by Shannon Lamb
“If you’re willing to do this to a person,” Chrystina jerked her head toward Mary, refusing to look at her directly, “why even give any of us a choice?”
“This is science. It’s nothing personal,” He rolled his eyes when Chrystina began to shake. Johanna suppressed the urge to rip them from his sockets.
Oh, Mary. Poor, poor Mary. Cerin’s steady arm pressed firmly across Johanna’s abdomen held her in place and reminded her of their purpose.
“I’m not a bad guy, just a scientist. A curious mind can be quite a burden to bear.”
His blatant claim of innocence filled Johanna with an overpowering rage as it hurled her miles past the Rubicon. Her anger set fire to her limbs as she charged at his towering backside and rammed the top of her head into the small of his hunched back. He was stronger than she would’ve guessed by his lanky frame, but she was determined to inflict harm.
Aemilius sharply snapped his head in Chrystina’s direction with startled vitriol, demanding an explanation with his stern expression, but she was just as confused as he.
Cerin never thought that Johanna would let her temper get the best of her, but after a cursory glance at the mangled lump of flesh on the table, he couldn’t really blame her. There’s no turning back now! I might as well help her, he thought grumpily.
Cerin rushed Aemilius just as he’d whipped his body around in search of the perpetrator, stealing the wind from his lungs in a gurgle of protest. Knowing a large man like Aemilius would regain his bearings at any moment, Cerin literally jumped on the fleeting opportunity as he latched onto his backside.
Cerin suppressed the explosion of nausea weakening his movements every time the disorienting odor of rot slammed into him, and focused instead on Mary’s endless wailing, refusing to let it become white noise.
He straddled Aemilius’ torso as he attempted to put him in a sleeper hold. Frail as Aemilius was, he was still too small to pull it off, causing him to curse his inadequate size for the umpteenth time.
Chrystina stood motionless, watching in utter confusion. Johanna determinedly wrapped her legs around Aemilius’ rickety limbs, fettering him to the spot he stood, swaying.
She steeled herself around him, causing him to come crashing down in a tumble of hissed expletives as Cerin sprang off his back just in time not to cushion his fall. He scrambled for the nearest blunt object – which happened to be a weighty tome – and conked Aemilius on the head with it, finally rendering the man unconscious.
“There you are!” Chrystina gasped, relieved. “I had no idea what was going on!” She avidly shook her head, as if to rid herself of the confusion.
“You can see me?” Cerin asked, alarmed.
“Kind of.” She dumbly cocked her head to the side. Chrystina was a sweet girl, but not very bright. “You’re see-through.”
“What?” Cerin jumped in surprise and cast an angry glance at his Clamans Ring. It was cracked. “I warned them that this thing was unpredictable!”
“The ring is very reliable. You broke it,” Johanna intercepted haughtily. Her ring now hung on a piece of twine tied loosely about her neck, and she was fully visible. “Stop dawdling and help me tie him up.”
Johanna and Chrystina scoured the lab while Cerin kept a close watch on Aemilius. They eventually turned up thick cords of sisal rope, and just in time, for Aemilius began coming to. Johanna conked him on the head once more for good measure, and a bit for her own satisfaction, though it hadn’t even begun to sate her thirst for vengeance.
It was obvious that the knots of Aemilius’ bindings were tied unnecessarily tight, for his hands and feet had turned a worrisome shade of purple almost instantly. No one cared about his comfort or his safety, so long as he was alive long enough to comply with their questions.
“What should we do with Mary?” Cerin asked softly.
“That’s a silly question,” Johanna said, offended. “We’ll take her back to Slave Quarters and patch her up. That’s the best we can do, for now.” Even as the words left her mouth, she knew the danger of such actions, but she was determined to save Mary, just as she had saved her.
“But Johanna,” Chrystina began, losing her voice beneath the scrutiny of Johanna’s cold glare.
“We should put her out of her misery,” Cerin said indelicately.
“She’s not a dog!” An abrupt silence followed the sound of Johanna’s palm cracking across the soft panes of Cerin’s cheek, echoing throughout the steel corridors with resounding deference.
This wasn’t the first time Cerin had been slapped across the face by a female, but it was the first time he’d felt he hadn’t deserved it.
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, children,” Mary struggled to speak, but she was clearly heard among the three. “That monster burned me blind, took my arms and legs, and did things I’ll not speak of to ones so young,” she visibly shuddered. “I have no desire to go on this way.”
“I’ll take care of you, Mary. You can come live with me, among the rebels,” Johanna said sweetly as she laid her hand upon Mary’s swollen cheek.
“Johanna, what quality of life would she have?” Cerin whispered.
“You’re sweet, child, but this is my choice. I want to die. Have for a long time now. There’s not much life left in these old bones, anyway.” Mary somehow managed to scrounge up a weak smile amidst the wreckage of her disfigured face.
Johanna avidly shook her head with streaming tears of protest. She was convinced that once the pain went away, Mary would feel differently. She would choose life. Cerin, however, didn’t need convincing. Mary didn’t have many years left in her, and the ones she did wouldn’t be pleasant. She would never have her independence back, and the inescapable pain would haunt her for her remaining days. He quietly stepped away from the girls and began brewing something in the lab.
His absence had gone completely unnoticed by his companions, but not by Mary. She beamed back at Johanna, her withered face lighted with a surprising smile that bought a modicum of healthy color to her cheeks. While Cerin wasn’t cruel like Aemilius, Mary recognized the cold detachment in his demeanor, vital to do what needed to be done. Soon, she would be at peace.
“Step back,” Cerin instructed firmly. “I’m going to comply with Mary’s wishes.”
“You will not!” Johanna attempted to slap the bubbling vial from his hand, but Cerin easily dodged her clumsy swat with a quick step backward.
“It’s my choice,” Mary’s voice was gentle, but firm.
“I’m sorry, Johanna,” Cerin muttered under his breath as he forced his way past her. “I’m going to administer Ponyae,” he said with unnerving clinical detachment, lacking any semblance of bedside manner.
All the better, Mary thought upon observing his demeanor. He was direct. It would be over quickly.
“Ponyae? That’s a pain killer,” Johanna observed hoarsely.
“Yes, an extremely high dose of pain killer, mixed with equal parts sweetener,” Cerin said as he approached Mary’s bedside. “You won’t feel a thing. It’ll be like eating candy and drifting off to sleep,” his flickering smile wavered at the edges. Mary returned a similar look of complacency. “Do you have any last wishes?” His words caused a sudden eruption from Chrystina and Johanna as they held close to each other. Touched by the outpour of emotion, a single tear rolled down Mary’s cheek, but there was no indecision in her next words.
“No. I’m ready,” she said softly, closing her eyes for the final time.
The next few moments felt like hours to Cerin, trapped in conversational purgatory as his feeble attempt at words of comfort fell flat. He felt completely ineffectual to his surroundings and the people in them as he watched helplessly, knowing only pain and not how to stop it. His brilliant brain was failing him when he needed it the most, like usual.
He watched Johanna and Chrystina in companionable silence, granting them a moment to process their grief, but he could afford to spare them little more than that.
The illusion of peace was short-lived. Aemilius began to regain consciousness soon after. He squealed like a pig being butchered as his eyes fell on Cerin’s face, causing Cerin to slap a hand over his mouth as he shot him a warning glance.
“Cerin! You’re d-dead!” Aemilius sputtered in disbelief. “They told me you were dead. Are you here to haunt me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m very much alive,” he pinched Aemilius’ jowls for emphasis.
“B-but...you’re transparent!” Aemilius’ large Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he audibly swallowed.
“This stupid thing!” Cerin threw his Clamans ring to the ground and stomped it with his boot, growing fully opaque as it shattered.
“If you’re not a ghost, why do you look so much like my arch-nemesis? Are you one of his bastards? With his lifestyle, he must have had gaggles!”
“You’re still calling me your arch-nemesis? You haven’t grown up at all, have you, Emil?”
“More so than you, it would seem.” Aemilius pursed his lips. “You still look like a child! How did you…” All the color drained from his face as a sudden thought struck him. “Oh. Oh, I see!” Aemilius cackled. “Couldn’t face old age, could you? You always were vain. Used yourself as a guinea pig, did you? Ha! I always told you that soft heart of yours would be your downfall!”
“You’re currently in no position to judge.”
“Enough! How do we shut off the Baindingu gas?” Johanna interjected angrily. Now was not the time for petty squabbles, and someone had to be the adult. As usual, the burden fell to her.
“Why would I tell you that? You’ve no power over me!”
Cerin and Johanna briefly exchanged a knowing look as they hoisted Aemilius up onto a steel table directly across from Mary, immune to his vehement protests and idle threats. Cerin busied himself sharpening Aemilius’ immaculate tools of torture, causing him to stiffly crane his neck as he persistently inquired about Cerin’s whereabouts and intentions.
“I may be small,” Cerin gave a shrug of acceptance, “but I know exactly how to use every one of these, and how to assure that you remain conscious and painfully aware of every little incision I make,” Cerin’s soft features hardened into a scowl as he raised the scalpel into the air.
“You don’t have the gall!” Aemilius shuddered upon seeing the glint of silver dance along the sharp edge of the scalpel.
“You don’t know me very well, Emil. The years have hardened me. While I’ll never hurt a person that doesn’t deserve it, I’m an avid believer in justice, and revenge.” Cerin’s proclamation was the only warning he’d offered as he pressed the edge of a scalpel into the surprisingly malleable skin shrouding Aemilius’ chest cavity. Aemilius lost it at the first sight of blood seeping through the jagged gaps of the fresh incision.
“Stop! Please, stop! I’ll tell you whatever you want to know!” Aemilius squealed. Cerin dug the scalpel deeper, yielding a sharp gasp of pain from Aemilius as he wriggled like a worm on a hook.
“Cerin!” Johanna hissed, reluctantly bringing him back to himself as he narrowed his eyes at Aemilius. “As much as I’d like to see him hurt, the others are depending on us. He said he’d tell us what we want to know!”
“The controls are on the right side of the room, behind the cabinets,” Aemilius wheezed.
“If you’re lying,” Cerin warned with a press of the scalpel.
“I’m not! I promise, I’m not!”
“If you’re lying, I’ll disembowel you,” Cerin whispered close to his ear.
“It’s nothing like that! See for yourself!” Aemilius croaked.
Cerin kept a watchful eye over Aemilius while monitoring the girls with irritatingly circumspect dictations. He mentally readied himself for any possibility that might arise. As much as he could, anyway.
He’d been tempted to assist them several times as they suffered the weight of the cabinets. Chrystina and Johanna struggled to slide them out and uncover the wall, but Aemilius was crafty, and Cerin was disinclined to stray too far. After Aruzhan’s tragedy, he would never make the mistake of underestimating his opponent ever again.
Once the girls had cleared a path to the controls, Cerin let them take over as sentries while he made sense of the maze of tangled wire. It took some time, but he eventually figured out the complex coding and had fresh air pumping in through the vents to dissipate what was left of the gas.
“We did it!” Cerin announced triumphantly.
“I can’t believe we actually did it,” Chrystina smiled shyly.
“We still have to go back through the maze,” Johanna reminded them, much to the detriment of the group’s morale.
“About that, I have a plan!”
“I believe those are going to be your last words one day,” Johanna remarked dryly, jutting her hip in irritation.
“Is it a good plan?” Chrystina asked nervously.
“Naturally.”
“Is it a safe plan?” she amended weakly.
“Why do you girls doubt me so? I’m a genius, you know!”
“Yes, we know,” they grimaced in unison.
“Since neither of you feels inclined to ask, I’ll tell you what it is,” he huffed, feeling underappreciated. “While I was rummaging through Aemilius’ things, I found this,” Cerin held up a reflective sphere that fit snugly into the palm of his hand. “It’s a Mirror Ball. It absorbs passing energy and reflects it back. It’s often used as a precautionary tool to test the safety of an uncharted territory. In this case, it will provide us with a surplus of energy that will fry the hidden triggers, rendering them useless.”
“I don’t really understand...” Chrystina warily eyed the object.
“You don’t need to understand. All you need to know is that it’s brilliant.” He puffed out his chest proudly, sufficed to leave it at that, much to Chrystina and Johanna’s dismay.
CHAPTER 20: REUNITED
The three of them wasted no time loitering in speculation, and hurriedly felt their way down the darkened stairwell. Never being more than a hairsbreadth apart from one another, they found safety in numbers and heightened vigilance.
They came to an abrupt stop at the wide archway. They looked out on the maze with a renewed sense of purpose, cowed by the gyre of endless choices. Time didn’t afford them the luxury of cowardice, so they pressed on, despite the jarring impact of nerves and exhaustion.
“We’ve made it this far,” Cerin said half-heartedly, testing the waters as he took a tentative step forward.
He charily placed the Mirror Ball on the floor and gave it a gentle nudge with the tip of his boot. It tumbled down the path in a meandering line, leeching energy from the walls. A tenacious crackle enveloped them as it rolled forward, raising the tiny hairs all over their bodies.
With a violent shudder and a few harsh words of warning, Cerin shakily trudged forward. He saw the object’s path clearly in his mind as if it were tangible, and followed it precisely. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he’d reached the Mirror Ball, and let out an exhalation of pent up anxiety that caused the girls to jump back at the sound of it.
“So far, so good,” he flashed them a reassuring smile over his shoulder, but the girls focused instead on the lingering uncertainty in his tone. “Follow me. Single file. Don’t step out of line, and don’t touch the sides of the maze.” Finding little comfort in his roundabout glance and wavering tone, they hesitantly snapped into place behind him, looking to each other for strength.
Making their way through the maze was a very drawn out, tedious process. Cerin took every precaution time would afford, and was maddeningly prudent. He never rolled the ball forward more than a few feet at a time. Each step was slow and deliberate in order to thoroughly test the ground before committing to the act of following through.
“I see the exit!” he hissed, and not a moment too soon. They’d been wandering through the maze for hours on end, and everyone’s limbs were beginning to feel like jelly. “We st
ill have a little ways to go, but,” Cerin’s impending words were swallowed up by an explosion of warring decibels, reaching volumes of epic proportions. A blast of heat knocked them off their feet, and everything went black.
Cerin awoke some time later to the sound of screaming, with no idea how long he’d been out. Erected pyres of twisted metal surrounded him. Chrystina was lost to the labyrinth of steel and fire, but he was able to follow the sound of her quavering voice. It was muffled and fading, lost to the undercurrent thrashing wildly beneath the roaring surf of burning debris, but it grew stronger the closer he staggered.
A trail of implosions followed his steps. The charge repeatedly knocked him off his feet as he absently cradled the Mirror Ball close to his chest. His sole concern was finding Chrystina and Johanna, obscured by billowing towers of opaque smoke and mountains of blackened steel.
Johanna and Cerin had both followed the sound of Chrystina’s screams. They rushed to her side in frenzied tandem as they shared a look of horror. Her thin cotton dress had been shredded to tatters by the coils of gnarled wire twisted around her, ripping into her flesh and suffusing her pale complexion with a maroon glow. The painful pressure caused her blood to beat purple beneath her fine skin.
They set to disentangling her at once. They gingerly snapped the wire where it thinned to threads of copper and melted rubber, yanking the loose pieces free and casting them to the scattered embers. Her now unconscious form descended upon them in a heap of rubbery limbs, knocking both of them on their backs as they suffered the brunt of dead weight draped limply across their bodies.
“Get her to her feet!” Cerin demanded. The harsh voice sounded foreign to his own ears. When he saw Chrystina cringe from conscious effort as her eyes flung open, he went on, forcing her attention. “Form a chain!” He thrust his hand out toward Johanna as she struggled to help Chrystina to her feet. She couldn’t hear anything he was saying over the high-pitched frequency screaming in her ears, but she understood the blunt gesticulation, and somberly took his hand.