by Chris Sapp
“I’ve got a couple of priority ones,” Vi told the processing clerk as she herded Roe and Izabel towards the front of the processing line. The processing clerk was a tall thin Vampyr with sallow skin. Everything about him looked old and frail. Everything except his eyes. They were a vibrant shade of green.
“Which ones?” the clerk asked.
“The elf and the Fenixborn,” Vi answered.
“Place your palm on the screen,” the clerk instructed Izabel. She obeyed. What choice did she have? After a few seconds, the machine chirped with a match and her name and photo appeared on the screen.
“Izabel Ramsey you’ve been condemned to detox, sentence passed and imposed by Magnus Slade a Druglord of good standing with the Morphagen Order. Do you have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?” asked the processing clerk. Izabel didn’t know what to say. She was in shock. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She looked back at Roe. His eyes offered no answers, only sadness. While she was looking over her shoulder at Roe, the processing clerk drew the injector gun from the holster on his hip and shot Izabel in the neck. She jumped and her hand came up to inspect the fresh wound. The pain was of the burning variety much like any other shot.
“Step out onto the plank please,” The clerk said. Izabel did. Very slowly. The plank was only two feet wide and even though she knew she would be joining the hundreds of desperate souls detoxing in the pool of black tar fifty feet below her, she didn’t want to join them any sooner than was necessary.
“Next!” Called the Clerk and Roe stepped forward. The cloud of smoke following after him, reminded Izabel of the cartoons with the dark rain cloud following them around.
“Place your palm on the screen,” said the clerk.
Roe obliged. The machine whirred and then chimed with an ID match.
“Roe Driskell you’ve been…,” the clerk stopped. His pale green eyes gazed at Roe for a long time. “My, my, how the mighty have fallen?”
“Get on with it,” Roe said, giving the clerk a taste of his own fierce gaze.
“Roe Driskell, you’ve been condemned to detox, sentence passed and imposed by Magnus Slade a Druglord of good standing with the Morphagen Order . Do you have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?”
Roe turned away from the clerk and looked at Izabel.
“It’s not lost on me how much this meant to you and the galaxy. I’m sorry I failed you.” Fresh tears began to fill Izabel’s eyes and she looked away. Not from Roe, she didn’t care if he saw her cry. The tears were for him as much as they were for her. She just didn’t want that bastard Larkin and his bitch Vi see her cry. If she was going to detox then she wanted to do it with as much dignity as she could muster. Once she got her emotions under control she looked up at her friend.
“It’s ok,” Izabel said. “You did way more than most people would’ve.” Roe and Izabel’s intimate moment was shattered when the processing clerk shot Roe in the neck with the Injector Gun. Roe grimaced.
“Step forward onto the plank.” Roe shuffled forward in a haze of wispy smoke.
“Well, I came. I saw. I conquered,” said Larkin. “See ya in the next life Driskell.” Larkin bent his knees and pushed himself off the dock. A gun went off. The bullet struck Larkin in the shoulder. He howled in pain, twisted through the air and collapsed on the dock. Bright yellow blood spattered the dock. The sawed off shotgun he had been brandishing clattered noisily on the ground.
“Detox the G-head too,” Vi instructed. Her gun was still aimed at Larkin. Smoke curled away from the barrel.
“What the hell?” Larkin rasped as he was hauled to his feet by Petro and Flynn.
“Sorry, Boss’ orders,” Vi said.
“Why? I did everything he fucking asked of me,” Larkin snarled.
“The vid dummy,” Vi said.
Roe crowded against Izabel and whispered in her ear, “When Larkin tries to escape. Follow my lead.”
Izabel nodded vigorously. Her eyes never leaving the wounded G-head.
“I never watched the fucking thing!” Larkin roared as the centaurs carried him to the head of the line. Larkin’s protest didn’t seem to have any effect on the Clerk and the C. D. F. guards. They continued on with their duties as if they’d heard it all before a million times.
“You better hope I die down there. Because if I don’t. I’m gonna hunt you down,” Larkin promised. Vi tilted her head back and laughed. Her fangs glimmered in the light.
“If you survive, you won’t have to hunt me down,” Vi said. “ I’ll buy you at auction, if I can still recognize you.”
She laughed again and this time the centaurs joined in.
“Place your palm on the screen,” the clerk said.
“I know how it works,” Larkin snarled. He slapped his hand hard against the screen. It didn’t break as he probably hoped it might. The machine whirred.
“This is a mistake,” Larkin said.
The machine chimed. Positive ID match.
“Sorry, no mistake,” the clerk said, “Larkin Grundy, you’ve been-
Larkin lunged forward at the processing clerk with all his might. The Vampyr fell backwards off the dock and Larkin went with him. Petro was left holding a handful of Larkin’s shirt.
“Now!” Roe yelled. Izabel spun around in time to see him leap off the plank towards a crane arm that was descending into the first holding pen. Roe seized the metal cross bars with both hands and began pulling himself up. Izabel took a deep breath and then ran the length of the plank. Roe’s legs were much stronger than hers, she needed a running start otherwise she was going to end up in the tar pit anyway. She jumped off the end of the plank seconds before Vi pulled the lever that retracted the plank. Izabel’s jump had been true. She smacked into the side of the crane, creating instant bruises on her thighs and ribs. She hooked her around the cross bars.
“Help! Help Me!” Screamed the processing clerk, who was floating in the tar not ten feet from the crane arm. He flailed his arms in a desperate attempt to swim towards the crane. But the tar was too thick. Izabel looked around in the tar for Larkin but she didn’t see the G-head anywhere.
“Shoot them!” Vi shouted from the loading dock. Petro and Flynn unleashed a flurry of shotguns blasts. The pellets peppered the crane arm in a wide spread pattern.
“Move to the backside of the arm!” Roe told Izabel as he hopped onto the top part of the arm. Izabel was small enough to wiggle herself through the middle of the arm. All of the cranes were automated so they went on performing the tasks they were programed to do. Including the one that Roe and Izabel were hitching a ride on. The crane’s claws closed around a detox cocoon floating in the tar and then the arm began its ascent. Izabel and Roe held on tight as the arm lifted high into the air. Petro and Flynn continued to shoot but it became more futile with every foot the arm traveled away from the unloading dock. The arm swung over the middle wall that divided the first holding pen from the second.
“What’s the plan?” Izabel asked as she joined Roe on top of the arm.
“We need to steal that transport carrier.” Roe said. Izabel saw the one he was pointing at. It was delivering detox cocoons on the east side of the second holding pen.
“Sounds great. How?” Izabel asked.
“We keep using the cranes. The one we’re currently on removes cocoons from the first pen and places them in the second, right? But those cranes take cocoons from the transport ship and place them the second pen. So, when this one deposits the cocoon in the second pen, we’re going to switch cranes. Got it?”
“Got it,” she said.
The crane descended into the second pen and the heat rising from the boiling water was intoxicating. Izabel and Roe made the switch just as the claws opened, dropping the cocoon into the pool of bubbling water. It landed with an angry splash. The second crane arm was hot to the touch and it burned her palms and fingers. Natural instinct was to let go and she nearly fell off. To make matters worse, the beam was s
lick with water and Izabel had to hold on tighter to keep from losing her grip. She hugged the cross beams like it was her best friend. Her thermalskin did wonders to block out the heat. She glanced at Roe to see how he was coping with the heat. She wasn’t surprised to see that it seemed to have no effect on the Fenixborn. With its claws empty, the crane rose high into the air and swung over towards the transport carrier. Down below Izabel saw armed guards running along the top of the walls. Vi led the group charging on top of the East wall and Petro and Flynn led the group approaching on the West side. Centaurs were fast runners, but the facility was five hundred yards long there was no way they were going to reach the transport carrier before Roe and Izabel did. She smiled for the first time in what felt like years.
“Move towards the claws!” Roe instructed. Together they climbed their way along the arm towards the empty claws. The top of the transport carrier folded open on both sides and the cocoons were lined up in rows inside the cargo hold. Roe and Izabel waited to make their jump until the crane descended into the carrier to retrieve a cocoon. The cargo hold guard was a nine foot tall green Ogre. Roe landed on his back, digging his talons deep into the ogre’s flesh. Before the guard could react Roe, grabbed the Ogre’s tusk, one in each hand and twisted the creature’s thick neck violently to the right and then immediately back to the left. Roe was rewarded with the sound of the guard’s vertebrae snapping. Izabel’s entrance was way less graceful. She slipped and fell because the floor of the cargo hold was slippery with cocoon pus and ooze. The stench of bodily ooze mixed with bloody pus was the worst smell she had ever experience. It curled her stomach and made her want to vomit. But she didn’t. The only positive of falling in cocoon slime was that it was cool to the touch and it soothed the blisters forming on her burned palms.
“We’ve got to get to the cockpit,” Roe said, helping her up.
Izabel nodded. They moved forward in between the rows of cocoons but it wasn’t quick work. The ooze on the floor came up to Izabel’s knees and it was like trudging through knee-high water. The cocoons were three feet hight, three feet wide and at least six feet long. Izabel distracted herself from the smell, by counting the cocoons as they passed them. There was two rows of twenty-five and the carrier was only half full. Fifty cocoons that had once been fifty addicts that were now destined to live out their days as fifty slaves. Roe suddenly stopped walking and ducked down behind a cocoon. Izabel followed him.
“What’s wrong?” She asked in a whisper.
“There’s a guard outside the cockpit. Stay here.” Roe said. She nodded. He disappeared amongst the rows of cocoons. Izabel nearly screamed when the cocoon closest to her moved. It pulsed with the life that was trapped inside the husk of flesh. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she was filled with a strong urge to touch it. She did before she lost her nerve. The cocoon was warm to the touch, despite the cool ooze drying on the outside. The cocoon pulsed with life against Izabel’s hand. She didn’t pull away in repulsion. Instead she wondered about the person inside. What was their name? What was their gender? What morphagen had they been addicted to? What unfortunate events had led to their detox?
“That’s a good way to catch a disease,” said someone behind her. Izabel jerked her hand back from the cocoon and spun around to look in the direction of the voice.
“Larkin?” she gasped. The G-head was clinging to the inner hull of the cargo hold. His clothes were ripped and spattered with tar. Bright yellow blood was leaking out of several wounds. The shock at seeing him alive wore off and she stood up with Roe’s name forming on her lips.
“Wait! Calm down,” Larkin, “I’m a fugitive just like you. Which means you, me, and Driskell are on the same team now.”
She halted on raising the alarm.
“Ok, that’s good. Where’s Driskell?” Larkin asked.
“There’s a guard outside the cockpit. He went to deal with it,” Izabel said.
Larkin nodded.
“Steal the transport? Is that the plan?” He asked.
“Yeah. Unless you got a better one, teammate?” Izabel asked.
Larkin laughed. “Nope. Stay here.”
“Where are you going?” She asked.
“To give Driskell a hand.”
Larkin pushed off the hull and floated forward past her head. He halted his upward momentum by grabbing a hold of the open hatch. He remained still, floating above the rows of cocoons.
“What’s wrong?” Izabel asked.
“Someone’s coming. Get down,” Larkin said urgently. She ducked down and pulled her knees close to her chest in and effort to make herself as small as possible. She held her breath and waited. She hadn’t seen or heard anything. But Larkin’s position had given him the advantage. She waited and listened. She heard the steady hum of the engine. She heard the pus and ooze dripping off the cocoons and splashing into the lake that covered the floor. She waited so long that the crane arm returned twice to collect cocoons. It was programmed to start at the back of the transport and work forward until each one had been removed. The suspense of not knowing what was happening was killing her. Against her better judgment, she peaked over the top of the cocoon. She couldn’t see anything so she stood up to her full height. Larkin appeared out of nowhere and collided feet first with her chest. The air rushed out of her lungs. She flew backwards and collided with a cocoon. The upper half of her body punctured the cocoon like a spear. Pink colored fluid burned her eyes and flooded her nostrils. She tried to move but Larkin’s feet were planted firmly on her chest. She was trapped. She kicked with her legs but it was useless. Larkin was on top of her. The best she could hope to accomplish was to knee him. She could feel the owner of the cocoon underneath her. Its bones were digging painfully into her back. She beat at Larkin’s shins with her fists but the force of her blows were weakened by the ooze. It was twice as thick inside the cocoon as it had been on the floor. She could feel the ooze sliding down her throat. Choking her. She squeezed her eyes shut because they were blinded with pus. She felt her body start to convulse. She was dying. She knew it and so did Larkin. He wasn’t going to let her up until she had stopped breathing. Her convulsions doubled in strength. To her, it seemed like the sides of the cocoon were rippling. The undesirable smashed underneath her seemed to be squirming as well. But she knew that was just her oxygen deprived brain attempting to compute its own demise. Then there was a deafening explosion. Like a balloon being popped in the dead of night. Air and light flooded her senses and then she passed out.
ROE
ROE WAS UNARMED and the Ogre standing guard outside the transport’s cockpit had an automatic rifle gripped in his big black hands. A sidearm was holstered on his left hip and next to that was a shock baton issued to him the same day he was issued his other weapons. But none of that mattered because Roe had faced worst odds, much worse. Crouched behind a particularly foul smelling and oozy cocoon in the second row from the cockpit, Roe watched the guard cross in front of the first row of cocoons and then spin on his heel and go back the way he came. The Ogre was well-trained. While the guard’s back was turned, Roe climbed up on top of the nearest cocoon and then leapt through the air. Roe landed feet first on the Ogre’s back. He used his claws to rip open the guard’s carotid artery. His automatic rifle clattered to the floor as his large hands came up to inspect his wounded throat. But it was already too late. The Ogre dropped to his knees, blood spewing into the air and running down the front of his starched uniform. He fell tusk first having never fired a single shot. Roe relieved the dead guard of his sidearm and then he snatched the keys off his belt and used them to unlock the cockpit.
It was empty. Unloading transport carriers took the better part of four hours. Roe suspected that the pilot had most likely taken that time to go into town. Roe sat down in a well-worn leather chair behind the console. After a quick glance at the control setup, he disengaged the parking brake. Then he flipped four switches, which fired up the carrier’s thrusters. The entire ship began to vibrate. He cl
osed the hatch, overriding unload protocols, considering only half the cargo had been delivered. Roe grabbed the yoke and lifted the carrier into the night sky. He kept the yoke pulled back and let the large ship rise steadily toward Centropolis’ atmosphere.
“Where are we headed?”
Roe grabbed the gun and spun it around. Izabel was standing in the open doorway.
“I thought I told you to stay put?” Roe said, lowering the weapon.
“I got tired of waiting,” she shrugged.
“No sign of Vi I take it?” Roe asked.
“That Vamp’s got her hands full with Grundy,” Izabel said. Roe nodded and placed the gun on the console.
“Let’s hope,” Roe said, keeping his eyes on the viewport as they merged with space bound traffic. Izabel leaned forward, placing both palms on the console. The gun lay between him and her. She lunged for the gun the same time he did. His hands closed around the gun and her hands closed around his wrist. They fought for control.
“Nice try, Vi,” Roe said.
“What gave me away?” Vi snarled.
“If you were really a Vampyr, you wouldn’t waste your time with knives dipped in gangrene,” Roe said through gritted teeth. “Your bite would be enough to slow me down.”
“I didn’t think biting was your thing.” Vi smiled.
The Kameleon may have been disguised as Izabel but she had the strength of a Giant. Sweat dampened Roe’s feathers. The tendons under his scales flared with blood.
“What’s the matter, Driskell? I’m just a little girl?” Vi taunted.
“Go to hell,” he snarled.