El Finito Book 1

by M. E. Thorne

  She grabbed me and hauled me after her, protecting me with her body. Ten seconds later, everything rocked with a bone-rattling boom. My ears rang.

  Grabbing me, Gnasher ran towards the smoking hole we had punched in the wall. Beyond, a dark, seemingly endless, shaft loomed.

  Spinny started creating a rope, but before she could anchor it in place a massive explosion brought the building down behind us. The ceiling caved in, falling in a wave of shattered cement. We were carried along by the blast wave and sent tumbling down the hole, screaming as we fell.

  “This sucks,” I groaned, floating back to consciousness. I had no idea how long I had been out, but I knew I felt like crap.

  A damp, chilly hand rested against my brow. “Rest. You’ve suffered injuries and are running a fever.”

  The voice was cool, clinical, and detached.

  Squinting, I looked up and saw a pale, feminine face floating into view. “Who are you?”

  “Marcella,” she answered.

  She ran a finger along my side, eliciting a painful wince from me. My shirt and pants were off, and I was dressed just in my boxers, laying on some kind of soft mat.

  “Several of your ribs are fractured, and I believe you have suffered a concussion." She peeled back my eyelids and peered into my eyes. “I’ll administer a pain reliever and a treatment to enhance your natural healing process.”

  “What about the others?” I groaned. A killer headache was welling up along the back of my head.

  She rubbed her hands together, a slick substance building up between her fingers. When she slapped her palms against my side, I felt a strange, prickling sensation run over my skin.

  “They are sleeping." Marcella poked me again in the side, and I was relieved when it didn’t hurt as much.

  She didn’t push me down when I sat up onto my elbows. We were in a dim cave, with damp, blue light coming from a series of moss-filled orbs hanging from the rocky ceiling. I looked to the right and saw that Gnasher, Gloria, and the Syndicate member were nearby, lying atop a bed of lichen. Spinny hung in a corner, swaying as she slept on a web.

  “The Arachne carried you all here,” Marcella said. “It was an impressive display of selflessness.”

  “And where are we?" I rubbed my head, still feeling dizzy and in pain.

  “An emergency shelter,” she replied simply.

  “Thanks for the help,” I said, studying her more closely.

  She was deathly pallid, practically colorless. I could see the faint tracery of blue veins running below her damp skin. A pair of thick, fleshy antennas emerged from her brow, just below her ashen hair. She wore nothing but a simple white shift and thin sandals. With huge, dark eyes, she slowly blinked as I regarded her.

  “Not to be rude,” I ventured, “but I don’t think I’ve ever met a hybrid like you.”

  Spinny cracked open her eyes. “She’s a chimeric, created by combining human, slug, and plant DNA.”

  “Fungus,” corrected Marcella. “Our creators used fungus DNA.”

  Spinny awkwardly climbed down from her web and wobbled over. “Locke, are you alright?”

  “No,” I answered honestly. “But I’m a lot better than I was a few minutes ago.”

  Which was true. My dizziness had passed, and my headache had receded to a dull, throbbing ache. Even my fever had gone down a touch. I managed to work myself into a sitting position without wincing too much.

  “Marcella and her kind are another product of the Nakamura-Ghosi laboratories,” Spinny offered, limping next to me. Her hair was a mess, her typically neat braids half unraveled and hanging limply.

  “They were designed as living chemical synthesizers,” she explained, “able to analyze and produce a wide variety of compounds from within their bodies. They called themselves the Panacea; they are outstanding medics and healers.”

  “You know each other?” I guessed.

  “Not personally,” Marcella answered. “My kin and I are allies with the Arachne. They are our sisters, we all came from the same source.”

  “How come I’ve never heard of your kind?” I asked.

  “We all escaped the labs around the same time." Marcella closed her eyes as she sat down next to me. “The Arachne were friends when we needed them. We were all new to freedom and the dangers that it entailed.”

  “For years, we hid together in these caves,” Spinny gestured around us. “When we went higher into the Stacks, we met other chimerics, survivors from the war. I was separated from my sisters, but some of the Panacea managed to make it safely with me.”

  “You didn’t mention anything about them when you told us your story earlier,” I tried to keep any reproach out of my tone.

  “She was asked not to,” Marcella replied.

  “I am sorry,” the Arachne provided. “The Panacea preferred to be forgotten, lost.”

  “It was chaotic, noisy,” Marcella said, her normally placid voice holding a hint of condemnation. “Everyone was fighting, arguing. The others demanded my kin and I serve them. We declined, and then decided to withdraw, to disappear.”

  Spinny frowned. “Those were bad times. The corporations and their masters were dead, and the people left behind had no idea how to cooperate, to survive. This was before the State formed. Groups banned together, fighting over supplies, living space, and salvage rights. Unfortunately,” she looked at the slug-woman, “access to the Panacea was one of the things people most savagely fought over.”

  “We preferred the caves. It was moist and dark down there,” Marcella said. “We agreed to avoid all further contact with other chimerics unless necessary. Afterward, we went into hibernation.”

  “How long ago was this?” I wanted to know.

  “Seventy-nine years ago,” Spinny replied. “Before they left, the Panacea asked me to never mention them again and to ask the same of my sisters if I ever saw them again. They knew Arachne were long-lived and, given enough time, only we would remember them.”

  The disorientation I felt had nothing to do with my concussion. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, Marcella?”

  “One-hundred and thirty-seven,” she replied without missing a beat.

  “When we fell, we landed in a deep pool of water, an underground lake,” Spinny told me, trying to move the conversation further. “It’s probably what saved our lives. I managed to drag everyone out." She offered Marcella a warm smile. “I was overjoyed to meet Marcella along the shoreline.”

  “I’ve been awake for a few days,” Marcella stretched and yawned. “It’s been noisy above, and I’ve always been a light sleeper compared to my siblings. I was searching for the source of the disturbance when I found you. I deemed that saving you temporarily overrode our isolationist decree.”

  “So, now what?” I asked.

  “We need to get back to the Metrocomplex,” Gnasher said. She flopped down next to me, looking bedraggled and miserable. Both Spinny and I gave her hugs.

  “She’s right,” Spinny agreed. “The Syndicate has crossed the line. They raided the lab and tried to steal what is our rightful legacy. The fact that they destroyed the lab and all the knowledge it contained is an even worse crime.”

  She glanced over at the sleeping Syndicate woman, lips pressed tight.

  “What happened to all the stuff we salvaged?” I tried to change the subject.

  Spinny pointed to a sodden mess of silk and paper resting in the corner.

  “Well, shit,” I murmured. We might be able to save the data on the tablets if we’re lucky, but all the paperwork is ruined.

  I went through what had been dragged out of the lake. Almost all our food and supplies were gone, only a few soggy ration bars remained. I had lost all my tools, the sniffers were ruined, and almost all the lanterns were broken. All I had was my first-aid kit, which was sitting on top of my clothes in a nearby pile.

  There’s not even any rat jerky left, I noted dejectedly as I put my torn up shirt back on.

  Gloria woke up a f
ew minutes later, dazed and confused. A large bruise ran along the side of her face and neck, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed. Marcella disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with several cups.

  “Drink,” she instructed as she handed us all differently hued concoctions. “It’s medicine, it will speed up your recovery.”

  I tipped my glass, but the contents barely tilted. “What kind of medicine?”

  She just stoically stared at me till I felt unnerved and drank.

  It tasted like a mixture of shoe-polish and mint bubblegum. Despite gagging, I managed to choke the gunk down. The coughing and tearing eyes confirmed that nobody had enjoyed their dose. Marcella handed all of us glasses of water to wash the taste out of our mouths.

  She then peered at me “Locke, was it? Come with me.”

  Gnasher and Gloria looked at me in a concerned manner as I staggered after the pale woman. She led me around the corner, to what appeared to be a supply room, before speaking.

  “Did you come into contact with any mutagenic chemicals while exploring the Nakamura-Ghosi laboratories?” she asked bluntly.

  My mind automatically raced back to my dunk in the strange tank of chemicals. I mutely nodded.

  “I detected several odd chemical reactions occurring in your bloodstream,” she said, her voice utterly impersonal. “The medicine I just provided should inhibit the reaction, but I’m unable to fully stop or reverse the mutation. The changes are minor now, but they will accelerate. I suggest you seek the care of a clinical geneticist as soon as possible.”

  I felt a cold shudder run through my body. Is something going to happen to me? I still felt the same as always, outside my injuries. Am I going to turn into one of those flesh-lump monstrosities?

  A wet, hacking cough echoed through the cave. Returning to the others, we found the Syndicate woman was violently gasping for breath. Laying my hand against her brow, I felt that she was burning up.

  “I’ve provided some aid, but your friend won’t last much longer,” Marcella pronounced.

  “She’s not our friend,” I retorted without thinking.

  Gloria gave me a dirty look, leaning down to run a damp cloth over her forehead.

  “Do you know who the Syndicate is?” Gnasher asked Marcella.

  “Invaders,” she responded dispassionately. “Outsiders who came to El Finito to exploit and steal. My kin have never encountered them, but we are aware of their presence on the planet.”

  “Well, she’s one of them,” I said.

  “She’s also our best source of information,” Spinny supplied. “She’s probably the only person who can tell us how the Syndicate learned about Nakamura-Ghosi Genetics and why they went to such desperate lengths to steal its contents.”

  Marcella ran a hand along the woman’s chest. She had lost her white hazmat suit during the escape; underneath she was wearing an elastic black bodysuit. Her skin was waxy and gray, and she was sweating heavily.

  “She’s dying,” Marcella announced. “I can detect over a dozen pathogens attacking her major organs. She’ll be dead within an hour." She looked over at Spinny, “You said it was important that she survive?”

  “Please,” Gloria requested.

  Marcella furrowed her brow in concentration. “I can create an immune-system booster if you are all willing to provide a blood sample. During my earlier treatment, I detected that you have relevant antibodies. I can transfer a weakened version of them to her if you all agree.”

  Gnasher, Spinny, and I reluctantly agreed, while Gloria was more than happy to thrust her arm forward. Marcella touched us all briefly, then retreated to the far corner of the room, her head bowed in concentration. A few minutes later, she came back and pressed a finger into the unconscious woman’s arm.

  Almost immediately the Syndicate woman’s heavy breathing relaxed into a more steady rhythm.

  “Rest,” Marcella said. “It will take several hours for the medicine to take effect. Chimerics heal quickly, but it will tax your strength.”

  “Before that,” Spinny turned around.

  I finally noticed why she had been walking so unevenly. The rear legs on her right side were gone, leaving just two short, bleeding stubs.

  “Oh, shit, are you okay?” I stammered.

  Gnasher sighed and patted me on the shoulder, “It’s fine, I got this.”

  “This is normal?” I was feeling lightheaded again.

  “You’ve never seen me molt, have you?” Spinny said. “This is pretty common for Arachne. Like spiders, we can regrow missing limbs." She wiggled the stubs. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

  Gnasher reached out and grasped the severed legs. “You ready?”

  Spinny nodded.

  With a sickening snap, Gnasher broke off what was left of the shattered limbs. I felt faint. Crumpling onto my back, the cave ceiling spun as I blacked out.

  Chapter 10

  I had the weirdest, most unpleasant dreams. Writhing forms in the dark. Huge, yawning mouths screaming obscene ecstasies. And a wet, cloying musk that threatened to overwhelm all other sensations.

  Rolling over, I woke with a shocking jolt and the worst case of morning wood I had ever experienced. It felt like all the blood in my body had flowed into my dick and been trapped there, throbbing and painfully hot.

  Wrapping my arms around my knees, I did my best to hide my erection. Outside Spinny, the others were already awake. Gnasher, Gloria, and Marcella were huddled around one of our remaining lanterns, going over maps on a tablet. The Syndicate woman was still asleep, but she seemed to be in much better shape. Her breathing was steady and strong, and she no longer looked like she was on the verge of death.

  “Morning, honey." Gnasher turned her head and smiled. “Are you okay?”

  I just stared at her mouth. Damn, I just want to fuck her right now! Her mouth, her tits, her pussy!

  “Honey?” she repeated, more concerned.

  Shaking the crazy thoughts from my head, I nodded. “Sorry, just waking up, still feel kinda -- out of it.”

  She frowned and moved to get up, but I waved for her stay seated.

  “There’s a small waterfall down that tunnel,” Marcella pointed behind me.

  “Go get cleaned up” Gnasher suggested, “maybe that will help you?”

  Still staying half-hobbled over, I got up and started walking. All three women watched me as I left.

  About twenty meters down the tunnel I found the waterfall Marcella had mentioned. The passage opened up, revealing a cold, shallow pond. It was fed by a tumbling spring of water, which poured out of a crack in the wall. Stripping off my soiled clothes, I ducked under the stream.

  Even with the cold water running over me, my boner was still going strong. I tentatively touched the head of my cock, wincing at how sensitive it was.

  “You need a hand with that?”

  Spinning around, I saw Gloria approaching. She giggled and crouched at the edge of the water.

  “We couldn’t help but notice your difficulty walking,” she said. “Gnasher suggested I go check on you,” she gave me a sultry look, “ to see if I could offer some relief.”