by Andra Leigh
“Ready?” he asked the room in a low voice.
Three grim nods answered him. Eliscity went first, feeling out of her depth walking down the centre of the tunnel in crimson. The others kept to the shadows, relying on her to signal if someone was approaching.
The Clinic was wood, stone and metal. Wooden beams, rafters and pillars constructed the foundations of the domes and tunnels. Stone was built up around the wood forming the walls that curved into ceiling, while strong sheets of metal swung in doorframes. Together they fortified the Clinic into a crude design.
The tunnel opened into a dome that was sectioned into rings. The layers encased each other, getting smaller as they moved into the centre of the dome. Each ring was a looping hallway with rooms off the inner wall. In four places, spaced equally around the ring, were passageways into the next ring.
A guard station was to their left, nestled so far into the wall that it bulged out into the next ring. With only waist high walls enclosing the square they could see through into this second layer. A wooden desk littered with a stack of papers, a few loose bolts and a flask took up half the station. The seat pushed back from it was, thankfully, empty.
Opening the door and peering into the nearest room, Casamir withdrew his head and hissed, “Autopsy.”
Confused, Eliscity peeked into the room. A cold metal table had been placed in the centre of the room where the walls eased outward and curved with the shape of the looping hallways. It was a disconcerting shape that Eliscity remembered well. All of the rooms she had experienced in her time at the Clinic had been shaped the same. The table had small holes along its length, draining down into a bowl below it. A bench of shiny, sharp and sickening tools for cutting the dead open sat against the wall, as well as shelves and cabinets.
“Oh,” Eliscity answered simply.
“I say this dome is a good place to start for us,” Jinx whispered.
Raiden grunted his agreement. “Reports on the dead.”
That meant Eliscity would be on her own from now on.
Jinx reached out and smoothed her collar down, looking into her eyes for a rare moment. “Be careful,” he ordered quietly. “Get out alive.”
Worried that she would open her mouth to speak and throw up, she settled by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a brief hug. After a thud on the shoulder from Raiden and a nod from Casamir she walked away from them, continuing around the dome.
She knew the quickest way through the dome and into the next tunnel would be to stay to the outer ring. Up ahead of her she heard the squeak of two sets of boots and low mumbles. Rather than test her disguise, she ducked into the passage connecting the outer ring to the next and pressed against the cold stone, willing herself to disappear into the shadows. The approaching footsteps passed her and she caught a snippet of conversation followed by a throaty chuckle. When their voices faded from earshot, she eased back into the hallway and hurried on. She reached a new tunnel leading out of the dome and decided to take it.
She had no idea if she was going the right way. Reaching the next ringed dome, she looked around foolishly for a sign post pointing neatly toward the blood bank. She knew there would be no such sign, but what she hadn’t been prepared for was the complete lack of signs all together. She headed left, thinking that at least with the coat on she may not look entirely suspicious asking for directions. She could say she’d gotten turned around in the maze of tunnels and domes. All she had to do was find someone to approach.
“Hey!”
A hand landed on her shoulder. She reacted instinctively, driving her elbow backwards and was rewarded with a grunt as she connected with the lower belly.
So much for asking for directions…
Grabbing the fingers that were clutching at her arm, she bent them backwards and twisted herself around, coming face to face with a guard. She only just had time to register the series of jagged scars slicing through his right eyebrow, before he rammed his fist into her chest, causing her to drop his other hand. The force of his hit shocked her backwards and she sputtered for breath as pain exploded across her breastbone. She was thankful he hadn’t hit her newly healed ribs; there would have been no way they would have held up against the impact.
Having been pushed from him she had a chance to see where the guard had been heading before coming up behind her. A guard station jutted out of the wall ahead of them, just able to be seen before the corridor curved out of sight.
She sidestepped as he moved forward, closing the gap between them and the guard station. He was a foot taller than her and built wide. He wouldn’t have any trouble wrapping his arms around her and crushing every bone in her body.
As if reading her thoughts he lunged for her. She ducked and lashed out, kicking his shins as she spun up and around behind him. Before he had a chance to turn she drove her foot into the base of his spine. It didn’t push his solid frame as far as she hoped but it did buckle him to his knees. She allowed herself a moment of victory. Mistake. The guard struck out, sweeping her legs out from under her. She hit the floor hard. Her head snapped back, bouncing against the stone. Lights popped in front of her eyes. Her ears rang. Knowing it would be suicide to remain still with two of her senses disorientated, she rolled to the right and felt a punch clip her shoulder, confirming this. Pushing to her feet, she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision of all the twinkling stars.
The guard found his feet at the same time, punching toward her jaw. She dipped low, slamming the heel of her hand into his chest. He didn’t falter. Evading his grasp, she uppercut his chin, instantly regretting hitting him with a closed fist as her knuckles crunched together. Dodging a punch just in time, she silently cursed herself for putting on the coat without cutting slits for her wings. She drove a knee up in an attempt to render his future childless but he blocked her easily and swung at her head. He clipped her across the ear, causing the high pitched ringing in her head to be replaced by a hollow tone.
The man had strength on his side. One more direct hit from him and she would be on her backside seeing black. Lights out. Ducking another blow she weaved away from him as much as the narrow hallway would allow. Trying to stay steady on her feet, she realised his strength wasn’t backed with speed or precision. His punches swung wildly. Provided she kept herself out of his hold she should be fast enough to avoid connecting with his fists. Unfortunately, the guard didn’t share in her plan. He dove forward again, capturing her in his grasp and slamming her into the wall opposite the guard station. Their new proximity offered her a target, so she crunched the heel of her hand up into his windpipe. Stumbling back he hit the station and grappled around, trying to find what she assumed was balance but turned out to be a boltbow. She swore and threw herself to the side as a bolt punched into the wall where her head had been.
She really had to quit underestimating this man.
Using the second it took him to reload the boltbow to strip off her coat, she darted forward as he levelled the weapon at her again. He didn’t loosen the bolt immediately, waiting for a clear shot. Eliscity refused to give it to him, snapping out her wings during her quick approach. She saw his eyes widen, the white scars over his eyebrow bold against his ashen face. She knew the shock of her wings would be her only advantage and that it wouldn’t last long, so she used the tattered shadows to push a current out behind her, propelling her forward with fresh speed and tackled him around the middle. Between her shoulder slamming into his gut and the station wall halting his spine quite suddenly, she heard the air burst out of his lungs. Too close for him to shoot her now, she wrestled the bow from him – the bolt clattering harmlessly to the floor – and elbowed him firmly in his centre. The hit sent him to his knees, gasping for breath. She slammed her knee into his face. The other side of his head cracked against stone wall and he collapsed to the ground unconscious.
Although her vision had cleared and the ringing in her ears was subsiding, he’d landed some good hits on her. The back of her head was ble
eding from where she’d hit the ground, one knuckle in her right hand felt cracked and her breastbone looked bruised.
Swooping to pick up the thin bolt, she strung it into the bow, two fingers curled around the wire, drawing it back until it was tense. Her skin prickled cold then hot against the metal and she realised it was because it was iron. It made her hand itch like all the times she had tried to touch the oak tree. Now understanding why, she levelled its awkward weight at the guard, lining him up over the bolt’s sleek tip. She didn’t like the surge of power she felt holding the ugly weapon. She tried to banish the thought and focus on how he hadn’t hesitated to take a shot at her. Logically she knew she should release the bolt. He was the enemy. If there was ever a mutual understanding to be found between enemies it would be over this moment and the appropriate next action.
Kill.
But he was unconscious.
That didn’t change what side he was on.
Did he even know what side he was on? Was he aware there were sides to be chosen?
Had he not just tried to beat her to a pulp…?
It was his job. And it wasn’t like he succeeded. She was the one standing above him, holding his weapon.
She couldn’t do it. She’d barely been able to handle killing Harmon, despite knowing all the evil he was responsible for in her life. There would be no way she could live with herself for killing a man she didn’t know the sins of.
She dragged the man’s dead weight into the middle of his station, flopping and folding his heavy limbs behind his desk. He would be spotted the moment someone peered around the low wall but it was slightly more subtle than leaving his unconscious form in the middle of the corridor. Tossing the boltbow onto the ground near his feet, she wiped her palms over her shirt. Based on the dent to his head he wouldn’t be waking any time soon, but she knew she had to hurry.
“Ouch,” a voice exhaled behind her.
Spinning around with a yelp, Eliscity’s fright was quickly replaced by irritation.
“Faust?” she hissed at the lanky boy standing by a crimson stain she suspected was her blood.
At least he had the decency to look guilty.
Shaking her head, she realised she wasn’t surprised to find him standing in front of her. Of course the Triplets had followed them from Millem Falls. She only considered ordering him to find his brothers and get out of the Clinic briefly, before dismissing it as a ridiculous request. So she resorted to empty threats.
“If you survive this, I will make the rest of your life miserable.”
“Understood.”
“I don’t think you do. I can be very creative. And I’m sure I can learn to be patient.”
“We deserve to be able to fight, just like you.”
“This isn’t a fight.” Eliscity cringed as Faust looked pointedly at the guard lying behind her. “That’s how I ask for directions. Doesn’t count.”
“Does the carnage on the way to you count?”
“What are you talking about?” That was when she heard it. Distant and muffled sounds were echoing from the direction she had come. Even from this distance she knew they were noises of battle. Swearing, she realised she had been foolish to think she could walk in here with the likes of Casamir and not have him hit at least three people. No doubt they were responsible for beginning the commotion she could hear.
“You may not be wanting a fight,” Faust said, breaking through her thoughts, “but you got one now.”
He was right. And while that didn’t change her purpose, it put all the people imprisoned in the Clinic’s walls in more danger. What the Bloods was she going to do? Was it worth trying to make this a rescue mission?
Without warning, an explosion blasted from the direction of the fight, its aftershock rocking through the tunnel and into the dome that she and Faust now stood in.
That made up her mind.
Spinning back to Faust she spoke quickly. “Where are your brothers –”
“We ain’t leaving,” Faust cut in.
“No. Get as many of the patients out as possible.”
Faust leapt into action immediately, his tall frame disappearing down the tunnel toward the explosion. She wondered what there could possibly be to blow up then remembered the incinerators. A sickening worry crawled through her insides. Was everyone okay? She barely had time to pat her pockets, verifying her cache of weapons were still safe, when Faust was back with his brothers.
“You three get as many patients out as possible.” Forrest and Fletcher nodded seriously. Grabbing Fletcher who was the closest and holding him by the scuff of his neck, she emphasised her next point. “As many as possible, but not so many that you three don’t come out. You hear me? If a time for self-sacrifice comes, you don’t take it, you save yourselves. That is an order. Okay? Let me deal with the guilt. Got me?”
After a moment Fletcher gave her a single firm nod.
“Good.”
“I’m going with you,” said Faust, his eyes as dead set as hers.
She didn’t have time for this. Heat from the explosion was rolling down the tunnel, kissing the side of her face.
“Fine.”
With the volume of the fight rising, she cast out any further thought of stealth and raced through the dome, the Triplets a step behind. She kept to the outer edge of the buildings, so as to not get lost and just hoped that would be enough to tell her something about each dome’s purpose.
In the next dome they found the patient cells. She’d hoped the rooms would be a bit further from the location of the explosion but no such luck. Some doors were already shuddering with the pounding of their prisoners. Eliscity tried not to think about the people trapped in their small cells. She had a job to do. Forrest and Fletcher rushed up to the doors, calling through the metal and bending to the locks. Faust clapped both of them on the shoulder before following her. Moving through the next tunnel they emerged out into the night. The dome walls were high, but did not meet at the top, leaving the starry sky on display. Without a roof, Eliscity could make out the glow of a fire touching the dark sky above the incinerator. The space in the dome itself was bare, aside from marks and stains coating the dirt floor. With a jolt of disgust she realised it was an arena. Glancing over to Faust she saw his face was twisted into a grimace as he looked across the area. He was remembering something. Maybe she had been lucky when she had been kept from the general population at the Clinic.
Grabbing Faust by the arm she dragged him across the large dome. Before they could reach the next tunnel two guards and a female doctor came barrelling out of it toward them. They’d clearly been heading for the incinerator and were caught in surprise at the two intruders in front of them.
Eliscity kicked out at the closest guard, catching him squarely in the gut. He dropped his boltbow, its bolt separating from it to thud into the dirt a few metres away. The other guard moved to defend his partner, raising his weapon, but Faust chose that moment to snap out of his stupor and leap onto his back. The man roared, trying to throw Faust off, but he was lanky enough to wrap himself around the man like ivy.
Eliscity’s guard was recovering quickly, so she couldn’t pay any more attention to Faust. Her man feinted a blow left and struck with his right, connecting with her cheek. Tasting blood, she blocked his next two hits, whipped her already unfurled wings around with a quick snap, giving herself enough momentum to twist her entire body in a circle and lash out with her foot, cracking into his jaw. Without pausing, she rammed her elbow into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He went down, conscious but groaning.
She looked over to see how Faust was faring. Not well, apparently. He was turning purple under the other guard’s choke hold. Starting forward to help, she felt a hand snake around her ankle and pull. Breaking her fall with her hands, she felt something cold press against her palm, itching and burning into her flesh amid the dirt. Clenching her fist around the object, she twisted around as much as the grip on her leg would allow and – without ceremony –
stabbed the head of the bolt into her assailant’s side. The guard swore, falling away from her, clutching desperately at the protrusion.
Clambering to her feet, she lunged toward Faust but pulled up short when she spotted a tendril of smoke rising from where the guard’s hands were fastened around his throat. Faust wasn’t clawing or pulling at the enemy’s hold, as she imagined the reaction of someone being throttled would be. His hands were limp at his sides. But his eyes were alert. A quiet, sizzling noise was coming from the guard’s hands, which had begun a tense tremble, as if struggling to hold on to a boy who wasn’t trying to fight him off. Physically, anyway. Eliscity grinned. Why had she been so worried about the Triplets coming? They were capable of looking after themselves because of what the Clinic had made them. The Clinic had solidified its own destruction simply by carrying out its purpose. By playing with the Bloods they had created the people who would bring about their downfall.
The guard was yelling now, trying to pry his red and smoking hands off the elemental. It wasn’t easy. His fingers had locked in the rigid chokehold position, burning into the shape. There was the sound of flesh ripping, a sob from the guard and a deep inhale from Faust. The guard fell to his knees, arms shaking, holding his clawed hands in front of him. The skin on his palms looked as if it were melting, bubbling like a boiling pot.
Feeling nauseated, Eliscity looked away. Faust was taking deep breaths, his throat splotchy from where he’d been strangled yet completely absent of burns. Rubbing his neck, his eyes were glued to the guard’s burning hands.
“Did you know you could do that?” Eliscity breathed.
Flicking wide eyes over to her he shook his head.
Eliscity looked down at the guard she had stabbed in the side. Sweat glistened across his pale and clammy skin, but provided he didn’t do something foolish like tug the bolt out and bleed to death, he’d live.
Standing in the open arena the noises of the battle floated over the walls from behind them. Shrieks and yells were clashing in the air. More than her three friends could be responsible for. It sounded like Forrest and Fletcher had succeeded in freeing some of the patients and they were joining in.