Ill Wind_Chaos Witches

by Tal Turing

  “It's okay, you can let go now,” came the voice of the other girl.

  The Search

  Lynda let go, her wounded hands and tortured fingers massaging each other automatically as if they had a life of their own. Despite the cloth, blood now stained her fingers and palms and she rubbed until the pain ebbed.

  Then she looked back at the person beneath the guard. Her eyes looked up at her, dark brown with specs of gold which shone like streaks of lightning.

  “Let me help you,” Lynda offered, embarrassed at being slow to aid her co-conspirator.

  “I'm fine,” the girl replied simply twisting her body beneath, pressing one foot into the dead man's shoulder and pushing out. She rolled out and the body slumped back to the floor. Lynda expected her to spring to her feet but she lay on the floor, took a deep breath and then looked up at Lynda, her eyes unfocused. Lynda quickly held out a hand and helped pull her up.

  As Lynda watched, the woman rose to an equal height of her own body. Her hair was jet black, long and shiny. Her skin color was unusual even among the villages but it was not rare. Her eyes were like large brown jewels, laced with specks of amber.

  Lynda noticed that the woman was bare footed and bare legged. A strange coincidence as Lynda was in a similar state as she had used her bottoms to protect her hands.

  “Lynda?” the dark haired beauty asked, holding out her hand. Lynda clasped it, the hand was cool, amazingly. “I'm Cynnamon.”

  “So I gathered,” Lynda smiled. “Do you have a plan for what happens next, Miss Cynnamon? And does it involve fetching some pants for the two of us?”

  “I do and it does. But first, care to guess the combination to the security door?”

  Lynda watched, amazed, as the woman walked, unsteadily toward the other end of the hall. As Lynda pressed in behind her, Cyn was speaking the numbers of the code out loud.

  “Think you can remember that?” Cyn's voice echoed as the door opened. She reached out and withdrew a weapon and closed the door again. “Hopefully we won't need this. Now let's take care of the body and get some clothes.”

  The two walked back to the corpse and dragged it, by its cold, stiffened arms, into Lynda's cell. Once it was inside, Lynda dropped the arm and walked to her locker. She found the clothes she had worn on the day she was confined here, articles she did not expect she would wear again. She changed quickly, covering her bare limbs with leggings and some boots.

  “Are you going to tell me how you knew the security code and about the weapon?” Lynda called as she dressed. It was yet another question for which Lynda needed answers, but this girl had bought Lynda's patience, at least some amount. But there was no response.

  When she turned, she found Cyn standing over the body of Sams and staring blankly at a wall. Lynda followed her gaze. On the wall was the large globe and crest of Transom Industries. How Lynda hated that symbol.

  “Bloody Transom Industries,” Lynda muttered, “we are in their dreary dome in case you didn't know.”

  “I...I don't think we are anywhere near Transom,” Cyn spoke as if she had seen a ghost.

  “I promise you, that is exactly where we are,” Lynda responded quickly. “I know it much too well.”

  Cynnamon reached down and pulled the guard's AI from his head. Lynda's heart skipped a beat. She didn't know much about corporate AI units, but certainly they could be used to send a message, to call for help? But the other girl quickly dashed those hopes.

  "We can't use this for anything more than a door opener,” Cyn explained. “The other functions are locked to his implants. That's typical. I didn't expect that we could call out but I hoped we could at least take some pictures or record some video...”

  "What, for your scrapbook?" Lynda asked with a look of astonishment.

  "Evidence," Cyn replied unhappily.

  "Oh. Well, I have a recorder,” Lynda assured her. “I don't know why they let me keep it, so strange, as if I was enjoying my time here. I never even thought to use it.” Lynda retrieved the device from her locker and brought it to Cyn.

  "Take a picture of that please," Cyn said as she pointed to the wall and the Transom insignia. "And this awful examination station, a closeup of the arm restraints and the dead man. I just noticed that his uniform also is marked with Transom symbols so you had better get that as well." She said with unexplained resignation.

  Lynda took two careful pictures of each item and checked the quality of the images, before looking back up at her companion.

  "Should we find your pants?" Lynda suggested and Cyn nodded. They went next door, to what was presumably Cynnamon's cell. While Cyn dressed, Lynda noticed that the cell was a carbon copy of her own.

  “Lynda, there are some others here, behind the other doors. We'll get them out, and then we'll go. Right?”

  “Sure, but how do you know that? And how were you able to see me in my cell?” Lynda persisted. She wasn't intending to be difficult but she wanted to know more. Who was this strange girl? And how did she know so much?

  “I know, I know,” Cyn began as she walked to her locker and removed her clothes, “but it's a long story and we need to go...”

  Lynda thought about that as she moved to the door and listened. She was relieved not to hear any noises in the hallway or from beyond. Cyn made sense, there was not a lot of time for talk. They needed to move on and if there were others, prisoners like Lynda, they needed time to round them up as well. Still...

  “Just so you know...” Lynda started, in low tones, as she turned back to Cyn. But the other was standing, now fully dressed, in the middle of the room, facing away. Lynda cocked her head and walked up to her. “Are you okay?”

  Seconds later, Cyn looked over at her, confused before finding her wits.

  “Sorry, yes, we had better go now, there is another girl in the next cell. Okay?”

  “You are sure about that?” Lynda asked carefully. “Or is it a hunch or a sixth sense?”

  Cyn looked back at her shaking her head.

  “She's there. I'm sure...I see her,” but her body swayed precariously as she said it.

  Lynda grasped her shoulder, steadying her and looking again into her eyes. They were focused on something, but Lynda was not sure it was her. It was then that Lynda realized that this woman's dress, the black jumpsuit and boots were common corper garb.

  “You are an asset, Miss Cynnamon?” Lynda asked.

  “Yes, is it that obvious?” With that, Cyn opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. With one hand on the wall, she worked her way carefully down the corridor toward the other cells.

  Lynda followed, in thought. Well, she had learned some things about her new friend. And it didn't surprise her at all to find a corporate human asset in this dungeon with her. If there was anyone the corpers treated worse than the villagers, it was their own slaves. Lynda knew that well.

  Cyra

  They unlocked the cell door using the dead guard's AI and went inside. Just as Cyn had predicted, they found one woman whose name was Cyra. Cyn began speaking with her, but Lynda waited at the doorway, keeping watch.

  The woman explained that she was offered an opportunity to work for Transom Industries, at a fraction of her current corporate debt. But there had been no job, no opportunity, she was imprisoned here where she has raped and became pregnant. Then, when the embryo had developed enough, it was taken. And she was raped again. It was a horrible story and for the first time, Lynda realized her existing pregnancy might have saved her from something worse. But who was responsible for this? And she couldn't help but wonder about Dylan, about his role in this, what was the bastard doing now and what would he do if he knew that she had escaped...almost.

  Suddenly, Lynda realized she had become lost in her own thoughts while the other two conversed. She looked up to find Cyn upset.

  “But you can't stay here, you should come with us...”, Cyn stammered.

  “Don't tell me what I have to do!” the prisoner raised her voice while staring
down at the weapon clutched in Cyn's lowered hand.

  Lynda walked in quickly and injected herself between the two.

  “You don't have to do anything you don't want to do,” Lynda explained softly, “But we have to leave soon and so you'll have to decide. There are others here as well and we have to speak with them next.”

  Lynda grasped Cynnamon's shoulder and firmly urged her out of the room. Surprisingly, she did not resist and even leaned on Lynda as they moved on to the next cell.

  “I never thought she wouldn't want to leave,” Cyn said quietly as they walked.

  “She does want to leave. Maybe you should put away that weapon?”

  “I understand but I have nowhere to put it. Two more in this next room.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I told you. I saw them,” answered Cyn in a distracted tone, as if her mind were elsewhere.

  Twins

  The next cell did contain two young women, sisters, identical or nearly identical twins and both were very pregnant. It was clear to Lynda that the women were long past the point when a transfer to a fetal-development chamber would be possible It seemed the Doctor intended them to carry their children to term, to have natural births, just what Dylan wanted for her. She cringed.

  Their tale similar to that of Cyra, starting with one of Transom Industries' many services and ending with their assault and imprisonment here. What really disturbed Lynda was that only one of the sisters was speaking reasonably, the other one just caressed her distended belly and when they spoke of the Doctor, she became agitated.

  “Is he here? Will he come to see me?” asked the odd sister with an eager smile on her face.

  Cyn looked helplessly at the other sister.

  “We don't have much time, are you coming with us?”

  The lucid sister seemed unsure. “Where are you going? How do you know you can get out?”

  “Fair question,” Cyn responded, “we are going to find a communications terminal and then we are going to call from help.”

  “Who are you going to call?”

  Cyn's face went blank and Lynda realized that she had not considered that detail or perhaps she was rethinking it.

  “We'll call everyone,” Cyn recovered. “The village leadership, the corpers. Whoever will listen.”

  When the strange sister asked if they could see the Doctor, her sibling assured her they would. Then she turned to Lynda and Cynnamon and spoke quietly.

  “She needs a 'doctor' and I have to do what I can to get her to one. So we will go with you.”

  Marlee

  “This is the last occupied cell. It is most interesting...” Cyn's voice trailed off as if she had just left her own body, like a ghost.

  Lynda followed Cyn inside, unable to keep from noticing her companion's uncertain stride or the way she occasionally steadied herself with a hand against the wall.

  Once again, Cyn was somehow correct, the room was most peculiar. Unlike the sparse, cell-like feel of the other cells, this one seemed almost like a guest room. There was a large bed, a small kitchenette, and a full dresser.

  As they entered, a man rose from the bed, startled, his head was balding, his bare chest was flabby and he wore colorful, expensive-looking briefs. He stood up and stared, visibly confused.

  But now it was Lynda's turn to be surprised. A comely companion rose from the chamber next, attired in fashionable lingerie. Even fresh from sleep, she was beautiful and young, enough to be his daughter or granddaughter. Lynda recognized the girl.

  “Marlee? Is that you? How on Earth did you get here? I had no idea!” Lynda exclaimed as Cyn avoided the discussion, preferring to explore.

  “Oh,” the girl responded carefully and slowly recognition bloomed. “Hi Lyn, where did you come from?”

  “I have been right down the hallway, for almost a month now,” Lynda stammered. She thought to introduce Cyn but her strange friend was walking around the outskirts of the room as if looking for something. Instead, she introduced the sisters and Cyra had also arrived.

  The women started talking among themselves while Lynda tried to understand.

  Marlee was the daughter of a village leader, one from a very old and distinguished family, tracing his ancestry back to the original settlers of Las Joyas, the scavenger families who not only scouted the first site, but brought with them large caches of materials and artifacts from looted cities. He would certainly want to know the whereabouts of his daughter and about her 'friend'. Suddenly Lynda had hope that Cyn's plan to call for help had a reasonable chance of success.

  “Marlee, who is this?” Lynda asked nodding to the older man, trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

  “This is Hynree,” Marlee looked over at the older man affectionately, “he is my fiancee.” As she spoke, the couple joined hands as if to express their intention to be together.

  “How did you get here?” Cynnamon asked as she rejoined the group. Lynda had noticed that she had opened a locker but it was unclear if anyone else had noticed.

  “Who the hell are you?” the man demanded. He eyed her weapon first and then Cynnamon's outfit. “You are one of them?”

  “I'm the one giving you a chance to get out of here, if you are interested,” Cyn replied simply.

  “Why should we trust you?” asked Hynree and without waiting for a response continued in a loud voice: “This is probably a trap.” He held Marlee's hand tight and suddenly Marlee looked at them suspiciously as well.

  It was then that Lynda noticed that there was something strange about Hynree's left ear, the organ was intact, but it was marred by a swollen, irregular and red-black crack in the skin. It looked like the piece could be broken off easily.

  “Do you work for Transom?” Marlee demanded of Cyn.

  “I..” Cyn's mouth opened but she clearly didn't know what to say. “I want to help you.”

  “Help us how?” Hynree persisted, “Help us move to a new location, a new cell? Or maybe you just want to take her away from me.”

  “No!!” whaled Marlee.

  “So, are you from Transom?” Cyra asked.

  Cyn fumbled again with what to say and it was clear to Lynda that she wasn't feeling well. And then when she was able to put together a statement, it was quickly attacked by Marlee, Hynree or one of the others. Her garb was standard corper garb, that didn't help her. Suddenly, Cyn turned away, apparently giving up.

  “Enough,” Lynda hissed, stepping forward. “When I found her,” Lynda continued, pointing to Cyn who had turned away and was retreating toward the door. “She was half-naked and pinned to the floor by that monster, Sams. You all know him?”

  She paused and looked around at the other women, making eye contact each one. She could tell that they all knew Sams. The man, Hynree began to speak again, but Lynda held up her hand. “No one is forcing you, any of you, to do anything you don't want to do. But she is with me and we are leaving and I insisted that you all be given the chance to come with us, a chance to leave, a chance to see your families again. But we can't make any promises and we won't. Worried that it might not work out? Think this is some sort of elaborate trick? Fine. Stay here. Take your chances.”

  It was then, as Lynda turned back toward Cyn that the olive-skinned girl doubled over and began gagging and retching. Finally, she fell to her knees, turned her face away and they heard the sound of liquid hitting the floor. The room went silent.

  Then, just as quickly, Cyn rose unsteadily to her feet, placed one hand on the wall and made her way out of the room.

  Lynda turned back to the room, her anger in check, her face matter-of-fact. “I'll be right back. When I return, I only want to know who is coming with us. The rest can do as they please.”

  The Empty Cell

  Lynda gave one last hard look at Hynree and then she turned and left the room. She looked up and down the short hallway but it was empty. She found Cyn standing in an empty cell, swaying, her head moved slightly as if she saw something on the wall
.

  Lynda walked in.

  “How do you feel, Miss Cynnamon?” Lynda asked softly.

  “Little dizzy but it will pass. This cell is empty,” Cyn whispered, “but let's take a quick look anyway.”

  Lynda could see that the cell was empty although it was furnished in a similar manner as the rest. Unsure what else to do in the sparse room, Lynda walked to the locker and opened it.

  Inside she found a woman's clothing and a handbag. She rifled through the handbag and found some personal items but nothing identifiable. She described each item out loud for the benefit of the other girl who had not approached.

  “Take pictures, please,” Cyn croaked from somewhere behind. “In case we can't return, in case it means something to someone...”

  Lynda did so, then she turned back but as she did so, she saw Cynnamon try to sit down, onto something which wasn't there. Instead she crashed to the ground.

  “Cyn!” Lynda whispered as she sprang to her side. The girl's dark hair had fallen loose of a make-shift band and stuck to the shiny side of her face. Sweat or maybe tears or both streamed down her face. For the first time, Lynda realized that the girl might have been badly hurt during their struggle with Sams. “What's wrong?!”

  “Maybe we should leave them here,” Cyn sobbed, “I want to get them out but without their cooperation...it might be worse. I'm just not sure...”

  Lynda knelt by her and reassured her. “They are just being childish, I promise you. They want you to guarantee that everything will be alright and you can't, we can't. It's this place, it takes everything out of us, we don't even dare to take a risk anymore, we just want someone to tell us what to do – exactly how they want us.”

  The fallen girl nodded, wiping the tears from her face, and then she spoke, almost normal again.

  “Lynda, I am sure there are no more prisioners here, but there might be more rooms like this, with evidence...but I'm concerned about time...we have to go...to leave it.” And she looked up at Lynda, her pupils much too dilated even for the lighting and they didn't seem focused. Was she going blind?