Ill Wind (Chaos Witches Volume Two)

by Tal Turing

  Then she felt the scrape of skin on her face, dry skin. It was someone's lips.

  "Its okay, Donnie. I just need to get up," she protested as she tried to sit, but she was unable. Now she felt the kisses become more urgent as was the parting of her legs. She tried to close them but something had been placed in the space between her knees and that something did not yield to her efforts. Her muscles fatigued even as she felt her legs pressed further apart by the thing which slid along her thighs, inward.

  Sex? Was this about sex? She gasped even as she felt her undergarments pulled away. She pushed upwards with her hands and hit a hard mass of muscled, male, stomach and firm, bare, chest. His skin was wet, almost slimy and her hands slipped when she tried to get traction and push him away.

  "Donnie! What's wrong with you!" she yelled in frustration as her palms pressed against him and she struggled. Her abdominal muscles strained valiantly but soon fatigued.

  "I love you Cyn, so much. Its been so long. Much too long. I know you feel it too."

  She felt something moist press between her thighs and soon the moistness turned rigid and hard, an unyielding probe of the area between her legs, searching for something and when it found its target, it entered quickly causing her to cry out from the suddenness and intensity.

  "Damn it, Donnie!!" she screamed, her body thrashing but her own voice and movements were drowned out by his expressions of love and the machine-like thrusting of his frame. Worse, the weight of his body pressed down on her, making it difficult to breathe and that made her feel more sick than before. She felt that she might die like this.

  Even as the physical assault progressed and increased in intensity, the stream of images periodically materialized from the darkness and struck her in their own way. Mentally weak from her failed physical attempts, Cyn detached, relaxed and watched the images go by as her body was slammed.

  A thought came to her mind: in all of their sexual interludes, so many years ago, they had never performed the act like this – so physically, so urgently and one sided. So she wondered; had he always wanted it this way or had something changed? Did he think that her inability to resist him would translate emotionally as well?

  She watched the drone images as they flipped over her mind and after a while she found she was able to filter out the content from one stream and absorb the other instead; and suddenly she could began to see her room as viewed from one corner of the room, near the floor, from the drone which had crawled there. She named it Bug.

  The floor of the room was clear save for her bag, lying on the floor, some of the contents having spilled out. Thankfully, the view was static meaning that Bug was not moving and now, finally, she was able to find the command interface for the strange creature.

  With nothing else to do, and desperate to have any control, she tried to move the thing. It scurried forward in response, the visual morphing into a new point-of-view. The quick motion sickened her and she returned back to the where her body was being held. She regretted it.

  She could feel Donnie's skin sliding against hers. Still. His body was wet, lubricated in a cold sweat and she caught the whiff of a strange, sweet scent mixed with perspiration, it repulsed her.

  "Oh God, Cyn" he whispered in her ear. "I promise we'll get married as soon as possible..."

  A younger Cyn would have rolled her aching eyes at his words. But she knew he wasn't really speaking to her, it was part of the fantasy he had created to enable his rationalization of the attack, making it a moment of intense admiration rather than pure assault. She only hoped he was done.

  He was not, his lips slipped from her ear, along her cheek and, his previous assault complete, he began a second assault on her lips and mouth. But the nausea caught up with her, combined with her revulsion, and it was then that she wretched and vomited. Unable to turn to her side, the fluid could not drain away and she inhaled some of it causing her to cough uncontrollably.

  Donnie pulled away and was silent as her violent self-attack continued. Finally, she was able to turn onto her side and curl into a ball, her face sliding in her own vomit as her gagging continued.

  "I'll get someone to clean this," he assured her. "Someone who can help."

  She didn't care. She wished she would wretch until blood gushed over the tops of the lips he had kissed and over the floor of this place he had brought her.

  Left alone now, Cyn did not move. She made no attempt to cover her cold limbs nor check for bleeding nor wipe away the vomit and spittle from her face. She didn't see any course of action for the place where her body was. She couldn't even see with her own eyes there.

  Instead she concentrated on her quarters, where she could see. She had switched to the other drone, Wasp, located high on a wall. She detached it from the wall and moved it gently through the air. She was thankful it could move slowly, it was easier for her to handle.

  She heard voices now but she could not tell from where they came. She ignored them and tried to switch from Wasp back to Bug.

  Blind

  Cynnamon felt a rough, damp cloth against her skin. It didn't matter. She could now control both drones even as they each bombarded her with their data. She mentally ducked and evaded their direct assaults, instead sampling only bits of what they threw at her and it was making some sense.

  She heard a mechanical click.

  "Look at her eyes,” whispered an awed male voice. “They are wide open. Didn't even flinch!”

  "What the hell did you do? Did you hit her?"

  "No! When we found her she was kneeling on the ground, right? Maybe she fell."

  It was Donnie speaking with someone she did not know...but someone she had heard before.

  A plan formed in her mind and the actress within her spoke up.

  "Could I have my meds?” she asked in her most helpless and pathetic voice. “In my bag? There are some pain patches too..." she reached out as if to retrieve the missing bag, the one left in her quarters. "It was right here..." Then she let her body relax and go unresponsive again.

  "It could be a defect in her sensory implants. Or she might be having a reaction..." She knew that voice. It was calm and authoritative but also detached. "Let's get her to the lab and run the diagnostics. If needed, I'll have a tech look at her sensory implants."

  "But she was like this before, I am sure."

  "You want to take her back to them like this? Does that make sense? Get her bag, she might have some prescription. Would any of you know that?"

  "I'll get her bag. We don't know what she is taking, she just arrived for god's sake." That was Brad.

  Cyn was not surprised that some of the same people who were hunting her the previous evening would be here now. Donnie, Brad and this other voice, perhaps the ringleader. Who else would she hear? There was a part of her that dreaded to find out. Was Miriam here as well?

  "Brad?" She said, her face a mask of confusion. "Is everything okay? I remember trying to get my patch and then I fell and I think I threw up." Perhaps it would help her if she didn't make mention of the savage rape. Let Donnie believe his own fantasy.

  "You hurt yourself, Cyn." Brad responded and she could tell he was upset. She would not let that sway her. "Donnie found you. We just need to take you to the doctor and then we'll take you home. You'll be home before morning. You haven't missed anything."

  By morning? Cyn wondered how many more times her body could be violated by then. She heard some whispering as the voices moved away. Even without LilAI, her hearing was quite good and she heard the name of the place they would take her. They called it 'Lab 8' and she remembered that name. Perfect, it just so happened she wanted to know more about that place.

  She started the task of directing her drones into the abandoned bag.

  Escalation

  Patron severed the AI feed in frustration and looked around at the other board members.

  “That was Pol Gente. Apparently two of the villages have joined together and lodged a formal complaint again us. Unlike befo
re, there is no mention of Humantis. Now they have accused us, only Transom, of assault and kidnapping. They are insisting that we hand over the guilty parties and return the kidnapped villagers immediately. What the hell happened, we only learned about abductions yesterday!”

  “What can they do? Let them follow the complaint process...” Steve said in a monotone voice. “And if they stop working for us, they risk losing our business to the other villages.”

  Patron was shaking his head.

  “The disturbing development is that it is two villages rather than just one. If two can join together, you can bet they are working to enlist more and the longer we do not provide answers, the more reason they have to do that. And Pol Gente is involved, do you know him? I do, and I can tell you this is Pol's dream come true, he has tried for years to get the villagers to unite against us. Now here we are, handing him his dream on a silver platter.” Patron looked over at Steve. “You!” Patron's eyes flashed. “You were the guy with all the answers yesterday. You are in charge of our relations with Humantis, what have you found out from them?”

  Steve seemed unconcerned about being called out.

  “We are continuing our inquiries,” he drawled, “but not much is coming back. I thought we should send that Techview asset over there but that wasn't the decision we made. Maybe we should try that now?”

  “I'll run my own assets, thank you.” Patron barked. “And where is she? I said to make sure she was in this bloody meeting.”

  “She's off with Brad somewhere. I tried to ping her but no answer. Guess she left her AI behind.”

  “Steve,” Patron spoke the name softly as if he was quietly holding back his own personal storm, “Go talk to your friends at Humantis. Again. Explain that if we don't get answers, right away, we will suspend all support for their little company effective tomorrow. Now go.”

  “But you can't do..” Steve began, his face blanching.

  “The next time you say anything except 'yes Patron' will be the last time I suffer your presence. Out.” Patron's eyes were as black as coal.

  Steve stood up quietly and walked out the door.

  The room buzzed around him as Patron's eyes smoldered. How could things happen so quickly? Fate had been excessively cruel, it seemed, in punishing him for not moving more quickly. It could not be a coincidence and he had to assume that someone close to him had done something stupid or leaked information accidentally. But deep in his mind the simpler truth lurked quietly.

  “This is damn unusual,” Barrett spoke up. “And I agree, we have to find out what the hell is going on. But I am more concerned about what the other companies think about this, especially the Top Five.”

  “We can handle them,” Patron replied. “But we need to address this problem with the villagers and right now.”

  To Lab 8

  Cyn allowed Donnie to hold her hand as they sat in the limousine. She heard his reassuring words, his affectionate whispers and she pressed her head into his shoulder in response. It was a way to relieve her headache and, hopefully, to silence his ministrations so that she could concentrate totally on her drones.

  She had gotten them both back into her bag, binding with the base and becoming, once again, an ornate, if gaudy piece of innocent jewelry. It was easy to drop Wasp into the bag, but Bug was trickier as it seemed shy of sudden changes in terrain, precisely what the edge of her bag seemed to be. But she had succeeded and the drone feeds ended.

  Slowly, gradually, she was able to see glimmers of light through her sore, bleary, eyes. She tried to ping the distant AI but there was no response and she was without her normal unit. She hoped they would not check her eyes again.

  Fortunately, Donnie was not concerned about her eyesight as his hand had slid between the thighs of her jumpsuit and lingered there instead. She didn't resist, she only waited.

  The vehicle stopped and the door opened. She dared not look, keeping her head within her hands, fingers rubbing her temples.

  “The Doctor said she can have a pain patch,” a voice began, “But no medicine until after the diagnostic, especially if she is responsive. They'll have a tech check her sensory implants if needed.”

  Donnie kissed her cheek.

  “You are going to the hospital now, darling” he spoke softly, “I'll check on you later and we'll take you back tomorrow.”

  She nodded, a glimmer of contentment on her face as she continued to rub her eyes lightly. She sensed him move away and out of the vehicle. She heard the door close. Her expression was not completely manufactured as she had received a message from LilAI.

  The vehicle started to move and she took a furtive look around. The interior was empty and her bag had been placed beside her. She left it alone as the vehicle descended, most likely into the tunnels.

  She ignored a second ping from the LilAI device and thought about the sensory hell the drones had just put her through; would it be any easier the second time? Could her body even withstand it? But then she thought about what had just happened to her and what might be waiting ahead.

  The on-board AI announced their entry into New Humantis Dome and stated its next stop as Laboratory 8. She reached into the bag and pulled out the strange necklace. Her sensory implants received a message almost immediately.

  AI-Ext-5R455 – Request permission to reconnect?

  Cynnamon spoke her response quietly but clearly.

  “Fuck, YES.”

  Lynda

  Guard

  The guard at the entrance to Lab 8 opened the secure door upon being notified that the Humantis vehicle had arrived and had made a seal with the secure portal. He looked inside and saw a young woman that he didn't recognize.

  Sams smiled, collected her bag and helped her out. He had already received instructions. He was to place her in one of the diagnostic machines, start an analysis run and provide a sedative if needed. Those were his favorite instructions.

  His AI acknowledged the transfer and the vehicle left. He tossed her bag onto his desk and then turned to the girl who was gazing dreamily at the grid of metal beams and struts that formed the ceiling. Her eyes were large brown pools that didn't notice him.

  "Let me get you to a diagnostic station, Miss. It will figure out what you need and get you ready for the Doctor."

  This new resident had a pretty face with smooth, olive colored skin and a turned-up nose. He looked first at her long, silky black hair and then at her slightly parted lips as she stared up at the ceiling, as if caught in a day-dream. He smiled, briefly revisiting some of his own imaginings.

  He took one of her soft hands in his own, wrapped his other arm around and guided her to the adjoining room. He savored the soft scent of her hair and the warmth of her proximity as he nudged her along.

  Thus distracted, he never saw the two drones leave the bag. One moved across the desk and down onto the floor and the other flew off into the space above the rafters, into the vast attic of the old hangar.

  Sams led her through a door and into a long corridor, past small rooms on the right and the lights of the laboratory on the left. They reached a security door where he furtively entered the code before proceeding into the cell block where an available room was waiting.

  Occasionally, the girl stopped as if suddenly confused or as if she was listening to something only she could hear. Normally the new residents were extremely agitated so her passive demeanor was a welcome change.

  "This way, Miss" he insisted adding some extra muscle into the arm which was supporting her lower back.

  The cell contained a white sink above a small cabinet, a chair in one corner and a small clothing locker in another. But the dominating feature was the massive diagnostic station, occupying the center of the cell, already humming its readiness to accept another patient.

  Sams eased her into the thing's grasp and quickly lowered the arm restraints and heard them click into the locked position. With the girl restrained, Sams relaxed and could take his time with the rest of it.

  H
e stripped off her boots, one at a time, and placed them in the locker. He was pleased that she didn't seem to mind, if she knew at all what was happening. He noticed that her skin tone extended evenly to her ankles, her feet, even her toes. Thus hers was a natural color; the state-of-the-art Humantis skin coloring procedures left uneven striations on the toes. Although he worked for Humantis, he hated their body modification surgeries and the whores would paid for them.

  Sams was about to start an examination cycle when he noticed how her jump suit clung to her flaring hips and shapely legs. He hesitated for only a moment then grasped the tops of her pants with each hand and started to wriggle the fabric down, onto her hips, watching her lips and eyelids as he did so.

  At first she turned her head slightly as if only now realizing that something was happening before lapsing back into her previous state. His hands brushed along her young skin as he worked the garment off and tossed it in the locker as well before turning back to appraise the girl one more time.

  One man, Miriam's uncle, was currently working in the laboratory, but would leave shortly and then Sams would be, once again, alone with his charges for the evening. He would start the examination cycle now and return 'later'. As an after-thought, he covered her bare legs with a blanket and then activated the machine.

  The Cell Next Door

  The first step of Lynda's plan had taken the longest. It had taken two full days of secretive work to unwrap and untangle the wire from the underside of the diagnostic station. Now, with the long wire finally free, she experimented with a knot that would slide, allowing the loop to constrict when pulled, like a noose should; it took fifteen minutes before she was satisfied it would do the job. Then she slipped it over her head.

  Lynda looked up at the metal worked ceiling and imagined how she would tie the final knot, one which would hold tight to one of those steel struts. She could climb up on the examination chair, using it as a ladder. Then she would need to lean forward, as far as she could to secure the other end of the noose to a point as far as possible from the chair, the jumping-off point. Otherwise she might, upon having a change of heart, be able to grasp some part of the examination station with her feet and take the pressure off of her neck. Sorry, she apologized to her future-self, she didn't want that to be a possibility.