by Jason Luthor
This . . . is . . . awesome.
Why don’t we get any cool weapons on the lower floors?
This guy just lets out hell with it until half the room is engulfed by fire. He stands back, swiping his gun back and forth, and just douses the entire right wall. I don’t know who this guy is, but even if I’m just getting one more day to live, I’ll take it. It’s not until I start panting that I realize I’ve been holding my breath for practically a minute, and this guy, whoever he is, marches straight to the lab. He stands outside the glass for a minute, tapping at some controls I can’t see. Only thing about him is, for Security, he’s kinda, I dunno, thin. Especially compared to all the other guards I’ve seen on Floor 1.
The door on my right slides open, and he dashes inside. I’m really starting to pick up on the fact that he’s a pretty scrawny dude at this point, but, hey, beggars can’t be choosers. He doesn’t bother with anything else in the room, and, you know, I kinda like being someone’s priority for once. Feels nice. Anyway, he undoes the straps holding me to the chair, and I practically fly into his arms.
“Oh my God,” I sigh, practically saying all my words in one breath. “Thank you so much.”
The guy has this musky laugh that’s filtered through his mask. Then he steps back, adjusting the strap and sliding the helmet off. Still, the moment his light brown skin comes into view, I already know who it is.
“Dad!” I scream as I launch into him again, and he chuckles for just a second. He’s already motioning me to the door.
“Come on, Jacko,” he says, heading to the exit. “We don’t have time to waste. We’ve got to go.”
“Yeah, sure,” I agree. I mean, of course, I agree; what else would I do? He’s already outside when I pause, looking over my shoulder. Doctor Rivera forgot something. Finders, keepers, right?
If you’re guessing that I stole his recorder . . . well, I prefer the word borrowed. How else would I be recording this?
Dad shakes his head at me as I catch up, then slaps his mask back on. We’re out and in the hallway—and everything, everything is different. The white walls are bathed in red, all the doors are shuttered closed, and the floating screens that used to show commercials keep scrolling the word LOCKDOWN over and over again. I’ve barely got time to process it as we move along. At an intersection in the distance, I see a crowd of Security just run by, rifles in their hands, shields on their arms, and a few of them wearing tanks like my dad’s got. He spots them, too, and shoves me down a different hallway. I don’t know where we’re going, but soon he’s got me in what I think is a Cleanup closet.
I look at him and ask him the only question any daughter could ask. “Dad . . . what the hell is going on?”
He sighs as he takes off his mask again. “Nobody knows. The Creep’s been more agitated than normal, just nobody can say why. It started a few days ago when we started having power fluctuations throughout the tower. That wasn’t bad enough to start an incident, but something happened overnight that got the Creep really just out of control. All we know for sure is that it started deep and it exploded before sunrise. We went from minimum Creep activity at midnight last night to a full-blown incident within six hours. We’ve never had an incident spread this fast. It’s even faster than the Stockholm Incident.”
“The what?”
“Your sixteenth birthday.”
My mouth drops. “Wait. So, that really was as bad as I thought?”
“It was the most intense and quickest Creep infestation we’d ever experienced. Until today. We got the Stockholm Incident under control by Floor 4, and it took almost all day for the infection to reach that high. This? Less than six hours, and the Creep’s gone from below Floor 21 to Floor 1. It’s unheard-of.”
It’s a lot to take in obviously, especially ’cause I’m still just a bit, you know, shaken by the fact that I was seconds away from being injected with Creep. “Dad . . . were you just going to let them shoot me full of that stuff?”
“Are you kidding me?” He laughs like I wasn’t just about to go brain-dead. “I was already on my way to the lab when the alarms started going off. The only reason they kept you overnight was because I was arguing for your pardon. I kept telling them that the only reason you were so curious was because you were so smart and that it would make you the perfect scientist. When all that fell through, well, sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands. Authority doesn’t always make all the right decisions. They’re a system. They don’t know what it’s like to bend for exceptions.”
“Okay, but, just so you know, they were literally about to inject me with Creep gunk when the alarms went off.”
“Hey, everything worked out, didn’t it?”
I shake my head. Dad loves me, I’ve never doubted it, but he’s always played it kinda loose. “Yeah. Guess it did.”
“Anyway, how are you feeling? Are you ready to get out of here?”
“Where exactly are we supposed to go if the Creep’s everywhere?”
“I . . . don’t know exactly. We can’t stay on Floor 1. They’ll come back for you once they’re done pushing back the Creep, and then they’re going to get on with the process of Reinforcement. We have to move you deep, but for now we just need to get you off this floor.”
“Okay, sounds good and everything, but how?”
“Jackie, we’re in a Cleanup closet. At least one kind of one.”
So, Dad’s a pretty smart guy, and it takes me up until that second to realize that there’s a reason he’s hauled me over here. Pro tip? It’s not for the décor. Taking a look over my shoulder, I see that the grate here’s already been popped open. Still, there is a Creep infestation happening. I look from the vent back to him. “Uh, do you really think that it’s safe to go down that way?”
“We know the route the Creep is taking. It’s coming straight up the primary staircase and more than a few old elevator shafts. No sign of intrusion through the vents, though. So far what we’ve been able to determine is that something broke down the old blockades on the stairwell access so the Creep’s got free run through those.”
“Dad . . . Dad, I really don’t know about this.”
He stares at me for a second, then back to the door. “We can’t go into those halls, Jackie. This is the only way for you. If you see anything suspicious, just come right back. As long as you don’t panic if you do see the Creep, it shouldn’t react to you immediately. It’s psychoreactive.”
“Psycho what?”
“Psychoreactive. It reacts to the psychological state of a person, primarily negative emotions. Fear, sadness, panic—those sorts of things can produce incredibly strong reactions. If you do see anything, just back away slowly and retrace your steps. I promise you, it’ll be okay.”
I mean, he’s probably right. What am I saying? Of course he’s right. There’s no way to go through those halls without Security getting me for sure. At the same time, I just don’t want to be stuck in a tube that could flood up with angry living tissue at any moment. Kinda, you know, one of my peeves. No freaky muscle goop on Jackie. Anyway, he sees I’m hesitating, so he holds up a hand and says, “Okay now, wait. I’ve got it. I’ll go to one of the Security lockers and get a flame gun. That way, if you do see any Creep, you can at least push it back. How does that sound?”
A big hell yeah is what it sounds like. What I actually say is, “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Dad.”
He takes off through the closet, and I have a few minutes to get myself psyched up. Or at least that’s what I’ve been trying to do. I think it’s working. Talking to this recorder’s helped.
Just got to wait here until I get that flame gun.
Recording Thirty-Nine
If I get through this day, I’ll be happy.
Dad was right. The vents weren’t infested. Floor 4, on the other hand, was just a little bit different a situation.
I pop out into a Cleanup closet on a far end of my wing that I normally don’t go to, which, you know, wouldn’t have been
such a problem except for the Creep dripping from the ceilings. And coming out of the ground and the cracks and the elevator shafts. My floor looks nothing like what it normally does. Instead, it looks a lot more like Floor 16 or worse. All the doors are sealed up, and for the first time, I’m asking myself how the heck Dad is ever going to get down here. Between Security and the Creep, he’s going to have to fight through a lot.
Actually, thinking about Dad brings up another question.
Does Mom even know what’s going on?
I mean, right? She’s always so out of it. Is she just sitting at home, eating chocolate bars while the Tower falls apart?
Well, guess there are worse ways to go.
Trying to get back to my room is like working my way through a minefield, except all the mines are made of child-size growths of muscle and tissue. As I dance between all the slime and gunk on my way to my room, I suddenly slip when something grabs my leg and yanks me toward the wall. I turn to see a Creep tendril tightening around my leg until I think my bone’s going to snap. My instinct is to scream, but instead, I douse it with fire. I’m not sure what’s brighter, the flames or my eyes as they light up while the Creep gets scorched. The thing screeches at me with that terrible scream that I must admit I’m getting used to. I’ve heard it enough by now, and really, it’s my life or theirs. Or its.
Whatevs.
I keep sprinting for home. So, this is how you know just how bad it is. As I’m running back, I accidentally dash headfirst into someone from Security. He looks me up and down, says nothing, like he doesn’t even tell me to go to my room, and just runs off. Something big’s going down. Anyway, I know I’m at least safe for the moment. At least, safe from Security. The Creep’s another story.
But with all the distractions, I’m able to find my room. Even with the shutters down outside, my keycard works on the lock access, and I stumble into the living room. Sometimes you’re just grateful for the small things. Like your life.
Anyway, Mom’s there, and for once she doesn’t look either depressed or super insane happy. Actually, she looks kind of worried as she moves over to me. She wraps me up in her arms, and I’m actually a bit, I dunno, concerned. The one thing Mom isn’t is affectionate, or at least she hasn’t been in a long time. Still, I’m just glad to see her, so the least I can do is hug her back. And okay, I’ll admit I’ve kinda missed just hugging Mom. I mean, don’t tell her that. Anyway, she pulls off after a second and looks me over.
“Jackie,” she says, shaking her head, “Jackie, you had me so worried.”
I honestly don’t know what to say. It’s my mom. What do you say to your mom? What do you say to your mom who’s usually so crazy that you never know if she’s going to start crying for no reason? “Sorry,” is the best I can manage to get out. “You knew what happened to me?”
“What do you think I am? Of course, I knew. Do you think I’m oblivious?”
I shrug because . . . yeah. “Well, lots of times you act like, I dunno, like you’re . . . weird. Like on drugs or something. It just really throws me off. I mean, that’s understandable, right? I don’t think I’m the crazy one here.”
She holds up a finger to her lips and steps away, moving to the tablets on our counter. She hands me one and starts typing something on hers. It takes just a second, and then she turns it around, showing the screen to me. It reads, “They listen to this apartment.”
I kinda stare at her for a second, then I look down at my tablet. I get it. I look down and type back on my tablet before turning it to her. Mine says, “Why? Are you guys important? I thought Dad worked on solar panels.”
She replies, “Yes, as part of his common job. The same way my common job is to work with the garden. The truth is that he’s the head scientist in charge of researching the Creep. I’m one of the lead chemists that works on Voluptas. Your father spends so much time away from home to avoid monitoring. We don’t talk much because we write to each other. And I act a certain way to make them think I’m high. Because that’s better than being too smart.”
This is totally detonating my mind. “Frowny face. Wow.”
“I’m sorry life is like this for you.”
“It’s okay. But what do we do now?”
“I don’t know. Your father wants to take you to the lower levels. There are people there that run away from Tower Authority. But right now it’s overrun.”
Life in the lower levels? When would I see my parents? “How is Dad supposed to get down here?”
“He’s dressed like Security. He’ll sneak through with them. Your father is very smart.”
“Yeah, I’m sorta figuring that out.”
We both glance away as a sound catches our attention. Before I can even turn, I see Security rushing in from the corner of my eye, so I whip out the flame gun Dad gave me and turn it at the guard, tightening my finger on the trigger. “Hold it, jerkface!” I scream as I point it in his direction. The guy jumps backward, raising his hands up and cowering against the door.
He whips his helmet off, and I feel terrible. Dad. Of course. I was about to barbeque my own father. He holds up his finger and points to the ceiling. I nod and turn to Mom, who passes us the tablets. He quickly taps away on his and flips it toward me.
“Security is focusing on the lowest floors,” it says. “Get something to defend yourself with against the Creep. We leave in twenty minutes.”
“Got it.” I sprint into my room and look around. I already know I don’t have much to protect myself with, but that doesn’t mean I’m entirely defenseless. My eyes take a quick inventory of what I could use. I have my shin and forearm guards, not to mention the knee and elbow pads. Hey, when you’re young you take whatever defense you can get in the middle of a creepy “living-muscle apocalypse” scenario. There’s a catcher’s mask from when I played baseball, but it scares me to think that I’d be limiting my vision. Instead, I just tuck on my baseball cap because if I’m going to die, I might as well look snazzy when it happens. Plus it matches my old baseball uniform, which I switch into before strapping a protective vest over my torso. Say what you want about the uniform, but at least the material’s tough. Well, it’s at least tough enough to keep any slime from seeping through onto my skin. Plus the “NY” symbol on the shirt looks cool. Wish I knew what it meant. Like I said, die in style.
A girl in a baseball uniform and body armor. Yeah, I look like a terribly conceived comic hero. I’ve still got the flame gun strapped to my hip for firepower, but as I sit there, I notice the bat I’ve had since I was a kid. Mom and Dad gave it to me a long time ago, before I thought they went crazy, and I just keep thinking . . . I might need something if any Creep gets close. Plus, it’s always been lucky for me. I know that’s stupid, but, come on. I played every game of my life with it. I hit some of my biggest home runs with it. Come on, all my best memories are attached to it. I mean, can’t I just . . . can’t I just want something with me that makes me feel . . . okay? With this incredibly messed-up situation?
Anyway, I thought this would be the last time to record before . . . I dunno. Before really bad things start happening, either because of Security or the Creep. So, future self, or anyone else listening, please excuse the really loud music blaring in the background.
I just don’t like it when people listen in on me without my permission.
Recording Forty
A Creep growth pops like an overgrown zit when you hit it with a bat.
Freakin’ sweet.
Dad leads the way as we charge down the hall, his flamethrower igniting everything in its path. Around every corner we turn, we can see Security just lighting up with those things, that or firing with their guns into overgrown growths that are piling up in the halls. I know we have a lot of Security to take care of the Tower, but it’s becoming pretty obvious that, in a situation like this, they’re too busy worrying about their own necks to think about a girl like me. Especially since my dad looks like a Security guy himself, just out escorting someone home
. Uh, well, an escort through incredibly violent biomass growths.
But, hey, who doesn’t go through that situation at least once in their lives?
The stairwell itself is nothing like I’d imagined. Seriously, the inside is just . . . gross. The Creep has been scoured clean, but it’s left this disgusting, ashy putty all over the place. Our stairwell is slick with gritty goop that slides down the stairs, and there are more than a few times that I nearly go flipping over my head and crashing to the ground. Can you imagine falling into that gunk?
Three showers for me, thanks.
Dad waves me on, leading me through the stairwell as he talks. “They’ve got men from Floor 17 down just swarming the place. None of them know for sure where the infestation is concentrated, but so far everyone’s stretched thin. They’ve deployed I don’t know how many Security to the lower floors, and they’ve completely sealed off Floor 1.”
“Sealed off?”
Dad stops, turning to me. “Final Resort Protocol. In case of total Tower infestation, deploy the majority of Security to the lower floors to regain control. As a final measure, seal off all vents, elevator shafts, and doorways leading into Floor 1.”
“Wait. What?”
“Jackie, Floor 1’s got its own gardens and power source. It doesn’t need the rest of the Tower. They can survive indefinitely as long as they can clear the floor of Creep, which they have.”
I can feel a lava flow burning through my cheeks. “They’re abandoning the rest of the Tower?”
“No. They’re telling Security to try and retake the Tower. If they succeed, well, I’m sure Tower Authority will reopen Floor 1. If Security fails . . . then, okay, Floor 1 stays sealed, and Tower Authority endures. Just with a lot less people.”
“Dad, this isn’t a joke. This is like, us, you know? People, the human race . . . the whole shebang.”
“Well, we don’t know that,” he says with a huff. “But that’s a discussion for another time.”
“Dad?” He’s already sprinting down the stairs again. “Dad, we have to do something.”