Ypsilon and the Plague Doctor

by Zachary Chopchinski

  The room erupted into chaos. Dwellers seemed to come from everywhere, charging the lifter.

  Realizing she was going to be surrounded, Van jumped off the machine and grabbed a pulley and chain suspended from the ceiling. She kicked her feet and swung to the next lane over.

  As she released one of the chains to adjust her grip, the pulley system released and she abruptly dropped to the ground. “Stupid,” she cursed under her breath.

  Getting to her feet, Van ran towards an empty pressure chamber. Just as she thought she was going to make it, two Dwellers stepped out from between the aisles. She didn’t have time to react, so she tucked her head down and plowed into them at full speed.

  Pain shot through Van’s neck and shoulders as she made contact with the metal bodies of the two Dwellers. Reaching down, she grabbed each by the leg. They both reached out, trying to regain their balance as she pushed forward, forcing her to drop them.

  Grabbing the side of one of the shelves, Van hoisted herself up. But before she could climb to the top, someone grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back to the ground. She forced her elbow into his stomach and, when he loosened his grip, she rolled away.

  “Me first,” someone shouted. A dark-haired man jumped on her. He drove his fist into her stomach, forcing all the air from her lungs.

  Van jerked her head to the side just as the Dweller’s fist smashed the ground.

  He slumped over, cradling his hand to his chest. Van canted her hips, forcing the man off balance. When he caught himself on either side of her head to prevent himself from falling forward, she thrust the palm of her hand into the crook of his elbow and rolled to the side, pushing the Dweller off her.

  Van pushed herself up just as two more Dwellers turned the corner and rushed her, each wielding a knife. Stopping in front of her, a short, fat Dweller laughed as he took her in. “Should make short work of this one,” he growled. “Skin will get us a little extra too.”

  Van forced her eyes to stay locked on to the two men as Maza slowly lowered himself into the aisle from a chain. She didn’t want the Backslangers to realize that he was behind them.

  Maza smiled as he stood behind the two newcomers. “Can I play too?” Her brother didn’t give them the chance to turn. He grabbed them each by their hair and smacked their heads together over and over, until she was certain they would have permanent brain damage, if they survived at all.

  The Backslanger that had punched her in the stomach slowly stood up. His eyes locked on Maza. He raised one hand as if he was surrendering, but Van could see him reaching for a knife at the small of his back. She walked up behind him, grabbed his head and violently jerked it to the side. The Dweller dropped.

  A loud crash came from the other end of the aisle. Two large tanks of liquid, one golden and one red, were being loaded onto a trolley. The Backslangers were moving the cargo, but why? Why not stop and send everyone after them?

  “Over here!” a voice yelled.

  The thunder of footsteps sounded from every direction. Maza nodded to Van, then they were off, weaving between aisles.

  “Up there.” Maza pointed to an opening.

  A large, muscular Dweller wearing overalls stepped in front of them holding a wrench. Maza increased his speed, plowing into the man and knocking him back. Her brother used his kit to keep his balance. Van jumped over him as he flailed.

  Reaching the end of the aisle, Van and Maza stopped. Dwellers crawled over crates, machines, and each other, pipes, bats, knives and fists ready for them as they stepped into the opening. Van backed up, turning to run back down the aisle, but a group of Backslangers were waiting for them.

  Maza and Van slowly inched away from the aisle, their backs touching so no one could get the drop on them.

  “I see you brought some friends,” Maza said. “Good. You’ll need them.”

  Two Dwellers stepped towards Van, one with bandages around his fingers and the other with a shirt wrapped around the stubs that used to be his hands.

  Van smirked at the damage she’d caused. “You guys come back for round two?”

  They scowled but didn’t move.

  “This isn’t looking good for us, Van,” Maza warned. “We need to relocate.”

  “Yeah, this neighborhood’s gone to shit. You know a good mover?” Van asked her brother.

  Maza laughed. “I might…”

  An explosion erupted from behind the group of Dwellers.

  Van’s hands covered her face. A high-pitched ringing filled her ears, drowning out the sounds of frantic Backslangers. Smoke and lights filled the spaces between the crates and machinery around them. There was a sound like a muffled crash as a lift burst through a set of racks. The Dwellers standing in its way where thrown to the side.

  Kip sat at the steering wheel of the pallet lifter, a huge smile stretched across his young face. “You ordered a ride?”

  Van narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what she was looking at. Rather than tracks, a dozen short legs carried the piece of equipment. Two articulated, magnetic extensions protruded from the end, gears twisting as they worked the grip.

  “What the hell is that?” Maza asked, taking the words out of Van’s mouth.

  “An all-terrain descension compression vehicle,” Kip yelled, pulling a large lever. “A.k.a. the I’m-Trying-to-Get-You-Out-of-Here-in-a-Hurry mobile. So, move your ass!”

  Van jumped onto one side of the machine, grabbing a jagged piece of metal as a handle. When Maza stepped onto the other side of the lift, Kip turned the wheel, bringing the machine through another stack of cases.

  Behind Kip, a burlap sack wrapped in a chain wriggled and writhed on the lift floor.

  “Is that...?” Van nodded towards the struggling bag.

  “Yup.” Kip smiled. “Now hang on.”

  As Kip made his way around the outskirts of the room, the previously shocked Dwellers began collecting themselves. A younger looking Backslanger jogged next to the pallet lifter. He tried to grab onto the side. Van twisted, bringing her booted foot into his face. The Dweller’s head snapped back and he rolled to the ground.

  Maza grunted from the other side of the lifter but Van couldn’t see anything over Kip.

  Twisting back to the front, Van saw their exit. “There!” she yelled, pointing to the shaft where the Backslangers had loaded the two tanks.

  Kip jerked the wheel to the right.

  “Oh shit,” Maza said as four Dwellers leapt from the top of a rack and tackled him to the ground.

  “Kip stop!” Van yelled. She hopped off the side of the lift as Kip ground to a halt.

  They were surrounded again.

  Van charged into the crowd.

  Maza was fighting off five Dwellers but, before Van could reach him, someone jumped down from above, landing between her and her brother.

  As if pulled by some strong magical force, all the Dwellers instantly stopped. They turned, silently watching the newcomer as they waited for commands.

  Van glanced over at Maza who dropped the boy he’d been holding and turned to see what had stolen everyone’s attention.

  The Plague Doctor locked eyes with Van.

  A nervous shiver wracked Van’s body. “Look,” she said, the word more cautious than she intended, “our beef isn’t with any of you.” The man who had lost his fingers waddled into view. “Except that guy. Screw that guy. Otherwise we have what we came here for.”

  The Plague Doctor didn’t reply. She cocked her head to the side as if she were trying to figure out who Van was. A tendril of steam seeped out the bottom of her mask and the doctor tilted her head back.

  Van watched the doctor; the display creeped her out more than it intimidated her.

  A Backslanger near Van shifted like he was going to charge and she pivoted to face him.

  “All right. Nobody move or we all get wet!” Kip yelled. He had one of his knockers in a slingshot and was pointing it at a valve in the ceiling.

  Van smiled. It was a smart move to m
ake the crazy people think you were crazier. “Yeah, so like I was saying, everyone chill the hell out and we’ll get going. You got a problem with that?” She nodded at the Plague Doctor.

  The beaked doctor didn’t respond.

  Van shot her gaze to Maza, who looked like his patience was wearing thin. “That’s it,” he growled, “I’m over this.” He charged at the Plague Doctor, the pistons in his boots giving him an extra boost so she wouldn’t have time to react.

  Grabbing her by the shoulder, Maza spun the Doctor around. Her head snapped back, and the mask slid off her face as his fist made contact.

  Van’s face scrunched as she watched the beaked mask the Plague Doctor had been wearing flip through the air and land on the edge of a stack of crates. She’d been on the receiving end of Maza’s fist more than once and knew how much that hurt. He’d always pulled his punches when they sparred, and even that left an impressive bruise.

  Maza paused. His fist still raised in the hair. A scowl formed at his lips, as though he’d just tasted something repulsive. He took a step back. “No. No fucking way. No.”

  Van narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t imagine what would cause her brother to have such a reaction.

  Maza’s face hardened. “Kip, now! Van, Run!”

  Van didn’t have time to process.

  Kip snapped his slingshot. A small silver ball flew through the air and collided with the valve in the ceiling.

  The ball exploded.

  Van crouched, covering her face. Everything shook, sending several nearby Dwellers to the ground.

  A flood of water splashed to the floor, sweeping crates, boxes and Dwellers away. The unrelenting wave tossed Van to the ground like she was nothing. It sent her crashing into the pallet lifter.

  Water filled her lungs and stung her eyes.

  She couldn’t see.

  She couldn’t hear.

  Van reached up, blindly grabbing at anything. Her hand slid over something metal and she gripped it, pulling herself up.

  A small hand wrapped around her wrist. “Hold on!” Kip yelled.

  Water continued to rush into the room, the force lifting the lifter off the ground. Van had lost track of her brother. She didn’t know where the Plague Doctor was or if any of the Dwellers were still alive. All she could do was hold on to the side of lifter as it floated across the room towards the tunnel.

  19|Arachnophobia and Other Surprises

  Adal interlaced the large metallic fingers of his suit and cracked his knuckles. “I got this. See if you can figure out how to get Webley down and then get him out of here.”

  Remnants of the mangled door and rusted suits crunched under the heavy feet of the Umar.

  Adal took one wobbly step around Arija, towards the giant mechanical spider. He almost lost his footing and he reflexively threw his arms out to steady himself. The micro probes anticipated his moves and the machine mirrored him. The suit handled better than he thought, but the controls would take some getting used to.

  With his mind back on Ypsilon, anger coursed through Adal’s body as he gained confidence in his movements. “Here we go.”

  The creature twisted its torso, lowering its head in anticipation. Even being in the massive suit of armor, the Umar still dwarfed Adal.

  The Umar reared one of its thick legs.

  Adal jumped.

  The suit reacted, tottering him out of the way just as the leg slammed into the floor.

  The room shook.

  Adal lost his footing. His arms shot out as he fell backwards onto his shoulder. Sparks shot in front of his face as he slid the few feet towards the wall.

  The Umar struggled to turn, its large body awkward in the small space of the room.

  Adal pushed himself to his feet.

  Forgetting the strength of the suit, he forced himself into the air, almost losing his balance again when he overshot and clumsily landed on his feet. He smirked at his newly found strength. “Oh, it’s on now.”

  Adal charged the monster just as it turned to face him. Driving his feet into the ground, Adal leapt, fumbling as he landed on top of one of the creature’s legs. The Umar jerked as it tried to fling Adal off.

  The spider stomped.

  The vibrations sent Adal sliding.

  He desperately reached for something to hold on to. His fingers found a cluster of narrow pipes. His body jerked to a stop as he wrapped his hand around one. He squeezed, crushing the fragile tubes beneath his grip.

  Pulling back with his other hand, Adal drove his fist into the group of delicate components. Tugging and ripping at everything he could, Adal made his way deeper into the internal mechanisms of the Umar’s leg. As he separated one remaining tube from a chain of canisters, black liquid spewed from the break. It misted across his face, seeping into his eyes and mouth. “Shit!”

  Trying to cover his face and fight the burning in his eyes, Adal released his grip, falling to the floor. He blinked rapidly, trying to force the pain away. His metal-clad hands were useless. Being more suited for ripping his head off, Adal couldn’t use them for anything other than swiping at the space ahead of him.

  The blurry world before him danced in waves. Fire consumed his eyes. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with spit as he tried to rid his body of the black substance. He spat over and over again, his mouth tasting like dirt and pennies.

  Forcing his eyes open, he saw the Umar coming. He rolled. “What the hell?”

  Nearly a dozen spiders the size of toddlers covered the Umar’s leg. Their small legs gyrated as they produced parts from their abdomens and clicked them back into place. They were fixing the Umar. Adal had thought the Baeg were the only machines that could fix other machines and, while these spiders looked like the Baeg, they were much bigger than the palm-sized creatures he was used to.

  Its leg healed by the group of spiders, the Umar took a step towards Adal.

  A metal tile groaned under the giant spider’s weight. Adal only had a split second to think how this could end badly before he launched into the air, collided with a metal beam in the ceiling and came crashing back towards the ground.

  Adal braced for impact but, before he hit the ground, the Umar raised a leg and sent Adal flying across the room.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  His head pounded as a small explosion sounded.

  When he opened his eyes, he realized he’d ripped through one of the pillars restraining Webley. The Creator’s arm slumped to the ground, a trail of blood dripping from the tip of his finger. He was still unconscious.

  Arija ran towards her boyfriend, dropping to the floor next to him. “Adal! Are you okay?”

  “Getting really tired of this.”

  “I can’t figure out how to get Webley down.”

  “Keep trying.” Adal pushed himself to his feet, his head spinning from the impact, and grabbed a tipped pipe from the wreckage. The heavy spear felt good in his hands, reminding him of his high school track and field days.

  He threw the makeshift javelin at the insect. The tip of the metal buried into the center of one of the Umar’s eyes.

  The monster let out a mechanized cry.

  With his opponent blinded, Adal charged. “Whose house is this?”

  He crouched, jumping high enough to clear the top of the creature’s head. He landed on the Umar’s back, rolling on impact.

  Swinging his arms, he grabbed at everything he could. Somehow, his foot found a crevice. Twisting, he pulled himself back to his feet. “You’re screwed now!”

  Adal stomped and punched the top of the spider’s thorax. The Umar twisted and thrashed. With the center of gravity working in Adal’s favor, the strength of the suit gave him what he needed to rip into the metal armor of the spider. Inky black and bright gold liquids sprayed, and sparks flew with each component ripped away.

  Adal grasped the hinges on a flap and wrenched it free, trying to expose the monster's delicate undercarriage. Tossing the sheet of metal aside, he gaped at the eerie darkness wit
hin the hole.

  Something moved.

  Adal squinted, bending down to get a better look.

  Dozens of eyes blinked to life as a horde of small spiders lunged from the darkness.

  “Oh, screw that!” Adal shouted, stumbling away from the hole.

  A sea of mechanical spiders spewed out of the inner workings of the Umar. As he pushed himself away from the horde, Adal would have given his left arm for a can of raid or a flamethrower. “Nope!” he shouted as he used his heavy metal boots to crush spider after spider.

  Fortunately for him, they didn’t have much in them as far as fighting spirit. Their many bulbous eyes and long, thin mechanical legs scared the living shit out of him.

  As he stomped one of the creatures, several more jumped onto his leg and crawled up his armor.

  Adal screamed.

  Panic took hold and he flailed, swatting at the mechanical creatures. He grabbed one and threw it as hard as he could.

  His heart pounded.

  His mind frozen in fear, he forgot all about the Umar.

  His brain focused on only one task: get away from the spiders.

  While he was distracted, the Umar turned and slammed its side against the wall. Adal slid, falling to the floor. The force of the impact shook the spiders off him.

  The Umar stepped back, reared up and lunged at him again.

  His mind clear of the vice grip of fear, Adal placed one foot against the wall. He braced himself for impact as the Umar drove its leg into Adal’s chest.

  He grabbed the base of the leg, pushing off the wall with his foot to give him some added strength. His shoulders collided with metal. The weight of the spider pressed against him. Adal ground his teeth together, trying to conjure more strength.

  His suit groaned. The metal structure struggled to hold. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he fought to resist becoming a pile of recycling.

  The Umar’s leg shuddered, joining another groan from Adal's suit to create an orchestra of death.