by M. E. Thorne
“The batteries are dead, I’m sure,” Spinny wove a silk bag and started bundling valuables together for transport. “As long as the storage drives are intact, that’s all that matters, I’m sure the Bluehorns can retrieve the data later.”
“Hey, folks?" Gloria called from the far side of the room. “What are these things?”
Along the wall were numerous scientific-looking printouts and whiteboard illustrations. The largest one depicted what could charitably be called a giant, mutant spider-monster. The image presented a cross-section of the creature, which featured a dozen asymmetrical legs, a distorted head, and a dozen eyes running along its carapace. Its innards were clearly labeled with helpful post-it-notes and hand-written annotations.
“What is this thing?” I asked.
“My ancestor,” Spinny’s face was downcast.
I shook my head. “It looks nothing like you,” I objected.
Gnasher reaffirmed this as well.
“Not a direct ancestor,” Spinny explained. Her legs clicked on the tile floor as she walked up to the image. “The scientists who created the Arachne, and all hybrids, experimented with genetically enhanced animals and plants first. They proved to be difficult to control. Imagine spending billions of credits creating mutant creatures designed to weave bulletproof body armor, only to have them too stupid to follow directions and too savage to do anything but try and eat each other.”
“So, they were failures?” I ventured.
“Where do you think the tales of mutant, man-eating monsters came from?” Spinny asked. “Like the ghouls, the corporations dumped their failures into the caves below after they did not turn a profit. Afterward, they decided to create human-based hybrids. Creatures smart enough to do what they’re told and subservient enough they could be threatened and controlled.”
We were all unsettled by that idea. I used my tablet to take pictures of all the images pinned to the wall before we moved on.
The next few rooms were full of clear, transparent tanks and chemical vats. An extensive network of pipes and valves covered the ceiling and floor, creating cramped aisles and rows. It felt claustrophobic and unnerving.
Most of the containers were empty, but a few held crusted chemical goo or viscous liquids that bubbled and churned. I took pictures of every label and panel I could find, but I didn’t understand what they had stored.
I was looking around a particularly large vat full of frothing purple ooze when Gloria screamed and Gnasher growled. Hurrying over to join them, we were confronted by a pack of flesh-lump monsters.
The creatures were squeezed between two tanks but were slowly trying to spread out along the floor. They ranged from a foot or two in height, with mottled flesh and roughly ovoid shapes.
Gnasher was grossed out. “What the fuck are these things? Are they that dead thing’s babies?”
The nearest lump made a noise half-way between a fart and burp and lurched towards us. She delivered a brutal kick, which sent it spinning off down the aisle.
“Damn, that’s gross!" Gnasher whipped her foot back and forth, trying to get slimy gunk out of her fur.
I grabbed a lab coat hanging off a nearby hook and handed it to her to use as a towel.
Spinny deftly climbed to the ceiling, then lowered a net, easily capturing the lump. The thing thrashed and burped as it struggled to break free.
I hesitantly came forward and took a picture of it. Up close, it was even more nauseating. It’s gray and pink, like a pile of raw meat. A thick, goo covered tongue lolled out the opening along its base. I don’t think it has any kind of bones or internal structure. Just some kind of sphincter-thingy, which might be its mouth?
“I’ve never seen this kind of creature before,” Spinny said, peering upside down at the lump. “It’s not something the corporations made, they would never produce something so damn ugly.”
“Maybe it’s some kind of mutant?" Gnasher tossed the sodden lab coat away. The other lumps backed up when she growled at them. “Maybe a single-cell organism ate some of this chemical crap and mutated? Or someone left a petri dish out, it got exposed to radiation, and these things grew?”
“I’m not sure if they’re dangerous or not, but we should avoid them." Spinny crafted another net and used it to corral the remaining flesh-lumps back into the crevice they had crawled out of. She dumped the netted one on top of them, and they all began to retreat.
“I thought they were kind of cute,” Gloria mourned.
We all gave her a stunned look.
The floor shook and the lights flickered. The liquids inside the vessels sloshed against their sides as the reverberation of a distant explosion ran through the walls. The flesh-lumps all cried out before dashing completely out of sight.
“Oh shit!” Gnasher cursed, her hackles and tail standing out straight.
A second later, another series of smaller explosions and bangs began echoing off the walls. Distant, muffled screams quickly joined them.
“Gunfire!" Spinny looked panicked.
“What the fuck is happening?” Each gunshot rattled my nerves.
The diggers have arrived.
“We need to get out of here!" Gnasher took command of the group.
She ushered us past the chemical tanks and back through the research room. Smoke was starting to collect near the ceiling, and I could hear the shriek of safety alarms going off. We dashed out into the main hallway, only to be met by a burst of smoke and shrapnel.
Gnasher and I shielded the others, throwing our arms up over our heads.
I really hope these shirts Spinny made are as tough as we think they are.
Coughing and gagging, I peered up and saw a troop of hazmat-wearing troops pushing through a hole they had blasted in the wall. They turned and fired back through the breach. I could see their horrified faces through their faceplates as something inhuman slithered through the gap and grabbed them. Almost as quickly as they had appeared they vanished, only screams and hot bullet cartridges left in their wake.
“The Syndicate? What the hell are they doing here?” I coughed.
We could hear fighting all over the complex, with more dust falling from the ceiling as explosions rocked the labs. Fire alarms were going off everywhere.
“They were the diggers that were following us?” Gloria said. “How?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Gnasher said, pulling us back into the research room.
She pulled the broken door shut, and I helped her crudely weld it in place, forming a makeshift barricade.
“Spinny,” she turned to face the Arachne. “Is there any other way we can get out of here?”
“The stalls where they kept us,” Spinny closed her eyes, concentrating. “The hole my sisters and I used to originally escape might still be there.”
“Lead the way,” I said, “hurry!”
We ran back through the tank rooms. Some of the containers had fractured, and jets of foul liquid were shooting out of the cracks. Gnasher led us past them in a zig-zagging course, with Spinny providing directions that took us ever deeper into the laboratory complex.
Slamming down an emergency staircase, we kicked down a door and entered a huge room full of chemical vats. Unlike the ones above, all of them were full. We were on a precarious catwalk above the bubbling tanks. Viscous green liquid frothed just below our feet, and the air was full of harsh chemical fumes.
A few meters to our right, a group of terrified Syndicate troops came running out another door. We all turned and faced each other; neither group was sure how to react.
The leader of the troops, based on the red sash he wore, raised his rifle. His soldiers copied his motion. Spinny froze in fear, and Gloria stumbled to a halt. Gnasher and I positioned ourselves in the front again.
I wish I had something better than a machete, I told myself as we faced down their guns. Gnasher snarled and coiled for a jump.
A horde of flesh-lumps came crashing through the door and into the rear of the Syndicate soldiers. T
he monsters wrapped their tendril-like tongues around their prey, lashing themselves to their suits. Almost immediately the soldiers began screaming, the plastic material melting at the contact. Dropping their weapons, most scrambled and yelled, desperately trying to get free.
One of the Syndicate members dashed towards our group. The leader tried to grab her, but she dodged out of the way. Unlike the others, she had no weapons. She crashed into me, wrapping her arms around my midsection. Looking through her faceplate, I was shocked to recognize her as the woman whom I had seen days before inside the shopping arcade.
“What the fuck?” I yelled over the noise.
The Syndicate leader was trying to rally his soldiers, screaming orders, but they were panicking. Even more flesh-lumps attacked them, breaking their ranks. One of the soldiers in the front had two of the monsters grappled on his back. Screaming in fear, he fumbled with his weapon then reached for a black object attached to his belt, his fingers snagging on a metal ring.
The Syndicate woman in my arms screamed. “It’s a grenade!”
Instinctively, I shoved her aside and dove for cover, but it was too late. The grenade went off with a terrifying detonation. The catwalk shattered and broke. I had one last look at Gnasher’s horrified face as I was plunged into the tanks.
Chapter 9
You know, being melted by acid isn’t nearly as unpleasant as I thought it would be.
The thought came drifting lazily through my mind. I was floating in some kind of warm liquid. My limbs tingled, and my head felt wonderfully numb. Distant, percussive noises were like music being played in some far off room. The only discomfort I felt was a nagging, burning sensation along my groin. But even that wasn’t too bad.
I guess I’m dead.
That didn’t sound right, but it worked for that moment. I tried to open my eyes, but all I got was a wash of strange colors and stinging pain as something splashed across my face.
“Get him out! Pull him out, hurry!”
The voice was persistent, high, and full of fear. Daring to open my eyes again, I saw a bunch of strange people above me. All of them looked afraid.
One of them hurled something towards me, which soggily landed on my chest. They worked together and began tugging and pulling, and I slowly felt myself being lifted upwards and outwards.
Too bad, I thought. I was just starting to enjoy being dead.
“Use the smelling salts!”
Something harsh and burning was shoved under my nose. Almost immediately I snapped back to reality, choking and coughing.
We were on the floor of the tank chamber. Smoke was everywhere, and I could hear people screaming and dying all around us. Gnasher and Spinny were covered with blood, only some of which was their own. Gloria was weeping nearby, the Syndicate woman unconscious across her lap.
Coughing and spitting, I saw I was covered in some kind of filthy green chemical, soaked to the bone. “What just happened?”
Gnasher tore a ragged sleeve off her shirt and passed it to me. I used it to wipe off my face and get the worst of the gunk out of my eyes.
“You fell into the tank,” she said simply, eyes tearing from the smoke or fear, I couldn’t tell. “We thought you were dead.”
I looked up and over my shoulder. Above us was what was left of the catwalk, the broken pieces dangling over an open tank. A wet trail went over the rim and down the side, pooling around where I was.
“Thanks for saving me,” was all I could think to say. Gnasher wrapped me in a tight hug, and Gloria lunged to join in.
“Is everyone okay?" I looked over the group. They were all cut-up and hurt, but I didn’t see any traumatic injuries.
“We’ll live,” Gnasher stated firmly, helping me up. I felt weak and sick like I was beginning to run a low-grade fever.
“Spinny,” Gnasher called, “can you get us to the exit from here?”
“Yes,” she looked around the room, then pointed to a door against the far wall.
“Let’s go." I reached down and grabbed the Syndicate woman, stumbling when I tried to sling her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
Gnasher looked surprised. “Wait, we’re taking her with us?”
“We can’t just leave her here,” Gloria argued.
“Having a hostage might be useful if we run into any more of their troops,” Spinny added with practicality. She still looked desperately scared but had managed to put a lid on her fear.
The woman was unconscious but breathing. I noticed a ragged tear ran along the side of her suit. Not that it matters, she might be dead within the hour now that she’s been exposed to the air and all our germs. Still, we’re not cold-blooded murderers, we won’t just leave her behind.
Spinny reached over and grabbed her, quickly lashing her across the back of her abdomen. “We’ll go faster this way.”
We shambled forward, constantly on the lookout for more flesh-lumps or Syndicate soldiers. Even larger, louder concussive blasts rang out, but they also sounded like they were further away. More distressing were the seismic shudders that caused the whole building to shake.
We took another stairwell down but found the door at the bottom was blocked by a herd of flesh-lumps. Gnasher flashed her claws at the creatures, preparing to defend us, but the strange monsters took no action.
Carefully stepping forward, Gloria extended a wing and brushed the tip against the nearest lump. It made an angry, bubbling noise, but remained passive. None of the creatures moved against us.
“Maybe they’re not hostile to hybrids,” she offered, poking the thing again.
She walked to the base of the stairs and used her wings to gently push the lumps out of our way. They only reacted when Spinny passed by, the Syndicate woman laying across her back, but they made no further advance.
“Whatever they are, they really don’t like the Syndicate,” I said.
The lowest level of the complex was divided into holding-pens and stalls, dedicated to imprisoning Nakamura-Ghosi’s test subjects and victims. Chains, bars, cameras, and guard stations were everywhere. The whole place reeked of forgotten despair and pain.
The walls continuously shook, and hairline cracks were forming everywhere. Beyond the constant percussive blasts and gunfire, we could hear the walls buckling and concrete crumbling.
“This whole place is coming down,” I panted. What strength I had was fading fast. “Those idiots are going to get us all killed. If we don’t escape soon we’ll be crushed!”
Spinny pushed forward. “The hole is just up ahead!”
We were almost thrown off our feet as part of the ceiling came down. Gloria barely dodged being hit and we all scrambled to avoid the falling debris.
“Hurry!" Gnasher tossed aside a pipe that was blocking our path.
Entering a narrow chamber, Spinny hammered her fists against a mismatched portion of the concrete wall. “It’s blocked! Those damn robots patched the hole.”
“Explosives -- front pouch,” I gasped, slouching against the wall.
Gnasher grabbed me. “Honey?”
“Hurry!" I said. The floor tilted out from under me. I couldn’t hold myself up, I was just too weak and dizzy.
Gnasher grabbed all the explosive charges we had and slammed it against the wall. “Everyone, into the stalls, then duck down and cover your ears!”