by Gary Martin
“Robert says you’re a nice guy, that’s why we’ve come to rescue you. But I’m with old caved in skull down there. If I had a daughter, you’d be getting the same treatment.”
“Good job I don’t have a sister. I wouldn’t want a dad that kills people,” Robert says and winks at his father, who gives him an angry stare, then promptly slaps him around the face.
I try once again to stand, my entire body shakes with the effort, but to no avail.
“Robert, can you grab the small test tube that’s in my shirt pocket? It’s screwed up in the corner over there,” I ask and point.
Robert walks over and picks up the shirt. He shakes the creases out of it, puts his fingers in the top pocket and pulls something out. He raises an eyebrow as he unwraps the tissue paper.
“What the fuck!” he shouts and throws the severed eye across the room.
“No, not that. Shit. I’ll explain about that later. The thing underneath it,” I say.
Both Robert and his father just stare at me.
“You sure he’s worth rescuing, son?” his father says.
“Not sure anymore, Dad,” Robert says, but ventures into the pocket again.
“If it’s another eye, we’re leaving you behind,” he says as he pulls out the small test tube. He looks at it closely.
“What is it?” his father asks.
“Dunno, Dad.”
They both look at me again.
“Bring it here,” I say. Robert brings it over, lowers himself and passes it to me. I grab it shakily.
“A long time ago, my friends told me this would make me a faster, stronger, better version of myself. I didn’t use it. Things may have turned out differently if I had. I don’t know what will happen if I do use it. But I can’t stand up. Every part of me hurts. If I want to escape with you, it’s the only chance I have.”
“Drugs?” Robert asks.
“Sort of. It’s called a spider. You drop it into your eye, then ...” I start to trail off, I can feel the edge of unconsciousness trying to take me.
“Then what?” Robert asks.
I pop off the lid of the test tube and pour the liquid and tiny mechanical spider onto my face, just above my left eyebrow. There’s a slight tickling sensation on my forehead as the spider moves toward my eye. I feel it crawl over my eyelashes, then my world opens up. Almost instantly, the pain in my body disappears, and I feel a clarity I’ve never felt before. I stand up. Nothing hurts at all. I feel great.
“John, that’s amazing,” Robert says at half speed.
“Why are you speaking so slowly?” I ask.
“Why are you speaking so fast?”
The memory of Jacob and Terrell’s voices speeding up when they took it hits my brain. And for a second, I really miss them. No time for that.
“Robert, Robert’s dad, take my son to Sunspot Two and prepare the escape pods,” I say, with more authority than I’ve ever felt.
“Hasn’t it been dismantled?” Robert asks.
“Not yet. But very soon,” I say.
“Not a bad idea. My father has a key card that’ll get us there. That’s how we managed to get here without being stopped. And no one’s going to stop two men and a baby,” Robert says.
“The lack of guards in this area was disconcerting though. I guess Mr Kowolski wanted you all to himself,” Robert’s father says.
“What are you going to do, John?” Robert asks.
“I’m going to rescue Flick.”
34
“Do you have any more of those access cards?” I ask Robert’s father.
“Only this one I’m afraid,” he says.
I look down at the eye on the deck. If I don’t use it any time soon, I’ll have gouged it out of that dead guard’s head for nothing. I pick up my black shirt, put it on, pick up the eye and place it back in my top pocket.
“Right then, where’s Flick?” I ask them both.
“Don’t do this, John. You’ll die. She’s not worth it,” Robert says.
“I made a promise. You can’t stop me.”
“Okay. But I think you’re a fucking idiot,” he replies.
“Nothing new there.”
“What do you want us to do?” Robert’s father asks.
“Get to the escape pods and wait ten minutes. If I’m not with you by then, I’m probably not going to be. Save my son.”
“Righty dokey. You may need this then,” Robert’s father pulls out a short rifle from inside of his coat and throws it at me.
“Won’t you need this?” I ask.
“No. If we’ve got the all access card, we should be left alone. Good luck.”
“You too.”
I hold out my hand and they both shake it.
“Oh. One more thing,” I ask.
“What’s that?” Robert replies.
“Where is she?”
Robert slaps his head with his hand.
“For a few seconds there, John, you were firmly in command. But you’ve once again proved that you’re not management material. She’s in the brig. Maybe a hundred metres down this corridor. On the left. The door is the only red one.”
I smile at him.
“Hopefully see you soon then,” I say and walk out of the door.
The corridor is deserted, so I make my way quickly through it. There’s a sharp bend to the left and I almost walk into two guards standing with their backs to me. I’m not sure what to do. They haven’t seen me but there’s no way past them. Without thinking, I aim the rifle at the back of one of the guard’s heads and pull the trigger. His head explodes in a cloud of bone and bits of brain in what seems like slow motion and the body slumps to the floor. The other guard slowly turns to me aiming her rifle but her head explodes in a similar way to the first. I realise the noise will draw any soldiers or guards on this level, so I continue cautiously. A man in uniform runs toward me. When he spots me, he struggles to pull his gun out of its holster. His head explodes. I move past him before his body has even dropped to the deck. I feel something hit my back twice, like someone tapping me, and I turn around. Two guards are running toward me firing their weapons. Once again, I let my drug fuelled instincts take control. I drop to my knees and notice that one of the rifles they have has a grenade launcher attached. I shoot at that. The weapon explodes, blowing the guard holding it to pieces, but only burning and ripping the left arm off the other.
A wave of warmth hits me, but it seems oddly pleasant. I carry on down the corridor, confident I can take on anything. I look down and realise that I’m on fire. I fall to the floor and roll until the blaze is out. Standing up, I’m still amazed at the lack of pain. I guess it was just minor. I shake my head and see the red door to the brig. No one there. I run up to the door and lean against the wall next to it. There isn’t a handle, only a retina scanner. I finally get to use the eye to open a door. To rescue the girl who helped me take it. I pull it out of my shirt pocket and hold it up to the scanner. A few long, worrying seconds pass, then a beep. The door opens up, and I quickly move inside. The guard sitting at the desk stands up and shoots at me, but I shoot him in the neck. A red splash hits the wall behind him and he falls to the deck, clutching his squirting artery.
I see a red button on the desk and decide it must open the main door to the cells. I hit it. Boom. I’m on a fucking roll. The double doors behind the desk open up to reveal a row of about twenty cells, ten one side and ten opposite. Down the far end are three guards facing away from me, obscuring someone else. Three shots and three bodies hit the deck. Behind them, now unobscured, is Captain Baseheart. She’s holding Flick’s blue hair tightly with one hand and a huge knife to the throat of a motionless Flick with the other.
Instantly, the image of Kerry’s final moments spring into my head. How I had to watch and was helpless to do anything to stop her throat being slit. Not the same now. I have every advantage. I aim the rifle at Captain Baseheart’s head. She’ll be dead before she even has a chance to slide the knife. A wave of intense
pain shudders through my body and I crumple up. It goes as soon as it came and I quickly re-aim the rifle. The barrel is now noticeably shaking, and I realise that there’s now no way for sure to shoot Captain Baseheart without hitting Flick.
“What’s up, John? Lost your nerve?” Captain Baseheart says and starts to move the knife. I fire anyway. Sparks fly off the wall behind her and she ducks, dropping the knife and letting go of Flick. Flick seems to snap out of her dazed state, elbows the captain in the stomach and runs in my direction.
“I’m sorry,” I say as she gets to me.
“There’s time for all that later. What’s happened to you? You look awful,” she says.
“You know, the usual: being stabbed, tortured, almost dying. An average day,” I say. Flick then looks back at the captain. “Can you please shoot the bitch?”
Another crippling pain shoots through my body, and I realise that the drugs are wearing off at a fast rate.
“I think that can be arranged,” I say. But with the fog of the spider wearing off, my recent murder spree is suddenly weighing heavily on me.
I breathe in and take a forthright step toward the captain, but stumble as yet another wave of pain shoots through my body. Captain Baseheart runs for the dropped knife. I fire another shot at the wall behind her and she stops dead.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say, but my voice is clearly wavering.
“I don’t think you will do it. Look at you, you’re falling apart. You don’t have the nerve,” she says and smiles.
“I killed every guard in the corridor to get here. I think I have the nerve, Captain,” I say, but she’s close to being right. How many people have I killed now? Not counting everyone on Earth. Seven? Eight? It hurts that I don’t even know. All in less than ten minutes. The spider made me a remorseless psychopath. And now, karma is hitting me hard. The more the drug dissipates in my system, the more guilt I feel. The waves of pain shooting through my body have stopped being waves and are now a constant. I’m struggling even to stand, and the rifle begins to shake uncontrollably. She sees this and I can tell she’s ready to make a move. In the state I’m in, I would be overpowered easily. Then everything I’ve just done will have no purpose. I will have murdered all those guards for nothing.
Captain Baseheart makes her move but not quickly enough. I pull the trigger and, with a bang, she hits the wall behind her. A gaping hole is burning through her stomach as she slides down the wall, leaving a trail of blood and parts of her insides above her. She stares at me and looks in shock. The look quickly turns soft and she looks sad. I turn to walk away.
“When you came to my house, I wanted to tell you. To confess ... but it had gone too far,” she says. I stop and turn back to her.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say.
She smiles. Her lips are red with blood.
“Mister Jelvus,” she says.
I take a step back.
“What?” I say.
“You wanted to know why I ...” she coughs up more blood. “Why I sold him out?”
I’m coming down from the spider, fast. This is sending my mind spinning.
“I’ve just had to relive that entire part of my life as a torture. You must have somehow been monitoring it to freak me out,” I say.
“Look at me, John. Are you sure you don’t recognise me?”
I look into her pale eyes. There is something about them, something familiar.
“Joe?” I say, slowly.
“That’s my dead name,” she says.
“That’s not possible,” I reply.
“We were so close for a time, you and I. But when you told campus security that we’d kissed, that was the end. I could never forgive you for that betrayal.”
“I didn’t. I only said it was me,” I say in protest. But still don’t believe this is happening.
“I was there, John. I heard you.”
“Well, I was there twenty fucking minutes ago.”
“Interesting, did Mr Kowolski use Rupert’s device on you? That was bold of him. Did he explain that you would end up brain damaged as a result? Are you really sure those memories even resemble the reality of the situation?”
I’m not sure of anything now. It suddenly occurs to me that I may still be in Mr Kolwolski’s nightmare. Drugs on top of a potential brain injury was never the best idea, but it was the only one I had. It’s possible that I’ve fried my brain entirely.
A hand touches my shoulder.
“Can we go now?” Flick asks.
I look at her. Everything about her is stunningly attractive. Even the flickering red eyes. How did I end up with her? Finding the most attractive girl on the ship and attempting escape with her. It doesn’t feel real. I don’t think I’m really here. I think I’m still being tortured by ...
Slap. Slap. Slap.
“Snap out of it, John!” Flick shouts.
“Shit, sorry. I was sliding down the rabbit hole,” I say.
“Let’s go, now,” Flick replies.
“But I haven’t told you everything,” Captain Baseheart says.
“I’m not sure I really want to know,” I say.
“For telling campus security that I’d kissed you ...”
“I didn’t,” I interrupt.
“I wanted to destroy your cosy life. I turned in Jelvus because you enjoyed his classes,”
“I was only curious,” I say.
“Then sent you away so that Jason Lang and his friends could enjoy you,” she says.
Through the pain that’s surging around my entire body, I can still feel a horrible red mist come over me. The numbness. The knowing that you’re going to do something but not be able to stop yourself.
“When I saw you on the docking ring, I knew that I had to humiliate you. Flesh reclamation was the only place for you. And when it turned out my mentor, Mr Kowolski knew and also hated you, everything just fell into place.” Captain Baseheart grins red teeth.
“Mr Kowolski killed my parents. He’s now dead,” I say.
She looks at me, wide eyed.
“You set me up to be raped. It didn’t work. You know what? Forgive and forget. That’s what I always say. Oh, by the way, do you know who started the robot uprising on red deck?” I suddenly ask, as if I’m genuinely curious. She looks at me and tilts her head, as if thrown by my sudden change of subject.
“We don’t know yet but when they’re caught, they’ll be executed,” Captain Baseheart says with full authority.
“I wouldn’t bother looking anymore,” I say. “It was me.”
With a blast of light, Captain Baseheart’s brains spray up the already blood covered wall. I did that. Not the drugs. Me. Maybe if those events weren’t so close in my mind, I may have let her slowly bleed out from her stomach wound.
“Thanks for giving me credit,” Flick says sarcastically.
“Sorry about that. Next time I will,” I say.
“A lot of people hate you, John. Anything you want to tell me?”
“A lot. But we need to go. I’m struggling to stand,” I say.
“I know. You really do look terrible. You look like you’ve been set on fire. And what’s that dripping out of your shirt pocket?” she asks. I look down and pull out the eye. It’s now just mush and covered in blood.
“Eyes don’t bleed, John. Fuck.” Flick then quickly checks me over. “You’ve been shot at least four times. And bleeding quite badly. How are you still alive?”
“I may very well not be,” I say, and fall to my knees. “The eye is useless. Check if the captain has an ID card we can use to get through the decks,” I say.
Flick frisks the dead captain, then looks back at me.
“Nothing,” she says. Her red eyes start to look sad, as if there’s no hope. That we’ve got this far and this is the end of the road. She then squints and looks back at Captain Baseheart. In one swift movement, she puts her fingers in the captain’s dead eye socket and pulls out her eye.
&nbs
p; “I guess it was my turn,” Flick says and grins.
I fall backwards onto the deck. I’m completely fucked. I’ve been burned, shot and had my brain fried. I’ve had enough. I just need to sleep for an hour or so. Then I’ll be fine. I feel my body being moved.
“I can’t do this on my own! Help me out here, John!” I hear Flick shout. I must have lost consciousness for a minute or two, because Flick is now in one of the dead guard’s uniforms, and trying to roll me over on to my front. She puts a first aid kit next to my face and opens it.
“I’ve got to stop you bleeding, or this is going to be a very short escape,” she says.
She pulls out three small disks.
“Will these bung up the wounds?” she asks.
“I think so, just put one on each hole, then press the button on top. They should expand and stop the bleeding,” I say.
She cuts my shirt and puts them on my back. The pain instantly turns to a dull throb.
Flick stands up and rolls a wheelchair over to me.
“Where did you get that?” I ask.
“Found it. Now let’s get you in it and get out of here,” she says.
I roll onto my back and struggle to get into the chair. My strength is closing in on the end. Flick grabs my hand and, with a lot of awkward heaving, I’m in. She covers me in a blanket.
“You’re a heavy lump, John. You ready? Here we go.”
She pushes me out of the brig and into the corridor.
“This your work?” she asks as we pass the charred corpses that I dispatched earlier. I grunt as a reply as words seem lost to me.
She pushes me slowly through the empty corridor. I hear the sound of marching feet heading in our direction.
“We’re screwed,” I say.
“Be quiet and stay still. We’re just going to walk past them. It’ll be fine,” Flick says, sounding like she doesn’t believe what she’s saying.
Ten soldiers appear from one of the adjoining corridors and walk past us. The last two stare at me, and the blood drains from my face.
