Phoebe Harkness Omnibus

by James Fahy

  Out in the corridor, hot and steamy as before, we slipped and slid on the plastic covering. It was dark, Scott had indeed cut all power to the interior of the plant. There were no drones, either hovering or wheeled. They had gone it seemed. Off patrolling, looking for us?

  “What the deuce?” Chase said. Halfway down the dark corridor, a naked body sprawled. It was one of the hosts. The faceless, motionless creation lay like a dropped mannequin, face down on the floor. Wires and tubing from the cylinders still trailed from its body, torn from their moorings.

  We ran towards it, skirting either side. I was past caring how it had got here. Our eyes were focussed only on the hanging clear sheets ahead, and the stairs I knew lay beyond. Chase vaulted the body easily. I stepped around it, my feet still slippery from the liquid I’d stepped in.

  As I saw Chase disappear through the plastic sheets ahead of me, the host suddenly lashed out and gripped my ankle. It had surprising strength, and I fell, topping to the ground, my hands out in front of me in the last seconds, narrowly avoiding meeting the floor with my face.

  It could move? I twisted away, rolling on to my back and kicking at it frantically. The damn thing was alive. It had dragged itself down here.

  I couldn’t shake it. It clung to my ankle tenaciously, as I tried to scoot away on my backside, hands pushing against the plastic sheeting of the floor. I could hear a high, mewling sound and it took a second to realise it was coming from me. Every inch of skin on my body crawled at the touch of this thing.

  The host raised its head to look at me, the movement so fast and unnatural I don’t know how its neck didn’t snap. Between the curtains of sopping wet hair, that monstrous expanse of blank skin, the absence of any face, seemed somehow to stare at me. It was trying to pull itself toward me, shoulder blades pushing and back arching spasmodically. I didn’t know if it moved this way due to being in great pain, or if it was still learning how to. It was a newborn after all. Scott’s voice rang in my memory. They were not pliant, and quite as violent as the Pale themselves.

  “Chase! Chase, for fuck’s sake!” I heard myself scream. I lashed out, kicking at the thing’s head. I landed three solid blows and it barely flinched. It may as well have been made of stone.

  Hands were suddenly under my arms and Chase was behind me, lifting me up and dragging me away.

  “Jesus,” he sounded faintly impressed. “These things are alive?”

  I reached back and clung to him for balance, lashing out viciously with my free foot again, directing my kicks at the creature’s long, smooth fingers, still slippery with incubator fluid, trying desperately to break its grip.

  “No…shit!” I said between kicks. I felt its grip loosen a little and shook it off at last. Chase fell backwards, dragging me with him through the plastic curtains. We tumbled in a heap on the other side of the quarantine barrier.

  Still in a panic, I rolled off him, desperate to disentangle and get to my feet. Through the moist sheeting, I could see the host had risen to its knees, its head cocked at a strange, quizzical angle, its hands twitching, arms hung loosely at its sides. I think I may have broken its neck with my kicks, but if so, it didn’t seem to be causing it too much trouble.

  “If we do get out of this,” Chase said, backing away from the plastic corridor and the nightmare creature behind. “Remind me to burn that book of Bacon’s, will you?”

  We heard a door slam back at the far end of the corridor, the door to the ward. I knew what it meant. One or more of the Pale was following us. In confirmation of this, we saw the host turn to look back down the corridor.

  With any luck, I thought, they’ll kill each other. Leave the monsters to fight it out amongst themselves.

  “Stairs,” I said, breathlessly, grabbing Chase by the forearm and dragging him away.

  It was dark out here in the corridors outside of Scott’s lab, and more than once I almost barrelled straight into a generator or tripped over a trailing pipe, but somehow we reached the stairway remaining upright. I wished desperately we had our torches. The last thing I needed now, after all this, was to slip and break my neck on a damned dark staircase. I ran down them, Chase at my heels. Leaving the madness and the carnage behind.

  The stairs flew by under us. We had to get down to the reception desk, down to the ground floor where we had entered. There had been a switchboard. It was a slim chance but it might still work. I might be able to call someone. Anyone. Behind and above us I could hear signs of a struggle. Evidently the Pale and the host had met in the corridor above. Good. They could keep each other busy for a few seconds.

  “Keep going,” Chase said urgently behind me. Never had a piece of advice been less necessary. I threw myself around a corner of the staircase, and stopped dead. My feet skittered to a halt, squeaking on the faded and curled linoleum of the stairs.

  Hovering right in front of my face, held aloft by whirring metal blades, was a boxy, ancient-looking drone. Its insectile front end, pointed directly at my face, was a muzzle.

  I heard Chase skitter to a halt behind me. There was a moment of silence as I saw red lights blink on the floating machine. It hung in the air before me like a robotic wasp. I was staring right down the barrel of its defensive guns, and it had registered me with interest. My throat was completely dry. I had frozen like a rabbit in headlights. And then there was a series of rapid clicks as it prepared to fire.

  “Get down there, and don’t look back,” Chase said swiftly, and to my shock, I felt his hand in the small of my back, shoving hard. I lost my balance and tumbled headfirst down the stairs, sliding under the hovering death-drone and banging against every step, my arms instinctively coming up to shield my face as I clattered down into darkness.

  As I fell I heard him shout. “Here! Here you fucker! Come get me!” and then the sound of his footsteps running back up the stairs. Gunfire exploded all around me, and an angry whirr as the rotor blades of the drone sped up. Plaster dust rained down on me as I finally landed in a heap at the foot of the stairs. More bullets spattered the walls as the drone followed Chase, who was making himself as large and loud a target as possible. He was leading it away, I realised, heading back toward the floors above, giving me a chance, just as he’d said he would.

  I crawled, winded, away from the stairs, looking around frantically. Every bit of me hurt. My ribs and spine were scraped and bruised. I was back in the lobby of the old power station, right where we had first entered. It was dark and completely silent. Ahead of me I could see the old, dust-shrouded reception desk. The sight of it tapped my remaining reserves of determination. Forcing myself to my feet, ignoring the shouts of pain from my legs, I hobbled unsteadily towards it, licking blood from my lower lip. There didn’t seem to be any more drones down here. I eyed the grimy windows suspiciously. One of my eyes was sticky and I suspected I was bleeding from my head. It was hard to isolate one niggle from the multitude. I would probably hurt more later. If there was a later, I amended internally.

  As I reached the desk, Chase’s shouts on the floor above suddenly cut off, and a second later, the deafening gunfire stopped. I froze, horrified, at the desk.

  Had it got him? First Kane, then Chase, both dead so that I could get out of that damned bolthole up there? I wondered absently how long we had left. How long until Scott released his dirty bomb over the city? I was guessing around twenty minutes, maybe less.

  There was a Datascreen behind the desk, an ancient, clunky model. I swiped my hand across its filthy screen, praying it would work. Nothing happened. I tried again with no result other than moving the thick layer of dust around. The power was well and truly out.

  I tried the phone on the desk, but there wasn’t even a dial tone. Nothing. The only power in this building was from the portable generators, and they were all routed to Scott’s private lab upstairs. I wondered if that explained the constant brownouts back in the city. Was there even an energy crisis at all, or was that just another lie of his? I didn’t know what else to do. Hopelessl
y I patted my pockets, finding my phone, but there wasn’t even the slightest signal on it. Whatever Scott had done to isolate us out here in his house of horrors, he had been very effective.

  There was nothing I could do. What now, Harkness? I asked myself. Should I go outside? Take my chances with the drones waiting out there, make a break for the tunnels. The chances of me even making it ten steps across the asphalt before being cut down by drone gunfire was laughably slim. But I had to do something, for God’s sake. There was no way I could get back to New Oxford in time to stop Scott, I knew that. But I couldn’t just stay here. At least I could be there for the aftermath. Maybe get to Allesandro before…maybe warn the Tribals.

  But what good would warning anyone do? I felt angry tears filling my eyes. By that time, the plague would be in the air, a rain of death, and there would be no escaping it.

  As I stood, hands splayed out on the desk before me, wheezing and shaking, my head hanging, a solid ball of ache, I heard a soft noise behind me.

  Slowly turning, I saw not Chase, which had been my first hope, or even an approaching drone, but the host. Whether it was the same one which had grabbed my ankle in the corridor upstairs or one of her charmless sisters I couldn’t tell, they were all identical to me, but it was bloodstained nonetheless, and it was currently sliding down the staircase on all fours like an animal, its movements and twitching limbs utterly inhuman.

  Descending the shadowy staircase toward me, it was every Japanese horror movie I’d ever seen. My fingertips dug into the wood of the reception desk behind me. I couldn’t tear my eyes off the creature. Here, alone in the dark with it. I really wished I’d taken the gun from Cloves. Even one bullet would be better than nothing. What did I have to defend myself with here? Could I beat it to death with the phone?

  “Get away,” I whispered shakily, as the thing reached the foot of the stairs and slowly jerked itself into an upright position. It looked at me through the shadows. Its obscene canvas of skin devoid of expression but spattered with blood. I didn’t know if the blood was from Chase or the Pale.

  “Stay…away…from me,” I whispered again. I wanted to shout but I still couldn’t get any air. I wondered if I’d broken a rib when Chase had thrown me down the stairs.

  The host walked towards me, its knees and hips twisting and unsteady. It had no experience of walking, but it was learning fast. There was nowhere for me to go. I had the reception desk at my back. I don’t think I could have even made a run for the doors, although being mown down by drone-gunfire seemed preferable. My left leg was red hot with pain. I was fairly certain I’d twisted my ankle.

  “I fucking mean it!” I hissed. “Don’t touch me bitch, I swear to God I…”

  Before I could finish my terrified threat, the thing lunged forward, closing the last few paces between us with uncanny speed. Its hands lashed out and closed around my throat, squeezing hard, its newborn head inches from my face.

  I felt my windpipe close as I brought my hands up behind it, grabbing and tugging at its long hair, trying to wrench it off me. I pulled so hard I felt clumps of wet hair come away in my hands, but it was much stronger than me. I couldn’t breathe. I fell back against the desk, and it followed, leaning over me, forcing the air from my lungs. My tongue felt swollen, black dots began to swim before my eyes.

  The realisation hit me. I was going to die.

  It lifted me off my feet, pushing me back against the desk, pinning its prey as it silently wrung the life from me. My head lolled back, suddenly light-headed as my brain was starved of oxygen. My toes skittered for purchase on the floor, finding none, and my grappling hands and arms were filled with pins and needles.

  One of its hands reached up and closed over my face, its smooth, alien fingers skittering over my features like a blind person reading a stranger’s appearance. I tried to flinch away but didn’t have the strength to move. My oxygen-starved brain faintly registered that its fingertips had dug in around my skull. It wants my face, I thought absently. It’s going to take my face off. What a strange way to die.

  Suddenly, there was a bang, loud enough to deafen me, and the host’s head exploded, drenching me in blood. Its hands fell limply away from my face and neck. I gagged, gasping and choking for air. Someone had grabbed the thing from behind and flung it aside like a bag of bones. It hit the floor in a wet heap with a solid thud.

  My eyes were watering and I blinked rapidly, clearing my vision as I grabbed at my own throat, hungrily sucking in air. I felt like I was going to throw up.

  “Are you okay? Can you breathe?” I could barely hear over the high-pitched buzz in my ears, oxygen rushing back to my brain. Had my vampire come?

  It was impossible for the vampire to be here. Something had snapped in my brain maybe, lack of air from being strangled by that homicidal thing, but someone had saved me. I didn’t know who. I had been alone with the creature, alone in this silent place of death. I whirled around, and stopped dead in my tracks. It wasn’t Allesandro. It was Sofia.

  “How…how are you here? You can’t be here,” I wheezed, my voice alarmingly reedy. It hurt just to speak. The creature’s grip had been vice-like. I could still feel its fingers digging into my throat, although its headless body lay crumpled at our feet. “You can’t be here,” I said again. I had been so sure it would be him.

  I stared at her wildly. Was I hallucinating? Dead? She couldn’t be real. The blast doors, the drones… “I’m here,” she assured me. She was looking at me oddly. I was staring at her like a madwoman.

  “You were expecting someone else, I think?” she frowned.

  “How did you even know…where…?” I rasped.

  “Your bloodsucking loverboy,” she said, staring at me with open concern. I was aware I was covered in blood, dust and bruises. “He called, said you would be here. Some mumbo jumbo about feeling your pain? I figured if you are here, my alpha is also.”

  I coughed a little, regaining some of my composure. “He called you?” Why hadn’t he come himself? I had time to feel a little offended, but mostly I was trying to stop myself from hugging the Tribal woman in grateful hysteria.

  She shrugged absently. “He has a hardline to you. You sent him an agony-gram?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Got pushed down a flight of stairs actually,” I explained, attempting casual while I gingerly rubbed my neck. “Then, you know…” I kicked at the lifeless host on the floor angrily, making its corpse shudder, “…strangled.”

  “Jesus,” she muttered. “You are a magnet for trouble, Doctor.”

  “How did you get here?” I asked. I only noticed now that the woman wasn’t holding a gun. That didn’t make sense. The host had been shot in the head. I was sure about that. Someone had blown its head clean off.

  “That would be me,” a voice said. I looked around. Standing on the other side of the desk, was a very pale and sickly-looking Oscar. He was still holding a gun. He had been the one to bring down the host, not Sofia. For a moment my mind couldn’t process this. It was strange enough that the Tribal was here, but Oscar? My gaze travelled beyond the blonde boy. Behind Oscar, in the shade of the reception area, a dark shape rose up, tall and silent, like a slice of shadow brought to life, its blackness almost enveloping the boy. A white and motionless face peered down serenely. Oscar had come for me with Kane’s second-in-command…and a Bonewalker. It was too surreal. The only person missing from the party was my vampire.

  Oscar was looking shell-shocked. I doubt he had ever shot anything before. He was staring past me at the headless body at our feet.

  “What was that thing?” he said weakly. “Jesus, Pheebs, it didn’t have a face.”

  I wasn’t interested in explaining, I was far more concerned about the Bonewalker. Last time I had met one of these things I had woken up buried alive. For all I knew it was the same one. They all looked identical.

  “A fucking Bonewalker brought you here?” I said, realising how he and Sofia had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “They work fo
r your father, Oscar.”

  Oscar looked at me finally, still looking as though he were going to throw up. “This one doesn’t,” he assured me, lowering the gun at last with shaking hands. “My father’s not the only one who can make deals with the Djinn. Cabal have used them too in the past. They’re good at moving things around after all. Including people.”

  It took me a moment to process this. “You made a deal? With a Bonewalker? Are you insane?” I’d never known Oscar to get involved with this kind of GO before.

  “He said it was the only way to find you,” Oscar said, looking sheepish.

  I stared at the Tribal. “He? What…the hell…is going on?”

  “Your vampire,” she said, raising her eyebrows. "Full of ideas, that one. I thought maybe I could find the human boy. Make sure he was okay.”

  I tried to read Sofia’s expression. “Why?” I asked. “You don’t even know him.”

  “He seemed important to you,” she said tonelessly. Her eyes flicked to Oscar and back to me. “You do not know my alpha’s daughter, Doctor, but still you help to find her. I return the favour for him. So he is not in your debt. I’m aware that you are friends with this….” She looked coolly at Oscar. “…boy.”

  “Where did you go?” I asked Oscar, turning to face him. “When we all got space-warped by the creepy grim reaper at the museum I mean.” I looked up at the silent and yet apparently benevolent Bonewalker. “No offense,” I said to it nervously. It didn’t respond.

  “I woke up back home,” Oscar said. “In my rooms.” His voice was bitter. “I was confined. I didn’t even know my rooms could lock down like that. Dear old dad, thinks of everything.” His eyes met mine. “He’s behind all this, isn’t he? I swear, Pheebs, I didn’t know. If I’d known…”

  “Yes he is,” I said. Marlin Scott, industrialist, mad scientist and soon to be genocidal murderer. “But how do you know that?”

  Oscar shrugged. “When a Bonewalker takes you, and you wake up not in some spike pit or at the bottom of the ocean, but back in your own bed safe and warm on Egyptian cotton sheets, it’s pretty clear that it’s an inside job.” Oscar looked back at the silent, looming creature behind him. “Everyone knows my father used the Bonewalkers’ skills to build the wall. He made his deals with them long ago. He tried to use them to kill you two, but also to lock me up like some stupid princess in a tower. My father said it was for my own good. That I’d be safe until it was all over. That it would all make sense afterwards. I would have been stuck there still if it wasn’t for this badass chick breaking me out.”