"Small equipment?" Rick asked in a skeptical tone. "How far do we have to go? How many people can we dedicate? How long will said equipment last? Is this even mildly plausible?"
Gottfried experienced a slight flicker of irritation, but he kept his tone even. "I fear we have few other options at the present time."
Kaylee looked back and forth between the two. "Why not shut the thing down?"
The High Inquisitor raised an eyebrow. "The thing?"
She waved her hand skyward. "The field. Can it be shut off?"
"We don't know," Rick responded in a sullen tone. "We've been trying to figure it out, to find someone who knows more about the engineering or technology in the damn thing, but..."
"Elliot Jacob Lange," Gottfried spoke, "or Elijah as you knew him, handled the process with his father, the late Citizen One."
Kaylee's eyes popped wide open. "Say what?"
Rick developed a guilty expression. "I swear I only found out a few days ago. I kinda forgot to mention it."
She made a fist and pelted him on the shoulder. "How could you forget? Are you stupid?"
"Well they must be dead by now, and I've been kinda preoccupied what with the lack of sleep and everyone hating my guts!"
Like children, Gottfried thought. As Kaylee opened her mouth to provide some no-doubt scathing retort, the High Inquisitor held up a hand. "This is not a productive area of discussion."
Kaylee scowled at him. "Piss off."
Rick put a hand on her shoulder. "Easy. He just saved our asses, remember?"
"You could also say he screwed over any real shot we had at getting close to that stupid field machine."
He shook his head. "What good could we do from holding cells or, y'know, if we were executed as traitors? I don't like it any more than you do, but it's not Gottfried's fault that Isaac decided to be a moron. Be reasonable, here."
Kaylee gave a sharp laugh. "Like reason has anything to do with it."
"Well, no," Rick gave a sad smile, "but without hidden aces, we play the cards we're dealt."
The girl sighed and waved Rick off, clearly convinced but not happy about it. Good, Gottfried thought, she has at least some level of rationality.
"All right," Rick eyed the High Inquisitor, "so who are you planning on using for the excavation detail. I'm assuming we're in," he gestured to Kaylee and himself, "but with just two people we might as well be digging with spoons."
The High Inquisitor rubbed his chin. "I can spare a few of my Inquisitors, several at least for material transport, but I held some hope of utilizing the individuals at the school."
Rick thought for a moment before nodding. "Probably not any of the kids, but there should be more than a few drawn to the idea of escape. Neither Desmond or Olivia will object, either."
"Good."
"That takes care of the what and where for Kaylee and I, at least a little. Do you have any topographical maps of the area outside? Any schematics for weight distribution setups, electrical lines, or anything else?"
Gottfried shook his head. "I am still attempting to find any records from back then, but I have not had a great deal of luck."
Rick sighed. "So are we just killing time here?"
The High Inquisitor cocked his head. "Why would you say that?"
"Because in three week's time, another half of the OHU and Citizen population is probably going to be dead if this whole thing fires up again. Hell, Sergei's a martyr, we're," he swept a hand, "Citizen collaborators... The OHU'll be in a frenzy by tomorrow."
"I think you overestimate their current abilities," Gottfried replied. "Isaac displays few strong qualities in leadership. If the Citizen attack to sabotage Claudia Laverock's contingency succeeded, then-"
Rick cut him off. "Wait a sec. You're saying they were going for the poison stuff?"
"My assumption was sabotage. Citizen Davidson did not provide details."
"Shit..." he took in a deep breath, eyes wide. "If that crap spills into the Institute..."
"The ventilation in the lab is remarkably efficient and designed to function beyond or withstand explosions," Gottfried leveled a gaze at Rick. "Many projects aside from the contingency agent were crafted there. Though uncommon, accidents certainly happened."
Blinking, Rick replied, "Still..."
"Still, yes, the damage could be devastating. Could." Gottfried emphasized the last. "The greater harm is in the OHU's newfound leadership turmoil and the potential loss of the weapon as a deterrent. We should consider it very fortunate that the units are large and difficult to move, else theft would've been a much greater concern."
"Yikes..." Rick clenched his shaking hands, clearly disturbed by the thought.
Continuing conversation fell away for a few minutes as the trio followed by the ever-silent Inquisitors moved through the dark decay of Old Haven.
Gottfried tried to gauge how the other two reacted. In spite of a few moments of argument and what the High Inquisitor assumed to be glimpses of her average disposition, the girl resumed her quiet contemplation.
The same held for Rick, but his expression featured heavy concern. Gottfried saw in him the man from days prior: exhausted, uncertain, bound by the weight of too many terrible things. The High Inquisitor experienced a small moment of pity, quickly buried by hopes of the man being able to keep it together.
Rick took a deep breath. "Okay, right now the two of us aren't exactly headed in the right direction. We should split off and go back to the..." he trailed off, closing his eyes. "Shit."
Gottfried and Kaylee stopped walking and looked at him.
"I completely forgot. Jeez, what's wrong with me...?" He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.
"What?" Kaylee asked.
Rick sighed. "Michaels and Cass. We left them behind."
******
"I don't think they're coming back," Michaels said after thirty minutes of silence. "We should consider using the rear entrance."
Cass didn't reply. Her head pounded in the most cheerfully agonizing way from when it cracked into the steps, and now the shallow cut on her back throbbed as well. She remained rather frightened, and she didn't feel the slightest bit safe with the sniveling doctor.
The thirty minutes of silence came after Cass had highlighted these facts to Michaels. She felt a little bad for snapping at him, but also she thought an apology would be misplaced and awkward.
Hiding was a simple matter. They found the nearest stairwell and traveled upward until they felt the ground floor and any subsequent fighting distant enough. Rather than hunting around, becoming lost, or risking a run in with unfavorable company, they chose an unlocked supply closet labeled "Employees Only" near the stairwell. A layer of dust covered racks with white towels, bedsheets, and other materials for the living quarters.
There hadn't been much conversation between the two in the first short while, and even less after Cass had snapped at him. She spent the silent period wondering how long it had been since the building had seen use, glancing about the room countless times.
"I should not be here," Michaels spoke quietly, staring at the floor. "Situations such as this are not something I am experienced in handling." He gave a soft chuckle. "Not that I believe I could ever be much of a soldier."
Cass watched him, unsure of why he was talking or what she could say.
He turned to her. "I am sorry; I'm not much of a companion. I wish to die as little as you do, but," the soft chuckle held more bitterness this time, "I am clearly not built for survival in harsh conditions."
So? Cass thought.
"I should not be here," he repeated, "but I am. I am here, and we are in this situation together, whether we prefer it, can manage it, or otherwise. I do not intend to die here. Though I never thought it possible, there is someone depending upon me. Someone I hold very dearly." He sighed, trailing off.
"So?" Cass articulated the thought out loud.
"So," Michaels gave a smirk, "I am going to leave. I cannot force
you to come along, but I think it would be wise for you to do so. You need not rely on someone as 'sniveling and useless' as me for long, but at present I'm all that's here."
She frowned at him.
"For what it's worth..." the researcher formed a sincere expression. "I will do my best to keep you safe."
Something about protection offered by this thin, aging, half-bald, bespectacled man bugged Cass. He probably never even got himself into a schoolyard fistfight. What can he do to help me?
Still, he raised a valid suggestion, and she found herself in agreement. "Yeah, we can go, but you know it'll probably be the other way around. Y'know, me protecting you?"
Michaels gave a soft laugh. "I'm flattered by your concern for my safety, and you're probably right." He eyed the submachine gun cradled in his lap. "I've fired this weapon, with relative success. Do you believe you could do better with it?"
Cass searched his face for some kind of mocking, arrogance, or anything the like. Far from it, Michaels appeared fully sincere. Boy do I feel better now, her mind commented in sarcastic fashion. The nearest responsible adult doesn't know if he can use a firearm better than a teenage girl. Realistically though...
She chewed her lip, considering. "I've never held or used one before. Just rifles, really, not even pistols."
The researcher developed a frown. "Unfortunate."
"Sorry." She gave a half-shrug.
"No matter. I will manage."
Michaels stood, offering a hand. Cass gripped it and rose to her feet. He held one finger to his lips, a signal to keep quiet, and opened the door. The halls remained dark and without activity. Cass strained to listen, hoping to catch sounds of movement, screaming madmen, or gunfire nearby.
There was nothing.
Michaels motioned her forward. She complied, making as little noise as possible. The pair moved down the stairs.
They made it to the second floor from the bottom before being attacked.
"Die! Die! Die!" a woman screamed, flinging herself at Michaels as they turned a corner in the stairwell.
With a yelp of surprise, Michaels stumbled backwards and tried to raise his firearm. The woman swung an icepick towards him. He managed to duck, and her weapon jammed into the wall.
Cass felt a shiver of horrible, cold terror sweep over her, and she froze. Michaels shouted and fell backwards, the submachine slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor. The woman pulled her weapon free and bore down upon her prey. Cass fixed a stare on the gun, knowing fully that grabbing it would be the smart call, but she couldn't make herself move.
Michaels and his attacker struggled on the ground. He screamed and shouted, but she couldn't discern his words. The two both had their hands locked on the icepick, and Michaels labored to keep her from stabbing him. The dull edge of the makeshift weapon inched toward his throat, his lacking upper-body strength providing insufficient resistance against her efforts.
She watched, gripped with horror. Another chill swept by her, this accompanied by the eerie sensation of a physical presence.
The woman was yanked from on top of Michaels and flung into the wall. She screamed, "Demon!" and raised her weapon, but a snapping strike from the dark figure knocked her senseless before she could so much as twitch again.
It was a demon. Cass could see the dark shape's horns, a tail, and vicious claws. Michaels screamed in terror as the beast bore down upon him and...
...offered a hand to help him up.
The figure most definitely had considerable size but featured no claws, horns, tail, or anything else. It didn't quite look human, so Cass assumed it was the Malcolm thing she'd heard bits and pieces about. Michaels hadn't actually screamed in terror either, but Cass realized from a slight soreness in her throat that it probably had been her.
Michaels breathed a heavy, relieved sigh. "Malcolm. Your timing is very helpful."
His back to Cass, the creature said nothing and didn't move. The girl managed to find a small amount of relief with Malcolm's presence in spite of the blue skin and bright white hair, and thus she rediscovered motor functions. She moved over to the researcher's side and immediately let out another sharp cry.
The glowing eyes and sharply alien face sent her mind back to the conclusion of Demon! for a short instant.
Cass took a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to regain control of herself. Okay, I heard he was pretty much some kind of monster, but seeing it up close is a bit different. She took in several more deep breaths.
I'm going to open my eyes now, she thought, and I will not freak out. I will not freak out. She let the thought pass like a mantra through her head a few more times before opening her eyes.
A twinge of startle bubbled up as she saw him staring at her, but she avoided all but a tensing of her muscles. Forcing herself to relax, she blew out the breath she held. "Sorry," she said.
Malcolm gave a slight grunt in response, which Cass took as an "apology accepted" type of thing. Her heart remained rapid, and she couldn't take her eyes off of his freakish skin.
"What are you doing here, Malcolm?" Michaels asked. "I can't say I'm unhappy to see you, but..."
Malcolm drew in a deep breath and tiled his head towards Cass. "Who is this?" His voice was guttural, but Cass could hear the words without difficulty.
The researcher blinked. "Oh, her? This is Cassandra... uh..." He looked over at her.
"Just Cass is fine," she replied.
"Very well. Cass, this is Malcolm, formerly Citizen Marcus Coleman. He's been through a few changes recently, so try not to stare."
Cass did try, but her efforts resulted in poor success. Everything about the creature was far from normal, far from human.
If Malcolm minded or even noticed her scrutiny, he didn't indicate. He offered a blank stare before turning his attention back to Michaels.
"Need help."
"Not anymore, at least I don't think so." Michaels checked himself over for cuts and scrapes. Finding nothing life threatening or serious, he craned his neck around the corner. "Are there more out there?"
Malcolm's eyes narrowed, and Cass laughed to see the creature's obvious annoyance. She struck Michaels with the back of her hand. "Him, you idiot. He's the one who wants help."
Eyes widening, Michaels wiped the sweat from his brow. "Yes! Yes, of course. Of course. What is it I can help you with?"
The creature did not speak for several seconds. To Cass, it appeared as if Malcolm had become locked in very deep thought or heavy concentration. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch his skin, curious of its bizarre texture.
"There is something wrong with the bad people, and I-"
"Of course there is!" Michaels interrupted. He opened his mouth to continue in his ridicule but stopped short at another glare.
Malcolm paused again, and awkward silence dripped by. He opened his eyes. "Worse than everyone thinks. They think the bad is done." He shook his head. "Not so."
"Is everyone all right? Did they make it away?" Michaels asked.
"Yes. Killed most. Not important."
"They escaped?" Michaels asked. "They finished the rest of them off? So much for a promise to return. We'll have to-"
The creature's glare settled again, powerful and frightening. Even though not aimed at Cass, a heavy chill rolled through her. Needless to say, Michaels shut his mouth.
"Not important," Malcolm repeated. "Bad people problem still." He paused again, closing his eyes. Cass tried to watch more closely during these long silences. Best she could figure, he took the time to choose his words.
"They are dead and not. They are still a problem. I need your help to find out something. You need to come with me."
Michaels seemed to oscillate between surprise, annoyance, and confusion. "Now hold on a moment. We're hardly in a prime situation for investigation. What is it you're looking for? Where are we going to go? What do you intend to do with the girl?"
Scowling, Cass jabbed Michaels in the ribs with an elbow. "
What am I, luggage? I can just head back home if the two of you want to go out dancing."
Malcolm favored her with another blank stare. He turned to Michaels. "Not important. Go now."
"Fine then." The researcher sighed. "You can come along to wherever we're going if you like, but I don't believe you should walk all the way back to the school alone."
The creature stared at Cass. "What supplies at home?"
"Uh..." she hesitated, uncertain of what he meant. "What supplies are at the school? What kind?"
"Medical. Research."
Cass frowned, thinking. "There's a first aid office. The old science department might have some stuff."
Malcolm looked to Michaels. "There first, safer now, and can bring Hkhass." The creature narrowed his eyes, trying the name again. "Cass. If wrong supplies, to your lab."
The man's attitude coalesced into pure irritation. "What the bloody hell are you looking for with this?"
He pointed at the unconscious woman. "Bad people much worse. We bring her. Need to see."
"See what?" Cass asked, not sure if she wanted the answer.
Malcolm's eyes shined in the gloom. "Inside."
Chapter 11: What Lies Inside
Having bid farewell to Rick and Kaylee, Gottfried and his entourage made their way back to the surface. In completely normal fashion, they moved quickly and without speaking, but Gottfried could sense a heavy amount of unease among his people.
The evening's events were somewhat difficult and Gottfried's motives unclear. He had no doubt their loyalty remained unwavering, but he knew only fools never questioned what they didn't understand, either in their own hearts or vocally. Gottfried reminded himself to explain things fully when the opportunity arose.
For now, we must find out if Davidson was aware of our absence and if he's planning on taking issue with it.
Exodus (The Fall of Haven) Page 22
