XII: DEAD FLESH
Content Warning: Child Harm
***
Min tries to ignore the stitch in her side as she trails Willow's cat through the MetroClave's ruined innards. The lithe holographic construct effortlessly weaves between fallen girders and half-open security doors, tirelessly racing ahead of her as she struggles to follow.
The building's intercom system died fifteen minutes ago. The communicator that Willow grafted into her head remains silent as well, though that doesn't stop it from pulsing with an odd, sporadic warmth. Her knee hurts, and there's a watery feeling in her belly.
You're just scared, she tells herself as she picks her way through a field of broken glass and rubble. That's all this is. You need to toughen up and deal with it, like Willow said. But she doesn't feel tough. She feels cold, and alone, and stricken with fear.
Min pushes through a narrow gap between overturned appliances, wheezing with the effort. With each new obstacle she overcomes, she's rewarded with the faintest glimpse of a glowing feline shape that darts off again before she can reach it.
Clutching her side with one hand, she wipes away tears with the other, cursing her malfunctioning security grafts. Come back, she pleads as she limps through a labyrinth of buckling wall panels. I need you to take over for me. I need you to bring back the cold, numb calm, and to take this nightmare away.
***
A dozen twists and turns later, Min grips her knees, panting for breath. Every muscle in her body has been pushed past its limits; there isn't a part of her that doesn't hurt.
Willow's cat sits at the end of the hallway, peering around another blind corner.
"Please stay," Min whispers. "Just… wait there until I catch up."
The hologram glances back at Min, cocks its head, and then slinks out of view.
Damn it. Why can't you sit still? Gritting her teeth, Min forces herself to straighten up and hobble after it. The graft in her head pulses again, throbbing like a second heartbeat. The exit's close, she tells herself. Has to be. And then the sanctuary, just like Willow promised. She stumbles around the corner, then stops short.
The hologram is nowhere to be seen, but something further down the hallway is moving.
Min's entire body tenses at the sound of it, a sort of moist, wriggling slither. She watches in horror as a ruined figure worms its way into the flickering light. A Botched child, wriggling on its belly like a snail with a broken shell. Its legs dangling uselessly behind it, and a pool of mucus seeps from its body in an expanding trail, spilling from a tear in its abdomen.
Min hugs the ground as the creature turns its bulbous head, tasting the air with its tongue. The light catches on the transparent plastic sheath that serves as its skull. It's cracked. Spiderwebbed. From her position, Min takes in the extent of the damage. There are gaps in the battered plastic where shards have already fallen away.
There's no way past it, Min thinks. The realization fills her with dread. And this is the only way out. If I backtrack, I'll never find Willow's cat again, and I'll be stuck in here. I'll never make it to Willow's sanctuary, and the swarm will find me and tear me apart.
She spots a length of broken metal piping amid the rubble. Her eyes flit back to the creature's ruined skull.
If I sneak up on it and hit it really hard, I might be able to kill it, she tells herself. Or at least stun it long enough to slip past. The thought of it terrifies her, but not as much as the prospect of getting left behind.
She approaches the rubble. As quietly as she's able, she lifts the pipe free with both hands.
Struggling to control her breathing, Min creeps down the hallway toward the Botched child. The metal pipe is heavy in her hands. As she draws nearer, the creature's mangled features come into sharp relief. There are circular bite marks in its cheeks and shoulders, and its hose-like guts have been ripped out. As it crawls on its hands and elbows, it emits a high-pitched keening sound.
She'd pity it if she didn't find it so horrifying.
I'll put you out of your misery, she thinks, gripping the pipe tightly in her hands. And maybe, if we're both very lucky, you'll stay dead.
The Botched child tilts its head back and repeats its eerie wail. An instant later, the graft behind Min's ear throbs with warmth.
With a shuddering, spasmodic motion, the creature's entire body jerks upward in excitement, and it whips its head around to stare directly at Min. She shrieks and leaps back in panic as the creature begins dragging its wriggling body toward her.
It's tracking my graft, oh God, it's tracking my graft oh fuck it sees me— Adrenaline surges through Min's body. Her legs backpedal furiously while she tightens her grip on the pipe in her hands. How is it—
A stray shaft of light catches the slithering monster's face, revealing its delicate contours. The sight of it makes her heart lurch.
Oh God, no. No no no. Her head pulses again with a gentle, welcoming warmth. Orren said that he could ping his mother's location. The creature shrieks, scraping its broken fingernails across the floor. And now I'm wearing her graft.
The revelation sinks into her spine like an icepick, and her knees buckle. She stumbles, transfixed with horror as the Botched ruin of her closest friend drags itself toward her. Its once-curious eyes glow as bright and blue as landing beacons. and its slavering mouth is filled with broken teeth.
My friend, she thinks hysterically. My little boy. Her fingers tighten around the pipe, and with a mix of pity and revulsion, she raises it high. I can't leave you like this, her heart screams as the tears spill down her cheeks. I have to run and I want to hide but I love you and you scare me and I need to put you down.
The Orren-thing lurches into striking distance. Min brings the pipe down on it as hard as she can.
The dome of the creature's skull shatters, and the pipe sinks into something soft. Its ruined body jerks, then lies still.
Min drops to her knees, sobbing. Oh, Orren, she weeps, I can't tell where my pain ends and your mother's begins.
And then her eyes catch something. Movement.
Min sits transfixed as the Botched cadaver's throat bulges outward. As she stares in horror, still-living nodules emerge from Orren's throat to shift and flex within their sheath of dead flesh. The broken body heaves, and a scream cuts through the air: not the wail of an injured child, but the blood-curdling shriek of a mutilated animal. The sound goes on and on, shifting in pitch and timbre as Orren's graftware mindlessly struggles to correct itself.
Min skitters back, only dimly aware that she's screaming as well. And then, all at once, her turmoil dissipates. It feels as though she's been dropped into an ice bath, a numbing pool of calm.
My security grafts, back online at last. She wants to laugh, to cry, to bawl with relief, but she can't anymore. For the first time since she regained consciousness, her head feels clear.
Min watches in a state of wonder as her arms raise the pipe of their own accord, then bring it crashing down onto the Orren-thing's throat. It splits like an overcooked sausage, spouting pus onto the MetroClave floor.
The ruined graft's cartilaginous nodules continue to flex, but it's mercifully silent now. There is no sound save for Min's measured breathing. Some part of her wants to weep for her friend, to scream at her son's awful fate. But in the soothing grip of her security grafts, the impulses are easily ignored.
A flash of light catches in her peripheral vision. The cat, glowing softly in the dark. It mews at her, pawing impatiently at the ground.
"Look who's back," Min mumbles. "This time, you can—"
Without warning, Willow's voice crackles back to life mid-sentence, rattling her head like a jackhammer.
"—out of there! The entire swarm heard that thing scream! They're coming for you, Min—ALL OF THEM! GET OUT OF THERE! RUN!"
