Chapter 17: Drown Out
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Chris pressed his shoulder to the bare wall, following Olivia. He gave her exhausted face another glance. What have those arrogant pricks been doing to her? We’ll find out later. One problem at a time. “What?”
“Slinky,” she replied.
“What?” The toy? He fought his rising bafflement and listened alongside her. She’s never wrong when she hears something. Chris only made it down to the bottom level once, and only for the two minutes it had taken Walker to give his new employee a spiel about the dangerous ferals kept there. The scientists’ posters made a valiant effort at livening the otherwise bare reinforced concrete up, the guards posted down here ensured the break room remained stocked to the brim with sodas and snacks, and the inescapable prison atmosphere overwhelmed it all.
“Another feral,” she explained, as the scrapes and scratching on the concrete became clear to him. “That’s the one you guys let out as a distraction?”
“No, we let out a couple of the smaller ones on another level,” he replied in a whisper. We didn’t touch the other ones. There’s some nasty ferals down here.
“Well, it’s moving. I hear other doors opening too. Did you let all of them out?”
“Absolutely not!” The scratches picked up in intensity, heading straight for them. Elsewhere, he heard shouts, screams, and roars. Several shots rang out, their echoes making them impossible for Chris to track in the subterranean vault. Fuck me. He backed away a couple steps, flicking the safety off his rifle. “What’s coming at us?”
“It’s big and weird,” Olivia replied, uncurling her claws and filling the hall with her wings. Promising.
“Let’s go!” he urged her, right before the approaching feral cut him off.
Shambling to their hiding spot came a bizarre mass of dull metallic hoops and partial rib-like hoops. Oh, she was spot on. Rather than slithering, the serpentine feral twisted its whole body around, heaving one segment forward, then another. On closer inspection, the metal hoops appeared pockmarked, more like bone than machined steel. Chris backed away and raised his rifle, not interested in fistfighting a metallic feral, but Olivia stood her ground, widening her stance and letting out a guttural roar.
Slinky recoiled at the sight of a roaring Olivia, coiling low to the ground. Unsurprised, she backed away, her hands lowering and wings retracting a few feet. Have they seen each other before? Slinky took the opportunity to lash out lightning fast, hitting Olivia in the side of the knee with the point of a rib. Her leg buckled, sending her tumbling to the ground. Chris lifted his rifle as Slinky crashed over her. His finger rested on the trigger, unable to get a clear shot.
A deep voice came from within the mass, speaking each word as if it struggled with it, “Stupid fleshy. I learn.”
With a snarl, Olivia backhanded one of the full hoops trying to pin her forearm, shattering the metallic bone with a spurt of green blood. She used Slinky’s flinch to get half of herself clear. Chris fired off a few shots at the part of Slinky furthest from her. Even if the bullets missed or glanced off a thick ridge, he kept the hostile feral distracted. Beneath the writhing, Chris spotted an almost human figure, suspended from the thickest central hoops.
Olivia could probably flip a car if needed, but with half a ton of metallic bone pinning her wing down, her strength worked against her. She got her feet under her and shot away, trying to pull herself free. Over even the distant shouting and gunshots Chris heard something pop. Olivia screamed and collapsed back to her knees, free hand going to the wing joint on her back.
“Fuck,” Chris muttered under his breath, as Slinky wasted no time in engulfing Olivia once again, pinning her neck to the ground.
His rifle useless, Chris shifted to liquid form and crashed into the two ferals. Even with all his unfeeling mass, he couldn’t force the two to separate. For her part, Olivia thrashed her good side, striking yet another hoop and sending the broken bits of bone clattering to the ground. She still choked for breath beneath the bone pressing square on her windpipe.
Chris shifted, flowing into the center of Slinky’s mass, flowing around the grinding hoops trying to stop him. Into the bulky hoops he went, finding himself face to face with a small humanoid figure, partially digested. Limbs word down to nubs and sizable pits in its gut, the feral flinched back as Chris entered its personal space. Fuck, Olivia got off easy.
Mangled though it was, Chris wasted no time in finding its head, or more specifically its mouth. He flowed over the feral, cutting off its own air supply. It thrashed into his liquid body, lifting up and backing away. Chris simply wrapped himself around its mouth tighter. Slinky focused fully on him, futilely swapping at him with the few hoops and robs it could aim at an unfeeling mass of liquid suffocating it. Its own protective case worked against it, stopping the feral from bringing most of its mass to bear against Chris. Its struggles became weaker and weaker. Once it stopped, he flowed out and back towards Olivia.
Chris shivered as his body tried to return to normal temperature after being liquid for so long. Go, go. He reached his hand out to Olivia, ignoring the cut her claws gave him on his wrist as he helped her to her feet. They bolted from the shaken Slinky, still twitching. Not dead? Whatever. We’ve wasted too much time already. Olivia kept up as best she could, face twisted in pain. Her left wing flopped around completely uncontrolled with every step.
On the home stretch, so close to freedom, a heavy thud sent Chris and Olivia stumbling away from an opening in the wall, a cell they hadn’t noticed. A green man, eight feet tall and bulging eyes, gazed at the pair. His gut dominated his lower half, bloated so large his heavily muscled legs splayed out to either side. A sack, easily the size of a basketball, swelled up on his fat neck.
Chris ducked, right before a glob of dull orange spit sailed over his head and splashed against the concrete, sticking to the surface with a sizzle and rising smoke. Nope. Chris led their desperate sprint towards the elevator Amanda left functioning. Olivia followed after, hobbling along on clawed feet not meant for sprinting, with an injured wing trailing on the ground. The bloated feral hauled itself after them, losing ground even to Olivia.
Close to freedom, Chris turned to check on Olivia. Beyond her bulk, he spotted the throat of the bloated feral swell once more.
“Down!”
A hail of bullets hit the bloated feral in the side of the head, sending it toppling to the ground before it could lob its acid at Chris and Olivia. The body fell over, its body quivering with its death throes. They stopped in surprise. Around the side hallway came a guard, a Hispanic man who’d helped conduct Chris’ interview, two scared scientists in tow.
Ortega locked eyes with a tired and injured Olivia and froze, heavy rifle that could probably punch a hole through her only half raised. The two stared at each other, whether calculating or surprised Chris couldn’t say. He’s not shooting us move move move. He grabbed Olivia’s elbow and threw all his weight into dragging her towards their escape. The spell broken, Ortega rushed forward, still not shooting.
“Stop, stop!”
They turned a corner to find the elevator Chris took down still open, just as he left it. Chris slammed the button for topside, and the closing metal doors cut off Ortega’s next shout. Heavy breathing and the smell of sweat filled the elevator as it began its smooth ascent. Olivia winced and began contorting herself, trying to get a hand on her limp wing.
Chris swatted her hand. “No. Keep still,” he ordered. Shit. That looks nasty. I’ve got about a minute until this elevator gets to the top and we get exposed again.
“But, but,” she began, eyes wide.
“Olivia, trust me.”
After a moment she jerked a quick nod and leaned against the wall with her shoulder. Her injured wing left Chris with little room.
“Alright, hold still, Olivia. Calm, deep breaths,” he ordered as he eased his way towards her back to check her wing. Only by comparing the two wing joints could he tell something was wrong, the left wing hanging loosely from her back instead of in a socket. Human backs aren’t built to have wings.
“Um, Chris?” asked Olivia, one hand bracing against the wall. “Is it bad? Should I do something?”
“It’s fine,” he said. I think. She’s got some scrapes and bruises, but nothing too bad. I guess I keep the wing still, don’t know if that is something I should force back in or not. Maybe Miya will know. “Just keep your tail out of the way.” After looking around a moment for inspiration, he tore off his guard jacket and used the body to fashion a sling for her wing. Should I keep her talking? That seems like a good thing to do. “Lean down, I’ll tie the arms around your shoulder. Does it still hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Can you still function?”
She closed her eyes for a brief moment. “Yes.”
He finished off the knot, keeping her wing pinned to her back as best he could. “There. Is it messing with your breathing?”
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Olivia stood fully upright, taking a deep breath. “It’s fine, I think.”
“You sure? How fast do you think you can move?” The comm in his ear connecting him and Amanda started buzzing with static. Got five seconds until that door opens up top. He motioned for her to back up as he pressed himself against the opposite wall. “Don’t stand in front of the door, it’s about to open.”
She nodded. “I think I can walk. Running might hurt. It’s kind of hurting a lot now,” she stammered, her voice shaking slightly.
The elevator doors opened with a ping. After a moment, Chris poked his head around the doorway and saw an empty hallway. “Hear or smell anyone close by?” he whispered to Olivia.
She shook her head, then hissed softly. What? “Just jostled my wing again,” she said.
“Sorry. Let’s go.” Chris led the way out, stopping at a corner in the hallway of a four way junction.
“Chris, you hear me?” asked Amanda over the comms.
“Yeah, I hear you now, give us a moment,” he responded. Olivia tilted her head at him with a confused look. He tapped his ear and said to her, “Amanda’s on the comm.” Olivia gave a small smile.
“Yeah, I know I am. All the other ferals are loose,” said Amanda.
“Yeah, we found out the hard way.”
“No. All. All of the ferals were released. All levels, not just hers.”
“Did you do that?” That was only Olivia’s cell that was supposed to open. Amanda had wired it so they’d think a couple on the mid level had malfunctioned and released the ferals.
“No!” snapped Amanda I don’t think so. Unless someone else is making changes.”
Chris frowned. “We’ll, we’re not staying in here. We’ll stick with the plan as best we can.”
“Fine. Get her out of there. I’ll tell you if anything else happens.” The comm went silent.
“Alright, we’re heading to the maintenance building on the west side of the facility. Got a way out there.” He led the way down the nondescript hallway to the right of the elevators.
“No!” blurted Olivia. “Guns and screaming down that way.” If you insist.
“Um,” began Chris. What’s the quickest way now? Wait, the other way leads to the guard barracks. He spun around and pointed out the opposite direction of where he’d been heading. Olivia nodded after a moment. I’ll take it.
Going down towards the main entrance, away from the others with a getaway car. Damn it, there was a nice tunnel leading to the garage and everything. We’ll make due. “Um, someone is ahead of us,” said Olivia.
“A guard?” asked Chris as they slowed down.
“No.” She frowned. “He smells like cigarettes.”
‘He.’ Sounds like she knows this one. “Is he going to be a problem?”
“No, he’s a scientist. A weird one.”
That doesn’t narrow it down at all but OK. “Alright, we’ll push on,” said Chris with a shrug. I eagerly anticipate some nerd throwing a punch at Olivia.
They continued on, until Olivia pointed out the side lab that the scientist was in. Sign says Bloodworks. Why would he run for cover in there? Curiosity got the better of him, and he gazed in as he passed, Olivia following suit right behind him. They instantly came to a stop at the sight.
“Oh, oh, my very generous blood donor! And a friend,” exclaimed a man, placing a red vial in a pocket in his tweed coat. “So you’re the ones I need to thank for this wonderful opportunity.”
The pudgy, physically unimpressive man fastened the top button of his coat and grabbed a thick paper file off the desk. He gave them a brief smile through tobacco stained teeth, though something seemed off about his expression. More alarming, however, was the mechanical centipede about the size of his arm, coiled around the desktop computer. It noticed Chris’ attention and uncoiled itself from the ports in the back. Then, without so much as a flicker, it vanished from view, though he could still faintly hear the skittering of its many legs. That’s got to be an Overlord robot. It's going up a wall. I hope Olivia is tracking it better than I can, because who fucking knows what else it can do.
“Who is this?” asked Chris, hefting his rifle.
“Dr. Grey,” said Olivia.
“Yes, yes, the one and only,” Dr. Grey added, keeping a wary eye on Chris’ rifle.
“Is he going to stop us from leaving?” asked Chris.
“No, no, of course not. I have what I need,” replied Dr. Grey with a shake of his head. “Of course, I could ask the same of you.”
We’re here to escape, not pick a fight with an Overlord dude. Chris put a hand on Olivia’s elbow, urging her to leave.
“That’s my blood,” murmured Olivia, as unmoving as a brick wall. She must have read that little label from over here.
“Think about it in freedom. We’ve wasted too much time already.” Finally, she allowed herself to be moved again.
They climbed the stairs to the ground floor, where the civilian side of the institute worked. They ran past the HR offices and through the cafeteria, now completely abandoned with the mass breakout. Clawed feet scratched up the tile as Olivia skidded to a halt. For fuck’s sake. Chris, too, stopped and looked over his shoulder to see the latest delay.
“Where did they come from?” she asked herself, her good wing spreading in surprise again.
Chris turned back around just in time to catch sight of three figures turning the corner ahead at a brisk walk, each wearing a charcoal grey suit and red tie. They aren’t guards. And they don’t look remotely scared.
The woman in the lead looked up from her watch. “You’re not who I was looking for.”
Her nonchalance took Chris off guard. He opened his mouth to respond, struggling to come up with a response for a moment. They’re not scared of a giant feral and a guy with a rifle. But they’re not trying to just shoot us so I’ll take it. “I’m sorry to hear that. We’re not fans of him.”
“Then why is an Overlord signal leading me to you?”
Chris and Olivia met each other’s eyes. We still haven’t gotten that thing out. Your call, Olivia, I don’t know what kind of questions those scientists have been asking about it. “A robot put something in my neck and we couldn't get it out,” replied Olivia.
“That’ll do it!” the lead woman replied as she readjusted the sleeve of her suit jacket over the watch. “Have you seen a certain Doctor Grey around by any chance? Male, mid fifties, overweight, smoker, fond of tweed? I have some questions for him.”
“Follow this hall, down a level. We last saw him in a bloodworks lab,” replied Chris.
“Fantastic.” A smile, all teeth and no mirth, split her face. “Have fun you crazy kids.”
Chris and Olivia, by unspoken agreement, pulled out of the way of the trio, not daring to breathe normally again until they were out of sight. Finally, a lucky break. With the smell of fresh air to spur them, they pushed on.
They came to a set of broken glass doors leading to the exterior. A smear of blood streaked across the floor, trailing off to a side corridor. Not going that way. The two exchanged a glance before climbing through. Chris could now clearly hear the gunshots and screams, both human and inhuman, all throughout the area. Something outside bellowed.
“Almost there,” said Chris. It’s a quick, one minute walk normally. This will probably take twenty minutes and another fight for our lives.
They stepped down the broad staircase leading to the main facility. “To the left,” he said, indicating the path next to one of the empty guard booths. They walked as quickly as possible, Olivia’s limp getting worse and worse.
“Van ahead,” panted Chris, pointing towards the maintenance building in front of them.
“Something is coming,” said Olivia, over the sound of a couple spent shell casings getting crushed underfoot.
A rasping shriek to their right cut her off. Down the central path to their right came yet another feral.
Chris would have called it an ostrich, if ostriches were nine feet tall and had a set of useless arms in addition to useless wings. The feral shrieked again, revealing about four human teeth embedded in its upper beak. A two foot long neck stretched out of its distended and twisted humanoid torso, with the odd feather jutting out of its skin. In fact, the only areas without patchwork feathers were the skinny yet otherwise human legs.
Chris glanced at Olivia. She’s pale, her fingers are shaking a bit. She’s in no shape to fight. Well, she could probably cut this thing wide open right now, but that might completely ruin her wing. He readjusted his grip on his rifle.
Two shots rang out from somewhere behind Chris. The feral flinched as one hit it in the gut. Olivia faltered, looking at a guard tower next to the maintenance building. Forward planning is paying off. The feral backed off with another threatening shriek.
“Ben’s covering us. Get to the van,” gasped Chris, spurring Olivia onward. He eased her off his arm and checked his rifle. He aimed at the feral as he backed away. The feral circled, keeping its distance. It’s not trying to kill us? That’s convenient.
Miya opened the back doors, plastered with ads for the repair company they’d stolen the van from, for Olivia and Chris. Rob, in only street clothes and his mask, started the engine as Chris and Olivia climbed in the back. Chris slammed the doors shut behind him.
The feral outside rammed the back of the van, jostling the occupants inside. The impact punched a wide, three inch deep dent in the back door. Thank god the only windows are in the front of the van. Miya, Olivia, and Chris scrambled away from the door, further into the van. Chris aimed his rifle at the door.
“Outta here!” shouted Rob as he hit the gas.
“Um, where’s Amanda and Ben?” asked Olivia.
“What happened to you?” asked Miya instead of answering Olivia’s question.
“Amanda’s picking up Ben. They’ll meet us at the motel. And Miya, she got beat to hell. Grab that first aid kit under the bench.” Miya nodded.
The van drove down the streets of Houston. They dressed Olivia and Chris’ wounds as best they could in the back of a moving van, expecting at any moment for Rob or Amanda to announce the cops were on to them. Other than Amanda’s brief call to tell them she had gotten to their rendezvous point safe and sound, no one said a word. We’re not out of this yet.
“OK, no one is at their windows right now. You’re good to go,” said Amanda as the van came to a stop. The trio in the back tumbled out of the van, Rob taking the van to dispose of it with several cans of gasoline elsewhere in the city.
They hurried into one of the two motel rooms they’d rented. Amanda opened the door for them as they helped Olivia up the stairs. Inside, Amanda had her helmet off, but still had a shock baton close at hand.
Chris took a position by the curtained window. “Alright, we’ll need to keep an eye out for-” Olivia cut him off, wrapping Miya, Amanda, and Ben up in a bear hug and lifting them off their feet.
“I missed you guys so much,” Olivia whispered. Miya gurgled, and Olivia relaxed marginally. Having been hugged by her before, I know that is a painful experience right there.
“Olivia. Need to breathe,” managed Ben, his mask dangling from a pinned hand.
She finally released them. “Sorry,” she said, still about hip to hip with Amanda.
Amanda twisted her back and said, “We missed you too, Olivia.” She wrapped an arm around Olivia’s waist.
“You cryin’?” Ben asked Olivia with a grin. Chris felt a smile form on his own face. Olivia wiped her eyes and ducked her head. Yes. The answer is yes.