El Finito Book 1

by M. E. Thorne

  It had the intended effect on the Syndicate soldiers. I looked over the banister and saw several of them take off and run, either towards the double-doors or back into the Honormark facility. Those foolish enough to run back into the complex would quickly find themselves trapped in sticky webs or tripping over fungal beds.

  Gloria landed next to me, her face flush with excitement. I was happy to see she was uninjured. Fired up by Gnasher’s performance, she let loose her shrill call, which sent another wave of hysteria through the Syndicate forces.

  They were practically trampling over each other to get away. Valash’s threats or the orders from their officers did nothing to rally the frightened and disorganized troops.

  “Get ready,” Gnasher commanded, squatting at the top of the stairs. “Go.”

  At her prompt, all of us ran down the stairs and towards the exit.

  I carried the broom handle, using it as an impromptu club, cracking Syndicate soldiers over their heads if they got too close. Gloria soared above, diving at anyone who tried to get in our way.

  Gnasher went low, slinking along the floor. She aimed for exposed ankles and hooked Syndicate members as they tried to run, sending them tumbling and tripping into each other. I imagined she was having the time of her life.

  Marcella brought up the rear, carrying Gloria’s rucksack and bringing Sabra along. If anyone was foolish enough to get near them, she simply splashed their helmets with putrid, sticky goo. They screamed and pawed at their faceplates, convinced their suits were about to melt.

  It was complete chaos. We could barely see a meter in front of our faces. Syndicate soldiers raced about, their shadows looming through the smoke. Gunshots, screams, and the sound of stamping feet was almost deafening.

  Keeping my head down, I just kept moving towards our goal.

  I rammed the broomstick into a soldier's gut. He had been busy aiming his rifle into the air, completely unaware of our presence. Kneeing him in the face after he crumpled over, I kicked his gun away into the smoke.

  “We’re almost there,” I called.

  A figure jumped through the mist, tackling me to the ground.

  My attacker straddled my chest, a knife clutched in a two-handed grip. He drove it down, aiming for my heart.

  I barely managed to block the blow with the broom handle, which snapped in half. Hammering the broken remnants against his helmet with one hand, I wrestled for control of the weapon with my other.

  I recognized him, his face twisted in hate, behind his helmet. Valash pressed his weight down even as I bucked my legs and tried to get free.

  “I’m going to kill you,” he screamed.

  Dropping the broom handle, I grabbed his red sash, balled it up in my fist, and pulled as I rolled toward the right. Valash tumbled over, and I kicked him hard in the chest.

  “Get the hell off me,” I yelled, trying to deliver another kick to his head as I regained my footing.

  He whipped his knife forward, slashing me across the shin. I screamed in shock and pain, toppling back over.

  Using his free hand, he pushed himself forward and pinned my legs with his chest. With a downward strike, he stabbed me in the thigh.

  The pain was excruciating. He drew back the knife, now soaked red, and gave me a feral grin.

  “I recognize you,” he said, the inside of his faceplate smeared with blood. “I’m surprised you survived your dip in the tank.” He laughed as I struggled to get free. “I’m going to hand you over to the scientists for dissection, I bet they’ll find all kinds of interesting things swimming around inside of you.”

  Gnasher dropped onto his exposed back, screaming and clawing. Valash reared back, futilely trying to stab her or knock her off.

  Taking the opportunity, I used my uninjured leg to drive a kick right into his groin. He grimaced and buckled, curling into himself. Gnasher continued to strike him, raining blows on his head and back.

  “Help me,” I pleaded to Gnasher, hoping my bloodied state would break her out of her frenzy.

  She gave me one look, then leaped off Valash’s huddled form. She placed her hands against my wounds, attempting to staunch the blood.

  Reaching for my first aid kit, I pulled out the adhesive spray and emptied the canister. It stung like hell, but the bleeding stopped.

  Gnasher helped me up, her shoulder under mine, and we limped towards the double-doors.

  Spinny was already there. Several moaning Syndicate members were cocooned nearby. “Locke! Are you okay?”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Gloria said, coming down for a landing next to me.

  She grabbed me, freeing Gnasher to help with the doors. Marcella, Sabra in hand, joined us as Spinny and Gnasher shoved the exit fully open. The smoke was sucked out, flowing around our ankles and into the dark hallway.

  “Run,” I gasped.

  Chapter 15

  I lost track of things after that. Any adrenaline I had from fighting Valash quickly drained away, leaving me lightheaded and weak. The others took turns helping me along as we fled.

  Gnasher desperately consulted the maps and tried to lead us true. I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Behind us, I could hear the Syndicate soldiers in pursuit. Valash, or some other officer, had managed to wise up to our deception and finally rallied the troops.

  There was no time for Spinny to stop and set down web traps. Gloria circled back and threw the last of our grenades, hoping to obscure our trail with smoke and noise.

  We paused only to hide and avoid Syndicate pursuit. We’d duck into closets and offices, hoping the soldiers would pass without noticing. We heard them calling to one another, sweeping the ruins in haphazard, crisscrossing search patterns. That played into our favor since it became impossible to tell our tracks from their own.

  It felt like hours before we finally lost the Syndicate soldiers in a maze of broken hallways and passages. We were in a region of explosive breaches and shattered halls. The last Syndicate search party had barely missed us, while we had hidden in a crater, ducking below the sweep of their lanterns. Hold our breaths, we waited till they had passed before taking off in the opposite direction.

  All of us were exhausted, and the adhesive I’d applied to my leg had broken. Blood seeped down my leg and soaked into my boot.

  “We need to stop,” Gnasher said.

  We were creeping through a large room, the rusted remains of industrial machinery providing us cover. She peered around, and then directed us towards a side room. Its door only held up for a second against her brutal kicks. As soon as we were inside, she shoved a nearby filing cabinet over the opening, blocking the way.

  Spinny laid me on top of a table. My head sagging to the side, I saw we were in some kind of monitoring room. There were rows of terminals, uncomfortable-looking office chairs, and abandoned coffee mugs. Cracked display screens hung drunkenly on the walls.

  Someone was kind enough to tuck some paper beneath my head as a pillow.

  Marcella hovered into view. “You are badly injured, but I will deliver first aid.”

  “Thanks,” I croaked, before passing out.

  Coming to later, I felt weak and awful, but not like I was actively dying. Glancing down, I saw I was only dressed in my boxers, my jumpsuit was a blood-soaked mess laying nearby.

  Well, at least I’m not horny, I thought to myself as I inspected the spider silk bandages that wrapped around my leg. Below the wrappings were two healing wounds, scabbing over but still pink and tender.

  “I was able to stabilize your condition,” Marcella announced.

  I almost fell off the table.

  She had been standing just out of view. Placing a cool, damp hand on my chest, I felt my racing pulse settle down.

  “How is everyone?” I asked once I felt able to speak.

  “The others suffered non-critical injuries. Your condition was the most serious. The injury to your thigh had damaged one of your major arteries, and there was some muscle t
rauma,” she answered. “I estimate it will take another week for you to fully recover, but you should be able to move with minimal discomfort in the meantime.”

  “I’m glad to hear about the others” I murmured, relaxing. “How long was I out for?”

  “We’ve been here since yesterday, recuperating.”

  I looked up at her. “Thank you for saving me.”

  She simply nodded.

  Looking around, I saw the others were nearby, asleep. They were all huddled together, even Sabra, in the next aisle over. They looked utterly beat, their clothes filthy and streaked with soot.

  Leaning back down, I invited Marcella to take a seat on the edge of the table. “Any idea where we are?”

  She sat down, keeping her hand on my chest. “Gnasher and Sabra spent several hours consulting the maps. Sabra believes we are still in Honormark territory, but near a border skirmish zone with Tsar Shang Industries. We are sure to encounter blockages and obstacles if we continue our southern course.”

  I closed my eyes. “Any sign of the Syndicate soldiers?”

  “They have lost our trail. We have not detected their presence for some time,” she answered.

  “Great,” I mumbled. “Think I’m going back to sleep for a while.”

  When I woke up I was happy to see everyone else was up and moving about uninjured. They were sitting together around a lantern, talking, and eating what was left of the vending machine food.

  Getting up proved to be challenging, but not as bad as I had feared. Hobbling over, I lowered myself down in the chair next to Gnasher and grabbed a corn chip from her hand.

  “Feeling well enough to steal from your girlfriend? You must be doing better,” she laughed as she hugged me gently.

  “Not one-hundred percent, but much better,” I confirmed, looking towards the Panacea. “Thank you again, Marcella.”

  Marcella didn’t hear me, she was sitting with Sabra, and the two of them were working on disassembling a small, black cylinder.

  I felt a second of panic. “Is that a grenade?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s just a smoke grenade, and it’s a dud,’ Gloria replied casually. “I pulled the pin, but nothing happened.”

  Sabra removed out what I assumed was the igniter, carefully setting it aside. “We’re taking it apart. Marcella wants to see what chemicals are used inside.”

  “If I can understand the components and the chemical reaction they trigger, I should be able to replicate the effect,” the Panacea said as she poked the insides of the cylinder.

  “Could be pretty useful,” I agreed. “So what’s the plan, I assume you’ve been figuring out our next steps?”

  Sabra frowned. “Once you’re well enough to move, we were going to continue heading south. But it looks like it could be rough going.”

  “With Locke’s decreased locomotion, an alternative route might be better,” Marcella finished studying the grenade. She pointed to the paper map. “There should be a tram tunnel east of here. If we take that, it should lead to Grand Cooper Station.”

  “Grand Cooper Station?” Gloria raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of it.”

  “It was built before the war,” Sabra provided. “Constructed during a rare moment of civic unity between the corporations. It served as a transport hub for the citizen-employees of El Finito." She looked at the map. “Nobody knows its exact location anymore.”

  “The old-timers in the Delvers’ Guild mention it occasionally,” Gnasher said. “Their version of El Dorado. Supposedly it’s only a couple of kilometers east of the Metrocomplex, but no one can figure out a way there.”

  “Some of my kin have established a colony there,” Marcella explained. “If we can rendezvous with them, they will help us reach the Metrocomplex.”

  I asked about something that had been nagging me for a while. “Marcella, just out of curiosity, how many Panacea colonies are there?”

  “Top secret,” she responded firmly.

  “Are you sure they’re still there?” Gloria wondered.

  “My kin can communicate over great distances using spores,” the slug-woman answered. “We can send updates on our status, describe dangers we’ve encountered, or send requests for aid.”

  “Before we left, my colony reached out to our neighbors and alerted them to recent events, and they, in turn, alerted theirs. By this point it is likely all the colonies on El Finito are aware of our mission.”

  “That’s amazing!” Gloria reached over and gave her a tight hug. Marcella bore it stoically.

  “Everyone rest up,” Gnasher recommended. “I’ll go out and scout for a bit, see if I can find an easy route to the tram tunnel.”

  “Be careful,” I cautioned her.

  “I’m always careful,” she said.

  I sighed. “Liar.”

  The warmth from Gnasher snuggling up against my side woke me up a few hours later. I groggily opened my eyes and found her next to me on my makeshift bed.

  She was gently purring.

  “How’d it go?” I whispered, trying to avoid waking the others.

  “I think I found the right way to go, but I had to turn around before finding the tram tunnel,” her tail flickered about. “Either way, we shouldn’t run into any major roadblocks.”

  I sat up and leaned my head against the wall. “That’s good. Any sign of the Syndicate?”

  “Nope." She carefully prodded my leg. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better,” I answered. “Marcella’s been hovering over me, but she says I should be good to walk by tomorrow.”

  “That’s not the only part of you that’s recovered,” she sniggered. “Did you forget you were only wearing your boxers?”

  Looking down, I cursed as I saw the boner that was poking out of my shorts. “Son of a bitch.”

  “You sound like you're mad.” She experimentally ran a finger along my shaft, sending me shivering.

  “You'd be pretty pissed too if you were horney all the time,” I countered.

  She giggled, unzipped her jumpsuit, and pulled it down before straddling my waist. “Idiot. I am horney all the time.”

  Her kiss was surprisingly delicate; a light, sensuous brush against my lips.

  A fire kindled in my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and drew her close, her nipples digging into my skin. We kissed again, more forcefully.

  I ran my tongue over her fangs, delighting in how sharp they felt. The small pricks of pain were sublime when paired with my growing pleasure.

  She drew back, but just so we could finish shimmying out of our clothes. Her sex was moist against my legs. I pulled her forward, sandwiching my prick against her furry belly. My hands roamed up and down her back, petting and scratching her skin. I pressed my fingers into her spine, tracing along her vertebrae and out along her tail.

  “Fuck me, baby,” she moaned into my ear. “Fill me up, I want your cum.”