shakes his head, spitting just before Sampson withdraws, nodding at Vix and Jothkore. They grasp Tetlak and, dragging him back over to the pile of bonded guards, swap him for Jeb. Jothkore cuts the brown coil free, but reties Ergiloff’s restraints as Vix leads the Guide toward the black arch.

  “I’m growing tired, short on time and therefore, irritated. I will not repeat myself so listen carefully,” Sampson inhales, “is there a failsafe?”

  Jeb nods ever so slightly, as if hoping the others might not see him answer.

  “Good,” Sampson goes on, “and is it you?”

  Again, Jeb glances at the others, then back to Sampson and offers him the slightest indication that he’s correct.

  “Good,” he nods, motioning to the black arch behind him. “Open it.”

  “Fychu…” Jeb starts.

  “I don’t have time for this. I’d really rather not break you apart piece by piece until you talk.”

  “Yes…” Jeb sobs, “alright…”he raises his hand high, scraping his talons down the door, writing something into it. Suddenly a loud thud clicks and the black arch splits down the center, opening back into the room behind it.

  Scooping the babeeb from Rooney’s head into her palm, Vix holds out her arm, lighting her way into the darkness. I follow Reid and the others into the vast room that could double the size of Jeb’s. Vix lifts her babeeb higher, Drenz doing the same, everyone inhaling at once.

  The walls are high and black and covered from ceiling to floor with all sorts of strange objects. Some are large and rounded, like shields or disks and others, smal
l and skinny, bursting with pointed edges.

  “AK’s,” someone mutters, rushing forward, Drenz following after. “Yes!”

  The light splits between Vix and Drenz, the Rogues watching with keen interest as someone hollers again. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

  Nearly the entire Clan takes off, Vix keeping up with the second babeeb, Rooney on her left. Once she reaches the wall, she plops the babeeb back over his head, Drenz and Simon gazing in excitement at the rifles behind her. She turns and starts removing rifles from the wall one by one, handing them to Reid. “Pass these out.”

  With each rifle he takes, he hands it off to Tucker who then passes them to each Rogue Commander. Once all Rogues are supplied, Reid motions the rest of us closer. He hands a gun to Griffin first, then Clark, Pratt and finally me. Hesitating as he passes the rifle over, Reid inhales, watching as I fumble with the foreign object, unsure how to hold it. Have I ever done this before?

  “For those of you who don’t know,” Reid draws back, commanding attention with his powerful voice. He holds his gun up high, “This is an AK-47, the most reliable firearm available. This is how you use it,” Reid does a quick demonstration. “Pointer finger here, rest the butt against your shoulder here. Aim,” he looks through it. “Fire.”

  I throw a quick glance to Pratt who’s attempting to replicate the demonstration. It takes her a moment to position the butt correctly but once she gets it, she’s good. Clark also has a little trouble figuring it out but after Reid sets it up for him, he’s fine. Reid comes for me.

  “Need help?”

  “No,” I arm myself quickly, pointing to a fake target in the empty corner across. “I think I got it.”

  “Right,” he rolls his eyes. “Just hand it over before you kill us all.”

  “Give me a minute to get comfortable with it,” I mimic the actions around me, how the other Rogues seem at comfort practicing on a fake target.

  “We don’t have a minute. Come here,” he wraps his arms around me, repositioning the gun in my hands. “Like this. Butt goes here,” he pushes it back into me, just below my shoulder. “Feel it? There,” he does it again before pointing to the various parts of the weapon, “… is the safety. Trigger. Aim. Always be aiming. Not shooting—aiming. Remember you’re holding it and in control.”

  “Got it.”

  “Try not to kill us,” he departs with a slight eye roll, moving through the Rogues who all seem to know what they’re doing. With the exception of me, Pratt and Clark, everyone else seems incredibly comfortable.

  “Vix,” Sampson calls, a cluster of babeebs over his head, “have you found it?”

  The room grows lighter as he nears. He finds Vix by the adjacent wall which is not covered in guns like ours, but, instead, with tiny devices of all different shapes and sizes. Retrieving an object from high up, Vix pulls the prize down to examine it closer.

  “Yes,” she whispers, blowing off the dust, “and it’s fully charged.” Glancing at the wall, she pulls three more yellow tubes from their pockets, cupping them beneath her belt. Turning, she shows Sampson, “Here.”

  Nodding in approval, he motions behind him and Vix takes off, back out to the corridor. Sampson turns to the rest of us, “That should be the rest of the guards. All that’s left are the scientists but don’t be fooled—they are well trained in combat. We’re running short on time so we’ll have to be quick about this. Jothkore, Vix and I will assume lead and then Rogue Commanders for support and that’s only if it’s necessary. I’d rather not involve the Rogues unless it’s on a need-be basis…”

  Drenz and Rooney sigh simultaneously, a few others scowling in disappointment at their missed opportunity.

  “There’s plenty of time for war. But let’s keep this quick. Clean,” Sampson eyes everyone in the room, “we’re on a schedule.”

  “Yes, Fychu…” Jothkore lowers his head just as Vix returns, offering a private nod at Sampson. “Alright,” he motions back out. “Let’s get to the labs.”

  We all dash from the room, racing down the black hallway. Gripping the rifle, I replay Reid’s teachings over in my head, visualizing. How to hold it. Where to hold it. My heart pounds a thousand beats per second but there’s no time to pay it any attention.

  Just don’t drop the gun. Hold it close to you and pray it doesn’t go off accidentally.

  The sound of our feet stampeding down the corridor awakens me to the task at hand, especially as Jothkore gestures ahead.

  “There,” he points. “There they are!”

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Reminders

  Our group slows to an approach as it comes into view—

  Behind the glass wall, motionless bodies lie atop the metal beds, a team of Dofinikes in custard coats passing between them, odd instruments in their hands. They stop at different beds, examining every patient.

  I focus on the closest occupied bed.

  A girl with long brown hair, nearly the same length as mine, lies asleep—or is it unconscious?—her belly a swollen mass, as if someone cut it open and slipped in a bowling ball. Suddenly her body starts to twitch, drawing the attention of the nearest scientist. Approaching, he scans the change and extracts a long, thin instrument, rounded like a half-moon and places it over her belly. Two pincers emerge, pushing into her flesh to create a streaming waterfall of red.

  I go to cover my mouth but feel the weight in my hands. I can’t look away anyway. My eyes dart around and it’s all I see. The bodies—they’re all girls on the beds, each with a different-sized stomach, all swollen to some degree. My mind races, the pieces all flying together, clicking into the obvious answer I never saw.

  How did I not see this?

  The orgy of Leisure Time they provide for us, the pressure to mate, the long lists of females called…

  That’s what it was with Hinson. That was the thing I couldn’t remember, a comment stored too deep to retrieve.

  She’s been throwing up every morning…

  I was too concerned with following Ergiloff into the Castle to think about it then. She was pregnant. They all were. It’s finally clear why certain people were called and I, who Tetlak most certainly did not like, never was. I wasn’t ready to be called yet.

  “Sampson...” it comes out a whisper, my heart drumming heavily in my chest.

  “Alright…” he glances to Vix and Jothkore. “Now.”

  The three fly to the other side, the closest scientists immediately dropping their instruments and scattering on hands and feet. They knock past the others but Sampson races down the center aisle between two long rows of bodies, Vix and Jothkore at his side.

  The scientists scurry up the walls, their custard coats flapping as they jet across the ceiling, toward us. Reid and the other Rogue Commanders form a steady line, guns aimed and ready.

  Vix is on the ceiling behind the eight fleeing scientists, dropping the last two down by their legs. Sampson grapples with them for a second, knocking both down with swift, simple blows. Whacking another two from the ceiling, Vix continues for the first four but they drop to the ground of their own accord, catching Harrison and Able in the tumble.

  Everything happens at the same time.

  Jothkore finds himself at the far end of the never ending room, surrounded by the newest arrival of scientists while Sampson’s making his way down to help, leaving the first four disarmed and immobilized on the floor. Vix battles three but doesn’t have the same combative strength as Sampson. Surrounded, she takes a few blows before Reid joins the quarrel and Chief takes on the remaining scientist alone. Tucker helps Able and Harrison, the three turning to assist Chief who’s been slammed against the wall. The scientist turns to the other Rogues, Able reaching for his gun, which is quickly knocked out of his hand before he’s thrown back to the opposite wall.

  Waves of yellow coats rush in behind Sampson and Jothkore, Reid finally plugging each nearby scientist with two bullets. They drop to the ground as the rest of the Rogues enter the room, which overflows with
the custard color. As they enter, one by one, the scientists fall but Reid holds up his arm as a bullet grazes Vix. Holding their fire, the rest of the Rogues halt as Griffin, Clark, Pratt and I push our way in.

  It’s a storm.

  Custard coats crawling on the ceiling, Dofinike on Dofinike duals down the rows and up the walls, all while motionless girls lay undisturbed in the middle, pins and pieces prodding their round bellies. Racing into the room, I jet to the closest occupied bed, dodging the flying limbs thrusting into one another.

  Ducking beneath the swinging leg of a custard coat, I find myself at the bedside of the girl. Her eyes are open but glazed over, gone and her body lies limp, except for the bit of twitching coming from her swollen stomach.

  Tears threaten but I do everything in my power to stop them. I will not cry. Whipped back to the wall, the impact slams me awake. Falling to my knees, it takes me a second to catch my breath but when I do, everything changes.

  Focuses.

  And slows…

  My gun is in my hands, poised just as a scientist flies past me, set to dive into Pratt. I find the center of his head—his temple—and pull my finger. The Dofinike drops to the ground in a thud at Pratt’s feet. Something’s coming from my side. Shifting, I find the center of a pair of glaring eyes, set to destroy me. Pulling the trigger again and then again, down in the center of his chest, the scientist falls in a motionless heap. One tries to grab me from the wall above but before I even find the center of his eyes, Sampson yanks him to the ground, immobilizing him.

  Heart racing, I glance around.

  Most of the Rogues take the scientists down with hand-to-hand combat and their personal weapons. The guns have been knocked from their hands or maybe they’re already out of ammo. Another movement to my right. Before the scientist has a chance to knock me back, his yellow eyes come into view. Focusing on the patch of scales between them, I release the trigger. He falls at my feet but then, another one is trying to pull the girl from the table.

  “Get away from her!” I scream at the top of my lungs.