Uprising

by Justin Kemppainen

  Chapter 3: Fruitless Mission

  No slip-ups or problems on the way down, Kaylee stood in the corridor that Elijah had found so many years before. The security was indeed, as Rick had put it, disgusting. A red line painted on the floor spelled out, "Go no further." Beyond that was a metal grating stretching for twenty feet, ending in a massive steel door. It was impregnable without significant hardware and manpower. The entire hallway was monitored by embedded security cameras. A curious mechanical hum rang faintly in the background, and Kaylee knew this to mean that the high-voltage floor was ready to trigger at Elijah's remote command.

  None of this concerned her because her jaw dropped to see two bodies, that of a dead man and woman, lying in twisted piles some distance away from each other. A stench of burnt flesh hung thick in the air. Kaylee gagged, swallowed hard, and turned away from the gruesome sight. She had seen bodies before, but she hadn't exactly enjoyed or grown accustomed to the experience.

  After a brief moment, she glared at one of the embedded cameras. "God dammit Elijah! You didn't tell me there were dead bodies here!"

  A small click was heard, and the intercom responded with a shrugging tone, dripping with nonchalance. "I sent Jeffrey to clean up several hours ago. He must have been taken. Or possibly delayed."

  She swallowed hard. "And then you sent me out, after that?" She didn't – hadn't – known Jeffrey all that well. Whenever she saw him, however, he was always cheerful and friendly, even when she portrayed a prickly exterior. Even though things were often dismal, he always seemed to be smiling. Now he was gone.

  "I did send you knowing that, yes," the intercom replied without a hint of remorse. "You seem to have made it with little difficulty."

  She swore angrily. "So much for less patrols! And what about Jeffrey? Doesn't he matter?"

  "People do as they are asked, knowing the risks, and knowing the rewards. You do the same, do you not?"

  Kaylee's anger rippled at the cold logic; Elijah sometimes seemed to have an irritating irreverence for other human beings. At this particular moment, she was not feeling very magnanimous.

  "Asshole," she muttered.

  "Would you care to rephrase that?" the intercom inquired.

  "I said please let me finish this so I can get out of here."

  There was a click, and the mechanical hum faded from the background. One of the bodies lay near the vault door. The second, the woman, had fallen within a few steps upon the grate. Kaylee hesitated, waiting a moment longer before stepping forth. She looked at the lifeless eyes staring, mouths gaping, freezing their last moments of agony. She shuddered.

  "Keep moving."

  Tentatively, she put one foot forward onto the metal grating. Nothing. No ten thousand volts, no agonizing death. Maybe it would have been for the best, she thought. She skirted around the first corpse, striding directly towards the massive door. She paused, glancing at the dead woman who stared lifelessly back.

  Looking at how they were arranged, Kaylee theorized that he had stepped on to the grating before the voltage was triggered and given a couple of warnings before he reached the end. Seeing his plight, the woman foolishly moved to help. "She was trying to save him…" Kaylee murmured.

  "It had to be done, to protect what is ours," Elijah said.

  A brief series of grinding metallic noises resounded as the door began its unlocking sequence. A round central sphere spun counter-clockwise as heavy steel bars at several points along the circumference slid free of opposite housings. The door groaned loudly as the hydraulic pins released their hold.

  Kaylee started to feel better, her task nearly finished. She didn't like risking her neck for Elijah, but she grudgingly admitted he had helped many people, including herself. In spite of his cold nature, Elijah inspired a fierce loyalty in his people. Kaylee, not having been around as long as some of the others, didn't quite understand it. Elijah seemed more than a little reluctant to dispense trust to anyone; outsiders and newcomers definitely no exception. Maybe he's not that bad after-

  "Bring me a can of peaches," he said, breaking her train of thought.

  Kaylee stopped dead on the threshold, in moderate shock. "You've got to be kidding me. That's it?"

  "Yes, hurry up and keep quiet."

  This was too much. She spun back towards the camera, put her face inches from it and screamed, "You sent me into this festering shithole with corpses strewn about so you could have a can of goddamn peaches?! You son of a bitch. When I get back, I swear I'm going to-"

  "Going to do what?" the intercom inquired back, a sliver of irritation seeping into the pool of calm. "Return to the streets, alone and helpless? No. You will do as I ask. Get going."

  Trembling and stinging from the rebuke, Kaylee obeyed and pulled the door open. As she crossed inside, cool air washed over her. She turned, pulling the door shut. The hydraulics kicked in and tugged, sealing the door and trapping her.

  She walked down the middle, past shelves holding canned vegetables, boxed dry pasta, sauces and soups, and plenty of sealed bottles of water and juice. She stole glances about, fingers twitching, desperately wanting to snatch something and stuff it into her pocket. Stealing was frowned upon, and the penalty for such behavior was harsh. There, peaches. They were sitting on a shelf next to pineapple, mandarin oranges, and pears. Kaylee began to salivate, anger momentarily forgotten, replaced with rampant desire.

  With a squeal of feedback, the transmitted voice spoke, echoing loudly in the concrete room, "Are you finished?"

  Cursing under her breath, Kaylee snatched the can of fruit from the shelf and trotted back to the entrance, which, remote released by Elijah again, swung open. She stepped over the threshold, turning to close the door.

  Behind her came a noise of slapping bare footfalls, quickly approaching on the metal grating. She tried to spin around and face whoever it was, but she was seized from behind. A forearm clasped on her throat and something sharp jabbed into her back.

  "Don't move," a raspy voice and breath like rotting meat assailed her as the arm tightened around her throat. She almost gagged, eyes watering, but she ceased struggling for just a moment. Lulled into a sense of security at her obedience, relief spread at the point of her back as her attacker took the knife away. Kaylee saw the hand gripping the blade reach past her, trying to hook around and pull open the bunker door, which hadn't yet closed enough to trigger the hydraulic sequence. As he fumbled with the heavy door, his grip around her neck loosened.

  Seizing the moment, she deftly slid the knife from her pocket and triggered the blade. She jammed it into the side of his thigh, the cold metal sinking deep into the tissue. Her assailant screeched with pain and anger, releasing his hold. Instead of fleeing down the hallway, Kaylee sprang in the other direction, throwing her weight against the door. It slammed upon his wrist, and the undernourished and brittle bones shattered. The man screamed and sobbed, swinging wildly with his other hand to grab at her. She whirled, ducked under his outstretched arm, and sprinted down the corridor. She swung around the ladder, intending a hurried ascent.

  Only he wasn't chasing her. Yelling curses, his hand was caught in the door. After it slammed, the door had engaged its hydraulics, trapping him. He tugged feebly at his injured wrist, bellowing in agony as the central sphere of the door spun around, setting steel bars back in place and tightening the seal on the door. The already broken bones in his hand ground into powder, blood spurting from the wound and splashing down onto the metal grating. The vault door nestled back firmly in its cradle, becoming silent. The man continued to scream obscenities and yank at his pulverized hand.

  The new wound seemed like the least of his problems. Finally able to fully view the man, Kaylee was horrified to see the nearest to death one could get. His skin was ashen. His hair was thinning and filthy, matted against his scalp. The man's cheeks, like the rest of his body, were gaunt and hollow, his whole face looking like a bag of loosely hanging skin. Needle marks decorated both of his arms, along with festeri
ng open sores found everywhere on the exposed flesh.

  He was wearing a tattered brown T-shirt, whether natural color or just stained that way Kaylee couldn't tell, and filthy jeans. He wailed, an agonizing sound that made her cringe. Turning towards her, he glared with bloodshot yellow eyes, filled with hate. His cracked lips barely concealed rotting teeth.

  She froze, watching in horror as he turned back to his crushed hand and wrenched over and over, each time a sickening crack greeting her ears as he exacerbated the injury. His struggle to free himself came accompanied by a low, mechanical hum, and Kaylee felt a chill run down her spine as she understood the source.

  He, too, paused for a second, listening to the din which grew less faint. He glanced down at the dead man next to him, as though noticing the body for the first time. Dark realization crossed his eyes as he connected the burnt corpse to the metal grating upon which he stood. Frantically, he turned again, head jerking back and forth in terror. Finding nothing to assist, he began pulling at his trapped hand once more. Kaylee could hear him wheezing, "Help me, help me, help me," over and over. The statement didn't seem to be directed at her, but she had no idea to whom or what he spoke.

  Electricity slammed into the poor addict's body, causing him to spasm violently. Kaylee looked away, tears in her eyes and the fresh smell of burning flesh and hair wafting over, along with something bizarrely sweet. Sparks flared, creating an eerie, inconstant blue glow and casting shadows upon the walls. The man himself was silent, trying to cut loose an agonized shriek with muscles bound too tightly to allow any noise to escape. After what felt like a lifetime, the sounds of electrical discharge faded along with the deep hum, and there was silence for several moments.

  "Hurry up," came the pitiless voice. Kaylee wiped her face with her sleeve and turned towards the elevator shaft.

  "You're not forgetting anything?"

  She paused. The peaches. She no longer held them. She looked back over. Three bodies now adorned the small corridor, one still-smoking caught within the hold of the powerful steel door. Her can of peaches, dropped when she was attacked, had exploded from the electricity upon the metal grating, coating the area with sticky, sweet, preservative syrup and bits of fruit. That's what the smell was, she thought, cooking peaches.

  Without warning, waves of revulsion coursed through her body. Bile raged in her stomach, threatening to-

  She turned towards the elevator shaft and voided the contents of her stomach into the yawning darkness, faint splattering heard some distance below. She gripped the ladder, taking several deep breaths, spitting a few times, trying to clear her mouth of the bitter acids.

  "Are you all right?" an almost sympathetic tone resounded in the corridor.

  "Yeah…" she muttered. She gazed with a forlorn expression upon the mangled can of peaches with the sizzled, burned fruit. It seemed like it should have been metaphorical or poetic somehow, but if it was, she couldn't figure it out. She walked over to the elevator shaft and carefully scrutinized the area as far as she could see. Nothing. No one else.

  "Okay. I need to get a new can," she said.

  "Are you certain the area is clear?" Elijah's digitally transmitted voice came once again, sounding doubtful.

  "About as certain as I was a couple of minutes ago, but I'll go quick, and this time, I won't drop 'em no matter what." Kaylee took a deep breath.

  The room filled again with the sounds of grinding, mechanical devices as the door once again laboriously unlocked and disengaged. The deceased and cooked captive fell next to it. Barely looking down, Kaylee stepped over the corpse and into the bunker, striding to the shelf and grabbing another can. On her way out, she snatched a bottle of water. "I've earned this," she said before the intercom could object.

  "Very well."

  Once back outside, the door sealed itself shut one final time, secured and near impenetrable. This time, thankfully, it held no starving madmen in its jaws. Kaylee walked briskly without a downward glance, through the hallway to the elevator shaft. She cracked open the bottle and rinsed her mouth out before taking several generous gulps.

  Securing the new can of peaches under her chin, she swung out to the ladder above the yawning darkness and carefully began to ascend. Elijah hadn't said anything more, yet. She briefly wondered if she'd be punished for the trouble. She cast aside the thought, understanding that, as she reached the ground level of the living quarters, she would once again need to focus upon passing undetected.