Ypsilon and the Plague Doctor

by Zachary Chopchinski

  “Are you sure? It doesn’t look like it’s moving to me.”

  Arija chewed her bottom lip. “Fairly positive.”

  Reluctantly, they walked towards the other end of the room. The crumpled suits were just as rusted and tattered as the one in the doorway. But where were the bodies? For some reason, that thought closed the icy hand of fear around Adal’s throat.

  Cylindrical structures stretched from floor to ceiling, sending macabre shadows across the walls when he walked past. Something in this room wasn’t sitting right in Adal’s stomach. He couldn’t help the feeling that something really horrific had happened here.

  “You think she could be okay?” Adal asked, his thoughts turning back to Ypsilon.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. She’s tough, and technically not human, so I’m sure she’s fine… I don’t know.”

  Adal couldn’t shake the feeling that they should go back and try to help her. Sure, Ypsilon was a pain in the ass, and her ego was out of control, but she was their friend. She was family. Not to mention she’d saved his ass in the Burning City more than once.

  Adal forced his thoughts back to their situation. As he and Arija got closer to the figure, he realized it was some sort of structure. Pipes suspended from the ceiling and dropped to the center of the room. Several joints with rivets and washers connected long, wide pipes. Tubes wrapped around the structures and tension wires held everything taut. At the bottom of the tubes, a burlap tarp was draped over the ends.

  “What is this?” Arija mused.

  “Is that blood?” Adal asked. He pointed at several large, black splatters covering the burlap. He let his finger graze the substance and brought it up to examine. The viscous black liquid had small white flecks in it, making it look almost like a starry night sky. As Adal reached towards the rough fabric, his heart began to thunder behind his ribs. Something shifted beneath the tarp and he jumped back. “Shit!”

  He sucked in a breath, then reached again for the burlap.

  Arija grabbed his wrist. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Hell no.” Adal grabbed the tarp. “One. Two. Three...” He yanked the tarp back and threw it over his head. The metallic smell of blood was overwhelming.

  Hanging a few feet off the ground, restraints wrapped around his wrists, ankles and chest, was Webley. The giant’s long beard was matted with blood and dirt. Bruises and cuts covered his face and arms, and his overalls were crunchy with dried black blood.

  Arija rushed to Webley’s side. “Oh. My. God.”

  The giant’s eyes flickered opened, one eye swollen shut. But his lids dropped, like he didn’t have the strength to hold them up.

  Adal pulled at his restraints, but they wouldn’t budge.

  Arija brushed matted hair out of Webley’s face, cooing softly as she wiped away blood and dirt. “Come on, Webley. Wake up. You can do it. You’re strong. Come on, sweetie.”

  Adal kicked the device that held the restraints, desperate to free his friend. The floor was littered with spent ammo casings. “What the hell happened to him?” He’d seen Webley take on an entire horde of Kleinmasch with his bare hands. What could have don’t this do him?

  “Shh! Listen.” Arija held up a hand.

  Webley murmured something indistinguishable. Fresh blood dropped to the floor near their feet. Adal and Arija stepped back at the strange sight. A swirling mixture of black blood and saliva dripped from Webley’s mouth to the slick metallic floor. Flecks danced in the shimmering light like stars.

  “Adal, I don’t know if he’ll make it if we can’t get him out of here.”

  “There has to be a way.”

  A frenzied crash came from the other room, followed by the distinct whine of metal. The Umar was almost through the door. They were out of time.

  Adal turned his attention to the pile of mechanical suits in the center of the room. A smile spread across his face. “I’ve got an idea,” he whispered.

  “Wait, what? No. No! Adal, do not do something stupid.”

  Adal sprinted towards the suits.

  The commotion from the adjacent room grew in intensity.

  He slid towards the closest suit he could find with the entrance hatch facing up. He was good, but not lifting tons of metal good. Adal identified the entry lever and gripped the toggle. “This better work.” With both hands, Adal yanked the switch and fell back from the latch.

  Nothing happened.

  “Shit!” Panic set in.

  He jumped on top of the suit and grabbed the edges of the hatch. With a dry creek, the hatch slowly gave way.

  Pulling the barrier aside, Adal looked down into the suit’s internals. “I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.”

  The floor shook from the force of the Umar.

  The suits rattled against the ground.

  “I hate this part,” Adal snarled and slid into the suit. “I can’t believe I’m about to run into yet another battle unprepared.” He ducked into the hatch and stuck his head through the neck hole. A latch clicked around his neck, keeping his head exposed to the open air while the rest of his body was closed inside the suit. He felt like a child wearing his father’s clothes. Neatly inside, he scooched down until his feet found the pedals.

  Something snapped, squeezing his feet.

  A wash of panic flooded him, and he tried to pull his feet back up. The straps squeezed tighter. Adal gripped a handle for leverage. He felt something tense around his wrist and forearm as the sensation of several more clamps began to snap along his arm.

  Adal looked down as a strange form, like a skeleton, worked its way across his arms and legs. The more he struggled and moved, the more the machine creaked and came to life. First hands twitched, then feet, then the torso shifted. Adal tried desperately to calm his panic. “Maybe this really will work.”

  As he slid his remaining hand into the other arm slot, the exoskeleton tightened around him. It pressed against Adal’s muscles. His heart pumped, his pulse quickening.

  A high-pitched ringing filled the compartment, then a panel of lights and switches blinked to life above his head.

  This time, when he heard the thunderous rumble of the Umar breaking the door down, it was muted by the suit. Vibrations rattled the floor as the monstrous steps shook the items around him.

  “Get your ass up!” Adal yelled.

  He tugged at the controls, but the suit still refused to move. “Shit! Come on!”

  He looked over at Arija, who was frantically tugging at the apparatus that held Webley.

  “Get out!” Arija yelled.

  Adal twisted in his seat. “I can’t!” He could feel the suit's arms and legs shifting slightly as he moved, but the suit as a whole wasn’t doing much. His heart pounded in his throat as the Umar ripped away the rest of the door.

  “Come on!” Adal snarled. “Get up, you stupid piece of junk!”

  “Adal!”

  The Umar tore into the room, swiping its legs at one of the empty suits. The vacant suit spiraled across the floor colliding with Adal and sending them both slamming into the wall.

  His stomach lurched into his throat, threatening to spill its contents as he struggled to gain control of the broken piece of armor. Adal let out a groan as he fought with his gut. He pulled his arm up and tried to rub the back of his head.

  He looked at the suit's mechanical arm, now poised over his face in the exact position he’d been trying to move his own hand. “Wait, what?”

  As he shifted in the suit, the components creaked and groaned, and the arms and legs came to life. With each twist, shavings of rust and metal trickled from the various joints and components. The hit that should have killed him had brought the suit back to life. “Oh hell yeah!”

  Adal rolled to his side and pressed himself up. The suit was slow to start, its movements jerky and stiff but, with each new movement, more rust fell away, easing the effort. The small components that wrapped around his body clicked and shifted as he rose to his feet. They were predi
ctive indicators.

  Adal looked at his hands and clenched his thick fingers into fists. The mechanical suit copied his every movement. Glaring, he set eyes on the Umar. Letting out a manic laugh, Adal said, “Damn, this is going to be fun. I’ve always wanted to play with a Transformer.”

  The gigantic limbs of the Umar shifted as it awkwardly stepped over the remains of the door and further into the room.

  “Oh, you want a piece?” Adal laughed. “Let’s roll!”

  “Are you stupid?” Arija barked.

  He ignored her. The suit was working, and he’d always wanted to give an Umar a piece of his mind. Excitement coursed like waves of electricity through his body. He cracked his knuckles. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  18|The Doctor Is In

  After tying up the two Backslangers, Van, Maza, and Kip made their way into the side tunnel towards the sounds of childish giggling. Van watched Maza as he took the lead. Had it not been for him, they would have been ambushed. She didn’t need him to save her, but she was happy he was back on his game.

  As they walked, a light started to shine at the end of the tunnel.

  “Hey, Van?” Kip asked, his voice small.

  Van shot him a sideways look. “Yeah?”

  “I know you’re having a hard time dealing with losing your leg. I… umm… just wanted to say, I know what it’s like.” Kip paused, as if waiting for Van to say something, but she couldn’t make her mouth form words. She didn’t want to talk about this.

  When Van remained silent, Kip continued. “I lost my mom in the war with Pajak. It was right when Adal and Arija first came here. Right before I left for Taraveil. She was… the most amazing person. A doctor. You would have really liked her.” Kip’s voice hitched, the words coming out shaky like he was trying not to cry.

  “How did you deal with something like that?” Van was surprised at her own words. This was the last conversation she wanted to have, but somehow it was helping.

  “You just have to keep going forward. If you stop to go back, the grief will catch up to you.”

  Van nodded, but she kept looking straight ahead.

  “Van, you’re strong. We need you at your best. You deal with it, by just living life. Getting through it. I know it’s hard. I’d like to tell you it gets better, but I don’t think it does. I think you just somehow start seeing the beauty in life again and slowly you just move forward.”

  When they started to hear voices, Maza stopped. “Van,” he whispered, as if he hadn’t heard their conversation, “take the lead. It’s easier for you to hide in the light than me.”

  Van slid in front of Maza. She took a deep breath, preparing herself. Running a group was a big responsibility. It was now her job to warn them of any approaching danger. She couldn’t help but to wonder if this was Maza’s way of agreeing with Kip. By letting her take lead, was he telling her that she needed to be moving forward?

  Don’t let the grief catch you.

  Kip’s words stuck with her.

  As they reached the opening, the tunnel stretched into a large room filled with crates and machines that Van couldn’t identify. It reminded her of the stash warehouses the Grinders used back home to store loot and supplies. She carefully stepped onto the platform with Maza and Kip crowding behind her.

  They crouched behind a stack of crates, looking down over the room fifty feet below. Dozens of Dwellers mulled around the space, stacking boxes, moving machines, and some sat around drinking and smoking. Kip tapped Van’s shoulder and pointed at several large tanks.

  “What is this place?” Maza asked Kip.

  “It’s a pressure room. There’s a bunch of these down here. Basically, it’s an overflow tank for the city boilers. That hatch up there opens,” Kip pointed to a large butterfly valve in the ceiling. “In an emergency, the water pressure can be released and water fills the room.”

  “Is the boiler above us full?” Van asked, wanting to know the risks.

  Kip shrugged. “Hard to say.”

  Van scanned the area. Different colored liquids filled the large glass tanks below. One was a brilliant gold color and the other a deep red. Both tanks could easily hold thousands of gallons. She wasn’t sure what was in them, but she got the feeling it was bad news.

  Next to the tanks stood someone in a long coat and a beak-like mask. Could this be the Plague Doctor that everyone kept talking about?

  Maza blew air on the back of Van’s ear. She cast her eyes south of their position to see Molly standing behind a box. She hit one of the Backslangers in the head with a wrench. Then she bent down so their faces were close together, but Van couldn’t tell what she was doing.

  Kip braced himself against the railing and pointed the gun at Molly. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. “I don’t know if it has enough power at this range.”

  At the sound of Kip’s voice, Molly perked up. She stood, twisting to look in their direction. Her once sweet face was now twisted with fury.

  The little girl waved at them, then ducked under a pallet lifter. Van tried to follow her path, but it was too late. She turned to Maza and gestured to the downed Dweller. He nodded in agreement and she crept to the end of the railing. A single chain dangled just within reach. Van gripped the metal and lowered herself slowly so she wouldn’t make much noise.

  As she descended, Van took note of the nearest Dwellers. She gauged what her reaction time would have to be if things went south. Reaching the ground, Van inched around Molly’s victim. The Dweller’s head had been smashed to a pulp, golden blood pooling around his body.

  After following a trail of bloody, child-sized footprints, Van crouched to peer underneath the big piece of machinery.

  Nothing.

  She huffed an annoyed sigh. This whole hide and seek thing was really getting old.

  She glanced up to where her brother and Kip had been hiding. Kip gave her a thumbs up but Maza was gone. Van leaned down to look under the pallet lifter again and, when she glanced back up at Kip, he was gone too. “What the hell?”

  She chewed on her lower lip. Maza and Kip wouldn’t have been taken without a struggle. Maybe they had moved?

  Van slid beneath the lifter. Army crawling, she made her way to the other side. As she approached the end, goose bumps broke out across her arms. Van shot her gaze from side to side, convinced someone had been watching her.

  “Psst.”

  Van rolled to her side.

  Molly smiled at her from inside the track well.

  Van clutched the girl by her shirt and pulled her to the ground. Molly’s cold fingers pressed against Van’s neck. Her heart thundered, pulsating at the edges of her vision as she pressed Molly up towards the underside of the machinery.

  Van pried the Prowler’s fingers off her neck while the child slapped and clawed at her face.

  Desperate to get free, Van tucked her knee into Molly’s stomach and pressed her against the lift. With her hands free, she grabbed a break line and wrapped it around the girl’s neck.

  Molly’s hands fell to her sides.

  Then she was slashing at Van’s face with a knife.

  Van let out a strangled growl as she forced the Prowler as far away from her as she could. She released the wire, using her free hand to force Molly’s wrist up against the lift.

  Somehow, the deranged girl managed to pull her head free of the wire. She thrust her head at Van, her teeth gnashing like a wild animal.

  Van tried to flatten herself against the ground, the muscles in her arms shivering as she pressed Molly away from her. “Little… You… Gonna…Over this.” She wriggled her knee up until she was able to get her foot on the little girl’s chest. The gap between her and the undercarriage of the pallet lifter was too small for her to use the thrusters in her boots.

  Damn.

  She glanced down at her prosthetic leg. Concentrating on the controls and muscle anticipatory technology, Van shifted her new leg upward and kicked. With the force of the machinery in her leg, she hi
t Molly until the girl stopped struggling and the knife slid from her hand.

  Carefully, Van lowered Molly to the ground and rolled her to the side. Van lay still few minutes, steadying her breathing. After a few seconds, she turned to look at the unconscious girl. “What the hell am I going to tie her up with?”

  As she watched Molly’s chest rise and fall, someone grabbed her around the ankles and pulled her out from under the lift. Van twisted and pulled as a Dweller dragged her, but his booted foot contacted her ribs when she was free of the machine. She grunted at the burst of pain in her side.

  Van thrust her prosthetic leg towards her attacker. The hidden blade slid free, sheering the Dweller’s fingers from his hand. A screech of pain sounded and her leg hit the ground as her foot dropped.

  Van’s body reacted, depending on the training she had practiced from birth. Every muscle tensed in preparation. Her senses heightened and time seemed to slow to a crawl.

  Someone grabbed her under the arms and pulled her to her feet.

  Twisting, Van swept her leg towards another Dweller standing in front of her. He put his hands up to protect his face and her blade caught his wrists, severing both hands.

  Again, something dropped her. This time her head smacked the hard ground.

  The screaming around her blurred together until she couldn’t make out specific words.

  Rearing back onto her shoulders, Van hoisted herself up, landing on her feet with grace. She scanned the area. Five Backslangers surrounded her, their faces twisted in rage. There were two more on the ground. The one with severed hands was screaming, jamming his stubs at his fallen body parts like he was trying to pick them up. The one with the severed fingers was sitting on the ground by the Pallet lifter, wrapping a bandage around his gushing appendage.

  “So fellas, I’ve gotta go.”

  Before the first Dweller could act, Van charged at a series of crates. Using the crates like stairs, she hurtled up them, then leapt atop the pallet lifter. The Backslangers followed but, as soon as the first one reached the top, she spun and kicked him in the head. The force of the kick knocked the Dweller out and he tumbled down the makeshift stairway, taking out two of his comrades in the process.