*
“Pharmacy Storage, this is the place,” said Kingston, staring at the sign above the set of glass doors. Maloch’s directions had been spot on, and they had reached the room without incident. The vault was located in the middle of the eighth floor, near the elevator banks. It was a small room, filled with labelled and locked drawers which held every kind of drug imaginable. As soon as they entered, Kingston made his way over to the section marked “K-N” and started breaking open the drawers.
“Finally!” shouted Kingston, as he held up a bag filled with blue and white bottles. Barsch could just barely make out the label, which read “Methotrexate, 15g, take 2 pills daily.” After everything they had gone through, the medicine was actually remarkably plain. A small part of Barsch could not help but feel a sense of disappointment that their entire reason for staying together had just vanished into thin air.
Given that he had all of the necessary equipment and ingredients, Kingston had decided to create the medicine in the adjacent laboratory. Barsch went with him to provide assistance, while Alza disappeared and Maloch stood guard outside the room.
The old man worked with practiced efficiency, and Barsch could barely follow his hurried explanations of the dozens of simultaneous processes. The former scientist used a combination of his own home-grown plants, the medicine taken from Proxa 09 and the Methotrexate to recreate the dark blue liquid that Barsch had first seen in the hut. After taking a long draught from the mixing bowl, a contented smile spread across Kingston’s face.
Barsch knew that the effects would not be instantaneous, but he still thought that he could see some colour return to the old man’s face, and his breathing seemed easier. With his death momentarily put off, Kingston distributed the rest of the mixture into twelve small vials, which would hopefully last several months.
“Ah, much better!” exclaimed Kingston, as he placed the liquid filled vials carefully in his pack.
“Now, how about we get out of this god forsaken city?”
“I am sorry to interrupt, Master Kingston, but I think we may have a problem.”
“It just never ends, does it?” thought Barsch, following his mentor-by-proxy out of the room.
“While you were busy, I decided to run a structural scan of the building. It appears as though the collapse of the east wing was only the beginning. The supports for the west wing are quickly deteriorating, and I estimate that we have only minutes before this building falls.”
“Well, that’s… not good. Do you think you could try and search for any routes out of here? Maybe a fire escape or linen chute?” asked Kingston, frowning.
“I have already taken the liberty to investigate alternate routes of descent, and have found one that boasts a sixty-eight percent chance of success. However, I do not think that you will like it…”
“What? Why not!”
“Well, given the time constraints and speed required, I believe that using the abandoned elevator shafts would allow a quick descent to the ground floor. But the plan is risky, and there are still hundreds of radical factors which could cause catastrophic and fatal results. I can continue searching for other routes, but I have very low expectations for success. What do you wish to do?”
Barsch glanced over to Kingston's hunched figure. It was obvious that the old man was contemplating the idea, and most likely trying to think up a few more. The plan was by no means desirable, but it seemed like it could be the fastest way out of the hospital, and time was not something they had in excess.
Kingston opened his mouth to give his reply, but whatever it would have been was drowned out by a sudden deafening wail. The siren lasted for a few seconds, and then stopped for a few more, before repeating itself. This went on for about a minute, during which Barsch and Kingston had their fingers in their ears for the majority of the time.
“This is troubling. That was the final warning for the evacuation. If my partially restored memory is correct, then we have less than thirty minutes remaining until detonation of the Quark Deconstruction bomb.”
“Okay Maloch, it looks like we just lost the luxury of choice. We will follow your decision, whatever it may be.”
It was odd that a re-mech was given the deciding voice on a plan that could kill them all, but Kingston was an oddity all on his own. And besides, he had watched the re-mech save Barsch only minutes ago, and his knowledge of the city was unparalleled…
“Very well. Please follow me in an orderly fashion.”
Maloch led them to the previously ignored elevators and began prying them open one by one. Most had been blocked by rubble or dead elevator cars, but one was free from all obstructions. Alza appeared a few seconds later, giving no reason or explanation for her disappearance. Whatever secrets she held, they could wait until they were in a city that wasn’t about to explode.
Ignoring Alza for the moment, Barsch went and peered into the dark abyss that lined the elevator shaft. If nothing slowed their fall, it would be a very short -and very terminal- journey to the ground floor. On a whim, he picked up a piece of fallen masonry and dropped it into the hole. Only after the soft plink of the stone hitting rock bottom did he turn away, noticeably paler.
Barsch returned just in time to hear Maloch explain his plan, “It is a simple matter. We will slide down the elevator cables using my hardened chassis as a make-shift elevator car. Naturally I have already calculated our maximum speed and I will slow us down accordingly. Assuming we allow for air resistance and friction, I believe that we should reach the ground floor in roughly ten seconds. Is that satisfactory?”
“Eight floors in ten seconds? That sounds kind of… fast…” said Barsch, understandably wary about throwing himself back into the abyss so soon.
“Indeed, but if anything should go wrong, my body will absorb the majority of the impact. Barring any unknowable interferences, the plan should work perfectly.”
“The plan should work perfectly. I’ve heard that before, and how many times do we have to barely avoid death before the gods grow bored of us?”
In reality, what he said was, “I’m ready, what about you, Kingston?”
“I think that this is incredibly dangerous, but we don’t really have a lot of options. And if Maloch says that it will be fine, then I will take his word for it.”
Then, turning to Alza, he added, “What about you? Do you have any objections?”
“None.” Alza didn’t even blink. Was she fearless, or did she not care if she lived or died?
“Um, good… I guess?”
Maloch had obviously taken their lack of objections as approval, and he had already reached out and grabbed hold of two thick cables which hung in the centre of the shaft. They were attached to the car below, which theoretically meant that they should be stable, but Barsch had always found that practical and theory meant two very different things.
The re-mech then leant forward, instructing the reluctant group to grab hold of his broad shoulders and hang on. Maloch then let his body drop slightly, so that it was parallel to the extremely hard ground that was eagerly looking forward to meeting them. Once everyone was seated firmly on Maloch’s back, he loosened his hold on the steel cable, whilst pressing his feet against the shaft wall. Although they immediately started speeding up, Maloch controlled their descent with perfect precision, using his hands and feet as make-shift brakes.
“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six,” Barsch counted, hoping that measuring the time would somehow hasten their descent. His counting was put off somewhat by the rushing air which steamed past his face and blinded his eyes. They were going faster by the second, and Barsch could dimly feel Maloch’s increasingly forceful efforts at keeping them steady.
“Five. Four. Thr- A sudden jolt made Barsch open his eyes. Directly ahead, Maloch’s outstretched hands were still wrapped tightly around the cables, but that was where the good news ended. The cables were still intact and fine in every way, save for one: they were no longer attached to the ceiling
. Without the cable to slow them down, gravity reigned supreme, and Barsch could feel his body approach terminal velocity.
Luckily, they were only two floors from the ground, so they did have time to gain too much speed. Unluckily, they were still two floors from the ground, which was not known for its softness. Less than two seconds after the cables sheared, they hit the ground, travelling in excess of fifty miles per hour.
Barsch only had time for one last thought before the impact threw him clear of the only thing between him and the ground. “I hate it when I’m right…”
Awakening Page 63