by L. S. O'Dea
The power went out and they were left in complete darkness. He blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the lack of light, but he wasn’t made that way unlike Barney who seemed to have no trouble seeing.
The House Servant pressed the keypad on the side of the door and turned the handle. The passage to the laboratory, fifth level access was opened.
Show time. Hugh inhaled deeply, turned on his flashlight and stepped through the doorway.
“May nature favor you on this journey,” said Barney.
He turned to thank the House Servant but the door closed in his face. His stomach dropped to his toes. This was it. No turning back now. He shone the flashlight down the corridor. It was similar to the passageway that he’d just left, barren, dark and narrow. Lovely.
He followed the map. It was quiet, but this was Conguise’s secret passage so it should be quiet. The next hallway was narrower than the first, his shoulders brushing against both walls as he passed. It ended at a doorway. According to Barney there should be a keypad. He shone the light alongside the door frame, nothing but gray brick. He searched the door and there it was, right above the handle. He pulled the gun out of his backpack. If this were a trap, this is where it would be sprung.
He held the flashlight between his teeth and pressed the buttons, being very careful to make sure that he hit the right keys. Knowing Conguise, if he hit the wrong one an alarm would fire off. There was a soft click. He took the flashlight out of his mouth and turned it off. He slowly opened the door. If Conguise or someone were on the other side, he was toast. He could not explain his presence here. He held the gun at ready and peeked into the room. It was dark. He’d have to turn on the flashlight. If someone were waiting, he’d lose the element of surprise, but he had no other choice. He pressed the button and shone the light into the office.
There was no one inside. He exhaled in relief as he glanced around the room. It was spacious with thick heavy furniture. Only the best for Conguise. He stepped inside, the door closing behind him with a sickening click. So far, Barney had not failed him. He could only pray that the code to get out of the office worked too.
According to the map, he had quite a distance to go to get to Tim. His eyes darted to the desk and then the filing cabinet. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind, telling him that Tim was more important than any experiments or documents, but this might be his only chance at discovering exactly what the professor was doing here.
He’d start at the desk. Just a quick look. He put the gun in the backpack and stuck the flashlight in his mouth again. He opened a side drawer and began scanning the files. There were some DNA results. He didn’t have time to read them so he shoved them in his backpack. Then he discovered some files on Guards. There were a lot of DNA tests in those files too. He stuffed them in his backpack. What if Tim were dying right now, while he dug through papers? It was his mother’s voice again. Fine. He’d go find Tim.
As he closed the drawer his hand brushed against a ridge on the top of the desk. He ran his fingers along it. It was a false top. He played with it for a moment, looking for the trigger to spring the latch. There was a slight indentation. He pressed in with his thumb nail and it popped open. There were files in there and the top one was on Jethro Remore. It could be typical pre-surgery files for Benedictine’s son, but why would it be in a hidden compartment? He added all the files to his collection. Conguise was going to miss these but he didn’t care. The professor was going to know something had gone on when Tim was discovered missing anyway. He closed the secret compartment and walked to the door, opening it a crack.
The hallway was empty. Barney was right. The Guards were gone. An eerie red glow flooded the corridor from a few emergency lights. It was enough so that he didn’t have to use the flashlight. He turned it off and shoved it in his pocket. He cautiously stepped out of the office.
There was nothing to distinguish that this was level five as opposed to one of the other levels. The hallway was wide and clean, the floors spotless white tile. The walls were painted a comforting shade of soft blue, although the emergency lights made them look purple.
He crept down the corridor, following the directions on the map. He saw no one on the journey through the maze of hallways. He glanced at his watch. He’d only been out of Conguise’s office for about ten minutes, although, if he were to judge by the sweat trickling down his back he’d have guessed a couple of hours had passed. If he had followed the map correctly, around the next bend was the room where Tim was being held. He peered around the corner. There were no Guards waiting at the door or anywhere else. He had to give kudos to Barney. So far, his plan had been flawless.
He strode to the door and paused for a moment. There was no sound from inside the room. He opened the door and stepped inside. This room was dark, but there was an emergency light in the back. There was no one in there, but he was sure that he was in the right place.
The door slipped from his fingers and started to shut. He stuck out his arm, stopping it. What if it locked when it closed? He tried the handle. Sure enough, if he hadn’t checked he’d have been locked inside the room. He breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled his backpack off his shoulder and dug through it. He had rope, bullets, a knife, some food and water in case he was trapped for a long time. The granola bar would have to do. He placed it in on the floor in the doorway and carefully closed the door. It stayed open about an inch. He’d have to take the chance that it wouldn’t be noticed if someone walked past. Now, he needed to find Tim.
There were a couple of empty cages on the far wall and three suspension bars hanging from the ceiling. He didn’t want to imagine how those bars were used for interrogation. Various surgical tools lay gleaming on a table. There was a large tank of some sort in the back. He walked over to it.
A soft blue light illuminated out from the tank. It was filled almost to the top with water. He gazed upward and there was Tim, swimming at the very top, trying to keep his head above water.
“Shit.” He pounded on the side but Tim didn’t look his way. “I’ll get you out,” he said as loud as he dared.
The top of the tank was covered by a thick, black, plastic lid. He shoved at the bottom of the cap, trying to pry it off, but it was locked. There had to be a way to remove it. There were wires coming out of the side of the tank into the wall. It was controlled by power and the power had been cut. He ran his hand through his hair.
Tim dipped under the water and then back to the top. He was tiring. No telling how long he’d been swimming. All the while I was digging through Conguise’s files. Think, think. If he couldn’t remove the lid and get Tim out then he had to get the water out of the tank. There had to be a drain of some sort. He began searching along the bottom of the container and he located a safety latch on the far side. He grabbed the handle and turned but it didn’t budge. He propped his feet against the wall, holding on to the handle and shoved. It was no use. It was screwed on tight. He needed something to use as a pry bar.
He ran back to the front of the room and searched along the table of surgical equipment. Nothing. He looked along the walls and propped in a corner was a long, thick, metal pipe. It was probably used for torture. He’d seen one at the killing of the Producer when he’d saved Millie. He grabbed it and raced back to the tank. He slid it through a hole on the handle of the safety latch.
Tim dipped under the water again. He didn’t swim back to the top.
Hugh pounded on the side. “Damnit, look at me. Don’t you dare give up.”
Tim opened his eyes, disbelief and then hope flared in his gaze as he struggled back to the top.
For a second relief washed through him. Tim was alive. He still had a chance but he had to do something now. He braced himself between the wall and the tank and placed his feet on the metal pipe. He pushed with his legs. Sweat ran off his forehead, the salt burning his eyes. Either the latch was going to break or his back was, but he would not give up. Pain shot through his hips and up his spine. His legs began to sh
ake from the pressure. He couldn’t take much more, but this was his brother. He dug deep and pushed harder, and then, finally, there was movement, slight, but it was there. He shoved again and the safety latch turned. Hang on just a little longer, Tim. He dropped away from the wall and his legs buckled. He steadied himself and began turning the handle as quickly as possible. Water spilled into the room and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
“Thank you, Araldo.” He gave the latch one final spin. It was now open as far as possible, and the water rushed out of the tank.
Tim was still swimming, but the water level was lowering; he should be able to stand soon. Now, Hugh had to figure out how to get him out of there. He moved a nearby table over to the tank and climbed on it. He searched the lid for a safety trigger, but there wasn’t one.
“Hugh.” Tim was standing on his tiptoes, his face just out of the water. “Get me out of here.”
“I’m trying. I can’t find a release lever.”
“Ouch,” yelled Tim.
He looked back into the tank and Tim was standing normally now, but he was swatting at something in the water. A small, grayish creature buzzed by Tim’s leg. “Is that a fish?”
“Who cares,” yelled Tim. “It’s biting me.”
“What is it?” he asked, fascinated.
The creature was small, about the size of a coffee cup and it appeared to have little hands. It grabbed on to Tim’s pants and then sank its teeth into his leg.
“Stop watching and get me out of here.” Tim swatted it away again.
“Sorry.” He ran his hands over the lid one more time. There was nothing. It was controlled by the power, nothing else. He placed his hands on the tank to steady himself while he jumped off the table. Glass. The tank was glass. He didn’t need a latch. He grinned and grabbed the pipe. “Get back.”
Tim’s eyes widened and he moved to the other side.
He tested the weight in his hands and swung. A loud snap like a gunshot echoed through the room and the glass began to break. He stepped back as the crack grew like a spider web. The first pebble of water formed and trickled down the side of the tank. Then another and then the glass split open, water surging onto the floor.
At the sound of splashing, he looked down. He should be standing in water. Where had it all gone? The water swirled a few feet away from him toward a drain in the floor.
Tim struggled to stay on the opposite side from the break in the glass but the water was too strong. He was flushed out of the tank and onto the floor with a huge plop, landing sprawled at Hugh’s feet.
“You’re finally worshipping me like a good Servant should,” he said, grinning.
Tim raised his head, snarling at him as he stood. “You have a warped sense of humor.” He was soaking wet and bluish-purple bruises covered his face. In one place, his cheek was split open and those were just the marks that were visible.
Tim must have been beaten, pretty badly by the looks of him. The House Servant, no, his brother, would feel the pain as soon as the adrenaline stopped rushing through his body. He hoped it would be after they’d gotten out of there.
“How’d you know where to find me?” Tim scrunched the ends of his shirt together to ring out the water.
“Barney,” he said.
“Conguise’s House Servant? Why would he help me?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll explain later.” This was probably not the time to tell him about his parentage.
The fish creature flew out of the tank on a wave of water. Hugh followed it as it struggled against the current that was pulling it toward the drain. He grabbed it by its tail. It flipped around and snapped at him.
“It has a mouth full of teeth,” he exclaimed as he held it at arm’s length. Fascinating. “What is this thing?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. Just kill it.”
“Now, Tim.” He shook the fish-creature in Tim’s face. “We shouldn’t kill something because we don’t understand it.”
Tim swatted away his hand. “I don’t want to kill it because I don’t understand it. I want to kill it because it was feeding on me.”
The creature’s sides expanded and contracted, its mouth gaping open and closed. It was suffocating. It needed water to breathe. He looked around for a container. He’d love to take it with him. He could let it die and study the carcass. Its small blue eyes stared at him, as it continued to gasp for air. He carried it to the tank. There was about a foot of water below the crack. He dropped the creature into the tank and then went and closed the drain valve. It should be safe now.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
“Good idea.” Tim walked toward the door.
“Wait. You’re all wet.”
Tim glanced at his drenched clothes. “I was submerged in water. What do you expect?”
“You’re dripping,” he clarified. “You can’t traipse down the hallway leaving a trail of water.”
There was a small puddle where Tim stood.
“I don’t traipse anywhere but what do you suggest I do?”
“Are there any towels?”
They searched the room, but there was nothing to use to dry.
“This will help.” Tim took off his shirt and tossed it on the floor.
“Your pants too.”
Tim frowned but took off his pants. He was already barefoot. “I draw the line at my underwear.”
“We’ll wring them out.” Hugh held out his hand.
Tim gave him the pant legs and they wrung them out the best that they could. Tim put them back on. They were still wet but not dripping nearly as much.
Hugh took off his jacket and then his shirt. “I love this shirt. You owe me.” He pulled out the knife and sliced his shirt in half. He dropped the knife into the backpack and put his jacket back on.
“Nice look,” smirked Tim.
“Shut up and tie these around your feet. Try and dry any drips as you go.”
Tim wrapped half of the shirt around each of his feet, tying it at his ankles. “It’s loose but it should work.”
“Let’s go.” He walked to the door, removed the granola bar and checked the hallway. The emergency lights were still active which was a good sign. Once the power was back on so were the Guards.
They traveled down several hallways. They were close to Conguise’s office when they turned a corner and standing with his back to them at the other end of the hall was a Guard, a large, built-like-a-brick-wall Guard. He skidded to a halt, Tim slamming into his back. They scooted back around the corner.
“Now what?” Tim leaned against the wall.
“I don’t know. Barney only drew two routes out.” He looked at the map.
“Fine, let’s take the other way.”
“It’s a lot longer and more dangerous. We’re only supposed to go that way if we can’t make it back to Conguise’s lab.”
“Well, we can’t,” said Tim.
Hugh glanced around the corner.
Tim grabbed his shoulder, trying to stop him. “Do you want us to get caught?”
The Guard was walking their way and was even more formidable from the front. Barney hadn’t lied about the type of Guard who would be left in the lab, and even though the Guard was older, Hugh didn’t want to confront him. One hit from those paws and that would be the end.
“He’s headed our way.” He backed away from the corner.
“Great. Just great,” muttered Tim.
They had to move. There were several doors in this section of the hallway, most probably led to laboratories, but one looked smaller. He jogged over and opened it. It was a closet. “Quick, in here.”
“A closet? You want to hide in a closet?”
“Yeah, Guards don’t clean. He’d have no reason to open the closet, but he may have a reason to go into one of the other labs.” He shoved Tim inside and quickly followed.
He turned the handle, making sure that it didn’t lock from the inside and then shut the door. They were squeezed ch
est-to-chest in total darkness. They both steadied their breathing and waited, listening for the sound of footsteps.
He’d never realized how similar he and Tim were. Tim was shorter but they were alike in body structure, although he was more muscular. Of course, he’d participated and excelled at every sport possible in an attempt to win his father’s approval. His father’s animosity toward him was probably due to his mother’s infidelity. Was he even his father’s son? He‘d add that to his list of DNA tests to run.
Heavy footsteps plodded closer and closer to the door. In an unspoken consensus he and Tim almost stopped breathing. The footsteps thudded past the door. He quietly let out his breath and Tim did the same. Then the footsteps stopped and headed back their way.
His gun was in the backpack. He couldn’t dig for it now and take the chance of making any noise. Why was the Guard coming back? Could he smell them? The smell of a House Servant near the closet shouldn’t cause suspicion, but an Almighty was another matter entirely. The footsteps were almost to their door.
“Hug me,” he whispered. It was the only shot they had.
“What?” Tim asked incredulously.
“My scent. It shouldn’t be here. Hug me, now.”
Tim grimaced but embraced him. He squeezed his body as close to Tim as possible. Since neither wore a shirt, they were skin-to-skin. Tim may be his half-brother but this was uncomfortable. The Guard stopped in front of the closet, inhaling deeply. After a long moment, the Guard sniffed again and walked away.
It had worked. Tim had covered his scent. They both sighed in relief. Tim dropped his arms and stepped back the little that the closet allowed.
“Can you still hear him?” he asked.
Tim shook his head then opened the door, peeking outside. He stepped into the hallway and motioned for Hugh to follow. The Guard was gone. The hallway was empty.
“No need to mention the closet hug to anyone,” said Tim gruffly.
“Agreed,” he said as they darted down the hallway and around the corner.