by James Hunter
“That’s fucked up, man.” Chuck raised his pistol while slowly, almost imperceptibly, creeping back toward the way they’d come. “Doesn’t have to go down like this, Levi. We still good, but I ain’t gonna be the first one in there. My momma didn’t raise no dummy. You should go. Something bad happens you’ll survive it—you got that whole indestructible, rock-man thing goin’ on.”
“Six … Warning, containment protocol AJ29-1 will commence in five seconds. Please proceed with your scan.”
“Listen, man,” Chuck continued, “I’ve seen some of the crazy-ass shit you’ve come back from, Levi. Me, though? I’m just a highly-gifted and extraordinarily-good-lookin’ halfie. But fragile, like. The wee folk—my people—we’re not all that physically resilient.”
“Four …”
“If something happens,” Levi replied even as he shoved Ryder out of the way and slid toward the slowly retreating halfie, “I’ll only be able to help if I’m outside the containment circle. And I will help, unlike you.”
“Three …”
“Oh is that right? You got something to say to me, Dirt-Clod?”
“Yeah,” Levi growled, taking a shambling step forward. “You’re worried about you. Only you. Something goes wrong while I’m stuck in there? You’re not going to stick your neck out to save me. Or her.” He glanced at Ryder. She was trying to slip past him. He placed one hand on her shoulder and shoved her back a few paces. “Mind me, Ryder.”
“Two …”
“Yeah, well, I ain’t no hero, man,” Chuck said. “You can’t pay me enough to step into that containment circle. Thing’ll probably toast my ass with gamma radiation. End up like the black Hulk—that shit’s no good with me. Being a leprechaun and a pimp is hard enough.”
“One … Warning, containment protocol AJ29-1 imminent.”
Levi blurred in an eyeblink—the time for talk was over. Chuck’s gun roared; a blinding flash of light belched from the end of the hand cannon, but the shot went wide—though not quite wide enough. The round grazed Levi’s outstretched arm, tearing open a fresh slash along the outside of his bicep, before careening into the wall. Levi ignored the cut, bulldozing into Chuck, arms lashing out and wrapping around the man like a pair of pythons.
In a single smooth motion, the Mudman pivoted, twisting at the hips and flipping the involuntary lab rat through the air and into the golden circle. Chuck screamed, his arms pinwheeling in frantic circles, his legs kicking out. Despite his size, though, Chuck was quick and agile, tucking into a tight roll at the last minute, which quickly brought him back to his feet, injury free.
“Zero … Containment protocol AJ29-1 initi—” the computer cut off mid-word. “Thank you for your compliance.”
“You son of a bitch,” Chuck shouted. “I’m gonna get you for this, Levi.”
Light and noise filled the air like a bomb burst, cutting off Chuck’s rant as an electric-blue wall ruptured from the floor: a circular holding cell trapping him inside.
“This is so fucked up, bro!” Chuck yelled over the low buzz of the machinery. “Seriously, Levi, how you gonna do me like that? How you gonna do me like that?! I thought we were cool.”
“Calm down,” Levi replied, keeping his voice as even as he could muster. “Like I said, someone needed to go first. And if something bad happens, I’ll have a much better chance of rescuing you than you would have of rescuing me. Mostly because you wouldn’t rescue me. When the Sprawl wolves had me pinned down, who came back?” He pointed at Ryder. “She came for me. Some Rube girl, while you hightailed it as fast as your legs would carry you.”
“Whatevs, man.” He folded his arms, eyes squinting against the harsh light surrounding him. “I’m a guide, not a bodyguard. Not that you need a bodyguard. What your chunky ass needs is a gym membership. I”—he thumped his chest with one fist—“agreed to take you where you wanted to go, not be a guinea pig.”
“Please be quiet and still while the scan commences,” Siphonei said, her orb drifting toward the closed off circle.
Chuck pointed at Levi, a scowl on his face. “We aren’t done talking’ about this, Mudman. This bullshit is jacked up, and you know it. You owe me.”
Levi stared, grinding his teeth, brow furrowed in thought.
“Threat determination scan commencing, now,” the orb said. The electric-blue walls shimmered and pulsed, the light a spastic strobe flickering on and off, washing over Chuck and leaving blurry afterimages tattooed on Levi’s eyes.
Ryder edged up next to him, a scowl marring her face. “He’s right,” she said. “You didn’t have any right to do that to him. Maybe someone needed to go first, but it wasn’t your place to force him. I volunteered, and despite what you think, I’m not some brainless, weak girl that needs protecting. I killed that Kobo on the road, remember?
“Slashed him open with a piece of broken glass. And you didn’t save me from the Sprawl wolves. I saved you. Not the other way around. If you really want to stop being a fuckin’ monster, start by treating people the way you’d like to be treated, asshole. Pretty sure that nugget’s in your Bible somewhere. And just so we’re clear, don’t you ever lay hands on me like that again, dick.” She turned away, refusing to look at him, instead watching Chuck through the pulsating light.
Annoyance flared through the Mudman, burning at the edge of his mind and searing his nerves raw. What right did this girl have to correct him, to rebuke him? After everything he’d done for her? Saving her from the Deep Downs, rescuing her at the hospital, trekking all over Outworld to find her some answers. After a moment, however, Levi realized that wasn’t really what bothered him. What really bothered him was that he didn’t know if she was right or not. Had throwing Chuck into the circle been a mistake?
The Mudman wasn’t sure.
Other than murder, morality was still something of a gray area for Levi. Most of the big commandments Levi understood, at least in theory: Don’t steal. Don’t commit adultery, remember to honor thy parents—both non-issues for Levi. Honor God, respect His name, and hold no other gods; these things, at least, Levi could do. With everything else, though, Levi was often at a loss. Pastor Steve’s voice rang in his head, the words of the Good Book booming, echoing Ryder’s admonishment: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
True, he wouldn’t want someone to do to him what he’d done to Chuck, but, as he thought through the scenario again, he could see no other way. Despite her protests, Ryder was his responsibility and the least capable of defending herself against a physical or supernatural threat, so it didn’t make sense for her to go first. And if something went wrong, Levi could obliterate the machinery scattered throughout the room, likely saving Chuck—but only if he stood outside the containment circle.
Was it possible the smart choice wasn’t the right choice?
He just wasn’t sure …
The manic flashing finally ceased, and the blue light encircling Chuck faded and vanished. “The scan is complete,” the orb intoned. “Your bio-scan is clean and you have been classified as a non-threat. Visitor access is granted. Please wait while the rest of your party is assessed.”
Chuck hustled out of the circle, eager as a high schooler darting away at the final bell, and hefted his piece, aiming at Levi. “Another five grand for that stunt, you hear me? Another five grand or I’m walkin’ away right now. I know you’re a weird son of a bitch, so I won’t hold that against you, but you owe me something.”
“You shot me”—Levi pointed to the thin line running along his arm—“seems like that should count for something.”
“Please, that’s a scratch. You walkin’ around without fingers on your left hand, dude. No fingers and you gonna come at me, talkin’ about how I grazed you. Please. You coulda killed me—”
“But I didn’t,” Levi offered.
“Coulda killed me. So I’m thinkin’ I might actually start shootin’ for real unless I get some compensation for my trauma. I think that’s fair, don’t you?”
/> Levi grunted and nodded his head. “Alright, twenty-five,” he replied. “And Chuck, for what it’s worth …” He hesitated, not comfortable proceeding. “I’m sorry I threw you in there against your will. Might be that wasn’t the most Christian thing of me to do.”
“Not the most Christian thing,” Chuck muttered. “Listen, you just make sure that cash-money hits my bank account and we’ll be straight.”
“The next member of your party must now proceed to the circle for scanning,” Siphonei said, implacable and unmoved by their personal drama.
“I’ll go,” Ryder offered, stepping forward.
Levi reached out and grabbed her arm as gently as he could manage.
She glared at him. “Thought we just talked about this? I’m not a glass bauble that needs protecting. You had no right to do what you did to Chuck, and you have no right to stop me from doing this. This is my choice. Understand? Now let go of my arm.”
Humans were so complicated. Couldn’t she see he was doing this for her own good?
“Let go, Levi.”
The Mudman sighed.
He’d made a mistake with Chuck, now it was time for him to learn from it. He released his clamp-like grip around her arm. Besides, chances were good the computer would pass her right through. If Chuck, a halfie, had gotten through, then it stood to reason Ryder would be fine, too. If the computer was going to flag anyone as a threat, it’d be Levi—he with his shady past and golden blood, with his murderous mandate and his soulless body.
The girl took a deep breath, straightened her back, and squared her shoulders as if she were walking to her doom, and knew it, but was going to meet that doom on her own terms. She moved with a confident step, but Levi was not so easily fooled. He could see the faint tremble in her hands and knees. Brave face or no, she was scared.
Ryder stepped into the circle and moved to its center, wrapping her hands around her middle. As with Chuck, the electric-blue wall snapped into place a handful of seconds later, and the strobing flashes began in earnest, vump, vump, vump, vump—
The blue strobes turned an angry red like an infected wound, while the teeth-and-tentacle-clad flowers raised their ugly faces into the air and offered a jarring blare of sound, which had to be a security alarm.
The orb zipped around, vibrating in frenzied spasms as if it weren’t actually prepared for whatever it’d found. “Alert! Alert! Alert!” Siphonei screamed, genuine, and very human, fear washing through the orb’s words. “A viable homunculus has been detected.” It rounded on Ryder, its internal light bursting into a vivid red. “You are compromised. Visitor access is denied. You have been reclassified as threat, severe. Containment protocol AJ29-1 will commence momentarily.” The ground trembled beneath Levi’s clay feet, stones grinding and shifting as puffs of ancient dust swirled into the air. “Lockdown procedure initiating. Repeat, lockdown procedure initiating.”
Levi wasn’t sure what was happening—the shifting ground disturbed his earth-bound senses—but he knew it wasn’t good. He needed to get Ryder out of that circle whatever the cost. She was the key to everything. He couldn’t lose her, not now, not when he was so close to unraveling his own murky past. He’d been denied the knowledge of his own creation for seventy years; he refused to be denied again. He burst into action, bolting toward the containment circle, still surrounded by a sheet of red light, and threw his bulk against the barrier, fists outthrust.
He slammed into the shield like a Mack truck.
His flesh sizzled and popped on contact, energy flowing into him like a blast of lightning, before batting him away with a renewed pulse of force. He smashed into the floor with a crack, the ancient stones beneath fracturing from his mass. What a punch. He lay on the floor, struggling to catch a breath, then pushed himself up onto shaky, unstable feet, his skin dry and smoking. His head throbbed and his body ached like someone had run him down with a bulldozer. Check. Wasn’t going to try that maneuver again.
Someone placed a hand on his arm. Levi glanced down with blurry eyes.
Chuck.
“Thing just owned your ass. What’d we do now?!” He yelled his questions over the grinding rumble of the floor. “How we gonna get Ryder out?”
Levi thought about it, but only for the briefest instant. Ryder had been right before: he wasn’t good with words or talking, but he was good at breaking things. And this situation was right up his alley. He grimaced and pointed at the circle. “I’m going to smash that thing into little pieces, then I’m going to buy you some time. Get Ryder, and get away from here, away from that orb. Don’t wait for me. Don’t come back for me. Make for the emergency exit if you can. I’ll find you.”
Without waiting for a reply, Levi hurled himself into the air, an inbound artillery shell ready to explode.
EIGHTEEN:
Break for It
Levi flew forward, this time aiming not for the impenetrable energy shield, but rather the ground just outside the golden circle. The front door, so to speak, was locked up nice and tight, but with most summoning and binding circles—like the one holding Ryder—there was usually a backdoor: the circle itself, which generated and maintained the energy field, might be vulnerable. If he did enough structural damage to the binding ring, it might break the construct holding her in place. Had he been inside the circle, such a task would border on the impossible, but from outside his chances of success were … well, not good, but better.
His hands shifted as he came down, massive pickaxe blades forming in their place. He thudded onto the deck, using his considerable mass to drive both picks into the rough stone below. Jagged chucks of rock spun through the air, accompanied by a hail of gravel as his hands beat out a steady rhythm, pounding away like the pumping gears of a truck engine. The orb zipped over to his side, circling about, surveying the damage.
“Please cease your activity immediately,” the orb said. “You are diminishing the structural integrity of the containment circle. Status report: Integrity compromised by thirty-four percent.”
Levi ignored the chirping machine, his mind bent to his task. Each blow fractured the stone further, irregular cracks radiating toward the circle, snaking underneath the ring—the ring held, but wouldn’t for much longer. Each blow delivered up more rock chips and, in turn, widened the fissure in the floor.
Something wrapped around Levi’s leg, entwining his calf like a python, constricting as it worked its way up his leg, trying to crush the limb like an empty soda can. He stole a peek even as his arms flew back and forth, hammering away: the vines were everywhere now—no longer confined to the walls and overgrown chairs—crawling across the floor with life and purpose. A thick cable of greenery had already wound itself around his left leg, all the way from foot to knee, and every second it inched higher. The flowers clamped down, driving their circular mouths in and shaking their heads like a dog working at a chew toy.
“Status report: Structural integrity compromised by seventy-two percent,” the orb said. “Please cease your activity, now, or you will be redesignated as threat, extreme. This will result in the immediate activation of termination protocol F13-5: you will be summarily executed. Please comply now.”
Another choking vine twisted its way up his right leg, digging fleshy, probing tendrils beneath his skin, their barbed hooks tearing directly into the muscle below. The memory came in a flash, an instant that lived inside of an eyeblink:
I whimper, though it hurts. My throat is coarse and raspy from screaming, but I can’t keep it in. I strain against the leather bonds securing my hands and feet to the table, checking them for the hundredth time, hoping this time they’ll be loose. They aren’t. Every movement sends a renewed wave of red-hot agony—like glowing fire irons embedded in my bones—but I can’t stop fighting. Not now. I look over at the table opposite my own: my brother’s there, strapped down just like me. He’s not moving right now, though. Unconscious from the last round of “experiments.”
Experiments, what a joke. Blackest
joke I ever heard. Torture is what it is, just gussied up and made to sound better.
I watch my brother, the rise and fall of his chest. He looks terrible, like a train wreck. He looks like what’s left of a cow, too stupid to move off the tracks when a freight line rolls through. He was a handsome devil, once upon a time. Now? Now he’s thin like you wouldn’t believe, his ribs pressing up against parchment-thin skin. His hair, all gone, buzzed off. His face swollen, bruised, battered. Ross looks twenty years older than when we got here, easy. I can hardly recognize him anymore, and that’s sayin’ something since we’ve got the same mug. Twins, me and him.
Of all the terrible things they’ve done to us, I know my brother misses his looks the most. Stupid, maybe, but no one could accuse Ross of being smart. Handsome, sure, but not too bright. He was one hell of an actor, though, and I’ve never met an actor alive who wasn’t a little vain. It’s in their blood. Looking at him now, passed out, he almost looks handsome again. The worry and fear momentarily disappearing, taking away the creases and the hard lines.
I hear a noise, the creak of a door. Could be the doctor coming back. He’s out now. Lunchtime, I’m thinking. Though it could just as easy be dinner. Or breakfast. I don’t know anymore, though I’m sure it must be one of those. The doctor rarely leaves for anything else … not even sleep, it seems like. But the fat bastard never misses a meal. I can always tell because the smell of food, sometimes salty, other times tangy and sweet, clings to him like cologne. It sticks to his white coat and soft hands. I can smell the food even over the constant, coppery scent of blood, which is like background noise for my nose.
Still, I can’t be certain of the time. Seconds, hours, days: they all blur on the edges. No clock here. No natural light. My hours are marked only by fitful rest, the comings and goings of the doctor, and pain.
God, so much pain. Truth be told, I wish I were dead. I’m lookin’ forward to it.
I steal a look down at my belly, as if I need a reminder: the skin on my abdomen is peeled back and pinned in place with stainless-steel surgical pins. Most of the skin on my chest is gone too. Flayed. I whimper again. I catch sight of my right leg and want to hurl—at least I can’t feel it anymore, which is a blessing, believe you me. The doctor stole it, chopped it off and replaced it with my brother’s right leg. That fat sack of shit in the lab coat wanted to see if whole limb transplant between twins was possible.
