IX: BOTCHED
Frigid air blasts down from above, frosting Min's effluent-soaked hair with iridescent rime. The hill she's climbing has taken her high up above the flooding, but her footing is still treacherous. She digs her hard-soled shoes into the icy slush at an angle, desperate for better traction.
"How much farther?" Min gasps, fighting to stop her teeth from chattering.
"About twenty minutes at your current pace. You should reach the MetroClave ahead of the things from the Runners' Gate, but it'll be close.
"And, uh…"—she fights to steady herself as her foot threatens to skid out from under her— "what if my pace changes?"
"Make sure it doesn't."
Struggling up to the crest of the hill, Min heaves herself over the top. The Metropol 117-B Administrative District stretches out below her. The sight of it makes her breath catch in her chest. Even in the city's stricken state, the Admin District glitters like a sea of chrome.
"It's pretty, I know. But don't get distracted. Move like your life depends on it."
Min risks a bit more speed, darting from one fixed object to the next along her icy path. When she reaches a lamppost, her feet threaten to slip out from under her completely. She clings to it for dear life and manages to regain her balance.
There's an odd keening noise coming over the horizon, quiet, but getting louder. Min strains her ears, struggling to make sense of it. As the sounds come into focus, her blood runs cold.
"That's them, isn't it?" Min's breath steams in the frigid air. "The things from the Runners' Gate."
"Yes. A swarm—forty individuals at least—scrambling in your direction." From inside Min's head, Willow's voice sounds as low and heavy as a tolling bell.
"What are they?"
"That's complicated."
"Come on, Willow. Just give me a straight answer for once."
Willow sighs. "If you insist. Remember the louse-thing you saw earlier? The Misprint?"
"I wish I didn't. I'll be having nightmares about that thing for as long as I live."
"Yeah? Well, imagine a whole swarm of those. Now imagine that they're people—or they used to be. They're corrupted now. Botched. Each time they die, the Arc's fab units reprint them, and with every rebirth they come back worse."
"Worse how?"
"Stranger. More alien." Willow's voice lowers again, and her tone becomes stern. "I need you to listen to me, Min. The Botched are cannibals, and they're always hungry. If they catch you, they'll eat you alive, and there'll be nothing I can do to stop them."
"But—"
"Enough. Move!"
Min pushes herself, urging her trembling legs to go faster. She darts across another stretch of slushy ice, shifting her weight to control her momentum, and skids to a stop under her own power.
This is working, she thinks. Adrenaline surges through her small body, making her feel jittery and strong. She glides through another traversal, her confidence building with every step. Keep pushing and you'll make it. You've got this! Go!
Without warning, Min's foot slides out from under her. The world smears into a vertiginous blur as her body flips, and she goes crashing down to the frozen deck. Her right knee twists on impact, and she's struck with a lightning bolt of pain. Seconds later, her security grafts kick in, and the entire leg goes numb.
"Fuck," Willow growls. "Can you stand, kiddo? I need you to stand."
Min lies on her back in a state of disbelief, blinking. She doesn't respond.
"MIN!" The voice reverberates in Min's skull like the roar of an angry goddess. "Can your leg support your weight? ANSWER ME!"
Min sits up gingerly. Prodding at her knee, she feels the bones shift under her fingertips. "...I think I tore a ligament. I'm sorry, Willow." Tears begin welling in the corner of her eyes, but they freeze on contact with the air. "If I rest it, it'll stitch itself back together in twenty minutes. Do you think I can—"
"There's no time," Willow growls. "They're almost on top of you already."
A screeching, animalistic wail echoes down the abandoned street. Min searches for the source of the noise but sees nothing. A chill runs down her spine.
"GET UP!" Willow's screams stab at Min's ears like icepicks. "GET UP AND MOVE, OR YOU'RE DEAD!"
Gritting her teeth, Min forces herself to her feet. There's no pain, but her leg feels strangely heavy, as if it's been hollowed out and filled with warm sand. She hobbles forward as best she can as a second shriek sounds behind her, then a third.
A few seconds later, there are too many screams to count.
"They're going to catch up with me, aren't they?" Min gasps as she limps through the shimmering snow.
"Yes. There's no stopping that now." Willow isn't shouting anymore. Her voice has gone heavy with resignation.
"Am I going to die?"
"Not if I can help it. Here's what we're going to do: you will continue forward, as swiftly as you can. No stopping, no hiding. You just go, and keep going, until the MetroClave's doors seal shut behind you."
"And what will you do?"
"Find a distraction. Something to keep the swarm occupied," Willow intones grimly.
"...Something?" Min echoes in a small voice.
"Something it can eat."
