Spheria

by Cody Leet

  #

  Crossing the bridge took longer than expected. Since the Polyans had to place each leg on a girder one by one, they couldn’t rush. When about a third of them had gotten onto the bridge, the Soldiers arrived.

  They emerged from the foliage into the clearing and formed a line along the edge. The remaining Workers spread out inside the clearing, having no choice but to confront the Soldiers. Then Fa∙ro emerged. A sense of impending doom spread among them.

  “Sinners!” yelled Fa∙ro. “You disobey the will of a god! You have no right to exist in this world any longer! Don’t expect the Qubessence to be kind to you either. Soldiers, now!”

  The Soldiers rushed ahead. The Workers stood their ground. They met in the middle of the clearing.

  The Workers pushed and batted at the Soldiers, trying to knock them off balance or drive them back. But lacking combat experience, they were no match. The Soldiers began snagging the legs of the Workers with their whips. They pulled in opposite directions, snapping them off, leaving a trail of dismembered violet cores in their wake. They would return later and drain them of their energy, rendering them lifeless.

  Fa∙ro joined the battle, his lust for revenge more than he could resist. Having an even larger stature than the Soldiers, he proved a natural at combat. Pinning a Worker with one large leg, he used four others, in sets of two, to snap off its legs. When it lay helpless, he pierced the Worker’s core with his point, drinking in its life-giving energy. This he repeated, and took delight in all his victims, one by one.

  At the entrance to the bridge, Sa∙ma and Le∙ma stood, shocked. The blue wall had failed. Their carefully laid plans were crumbling. The freedom of their people had given way to death. The situation was grim. In short order, the Soldiers will have gotten them all.

  Then something clicked in Sa∙ma’s brain. It was like a switch lighting up a transistor, opening a new pathway of creativity. He replayed the image in his mind. It could work. “Le∙ma,” he said, “I saw something when I was making the cannon. I need your help, but at high risk to you.”

  He told her his plan.

  “Let’s do it!” she exclaimed.

  #

  Back in the server room, over half of the Qubes had now turned pure red. And many of the blue ones had begun blinking.

  Chapter 45 - Ashes to Ashes

  “What progress we are making. In the Middle Ages they would have burned me. Now they are content with burning my books.” - Sigmund Freud

  Their oxygen was depleting fast, and it smelled horrible.

  Min stood to take a fresh breath.

  Max pulled his phone from his pocket and began to dial. “Damn!” he said, “No signal.”

  Min saw a reflection at the back of the chamber and walked toward it, holding her hands out to feel it. Instead of hard metal, her hand contacted something squishy. She pulled out her phone, turned on the light, and shrieked. On a shiny metal gurney lay a corpse, sewn up in several places after apparently being used in an anatomy class. She now recognized the scent of embalming fluid mixed with propane.

  “It’s all right,” Max reassured her.

  “All right!” Min screamed. “We’re about to die a fiery death with Frankenstein next to us!”

  “Hey, that’s no way to treat the dead,” he said. “I have an idea. Look at the ceiling.”

  Somehow his calm voice helped her regain her mental clarity. She shined her light upwards. At the top of the domed roof was a human-sized opening – the exhaust vent.

  “Stand up the gurney,” Max requested. “We can use it as a ladder.”

  “Ladder? To go up there? Why?”

  “That opening should lead to the chimney. Most chimneys have a clean-out door. Maybe we can open it.”

  Min didn’t have much hope for his plan. But she knew the air would be better up there, and breathing was becoming difficult. She dumped the body and stood the gurney on end. The folding mechanism on the underside created a makeshift ladder. She scaled it and, with Max feebly attempting to hold it steady, stood in the opening.

  “It curves downward,” she said.

  “Yes, it should. Slide down it.”

  She disappeared. There was a thud followed by, “Ugh!”

  “You alright?” Max shouted.

  Faintly, he heard her say, “I think so.”

  #

  Min shined her phone’s light around, trying to figure out where she was. Indeed, she was in a circular chamber made of bricks, about 8 feet wide. It rose into the darkness. Metal rungs protruded from one section. The other side had a small iron door.

  She ran toward the door and tripped on something. It was a shovel, completely soot covered, as was everything, including her. It must be stored here for cleaning out the chimney.

  “It’s getting hot over here,” she heard Max’s voice echo down the vent shaft.

  Heat was coming through the passage, but it wasn’t more than what the pilot light produced. Soon, even here, she’d be burned alive, or maybe suffocated.

  She picked up the shovel and tried to pry at the clean-out door. It was futile. Thirty years ago, they made things to last. She looked up. Nothing. Not even a view of the sky.

  Not knowing what else to do, she began climbing the rungs. Maybe, she thought, I could climb to the top of the chimney and hang over the side to avoid the poison gas or heat. After about 15 feet, she hit her head on a ceiling. It was metal, but soft. She turned her light toward it. It was an aluminum sheet, newer than the original structure.

  Then it hit her: a scrubber. That explained the lack of light. At some point, to prevent toxic waste from being released into the atmosphere, the U.S. government had the foresight to require that medical incinerators have a scrubber installed. They used activated carbon and cooling chambers to prevent solids from exiting with the rising vapors. In the middle was a fan, spinning slowly, but deliberately. The opening was large enough for her, but the fan would chop her to pieces.

  She heard a rumbling. The fuel injector was pressurizing. They had seconds to live!

  “Min, I love you,” was barely audible above the loudening din.

  No, it can’t end like this. I won’t let it.

  She jumped down. It was farther than she expected and she almost twisted an ankle. She groped in the dark and found the shovel again.

  A series of rapid clicks began as the intake valves opened. Max started screaming in agony.

  Chapter 46 - Into Battle

  “Ideas can be life-changing. Sometimes all you need to open the door is just one more good idea.” - Jim Rohn

  Le∙ma stopped a Worker who was about to enter the bridge. “Pu∙ma, I need to go with Sa∙ma. Can you help others get on the bridge?”

  Pu∙ma looked at the ensuing battle. A third of the Workers lay destroyed. The Soldiers were advancing through their ranks as if they were making an inspection: slow, but unchecked. She glanced at the bridge; another third were crossing or had made it across. That was the group she wanted to be with. But she looked at Le∙ma, who had a pleading expression, and agreed, “Yes.”

  Le∙ma took off after Sa∙ma. He’d pulled the cannon away from the fallen tower and into the open.

  “You six!” he called toward a huddled group of Workers. “Help us!”

  They came immediately. Sa∙ma was tying the rope onto Le∙ma. The other end he passed through the inside of the cannon. “Like last time, grab and pull. Pull as hard as you can!”

  They formed two rows of three and grabbed the cable. They pulled it backward, just like they’d done earlier when they fired at the tower. Le∙ma positioned herself near the opening and folded her legs.

  “Harder!” shouted Sa∙ma.

  The six pulled more, straining against the resistance. Le∙ma began to slide into the barrel of the cannon. The crushing force of the blue rock pinned her legs to her sides, fiercely squeezing her.

  “Harder!” yelled Sa∙ma again.

  The six fought the resistance and hauled the rope b
ack bit by bit. Le∙ma sank deeper into the barrel. Sa∙ma rotated the cannon, then, using his back, lifted up the front and pointed it into the air. When he was satisfied with the angle, he blurted, “One...two...three...now!”

  The six let go. Le∙ma shot out like a rocket, flying through the air, making a gentle arc. The Soldiers, focused on their violence, didn’t notice. More importantly, Fa∙ro, who was feasting on another kill, hadn’t noticed either. Bam! Le∙ma slammed into him. Sa∙ma’s aim was perfect!

  Fa∙ro tumbled over and over, coming to rest on his back, his seven mighty legs flailing in the air. He looked up at the Source, confused, and the world seemed to be spinning. He tapped his legs together a couple times, not comprehending where the ground had gone. Then he felt it. Snap! His artifact was removed.

  In an instant, Fa∙ro’s seven legs shot out. Pushing with three of them, he flipped himself over. He stumbled sideways, then stood. He couldn’t believe what he saw. The diminutive body of Le∙ma, kneeling on the ground, sat with the artifact attached to her head. He roared in fury. He raised his front two legs to smash her. But before bringing them down, he paused. She just sat there, not moving, not trying to flee. She bowed before him with the artifact.

  Chapter 47 - Clean-out

  “I would imagine that if you could understand Morse code, a tap dancer would drive you crazy.” - Mitch Hedberg

  Walter pushed the canvas laundry cart full of dirty linens off the service elevator. It always frustrated him how much laundry the facility generated. Someone once told him that the hospital operated the busiest laundromat in the city, and he believed it. He wheeled the basket down the long basement hallway heading toward the washer room. As a candy striper, he performed a variety of tasks. Transporting laundry was one of the least inspiring. Getting people to their appointments was the one he preferred the most because he liked conversation.

  As Walter passed the storage cages, he heard a faint banging sound. He couldn’t make it out and looked at the pipes running along the ceiling. Maybe air bubbles in there, he thought.

  He continued pushing his load, and when he came to the next side passage, he heard the banging even louder. He cocked his head left, then right, trying to get a sense of the direction of the sound. Yes, it was definitely coming from the side hallway. He abandoned his basket and ventured down to find out where it was coming from.

  As he emerged into the maze of cages, the banging stopped. He shrugged and turned back toward his basket. Then he heard it again.

  Bang, Bang, Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang, Bang, Bang.

  He listened.

  Bang, Bang, Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang, Bang, Bang.

  It was some kind of pattern. He’d no idea what it was but figured that bubbles wouldn’t do that. So he turned again and followed it. After a few twists and turns through the dim clutter, he came to the incinerator chimney. The sound was coming from behind the clean-out door. It was locked shut.

  Bang, Bang, Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang, Bang, Bang.

  Louder this time. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

  Ghosts, he thought. But he never believed in that supernatural stuff, so he decided to open the door.

  He fumbled through the key-chain the janitor had given him. He found the old iron key, the only one of its kind. He put it into the lock and jiggled it around. It made little scraping sounds.

  Bang. And then nothing.

  Whatever was making the noise had stopped. Walter guessed he was making the noise now. Maybe it was rats. No, that was impossible. It’d have to be a giant rat. He imagined such things existed and had second thoughts about opening the door.

  Then he heard a faint “help” from the other side. Rats don’t speak, no matter how large they are.

  Walter finished fiddling with the lock, and it clicked open. He lifted the thick bar and began to swing open the door. As he did so, it was flung open from the inside. A short Asian woman, almost black with soot, darted past him. “Thanks,” she said as she disappeared around the corner of the cage.

  “Wait,” he said, chasing after her.

  She led him to the main incinerator door. It was completely dark. She tried to lift the bar but it was too heavy, or stuck. He walked over and pushed it with her, and together they swung the bar up and pulled the door open. A man crawled out, gasping for air. His shirt was wrapped around his foot.

  The woman squatted down and hugged him. “Thank God you're alive!” she said.

  “Thank God for us both,” he said.

  “Um,” said Walter. “Why are you guys in the incinerator? That’s only for bodies, you know.”

  The woman looked at Walter and said, “Thanks for letting us out. You saved our lives. I’m Min, and this is Max.” Min looked at Max’s foot, then back at Walter. “He needs help. Can you get us a wheelchair please?”

  “Of course,” Walter said, and he shuffled off to find the cage where they stored them.

  Max smiled a sooty grin and asked, “So, care to tell me how we’re still alive?”

  “Dumb luck I suppose. I got through the vent, but the clean-out door was locked from the outside. So it was hopeless. I tried to climb the chimney, but it was blocked by a scrubber of some kind. I was blocked from every direction, so we were both about to die. That’s when it hit me. They wouldn’t install a scrubber like that without putting in some kind of fail-safe mechanism. After all, what’s the point of having it if it could fail and release hazardous materials into the air? So I grabbed a shovel I’d found and wedged it into the fan. It nearly pulled me up and took my arm off, but it stuck, and the fan stopped. The system shut off and, judging from the cooling airflow, the pilot lights went off also. It worked! We were saved. Or at least I was. I tried calling you, but you never responded. I was sure you were dead.”

  “I thought so too,” said Max. “I said something to you because I heard things starting up and knew the blast was about to fire up. The last thing I remember, and I don’t even know why, I stuck my finger into the hole in my foot to see if there was a bullet there. My finger passed right through, and it hurt like hell. I started screaming, and I think I passed out from the pain. I don’t know for how long. But when I awoke I heard you banging. I tried to call out, but it was too noisy for you to hear. My foot was still bleeding, I've no idea how much blood I lost, so I took off my shirt and wrapped it around my wound. I think I stopped the bleeding, although it hurts like a son of a bitch.”

  Walter reappeared with not only a wheelchair but also a teal patient robe.

  “Thank you!” said Min and Max in unison.

  “Glad to help,” said Walter, as he assisted Max into the chair.

  “Now where can I take you?”

  “The seventh floor,” said Max.

  “No,” said Min. “I know what I need to do. You go to security and bring them to the board meeting. I’ll join you there.”

  Chapter 48 - Liberation

  “Liberation is not deliverance.” - Victor Hugo

  As Fa∙ro paused, the ground began trembling beneath him. Then a sound like thunder rose in the distance, getting rapidly louder. The foliage around the clearing shook violently.

  A herd of Zalisk burst forth, flooding onto the battlefield! They immediately impaled the five nearest Soldiers, shattering their cores and flinging their limp carcasses into the others. More Soldiers went flying. Others were trampled. Some began to retreat. A handful of the best, led by Ga∙zo, managed to flip one of the beasts with their whips. But before they could finish, another bowled into them scattering them like teetering rocks.

  It became evident to everyone that for some unexplained reason, the Zalisk were only attacking the Soldiers. The Workers were ignored. Those mixed with the Soldiers were stepped over, unharmed, and were freed by the flailing beasts. The Workers began running for the bridge and resumed entering single file. Fa∙ro was the only one with an explanation, and his fury reached an all-time high. He flung his legs down with such force t
hat they dented the ground. But Le∙ma was gone.

  He glanced toward the bridge; she was running toward it. While distracted, he’d let her escape. He charged after her, but his path was blocked by a Zalisk, who seemed to take a particular interest in him. It thrust at him, but he dodged it, jumping onto its back. It thrashed around, spinning, trying to dislodge him. He hung on, pulling it onto its side. It dug in three of its six legs and rotated itself on the ground, but Fa∙ro stayed behind its back. Grabbing the top three legs for leverage, he managed to snap one off. The beast went wild. It rolled its body over on top of Fa∙ro, flattening him. It jabbed its tusks into the ground, pinning four of Fa∙ro’s legs in place.

  Ga∙zo arrived with three others, and they snared the beast. They began pulling it off Fa∙ro, but it was hooked into the ground. It tried to claw at Fa∙ro with its remaining legs, but the whips held them back. Fa∙ro looked at Ga∙zo, then toward the bridge and commanded, “Get her! Get my artifact!” Ga∙zo followed his gaze. At the entrance to the bridge, Le∙ma disappeared, followed by Sa∙ma. They were the last remaining Workers. The battle was between the Zalisk and Soldiers now.

  As commanded, Ga∙zo abandoned his master and sprinted toward the bridge. Two Zalisk converged on him, but he managed to leap back, and they collided, knocking each other over. He clambered over them and had an open field before him. With all the speed he could muster, he closed the distance and peered into the tunnel across the Rift.

  When he visited the tower in the past, he’d stand under it and admire the view. It seemed to go on forever, the four vertical lines converging into a small distant square. The thought of the height and the Workers up there made him dizzy. Now before him was that same view, and he was about to enter. Halfway across, he could see the Workers moving away. Closer, not yet finding their rhythm, were Le∙ma and Sa∙ma.