Cultwick: The Wretched Dead

by J. Stone

  “Seems like I have most of it,” Crowley answered, squinting and peering off into the distance.

  “So what now, Fiona?” she asked.

  Crowley ceased talking, and his voice was replaced with Fiona’s behind Erynn. “I figure I have enough to stop them from ever hurting you again. Just like I promised,” she said.

  Erynn turned, keeping the syringe at her back and hidden behind her hand. Fiona stood with a veritable horde of her pets. She was alone in a sea of infected faces on the roof of the building.

  “You did say that,” Erynn replied. “I wasn’t sure how you were planning on doing that though.”

  Cocking her head to the side, Fiona said, “It was mostly Newton’s idea.” With a frown, she continued, “Though she didn’t want to help.”

  “I get the impression your other half doesn’t much approve of what you’re doing,” Erynn commented.

  “Newton is a stick in the mud,” Fiona pointed out. “If things were up to her, we’d have no fun at all. We’d still be trapped in that horrid little cell.”

  “Well, you’ve got control now,” Erynn said. “What do you intend to do with it?”

  As though she had never given the subject any thought, Fiona paused to contemplate. “I don’t know,” she eventually answered. “Newton’s vision stopped right here… In this… garden…”

  Fiona and Erynn suddenly shared a single, unifying thought of a dream Newton had experienced while sleeping on the Dreadnought. It had been a dream about exactly that moment shared between the two women, with Erynn drawing Fiona toward her to a garden in the sky. The vision had ended with Fiona’s mind becoming disjointed and scattered, like a mirror shattering and the images reflecting a multitude of various angles. The moment they were experiencing suddenly felt like the crux of a long chain of events that someone had intricately laid out for them to follow.

  Erynn shook off a chill produced by the vision and stepped toward Fiona. Flinging her arm around to her front, she aimed the syringe at the side of Fiona’s neck hoping that she was still dazed from the vision. The effect of the dream, however, didn’t give Erynn the edge she had hoped for. Instead, Fiona awoke with a look of clarity in her eyes, and she stopped Erynn’s attack, grabbing her arm just out of reach of her own neck.

  “You meant to separate me from my family,” Fiona said, disgusted with Erynn’s actions. She squeezed with her metal grip, forcing Erynn to release the syringe. The vial fell to the icy dirt beneath them and rolled away. Fiona released Erynn, pushing her back as she did.

  “Newton’s vision tried to warn me,” Fiona said, still attempting to understand the dream. “But something obscured it from me. Someone has been hiding things from me!”

  “I’m sorry, Fiona,” Erynn said backing up. “But you’ve got to stop this. You’re not protecting me like this. You can’t keep control over everyone in the world. You’d just be replacing the oppression of the empire with your own.”

  A dark expression crossed Fiona’s face, and she glared at Erynn like she had never experienced. “Maybe you’re not worth saving,” Fiona said. “Maybe I was wrong about you. I think you have to be put down too, Rynny.”

  Erynn took careful stock of Fiona, as she moved slowly toward her with each menacing step. Her toes were covered in dirt, grime, dried blood, and were still bare, despite the frigid wind of winter. The at-one-time-white dress she had worn since their days at the center peeked out of the blood-splattered lab coat of Dr. Blake Norton. Her left hand was comprised of chromesmithing parts and met with bloodied flesh and exposed bone at her wrist. The woman was terrifying in appearance, but nothing was so horrible as the wide grin she wore across her sideways-cricked head.

  Using her mechanical hand, Fiona grabbed Erynn by the neck and raised her slightly off the ground. Erynn’s feet kicked and squirmed in midair, while her hands grasped at the metal hand, trying to pry the cold, metal fingers apart. The grip tightened and Erynn was having trouble breathing, as she slapped helplessly at the mechanical hand.

  Time began to slow, however, and she looked more closely at the hand that Fiona had constructed. She recognized the work as that of her own; it was an early design for Tern’s hand, but it was fundamentally flawed. Erynn wormed her fingers inside the metal frame and pulled out a red-coated wire. With it outside, she grabbed it more securely and yanked as hard as she could.

  The hand construct sputtered and sparks flew out of it. The grip was released on Erynn, and Fiona screamed in agony, pulling in the hand to her chest. The fingers moved sporadically, gears wound without purpose, and a current moved repeatedly throughout the metal hand, shocking Fiona with periodic bursts of electricity.

  “What have you done?” she screamed. “You killed Mr. Squeezy!”

  “I stopped using that design for a reason,” Erynn replied backing up.

  From behind Erynn, however, Crowley and one of his corpsman grabbed her by the arms, holding her in place. She struggled to free herself, but their strength seemed increased by Fiona’s infection.

  “You need help, Fiona,” Erynn pleaded. “You have to stop this!”

  Tired of fighting the hand, Fiona grabbed it where the metal met flesh and tore it from her severed limb. It continued to spark and move, as Fiona tossed it aside to the snow, leaving a trail of red, as it rolled away. She wrapped her left arm inside her coat and out of view, as it spurted blood on the inside of the white coat.

  “Don’t worry, Rynny,” Fiona eventually replied. “I’ll change your mind about all of this really soon.”

  Fiona opened her bloodied maw and lurched toward Erynn’s neck. Erynn took a deep breath and slunk down within the grasp of her captors, closing her eyes and accepting the fate coming toward her. A piercing howl of a scream erupted from the roof of the building, and when Erynn opened her eyes, a woman was holding a needle, jammed into Fiona’s neck.

  Through her quickly severing connection to Fiona, Erynn realized the woman to be Francesca Frazer. She was one of the patients Fiona had infected in Bedlam Asylum, but unlike most of the pets Fiona had, Francesca was still alive and had been given a unique ability. She was able to render herself completely invisible, allowing her to go anywhere, but be seen by no one.

  Francesca had very straight, long, black hair that partially concealed her face. She still wore the patient clothing that she had been given in Bedlam many years prior. Erynn recalled that it was her that she had seen during the battle of Pendulum Falls, and it was her that she saw outside the junkyard when the pets saved her from Solak.

  Erynn scoured Fiona’s quickly closing mind for who the woman was. Francesca grew up as an orphan in the LeBrun Home for Wayward Children. Despite the many other children in the orphanage, Francesca didn’t seem to fit in with any of them, so she spent almost all of her time alone. When Francesca was seventeen years old, she became depressed and suicidal. Fearing she might hurt herself, Francesca willingly admitted herself to Bedlam Asylum, where they said they would ensure she didn’t harm herself.

  Several days passed, however, and Francesca wished to be checked out. The doctors there claimed to have lost her paperwork, and no one seemed to remember that she was there voluntarily. To cover the mistake, one of the doctors forged new papers for Francesca that said she was to be held indefinitely. Over the years, Francesca was neglected and ignored. Perhaps because of the ease at which she seemed to be forgotten, Francesca had defied Fiona and ended her potential mass murder of the people of Cultwick.

  Everyone on that roof, save Erynn, fell and crumpled to the ground. Not wishing to waste the reprieve, Erynn backed away from Fiona and the corpsmen towards the edge of the building.

  Fiona was the first to recover from the syringe, and she howled another terrible scream, pulling the needle from her neck. Without thought or delay, she lunged on the unconscious Francesca. She clawed at her head with her only hand, until nothing remained of Francesca’s face but a bloody chunk of pulp.

  Beside Fiona, the corpsmen, Crowley, and the othe
r citizens of Cultwick that had been infected through their blood in the archives regained consciousness and stood. Those that had been bitten or otherwise killed during their infection stood as well. They, however, didn’t remain motionless for very long. They scattered in all directions, behaving feral and animalistic, attacking anyone still living. With no one to control them, they behaved wildly and without restriction, infecting those that had just recovered from the serum’s stun. The remaining corpsmen opened fire on the feral infected, attempting to control the chaotic situation atop the building.

  Fiona, separated from her ghoulish pets, stood from the bloodied corpse beneath her and looked on at the mayhem. Distraught from her loss and nearly in tears, Fiona ran and leapt from the rooftop.

  Crowley recovered from the shock of the series of events, and his eyes met with Erynn. Looking to his guards, he pointed toward her and ordered, “Arrest her!”

  “We had a deal,” she said, as the corpsmen edged closer. “You said you’d let me and Pearl go.”

  “I lied,” he replied.

  Erynn stepped backward, until she hit the very edge of the building. Giving her almost no remission, the genotoxin’s pain returned, forcing her to double over, clutching her stomach.

  Gunfire erupted behind Crowley, aimed at the feral infected, as he taunted her, “It’s not like you can run. You’ll return, you’ll be tortured, and then finally, I will allow the genotoxin to kill you.”

  She was completely unwilling to return to a jail cell and would sooner die than submit to them again. Grimacing, Erynn replied, “You talk like that’s my only option.” She looked around behind her and down the side of the building.

  Taking a step toward her, Crowley shouted, “No! You don’t get off that easy!”

  Hoping there was even a small vestige of good luck still left at her disposal; Erynn took a chance and jumped from the edge of the rooftop. As she fell, she could only hope for the best.

  Chapter 33. Germ and the Treatment

  “Why are they shooting at us?” Germ asked, as the corpsmen below fired their rifles at the Halcyon.

  “That clearance for takeoff, I mentioned,” Olivia said. “Yeah, I made that up.”

  “Oh my,” Germ replied, clutching the handrails of his seat.

  Olivia lifted the nose of the skyship from the hard concrete of the landing strip, as the tail followed suit. The entire skyport was sealed behind a tall fence structure that they found themselves heading directly toward.

  “When I say so,” Olivia began, “pull that lever as far back, as you can.” She nodded toward a lever between their seats with a shiny red knob.

  “I can do that,” Germ replied hesitantly. “I can do that...”

  Olivia wrenched the steering column back and down, straining herself and the Halcyon, as they approached the wall. Germ looked over at the smuggler pilot, whose eyes were quickly alternating between various dials on the console and the wall outside the window. More and more he found that she was watching one specific, circular dial, as it slowly spun around and neared a red region of the circle.

  Just before it did, Olivia shouted to Germ, “Now!”

  Germ pulled the lever, and a whooshing sound of air released from the engine in front of them. The dial swung back away from the red section, and the skyship lifted upwards, just scraping above the wall and then dropping back down to where the ship was prior. Slowly Olivia managed to get the skyship to a higher altitude, but it took quite some time before it did what she wanted it to.

  “Sorry about that,” she said, finally getting control of the ship. “I didn’t have time to do a proper take-off.”

  “That’s quite alright,” Germ replied with a heavy gulp. “I hardly even noticed it…”

  “You can take your hand off the lever now,” she explained.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize I still was holding that,” he said.

  Olivia smiled and replied, “Clutching is more how I would describe it.”

  “What did that even do?” he asked.

  “The engine was overheating,” Olivia explained. “You released the excess heat out the bottom of the cockpit, which, in a pinch, can be used to raise the ship momentarily.”

  “That is a neat trick,” Germ replied. “But with the excitement over for now, perhaps, I should check on the professor. Besides, my head is killing me, and I want to see if he has any medicine.”

  “Alright,” she said. “I’ll let you know when we get to the Terrace Building.”

  Germ pried himself out of the co-pilot’s chair and worked his way back to the main cabin area. The rat’s heart raced and his body was covered in sweat that he assumed was from the tense takeoff, but as he moved toward the passenger room, he realized his heart wasn’t slowing. He paused, holding a railing, and tried to control his breathing and heart. After several minutes, he started to feel better, and he continued on to the passenger’s room and opened the door. Rowland sat unfazed by the takeoff, reading through the paper documents he had brought back from the mansion.

  “Are you okay, sir?” Germ asked.

  With a baffled expression covering his face, Rowland replied, “How do you mean?”

  “The ship, sir,” he attempted to explain. “We almost crashed.”

  “Did we?” he asked. “I guess I have been a tad preoccupied.”

  Germ lifted himself onto his tiptoes in an attempt to look at what the professor was perusing, but Rowland pulled back the documents and concealed them.

  “What are you reading, sir?” Germ inquired.

  “How are you feeling?” Rowland deflected.

  “My head is hurting again,” the rat explained. “I could use more of that medicine if you have it, sir.”

  “Bag,” he replied with a nod.

  Germ dug into the bag sitting on the table between the two sofa-like seats and found the medicine he had been relying on. He had never really had headaches like the ones he had been having, and he rather missed those days now that they were behind him.

  “Still experiencing that heartburn?” Rowland continued.

  Instinctively, Germ’s hand rose to his chest and began scratching. “A bit,” he replied.

  “Mmm,” Rowland replied, shifting his mouth to the side in thought. “And the fatigue? How is that?”

  “I’m still tired now and then,” he answered. “Is there something I should be worried about?”

  Rowland looked back to his papers and then looked up at Germ. “What about any limb paralysis?”

  “No…” Germ slowly replied. “You’re beginning to scare me, sir. Is something the matter?”

  “Oh, no,” Rowland said. “I am sure we have time. Yes, yes. Plenty of time, I imagine.” Unconvinced by his own answer, the professor turned back to examining his notes.

  Germ began to ask something, but Olivia came over the ship’s speakers. “We’re just about there,” she said.

  “I’ll go up and see if we can find Madam Clover, sir,” Germ said.

  “Mmm, yes,” Rowland replied absentmindedly.

  Germ left the room and made his way back to the cockpit to see that the Terrace Building was just ahead of them. The streets beneath them were covered in small fires, and they could see citizens running for their lives from mobs of the infected. People were being attacked everywhere they looked, and the rooftop known as the Oasis on the Terrace was no exception. Corpsmen were firing their rifles at the infected, who were running amok through the trees and shrubs. He caught sight of Erynn at the very edge of the building, and to his immense surprise, he saw her jump off.

  “She jumped!” he shouted in disbelief. “I can’t believe she actually jumped! Catch her!”

  “Hold on!” Olivia shouted, as she pushed in the steering console and flipped it upward while simultaneously twisting it sideways. "Go open the door!" She yelled.

  Germ staggered backward through the diving skyship to the cabin area, where he slid open the door and grabbed hold of a railing. Air rushed violently passed the open
door, and he felt like it was likely to pull him out. His heart raced once again, and he felt warm and feverish. Olivia continued to twist the ship, as it raced downward toward the earth in an attempt to catch up with Erynn, until it was completely facing down.

  Through the open door, he could see that Erynn was getting closer and closer to the ship, and ultimately Olivia turned the Halcyon so that Erynn was caught inside. She landed directly and painfully on Germ and they crashed against the back wall of the ship. The skyship continued to twist and turn, until the vessel was completely sideways, racing through the tall buildings of Cultwick. After a few minutes the ship leveled back out, and Erynn crawled to the door, slamming it shut.

  "Are... you... alright, Madam... Clover?" Germ managed to get out between heavy breaths.

  "I need a treatment," she replied in some pain. "Other than that, I’m fine. What about you? I hit you pretty hard when I landed."

  "I'll be... okay," he answered. "What were you... thinking jumping from there?"

  "I saw you guys coming," Erynn said. "I certainly hoped you'd catch me, but if you didn't, it still would have been better than staying up there."

  "How did you... manage to jump?" He asked. "With your fear of heights... I can't imagine it was... easy."

  "Amazing what a squad of corpsmen and a bunch of wild infected will do to get you over your fears," she said. "Anyway, I've still got to get to Pearl. You wait here and catch your breath. I'll go tell Olivia where to go."

  Erynn stood up from the rickety ship and struggled forward to the cockpit, while Germ waited on the floor. His chest burned from within, but he didn’t think it was because of Erynn’s rough landing. The strange effects he had been experiencing for the past couple weeks had steadily grown worse and were suddenly quite debilitating. He wondered if the professor knew something about his condition that he was thus far keeping to himself.

  Erynn soon returned and offered Germ her hand. "Come on," she said. "Let me help you up."

  Germ reached out his paw, grabbing her hand, and she helped lift him up. Immediately after standing, however, Germ collapsed back to the floor of the Halcyon, knocking back the crate he had used to get into and out of the city.