by Justin Bell
My normal pale skin shifts to a mottled gray leather as fibers mesh with each other and wrap around the musculature of my forearm. I can feel my bones and tendons re-conforming as the shade of my flesh darkens and hardens.
I lurch from my bed screaming. I can't help it, I shout loud and long, my shrill voice filling all the empty space in the small cell. I scream once, then a second time, even longer and louder than the first.
I stumble backwards, glaring at my hands in stunned disbelief. Even as I back step, one of my knees, buckles, then snaps, not breaking, but pulling apart and snapping back together, sending me down almost to my knees.
As I start to drop, the lower part of my leg screams and shoots me back upward, bending the wrong way on this weird new knee. The second knee repeats the motion, throwing me into a clumsy stumble backwards, slamming my spine against the wall, and causing pain to race through every part of my body.
"What's going on in there?" a voice echoes from the hallway outside as the sound of rapid footsteps hammers at my ears. "Is everything all right?"
"Fine," I groan through clenched teeth. Don't come in. Please don't come in.
He taps on the door. "Ms. Northstar?"
"I'm okay!" I shout, but it’s a pinched sound through crunching gravel, a voice clearly not my own.
"Who's in there?" the guard asks and I hear that rattle, the clear sound of the lock disengaging.
"Don't!" I shout. I can't think straight. My mind isn't grasping what's happening, but all I know is that I don't want him in here.
He comes in, anyway.
The door slides open and he comes in. His mouth drops open and his skin turns a ghostly white. He stands stock still, just glaring at me with eyes wide, and arms dangling at his side, clutching the weapon by his right hip.
"Who are you?" he asks. "What did you do to her?"
Even if I knew, I'm not sure I could answer, so I don't. I close my eyes and let the Athelonian part of me peel away, bracing myself for what's coming.
Chapter Nine
For one brief moment I'm floating above myself, this strange fog of consciousness drifting away, trying to squirm free from conflicting personalities. Behind my clenched eyes I can visualize a gelatinous blob, a glowing, shimmering octopus of controlled thought, tendrils sliding around through the inside of my mind, grasping at me, clutching at me as I try to escape.
I'm free. For one second, I feel free, floating up and away, out of reach. Suddenly I'm dropping back into the dark void of nothing, buried inside a shell of dependent thought and animal reaction. I'm just an organism of pure instinct, born and bred to act on the immediacy of the situation without taking the time to think and consider all options. I'm bundles of nerves, muscle, and quick synapses. My pesky wishes and dreams are nothing but obstacles to the need for action.
You know, kind of like a teenage boy. No need for thought; just do it and deal with the consequences later.
The Adroxis Security Officer raises his weapon, clutching it in all four hands. His eyes narrow, and he snarls through a tangle of clenched teeth, "I don't know what you did to her, but I'm going to make sure you don't do it to anyone else!"
That vision snaps everything back into place. Where I was hovering for a moment, I feel sucked back inside. A powerful vacuum whips me from my place of momentary freedom down into the biological enclosure of my body, in whatever form that might be. My eyes snap open, and I'm behind them again with my head already whipping around to gauge the danger.
As the guard fires, I dart right, letting the purple light scream past me to the left and continue forward. I leave the floor and hit the wall, stepping once, twice, then a third time across the vertical surface, and coming up around the guard. He turns towards me, but I'm already coming down on him, twisting to slam the heel of my foot into his exposed temple. He drops like a bag of stones and I fall next to him, landing in a low crouch by his prone form.
I hear scattered footsteps in the hallway as I scoop up the weapon. Reinforcements are already closing in at top speed. My keen hearing picks up murmured voices and running feet to both the right and left of the open cell door, but I hear more coming from the left. I run forward and veer right, angle the weapon left with an extended arm, and fire down the hallway.
I glance to my left and see two Adroxis Security members catch purple energy full on. The stun blasts slam into them, sending them tumbling backwards into approaching guards. Off to the right I see three more, one leading the charge, with two flanking, filling up the entire hallway.
"It's one of them!" the lead one shouts. "A Bragdon!"
Is that what I am? I haven't come across a mirror yet, but something has certainly changed. Am I Bragdon? Have I been all along? Was something done to me on Braxis? So many questions and way too many dudes with guns to try to answer them all now.
"Find the girl!" another one shouts. So at least they don't think I am the girl. I can be thankful for small victories.
My prison uniform slides along the smooth metal when I drop and slide as the three men in front of me prepare to fire. I can feel it pulling up my leg. I draw in a breath, wondering for a moment just what the heck I'm wearing under this thing, but as I glance down at my leathery, lumpy and gray legs with embedded green scales, I realize it doesn't matter a lot.
Lizard shaped feet collide with one of the security guard's knees, and his legs shoot out from underneath him, sending him stumbling over me as I slide. I hit the wall with bent knees, push myself up with one arm, and, with the other, send purple light pounding into the lead guard's face. The third guard swivels toward me, but I'm already charging across the hall and shoving my shoulder into his chest, driving him hard into the wall behind him. The sound of the impact echoes throughout the corridor.
With a quick glance towards the approaching phalanx on the other side of the door, I pull back letting a swift group of stun blasts careen past me down the hall to my left. I return fire, dropping one of the guards with a well-placed stun blast, then I shift and move left, rounding a corner just as three more shots barrel into the wall where I was standing.
Luxen . . . I need to find Luxen. Without hesitation I continue moving down the hallway, turning any direction I can find that's away from this group of guards that are closing the gap, pelting the air with purple light, and chasing me with plasma stunners.
I halt my progress halfway down the hall to spin, lift the weapon, and then fire just as three guards round the corner. The first one catches a shot in the right shoulder, spinning him back and around, but the second drops low, ducking under the next shot. I adjust my aim and punch a bright spear into the center of his chest, sending him scattering back across the floor. Two more guards round the corner in time to stumble over his toppling form and clumsily roll to the floor as their weapons fly from flexed fingers.
Man, I'm making this look easy.
Aren't I? More and more this body and what it's doing don't feel like me. They feel like some kind of strange echo of me, or maybe I'm the echo . . . just some cast off sound wave resonating from this body's actions, not a part of it.
Surprising no one more than myself, this Bragdon body runs forward towards the group of guards now splayed over the floor, and brings the weapon into firing position. One of the fallen men starts to stand, but a stun blast racks him in the head, convincing him otherwise.
The two last men are getting to their feet, so I launch an airborne attack, tucking my knees tight. My left leg shoots out in an unforgiving pylon of muscle and bone, striking the man in the upper chest. As he slams into the wall, I drop into a crouch on the floor to gather momentum to knock the weapon out of the hand of the last remaining security officer.
He stammers, looking for the right words, but my four fingers are already tangling in his cloth vest, pulling it tight, and pushing him against the wall.
The strange gravelly voice which is not my own asks, "Where is the Bragdon boy?" I don't remember even thinking about doing this earlier. It just kind
of happens. "Where is Luxen?"
His eyes draw wide, lose all appearance of defiance or anger, and shift only to scant hope and desperation. "I...I don't know," he mumbles.
There's one advantage to the blind, planet-wide prejudice . . . many Athelonians have never even seen a Bragdon and know them only by their evil reputation. This guy probably thinks I'm going to eat his face or something.
. . . Which I'm totally not going to do.
Am I?
That would be so gross.
"You're lying," I hiss, baring teeth that I can only imagine are all sharp, jagged and pointy looking.
"Please," he says, shaking his head. "Don't..."
A long pink tongue extends from my mouth and flicks near his cheek. Ugh. Please don't lick him. If I have any control over this body at this point, please. Don't. Lick. His. Scruffy. Face.
"Cell block 42," he whispers. "Down the hall, to the right. There are signs."
I smile, sucking my long, disgusting tongue back into my pointy-tooth filled mouth.
"Thank you," I reply, sounding a little more like an Athelonian girl than I'd like to. His eyes do a weird, squinting thing.
Before I know it, my four-fingers ball into a fist to crash into the bridge of his nose with a thud that snaps his head back, tossing the black helmet into a lazy arc behind him. When he slumps to the ground in silence, I narrow my eyes and head for the right-hand turn he was talking about.
"Cell block 42," I say to myself.
"Don't bother!" a voice familiar shouts. My head spins as I see dear old Dad striding down the hallway through the residue from the fierce plasma conflict. His form is almost invisible through the thickening purple smoke that now fills the air. He steps over a fallen body, but continues towards me, showing no fear. His long, dark robes whisk along at his feet with a sense of regal elegance, and his mouth is a straight line in the cropped gray beard.
"We're doubling guards around the boy. You'll never find him. Tell me what you've done with my daughter."
I clench my fists and tense my body as four guards converge on my father, lifting their own weapons.
"She is safe," I say. "We wish her no harm."
He glances around the hallway filled with fallen bodies. "And what of them?" he asks. "Did you wish them harm?"
"We want the boy. Leave him to us and nobody else need get harmed."
His eyes narrow. "Oh, someone will be harmed, Bragdon scum. First you, then him."
Is it possible to hate my own father as much as I love him? Because for one moment, I do. When I look at his stoic expression, the only emotion I feel is disgust and distaste. I never want to see his face again. The emotion strikes me like a sharp kick in the gut. Just as I realize how intense it is, it passes, returning me back to a normal, conflicted sense of wanting to do the right thing . . . for both Athelon and Braxis.
At this point that seems impossible.
My feet are glued to the ground as the four guards stride forward in unison to close around my father, separating us to protect him.
"Down the hall. To the right. Follow the signs." whispers through my mind.
I lunge forward to the right, avoid a swift barrage of stun blasts, then wrap my long fingers around the arm of the guard on my far right. I lift him from his feet and send him flying into the other three like a flesh bat. They collide and sprawl in a strange tangle of silver armored limbs and scattered plasma shooting up into the ceiling.
In a moment of utter confusion and chaos, I whip around the corner of the hallway, running full tilt around the next right-hand turn, towards Cell Block 42 and whatever horrors it might contain.
Chapter Ten
The first three hallways are empty, which seems strange as I make my way through the winding corridors of the prison complex, following simple gray signs for Cell Block 42. It's purposeful, as if they've drawn the guards away to allow me some kind of safe passage, a way to lure me into a false sense of security.
Even though I'm apparently now a Bragdon super ninja warrior, I'm a teenager. False sense of security is kind of my gig here.
Even as I progress forward, slinking along the tall, metal walls, I keep glancing down at my hands and exposed forearms to squint at the thickened gray skin and the ridges of embedded scales running up and down my limbs. My eyes and my brain can't quite rationalize what I'm seeing. The vision before me is like a foreign language I cannot translate. It's like an out-of-body experience, but I'm within this body, this tall, ridged, leather skinned body. It moves when I will it to move, but still I am just a passenger, someone riding along, waiting for the next stop to get off.
But now I'm wondering if there will be a next stop. Am I trapped in this walking reptilian mass transit vehicle forever? Now that I've made this big change, is there any going back to the way I was?
I approach the corner silently, crouch against the wall, and turn my ears to listen for any telltale noises or signals. I hear nothing except the dull hum of air intakes above me.
I ease myself forward to peer down the corridor. A strange haze forms over my vision then clears quickly. Where the hallway bends to the left several feet down, I see shifting shadows on the floor.
They're quiet, but they're there, just around that corner. I can't tell how many, but they're crammed between me and Cell Block 42, and there are more than I can handle.
Then again, I'm not sure if there are more than I can handle. I've been surprising myself since I started discovering this bizarre part of my psyche a month ago, and things just keep getting weirder.
I round the corner as low to the ground as I can muster, bracing my crouching walk with my left hand. As I get closer, I see the shadows still moving, seeming to meld into one large, amorphous blob of Athelonian Security. There is a rumble of voices above the consistent hum of airflow and muttering machinery.
My heart rate quickens as I near the corner, trying to brace myself to strike. My mind sorts through possible outcomes to this path, and most of those outcomes are negative. An idea sparks in my head as the voices down the next hall quiet some, lowering to just above whisper volume, almost as if they're anticipating my imminent arrival.
Are they? Do they know I'm coming? Luxen should be right down the hall here, so they must figure I'm heading this way, but do they know how close I am?
Can I ask myself any more questions?
Is it too late to go home and get in my nightie and watch last week's episode of Symtrax? That dude cracks me up.
. . . Now or never?
Yeah, how about never? I'm good with never, but Luxen wouldn't be.
When did I start caring so much for the well-being of people other than myself? How do I get back into selfish mode?
I draw closer to the corner and now their voices are loud, shouting in my sensitive new ears to the point where I have to focus to keep them from overwhelming my senses. If I'm going to do this, I need to do this now.
So, I do.
I charge towards the opposite wall at full speed with my new, enlarged reptile muscles pumping to push me forward at previously inconceivable speeds. My sudden appearance and quick action startles shouts and exclamations from a cluster of Adroxis Security Guards.
"There it is!" one shouts.
"Weapons ready!" comes another voice.
I try to block it out. I dash towards the far wall, away from the plasma blasts. My double-jointed knees propel me forward, my feet contact the smooth wall, and then my spine arches into a back flip. Plasma smacks into the wall in a splash of blinding light. I skim the ceiling, tucking my knees tight again, tumbling end-over-end, straightening, and diving feet-first into the group of uniformed officers. My landing slams into the first line of defense, sending three of them lurching upward and two more sprawling towards the ground. As I pin one of them to the ground, I twist and swing, slamming a back fist into the narrow face of a nearby security guard, splitting skin and sending his helmet soaring.
They flounder away, turn, and try to maneuver, but
I press forward. I drill a fist into the nearest guard's stomach, cock my shoulder to deliver a right cross to smash his jaw, and throw him down. I'm too close for anyone to get a good shot in the middle of the confusion of toppling bodies and moving uniforms.
How I planned it, right?
Sure, let's go with that.
The bodies press towards me, abandoning their attempts to try to get space to fire. They all seem to elect to smother me instead.
Good.
I drop into a crouch to avoid sweeping arm. Freaking arms are everywhere with these people. I charge forward, barrel through two of them straight ahead, and push through a small gap back out into the free space of the hallway. I zig-zag down the hallway, leaving a confused pile of guards behind me.
Those who recover first, chase me with plasma as I run. Plasma sears right as I angle left. I round a corner just as light peppers the area where I was. A thundering barrage of footfalls erupts behind me. The whole group of security is chasing me now, and running more quickly than I anticipated. The echoing stomps sound like they're right on my heels.
Even as I run away from them, I know my next move. It became clear to me as I was slinking through the hallway, approaching the group in the corridor that was silent except for the low hum of air intake in the ceiling.
I round a second corner and pick up speed, putting more distance between myself and the approaching horde, then squinting at the spaced metal panels above. Without even slowing, I leap to my right, scale the wall, then push off to punch my shoulder into one of the metal panels of the ceiling. It jars loose and smashes up into the empty alcove above the corridor. I hook my fingers into the edge of the opening, then sweep myself up inside. Just as I hear the footsteps approaching I swing the panel back around and ease it home. I halt my motion, taking every effort to minimize my noise, as I crouch in the dank darkness, beside the air ducts.