Prototype: The Lost and Forgotten Series

by Robert Gallagher

  “Frank, no!” I shout.

  Jessica, caught off guard and distracted by the thrown head, darts off after him, but too slow. The corridor closes as he passes through. The sound from the opposite side stops, but the corridor remains open, leaving just the flickering lights from within.

  Jessica stares across to the other corridor for a moment and then motions me to join her as she walks into the center of the room. “I don’t think the walls are the safest place to stand right now,” she says as she grips the crudely fashioned blade in her right hand. Joining her, I notice that the corridor is empty.

  We stand there just staring down the open corridor for what feels like an hour but is in reality maybe ten minutes. Then the sounds of distant, unrecognizable shouting can be heard, and then a voice from far off—“No! Keep back!”—a scream of pain followed by laughter.

  “Sod this,” Jessica says, and she runs into the open corridor. Oh crap, I think, and I head off after her, knowing that I’m much safer with her than on my own, but leaving this room was not on my to-do list.

  Running at a brisk pace, we make our way through the mazelike corridor, turning left and then right, going straight on at a crossroads. The corridors never had this configuration when going from cell to dining hall, or in fact anywhere. It was always a single path. Sure, it would turn, but it never gave you a choice of directions to go. By the time Jessica puts her hand up to motion me to stop, I’m sure we’ve gone around in circles, but her manner seems to say she knows what she’s doing, so I keep quiet.

  Up ahead the corridor turns right once more, but from around that corner comes a chuckle of amusement. We stop for a moment, and then Jessica starts to creep down the corridor, motioning me to follow slowly. Suddenly Jessica stops as we both hear movement from ahead of us. The chuckle stops, and from around the corner steps a horrifying visage: a man with scars all over his head, not a single hair upon his scalp, his face slick with fresh blood. He stands about six foot, his body emaciated looking and wearing no clothes. His ribs press tightly under his skin that seems far too small, being stretched over his entire body that seems far too big. His stomach is sucked in, giving the impression that his ribs stick out even more. However, what makes this sight truly terrifying is that his right hand is not his own; it is much larger than his left, and the area just past his wrist where he had attached it to his stump is much thinner than this new hand. He has stitched the two ends together using electrical wire, the wire zigzagging back and forth and making the skin overlap in places. Somehow defying logic, the hand works, and he stands there flexing it with signs of remarkable strength.

  The terrifying man or creature looks up at us as he grins wickedly and takes a step forward, pointing to Jessica’s blade and then toward himself.

  Jessica looks pretty menacing as she brings the crude weapon up, stepping toward him. “You want your knife back? I’m more than happy to.”

  As the gap narrows, other freakers seem to materialize from behind what I now assume might be their leader—first one, then another, and then a third—but as they appear, I realize that they are not just appearing as such but coming through the walls.

  Jessica stops as the leader, now jeering at her, does the same. I notice that the newcomers are wearing tattered remains of prison outfits, all in varying conditions, as they all start to chuckle and shout, jeering and a few mumbling, “We only want to have some fun. We just want to eat your thumbs.”

  Just when I start to think that things can’t get any worse, I hear more sounds of running footsteps from behind us echoing from down the corridor.

  Oddly, this sound causes the freakers to stop their jeering song and start to crane their necks to see who’s coming. We don’t have to wait long before the rest of the good-time boys, armed with similar crude blades, charge around the corner, and then within only a few paces, the group comes to a sudden halt as they see us and the freakers halfway along the corridor.

  Testing the wall to the right with my foot, I confirm what I thought must have happened. Not only is the system not functioning correctly here, but the artificially generated voids that make the walls solid are also down; the sides of the corridors are just shadows.

  The good-time boys start their own jeering and threatening shouts as both groups begin to charge at each other, not caring who’s standing in their way. I notice more freakers joining at the back of the group.

  I take hold of Jessica’s arm as she prepares to defend us. “Trust me,” I say as the groups converge, and leaving it to the last second, I dive through the wall to my right, pulling Jessica with me and hoping that I’ve not killed us both. She almost pulls me back at first but then relents and follows.

  I’m relieved to find that we’re in a near-empty storeroom. It’s immediately obvious that the walls are down, but the sound suppressors are working fully, and the noise from the corridor and the impending clash stops.

  Luckily the main storage container is on the other side of the room, but moments later we are joined by one of the other freakers. He’s holding a pipe with one end flared open and bent back upon itself, forming a crude mace of sharpened metal.

  With an evil grin over his face, he swings the pipe back and forth. I start to step forward to meet him, but Jessica pushes past me. “Unless you’re hiding skills I’m not aware of, I’ll handle this,” she says.

  Lunging forward, the freaker suddenly swings the heavy pipe toward both of us. My reaction is to scramble away from danger, but Jessica just calmly dives forward and under the swing, coming up in one fluid movement, and with her blade held firmly, she thrusts upward in a single motion. The blade enters the freaker firmly under the chin and pierces the roof of his mouth, sending him into spasms. Jessica then twists and pulls down hard on the blade, resulting in the sound of grinding and shattering bone as the blade is freed and the freaker falls to the floor.

  I stand there shocked and stunned, thinking, Who the hell is this woman?

  “So, what’s next, Sam? Wait here or head somewhere else?” Jessica says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “I’m not sure, but the dining hall is the safest place to be, I think, and Frank said that if you stay off the grid too long, the computer drops you off of the database, but if you’re lucky, if you ask enough, the system might open up a path.”

  “Okay then,” Jessica replies. “Take me to the dining hall,” she says.

  Nothing happens.

  “Take me to the dining hall,” she repeats herself.

  Still nothing happens.

  “Take me! To the dining hall!” she repeats again, this time emphasizing her words.

  The room lights blink and buzz—I almost forgot they had stopped—and then a doorway opens up, leading away from the room, the lights in the corridor on and stable.

  “Well, I guess this looks promising. Let’s get out of here before you have to defend yourself again by butchering a few more of those freaks,” I say as I head for the doorway. Jessica gives me a grin as she cleans the blood from her blade, and then she leans down, picking up the pipe, and hands it to me.

  “You might need this, just in case I’m not around to protect your arse,” she says, slipping past me and heading down the corridor at a slow jog.

  That renders me speechless for a second before I reply, “Yes, ma’am,” in a slightly sarcastic tone and follow after her.

  Jessica leads on, following the corridor to the right and then left. As we take the last corner, a doorway opens up at the end of it, showing a large room beyond. Two people peer out of the doorway, and upon seeing us, they start to shout, “Run! Run! It’s about to happen again. Quickly now!” Without another prompt from the guys ahead, both Jessica and I start to run, but before we even make it halfway, the lights begin to flicker and buzz again, and almost on cue, the sound of freakers starts to echo down the corridor.

  Looking behind, I see at least four freakers turn the corner we passed a few moments before, and then ahead of us, another freaker appears twe
nty feet in front of Jessica. She slows and starts to prepare for a fight as a hand reaches out from the wall and grabs hold of her shoulder, pulling her back with surprising strength.

  Her assailant’s face appears as his other hand tries to grab for her. The first freaker ahead of us lifts up a makeshift spear made from aluminum tubing with a jagged, pointed shard of metal attached and hurls it toward her.

  The second man manages to get a better grip and slows her enough to give her some concerns, but she is able to twist her body sideways. This leaves her back totally exposed to her second assailant, but she shouts out a warning to me. Lifting up my own weapon, I swing at the second assailant. The dangerous end crushes and slices the side of the man’s head, but only as a glancing blow down the side of his face. It does remove most of his ear, though, and it impacts his shoulder with a sickening thud.

  The freaker screams out in pain and, releasing Jessica, falls back through the wall, vanishing from sight. Then the first assailant’s thrown spear hits her upper arm, the jagged point going all the way through. Wincing and in obvious pain, Jessica reaches with her left hand and pulls the spear out with considerable strength, making the hole bigger as a gush of blood pours from the open wound. She hurls the spear back down the corridor.

  The action would’ve been amazing, but the spear misses by a whisker and disappears into the darkness. The first assailant jeers and makes a rude gesture before diving back into the darkness as well.

  Jessica staggers as her arm continues to pour with blood, her left hand attempting to cover up the holes but failing. I catch hold of her as I reach her, noticing that the doorway at the end of the corridor is still open. “Keep moving!” I shout, and we both stumble onward at a slower pace. Twenty feet from the doorway, one of the guys shouting for us to hurry runs out and helps us the rest of the way. Moments later we pass through, and the doorway closes behind us.

  Although it’s a large room, this is not the dining hall. Some kind of transport boxes of all shapes and sizes are lined up along the walls. The men shouting at us previously are now helping us to a makeshift bed, and as we set Jessica down onto it, the first guy I recognize as the foreman from the laundry. The other I’ve never met.

  Thanking them, I cut and tear the sleeve from Jessica’s arm with her blade. Jessica herself is now looking pale. “I’m sure it’s not too bad, Jessica. I think it missed the bone,” I say, not sounding that convincing as I rip her sleeve into further strips. Then I tie one strip tightly above her wound. When I lift the arm, I spot another nasty-looking puncture wound halfway down her ribs, her blood turning her prison jumpsuit red. Cussing under my breath, I start to tear away the fabric around the entry wound, seeing something just under her flesh glint in the light.

  “Abbey…my friends call me Abbey or Abs, but that’s a long story.” She grins weakly. “Just stop the bleeding, and my body will do the rest.” Her eyes close, and she slips into unconsciousness.

  I tend her wounds as best I can. I’ve heard so many stories of infected wounds—what to do, what not to do—but I’m no medic, so I do what I can. I manage to keep her body elevated and make a tourniquet out of the remaining strips of cloth. Then, knowing I’ve done all I can, I go join the others.

  The foreman, who I found out earlier is called Jake, nods as I arrive, and the two continue their talk with a third man whom I did not notice when we arrived earlier. Looking down, I’m shocked to see Frank lying there. His face has been torn in places, with nasty lacerations down one side. As I stare down, I realize his right hand is missing from the wrist down; the stump is wrapped up with pieces of jumpsuit now stained red with his own blood.

  “Hi, Frank. I’m glad to see you made it here, wherever here is.”

  Frank gazes up at me with a mixture of fear and regret. “Here? Well, here is a little complex, but if I’m right and the rumors are true, this place is called the lost and found,” Frank says, and he starts to cough as a sudden bout of pain hits him. “This is the place where the system routes all those that are removed from the active system,” he adds.

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “It means that the system will no longer recognize any of us, and sooner or later the freakers will come and finish the job.”

  4

  Jessica’s Story

  Federation year 2420

  Planetary Enforcement Agency, morning briefing, 06:00 hours

  Cobb, the last member of the PEA to enter the briefing room, receives jeers from his colleagues as he takes the last seat at the back, fending off the various remarks of his tardiness from his fellow soldiers. The Planetary Enforcement Agency attracts professionals from both civilian enforcement and Special Forces, making for an interesting mix of personalities.

  The room then quiets down as the mission briefing captain enters, looking toward the assembled teams. “Good morning, ladies…oh, and gentleman,” Captain Anderson says, smiling at Jessica. “I keep forgetting. Maybe not so gentle, but certainly the only real man I consider among you grunts.” This is received with a mixture of laughter and heckles.

  “Okay, quiet down. As I was going to say, for those of you with the shiny new subdermal skin, these skins are not ballistic armor. You are not bulletproof, and for that matter, you’d best avoid most thrown projectiles, not that I imagine you will be attacked with spears anytime soon.

  “Now to the main item on the agenda and the most important: information has come to light that a very high-ranking representative of the Horizon Syndicate is arriving for a meeting. What this meeting is all about we don’t know and is not of great importance, but what is important is to find out who is controlling the export of the drugs from this world to the other federal colonies. This is our chance to arrest a high-level member of the Horizon Syndicate. We pretty much know who the main players are on this world and how they operate, but what we don’t know is how the network operates around federal space.

  “We will be continuing to stake out Galpoli nightclub. We know that he’s the regional boss of the syndicate in New Cassini and maybe on Mars itself, and our sources tell us that the high-level meeting will happen there one evening within the next few days. We will have three teams, two teams in surveillance assault craft outside and one team inside. If our target arrives, we wait, and we do not intercept in the club. We will watch and record to get evidence, and we’ll extract when they’re away from the club and civilian population.

  “Targets of interest and also to be careful around.” A holographic projection of a well-dressed man wearing sunglasses appears. “This is Galpoli—always well dressed and always wears sunglasses, even if it’s dark.”

  The projection changes to a beautiful brunette with long, perfect hair and a tattoo of a butterfly on her upper right shoulder. “This is Muna—beautiful but deceptively deadly. Absolutely not Galpoli’s girlfriend but his bodyguard. She likes to be seductive to her enemies; that allows her to get in close, and then she uses her expert knowledge of human anatomy to do some serious harm. Favorite weapon is a butterfly knife.”

  The projection changes again, this time displaying a large, very tall man, well dressed and wearing an ornate gold septum piercing through his nose.

  “This is Vern. He’s the bouncer and not very nice. Ex-professional power lifter and now works for Galpoli, also an expert at jujitsu. Do not get into hand to hand with this guy; he is very dangerous. If you need to, take him down anyway you can.”

  The projector changes once more, this time showing a young male in his twenties with spiky red hair and wearing black leathers.

  “And lastly this is Mici. He’s the head of the street dealers. He’s the one that you see the first time if you are a nobody. He also helps run the street dealers in the area. Also very dangerous and normally hangs about near the club.

  “Abs and Brim will be inside. Decker, Spenser, Coops, Bennett, and Fingers will be outside in Observation One, call sign alpha, stationed a hundred feet overlooking the front. Lewis, Cobb, Spanner, Silent
Joe, and Specs will be in Observation Two, call sign beta, stationed a hundred feet above the back of the club. These assault crafts can descend swiftly and deploy both teams rapidly if needed. Fingers and Specs will be overseeing comms and technical support and will remain in their respective vehicles.

  “Okay, people, that’s it, briefing over. Keep it by the numbers, and all will be good; deviate from official Planetary Enforcement Agency procedures, and if you survive, I’ll have your balls, if you have ’em or not.”

  The club is situated in a seedier area of the New Cassini dance and night club district but is mainly frequented by high rollers wanting privacy and discretion. Other than the expensive drinks, loud music, and multitude of sexual deviation, the main reason they visit is the drugs on tap.

  The assault teams arrive in early evening under the cover of darkness. The stealth capabilities of the craft are good but not perfect during daylight hours. The two crafts contain a whole spectrum of eavesdropping scanners and optical monitoring devices; each craft is able to stay on station for four days without landing or refueling.

  Abs and Brim arrive via a black limo with restricted identification registration exclusive to the superrich; with this, no questions are asked upon arrival, and they’re given free access, the perfect cover for a rich couple looking for the best pleasure and service at such an exclusive, private club.

  Inside, the night club expresses itself with glass glitter and bare flesh. Pure sexuality oozes from everywhere, mixing in with the explosive sounds beating throughout. Giving a generous tip, Abs and Brim are led to a private booth. The booth is fitted with an adjustable sound-nullification system that terminates the sound of the music immediately upon entering and has a perfect view of the club’s main dance floor, entrance, and private, exclusive area near the back.

  “So why is it that Brim and Abs always get to have fun drinks and music, while us grants have to wait it out in this tin can?” Decker says as he loads his third weapon. This one is his favorite, as it can be easily hidden up his sleeve and has the same impact as a double-barreled shotgun at close range.