Tag: Lachlan

4.6

Anna B.2 Comments

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Angelina

Angelina sat beside Chelsea on the couch, eating cheese and crackers from a plate Chelsea had brought her. Belfry was snoring softly, curled up in the corner of the couch like a cat or dog.

Belfry had done a surprisingly good job bandaging her considering how tiny his hands were, but her bandages still felt uncomfortably loose. Luckily, the nightgown Chelsea had found for her was several sizes too large, so it didn’t rub against the bandages too much. The fabric was very thin, though. Angelina shivered, pulling her blanket up to her chin and moved closer to Chelsea.

Chelsea shifted position, moving further away from Angelina. Angelina scooted closer again and noticed that Chelsea’s face had turned pink again.

Oops, she must have been moving away because she was overheated again. Angelina mumbled an apology and moved back to the center of the couch.

It was surprising Chelsea was so overheated when Angelina was freezing. Oh well, Canada was a lot colder than Italy, she guessed.

“So we’re in a town that disappeared four years ago?” said Chelsea. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” said Angelina. “Naomi wouldn’t tell me anything, but Falcon said she told Melanie about a pit between realities where CPSI can send people and stuff and it gave me an idea.”

“I think I see where this is going.”

“Yeah! Everyone thought the town was destroyed, but when I heard about the pit thing, I knew the town must be there. And here it is! And here you are!”

“Here I am.” Chelsea smiled. “I’m glad you found me.”

“Me too!”

Angelina lifted her arm to hug Chelsea, then remembered she was overheated. She patted Chelsea’s arm instead. The pat felt awkward, but if Chelsea noticed, she didn’t show it.

“I’m still a little confused, though,” said Chelsea. “A pit between realities?”

“I don’t really know what that means, if I’m being honest,” said Angelina. “I think Naomi knew, but she wouldn’t tell me.”

“What about this little guy?” Chelsea gestured to Belfry. “Did he tell you anything?”

“Not a lot about this place,” said Angelina. “He mostly talked about you. He said you saved his life, and you’re very brave and beautiful.”

“Aw,” said Chelsea. “That’s so sweet. I don’t know how brave I was, though. All I did was whack a monster with a broom.”

“I stabbed a monster with scissors,” said Angelina.

“See? That’s so much braver than my thing,” said Chelsea. “The fearless warrior, Princess Angelina, plunges her migthy sword into the beast’s heart.”

Angelina smiled. This was one of the reasons she loved Chelsea so much.

“It was one of her necks, actually, and it wasn’t really that brave and cool,” said Angelina. “Belfry seemed to think you were really brave, though. He kept calling you an angel.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“It’s funny, because when I first saw you in this place, that’s what I thought too.”

“What is?”

“That you were an angel.”

“Oh, I, um…” Chelsea laughed. “Okay, wow.”

Her face turned pink again, and this time, Angelina didn’t think it was because she was overheating.

“Sorry,” said Angelina. “Was that weird? Should I not have said that? I just meant because I thought I was dead, and because you’re really pretty like an angel. But now you look embarrassed.”

Chelsea’s face went from pink to red.

Oops, maybe Angelina shouldn’t have pointed out how embarrassed Chelsea looked. People tended not to like it when she did that.

“Oh, no,” Chelsea fanned herself with her hand. “Just, um, overheated.”

“Oh, okay!” said Angelina.

Well, that was a relief. Chelsea wasn’t embarrassed after all.

<><

Lachlan

“Do you see that?” said Lachlan. “That little speck on the horizon?”

“I have 20/100 vision,” said Sam. “So, no.”

“What do you think it is?” said Lachlan.

“I can’t see it,” said Sam, “so I don’t know.”

Sam’s voice sounded strained. Lachlan wasn’t sure if it was from pain or annoyance. Possibly both.

“If you want my not-so-humble opinion–“

“I absolutely never do,” interrupted Sam.

“Ahem. Incredibly rude. As I was saying, if you want my not-so-humble opinion, I think that we should head toward it.”

When Sam didn’t respond, Lachlan continued.

“And why do you think we should head toward it, Lachlan? Tell me more,” Lachlan said, mimicking an American accent. Then he switched to his normal voice. “Well, I’m glad you asked, my Samurai friend. I think we should head toward it because it’s the only thing on this featureless plane as far as we can see. Maybe it’s just a lump of concrete, maybe it’s another person–“

“Maybe it’s another monster,” said Sam.

Lachlan patted Nikola’s side. Nikola wagged his tail.

“If it’s another monster, we’ll have Niko the wonder dog here for our protection.”

“Not Niko,” said Sam. “His name is Nikola.”

“Oh, come on,” said Lachlan. “Nikola is a shit name for a dog and you know it.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“I’m shortening his name to Niko and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Nikola growled.

“See?” said Lachlan. “He hates the name Nikola as much as I do.”

Nikola growled again, his hackles bristling. He began to bark.

“I think that’s dog-ese for ‘I hate my name’,” said Lachlan.

Sam pointed at the concrete in front of them. It was splitting open, cracks splintering outward as though something massive was rising from the room beneath. Black tendrils erupted from the cracks, reaching toward them.

“No,” said Sam. “It’s dog-ese for ‘we’re in trouble’.”

The concrete burst open around Lachlan and Sam as more and more tendrils spilled forth.

Lachlan whipped around to run away, and saw more cracks in the concrete in front of him, more monstrous limbs writhing toward him.

Dozens of figures rose from the concrete–masses of skeletal faces melted together into vaguely humanoid shapes with short tendrils trailing from their lower halves.

“I hate this place,” Sam muttered. “I hate this place. I hate this place. I hate this place.”

Nikola growled, looking back and forth between the figures as though he wasn’t sure which threat to focus on.

“Hello again,” came a voice from behind him.

Lachlan felt a jolt of panic as he recognized that voice–the voice that sounded like a demon possessing a TV commentator.

“Not the fucking skull squid again,” he said.

“I’m afraid so,” said the skull squid, “and this time, I brought company.”

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4.4

Anna B.4 Comments

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Lachlan

Sam and Lachlan sat on the edge of the hole in the ceiling. Nikola lay between them, resting partially in Lachlan’s lap with one paw over his leg.

Lachlan looked over at Sam and noticed he clutching his hand, his expression pained.

“How’s the hand feeling?” said Lachlan.

“Not as bad as you’d think,” said Sam. His voice sounded weak. “It hurts a lot, though.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, staring into space as he cradled his hand.

Then he jerked his head up, as though startled.

“Chelsea,” he said.

“What?” said Lachlan.

“We found my coworker’s shoes, remember?”

Oh, right. Lachlan had almost forgotten about that. All the monsters and cannibals had been extremely distracting. He felt a pang of concern for the poor woman who was trapped in this place all alone, probably even more terrified and confused than he was.

“We should find her,” said Lachlan, “before something else with more tentacles and/or a taste for human flesh does.”

“Agreed,” said Sam.

“How are you feeling?” said Lachlan. “Are you alright to stand up?”

“I-I think so,” said Sam.

Lachlan patted the floor beside him, and Nikola climbed out of his lap.

“Good,” said Lachlan. “Because as they say in Tennessee or wherever you’re from, time’s a-wastin’.”

Lachlan climbed to his feet.

“I’m from North Carolina,” said Sam.

“I know. I only said Tennessee so that you’d be irritated and offended.”

Lachlan offered his hand to Sam. Sam hesitated, then took it with his good hand.

“Everything you say irritates and offends me.”

Sam wavered as Lachlan helped him to his feet, and Lachlan put out his free hand to steady him.

“Look at me,” said Lachlan, “being the better man. Graciously lending you a helping hand after you refused to do the same for me. Helping you to your feet even as you continue to rudely insult me.”

“This is an excellent example of you being irritating and offensive,” said Sam.

Lachlan shook his head in mock-disappointment as he let go of Sam’s hand.

“Tut tut. Not even so much as a thank you. Shame on you, Samoyed.”

Sam frowned and squinted at him.

“So, Mr. Five-Steps-of-Problem-Solving,” said Lachlan. “What’s the plan for finding this girl?”

“How would I know?” said Sam. “We haven’t gone through the five steps yet.”

“Well, we know what the problem is. Some girl is here all alone and we need to find her. That’s step one, right? Knowing the problem?”

“No,” said Sam. “Step one is identification of the problem.”

Lachlan sighed exaggeratedly.

“That’s what I just said.”

“No, you said ‘knowing the problem’.”

“Meh. Tomayto, tomahto. There’s no need to get into Sam-antics,” said Lachlan. “See what I did there? Sam-antics?”

“You’re not funny,” said Sam.

Lachlan began walking away from the hole in the concrete, and Nikola trotted after him.

“How dare you, Samurai, I’m a genius of comedy,” said Lachlan. “Come on. Let’s walk and talk.”

“Where are we walking? I thought you didn’t want to walk anymore.”

“I don’t know,” said Lachlan, “but my legs don’t hurt anymore, and if we’re going to find this girl, we probably won’t do it by sitting around.”

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3.10

Anna B.1 Comment

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Lachlan

Lachlan felt the support beams bending under him as he rose up onto his knees. With about a meter of concrete sloping steeply on either side of the hole, he couldn’t see anything on the surface. He stood up carefully and leaned forward onto the concrete, taking some of his weight off the flimsy tiles beneath him.

If he craned his neck enough, he could just barely see over the concrete. No sign of the monster as far as he could tell.

The dog was still there, idly scratching his ear with his back paw like he hadn’t been in telepathic stand-off with a giant skull monster minutes before. He perked up when he spotted Lachlan, wagging his tail as he trotted toward him. He climbed down the concrete, sniffed Lachlan, then begin to lick his ear. Lachlan laughed, reaching up to pet the dog’s head.

“Good boy,” Lachlan said. “I don’t know why the fuck you’re here, but good boy. You’re the first non-horrifying being I’ve encountered in this place, and yes, I’m including Sam in that.”

The dog wagged his tail.

“Huh?” said Sam.

“A dog,” said Lachlan. “He helped me save you from that skull thing.”

“D…dog?”

“Yeah,” said Lachlan. “I don’t think he’s a normal dog, though. He was doing something to the monster, disrupting it somehow. He made it drop you so I could awesomely and heroically carry you to safety. Then, I guess he drove it off. Didn’t you, boy?”

The dog hopped in place and wagged his tail.

“Wh…wuh?” said Sam.

Lachlan turn his head to look down at Sam, who lay on his side with his eyes half-shut. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like some of the color had returned to his face.

“So, uh, are you alright?” said Lachlan.

It felt like a stupid question as soon as he said it.

“Right, you just had your fingers eaten off and were almost devoured by a skull squid creature. So, I’m thinking the answer to my question is probably a resounding ‘no’?”

“My… my fingers?”

Lachlan took a deep breath. As irritating as Sam was, someone who’d been through everything he’d been through deserved a delicate, gentle approach. Lachlan never been a particularly delicate or gentle person, so he tried to chose his words carefully.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m sorry. I stopped the bleeding as much as I could, but… she got two of your fingers.”

Sam held his right hand in front of his face.

“Fingers,” he repeated.

“She, uh, left the thumbs, though,” said Lachlan. “So that’s good.”

Stupid. Not helpful. Why did he say that?

Sam cupped his left hand over his right.

“Hurts,” he said.

“Yeah, I can imagine it hurts,” Lachlan said. “The good news is, you’re probably going to be alright.”

“Alright?” said Sam.

“Yeah,” said Lachlan. “Losing a finger is very rarely life threatening.”

“You’re a doctor now?” mumbled Sam. “Doctor Chicken.”

“And you’re making annoying remarks. That’s a positive sign,” said Lachlan. “I read it in a book, if you must know.”

“In a book?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how you feel about them.”

“Book about… losing fingers?”

“Actually, it was about mechatronic hand and finger design,” said Lachlan. “That sort of thing’s right up your alley, isn’t it? Being a brilliant engineer, and all.”

“I like mechatronics,” said Sam. “Don’t like books.”

“Maybe when we get out of here, you can design yourself a set of awesome bionic cyborg fingers that shoot lasers. Pew, pew.”

“Pew, pew,” mumbled Sam.

“That’s right. Pew, pew.”

Sam shifted position, and Lachlan heard a cracking sound from the ceiling beneath them.

“Well, fuck,” said Lachlan. “That doesn’t sound good.”

He reached up the concrete slope until he found two jutting pieces to use as handholds. The concrete stung his chest and arms through his shirt as he pulled himself out of the opening. He held on tight, his socked feet sliding before they found a grip on the surface. He rolled over, wincing as the cold, rough concrete scratched against his back, and sat up.

The dog stepped into Lachlan’s lap with his front paws, and looked at him expectantly. Lachlan scratched behind the dog’s ears.

“I’m going to take a wild guess, Samurai, and say you’re probably not in good enough shape to climb out of there on your own.”

“Nuh,” said Sam.

“Alright,” said Lachlan. “That presents a problem.”

“Problem?”

“A problem,” said Lachlan. “The ceiling is slowly collapsing beneath you, and I need to figure out how to get you out of there without making it even more collapse-y before–“

As if on cue, and the support beam beneath Sam bent down at a sharp angle, and two of the tiles attached to it crumble to pieces, sending Sam plummeting toward the floor below.

Before Lachlan could react, Sam shot back up out of the hole as though he’d been thrown into the air. He soared into the air, sailing at least ten meters above Lachlan’s head, then hurtled downward.

As though invisible hands had reached out to catch him, Sam stopped centimeters short of the concrete and hung suspended in the air.

The dog stood still with his eyes fixed on Sam, his ears pricked in concentration.

“Holy fuck,” said Lachlan.

The dog looked away and relaxed his ears, and Sam dropped to the ground. Lachlan walked toward him, and the dog followed.

Sam was trembling a little as he used his good hand to push himself into a sitting position. The dog nudged him with his nose.

Sam winced as he cradled his left hand.

“Hurts… so bad.”

“Can I have a look?”

Sam nodded. Lachlan crouched next to him and carefully picked up his right hand. He wasn’t sure what to look for, but the blood had stopped soaking through the makeshift bandage.

“It looks like the bleeding stopped.”

Sam winced.

“Still hurts.”

“Look on the bright side. Just think. Once you’ve made your bionic cyborg laser fingers, you won’t even miss those crummy ones.”

Sam groaned in pain.

“Hey.” Lachlan gently let go of Sam’s hand. “As much as it pains me to admit it, you’re handling this like a champion.”

“A champion?”

“Yeah. You just lost two fingers. I wouldn’t blame you if you were screaming and crying right now, but you’re talking to me. You’re semi-coherent.”

Sam groaned again. The dog whimpered, his brown eyes large with concern, and nudged Sam with his nose again.

“Dog?” said Sam.

“Dog,” said Lachlan.

Sam patted the dog’s head weakly with his good hand.

“Nikola,” said Sam.

“Nikola?” said Lachlan. “Who…?”

“The dog,” said Sam. “Nikola.”

Lachlan frowned.

“You want to name the dog Nikola?”

Sam nodded.

“Nikola?” said Lachlan. “No. No, that’s not a dog. That’s an elderly Croatian man. I’m not letting you call him Nikola.”

“Nikola,” Sam repeated.

Lachlan sighed.

“Fine. I’m letting you have this. But only because I’m exceedingly generous and because you just lost two of your extremities. Hello, Nikola.”

Lachlan patted Nikola’s back, and Nikola flopped happily onto the floor.

Something caught his eye on the inside of one of Nikola’s back legs, a hexagonal mark with a rectangular one beneath it.

“Hm,” said Lachlan. “Weird.”

Sam responded with a questioning grunt.

“Nikola’s got a tattoo,” said Lachlan. “It looks like a logo of some sort, and a bar code.”

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3.8

Anna B.2 Comments

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Lachlan

The creature extended more of its tendrils past Lachlan, reaching for Sam’s unconscious body and wrapping around his arms and legs.

“Why?” said Lachlan. “Why eat Sam and not me?”

“Two reasons,” said the creature. “The first one is I have nothing to discuss with him.”

“Wh-what’s the second?”

“The second and more important reason is he deserves it.”

“Wait, what?” said Lachlan. “What do you mean he deserves it? I mean, yes, he’s a bit of a fuckhead, but I wouldn’t go that far.”

Sam stirred, his eyes twitching as he scratched at a tendril wrapped around his thigh. His head snapped around to take in the monster that was holding him. He let out a whimper.

Fuck. Poor Sam. What a time to regain consciousness.

The creature snaked a tendril up Sam’s leg, toward his waistband. The tendril wrapped around a key card that was clipped to Sam’s pants and removed it. The creature unwound the tendril from Sam and handed the key card to Lachlan.

“Read that,” said the creature.

“‘Samuel Alexander, ID number 003571, Clyde Packaging Solutions, Inc.’? So?”

“Clyde Packaging Solutions, Inc,” said the creature. “The company that created me. The company that ordered my brother’s execution because they called him defective. The company that dumped us fabrications in this pit to devour each other when we proved inconvenient.”

The company that created the creature and his brothers? The company that ordered his brother’s execution? Could that mean–?

Holy motherfuck. Falcon. Falcon is this thing’s brother. Falcon is the ‘resource’ Dominic ‘stole’ from that company.

It answered so many questions, but raised so many more. Right now, though, Lachlan had a more pressing focus–trying to talk this creature out of devouring the only human companion he had in this place.

“It’s not his fault,” said Lachlan.

“Excuse me?” said the creature.

“What happened to you and your, uh, brothers wasn’t Sam’s fault.”

“All humans working for CPSI are complicit. He could have helped us. He could have taken that risk, and he didn’t.”

“Look at him, though,” said Lachlan. “He’s not some powerful executive. He couldn’t possibly be older than 18. There’s no way he even knows about you, or your brothers, or any of the things you just said.”

The creature pulled Sam closer toward it, and Sam let out another whimper.

“Why are you protecting him?” said the creature. “You said he wasn’t your friend. You don’t even like him.”

“If I have to explain to you why I don’t just want to let you eat a person, then you don’t get it.”

The creature turned Sam upright, holding him inches from the skeletal faces between its eyes. Sam was more alert now–enough to struggle weakly against the tendrils wrapped his arms and legs.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Samuel Alexander? Do you have any last words?”

“Wha..? What…?”

“Those aren’t very good last words,” said the creature.

The creature wound more and more limbs around Sam, until the mass of black tendrils began to resemble a cocoon. Not knowing what else to do, Lachlan removed his remaining shoe and reared his arm back, preparing to throw it.

It had worked once, after all.

Before he had a chance to throw the shoe, the creature jolted backward, unwrapping several of its tendrils from around Sam.

“Stop doing that!” said the creature.

“Me?” said Lachlan. “I’m not doing anything, I don’t think.”

The creature jolted again, and more tendrils came loose from Sam’s body.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” The creature pointed a tendril beyond Lachlan, somewhere behind him. “I was talking to him!”

Lachlan lowered his shoe and turned to see who or what was behind him. He expected another monster, but what he saw was even stranger than that.

“Oh, no fucking way.”

An extremely ordinary-looking medium-sized dog, white with brown spots, stood with its teeth bared and hackles raised, staring down the creature. The dog growled, and the creature jolted again.

Lachlan sighed. There might as well be a fucking super-powered dog here. It made just as much sense as anything else in this place.

The creature reached a tendril for the dog, but the dog jostled it again, and the tendril whipped back toward the creature, striking it across its mass of faces. More tendrils unwound from Sam.

“Stop!” said the creature. “Stop that!”

The creature jolted again, and this time, it lost its grip on Sam. He fell to the ground. After a moment, he lifted himself onto his hands and knees and began to crawl away. The monster reached for him again, and the dog barked furiously and jolted it again.

Lachlan looked down at Sam. He didn’t look strong enough to stand on his own, and the dog–what was up with that anyway?–wouldn’t be able to keep protecting him forever. Lachlan wasn’t especially strong, but Sam was a bit smaller than he was. He might be able to carry him for long enough to get away from the skull-tendril-thing.

Lachlan dropped his shoe, leaned down, and grabbed Sam under his arms.

Goodbye, new sneaker I only got to wear once. You didn’t go out in a blaze of glory like your brother, but you will be missed nonetheless.

“Come on,” said Lachlan. “Let’s go. Up you come.”

Sam made a weak noise of protest, but didn’t resist as Lachlan hoisted him to his feet. Lachlan bent down, draping Sam across his shoulders and lifting him fireman-style, trying to ignore the overwhelming, sickening copper smell coming from Sam’s blood-drenched clothing.

Carrying Sam was a difficult balance, moving quickly enough to get as far from the monster as possible, but not quickly enough to end up stumbling.

Lachlan heard the monster’s annoyed shouts behind him as he trudged forward, feeling as though his legs were going to give out at any second under his and Sam’s combined weight.

This wasn’t working. The concrete stretched flat around him as far as he could see, with nowhere to hide from the monster’s line of sight. He wasn’t strong enough to hold onto Sam for much longer. He had to think of something else.

Something caught his eye about ten meters away, an indentation in the concrete. As he headed closer to it, he saw it was a ragged hole in the floor. He could see the inside of a drop ceiling a little less than a meter below, and see the light through the cracks between tiles.

Lachlan glanced back at the creature, who was still distracted, locked in bizarre, telekinetic combat with the dog.

Drop ceilings weren’t meant to hold any weight, were they? Well, now was as good a time as any to find out.

He placed Sam down, sliding him carefully down the ragged concrete toward the opening. Then, he climbed down after him. He crouched down, trying to lower Sam as carefully as possible into the ceiling.

“No,” mumbled Sam. “No.”

“No?” said Lachlan. “Where do you suggest we hide from that thing, then?”

“No.” said Sam. “Won’t… won’t hold.”

Lachlan lowered Sam onto the ceiling tiles. They sagged under his weight.

“Right now, your options are A: probably fall through a ceiling or B: definitely get eaten by a giant squid thing made of skulls. Now, this is just my humble opinion, but my strong recommendation would be A.”

Lachlan climbed into the hole, keeping his distance from Sam to ensure there wasn’t too much weight on the tiles in one place. He heard the support beams creak as they bent under him.

“Won’t hold,” said Sam again.

“Go ahead, then,” said Lachlan. “Out you climb. Run into that thing’s waiting, open tentacles like you’re the heroine in insert-generic-romantic-comedy-here.”

Sam remained lying where he was.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” said Lachlan.

In the dim light, he thought he saw Sam frown at him. They were silent for a moment, then Sam spoke, his voice still shaky.

“What now?”

“Now?” said Lachlan. “Now, all we can do is wait.”

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3.7

Anna B.5 Comments

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Angelina

Before the tragedy, the Sentiero Angelica had been one of the most popular hiking trails in Italy. Now, it stretched out before Angelina, cracked and overgrown from four years of neglect. Weeds spread like tentacles from cracks in the path, and a few particularly tenacious cacti poked their heads from beneath the concrete. A long, narrow wooden sign was nailed to either side of the trail’s railings, blocking the entrance. Its letters, once an urgent red, had faded to a soft pink-brown.

Pericolo, it warned. Danger.

Angelina hopped over it.

The trail head was creepy in the way abandoned places usually were, full of everyday things untouched and left to decay. Signs on half-rotted wood posts pointed the way to a town that no longer existed.

The sun wasn’t up yet, but while she had been on the train, the sky had faded from black to a pink-tinged blue, leaving her just enough light to avoid the worst of the cracks and bumps in the path.

She heard rustling in the trees beside her and froze, thinking of the recent news reports about this place. Some thrill-seeking teenagers had tried to hike the Sentiero Angelica, lost track of the overgrown trail, and been mauled by wild animals–supposedly wolves. None of them had survived.

Slowly, carefully, she retrieved the scissors from her bag and brandished them, wishing she had armed herself better. They felt so small and flimsy.

The thing in the woods beside her stirred.

She thought of the urban legends about this place, the rumors it was haunted by the town’s old residents. The speculation that those poor teenagers had been killed by something other than wolves. After all, wolves weren’t supposed to live anywhere nearby. There weren’t supposed to be any animals around here that could tear people to pieces like that.

She thought back to a few months ago, when a friend had taken her camping. They’d been in a field a few miles from the Sentiero Angelica, and she’d been nervous enough about setting up a tent on land that was probably someone’s property. Then, her friend had told her a scary story about vicious creatures that lived in the forest nearby and devoured unsuspecting travelers. The story had seemed so outlandish, but her friend had told it with a straight face, swearing it was true.

Walking this neglected trail, the story didn’t seem so outlandish any more.

The thing in the trees chirped, then fluttered toward her.

A bird.

She lowered the scissors and placed them back into her bag, feeling silly. Her journey had barely started, and she was already jumpy.

She needed to calm her nerves.

She traced her fingers across the enamel heart on her locket pendant and felt herself relax a little. Then she removed her iPod from her bag, plugged in her earbuds, and put The Goldfish Technique’s music on shuffle.

There. Now she was ready.

<><

Lachlan

“Hello.“

A deep, inhuman voice boomed from behind Lachlan, shaking him like an explosion, and for a brief, wild moment, he wondered if the great mad scientist in the sky was answering his prayers.

It wouldn’t be the most fucked up thing that had happened that day.

“Hello,” it said again. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

Up until now, everything he’d encountered here had spoken with an American accent, from Sam to the cannibal sisters. Even the fucking murder rectangle had been American for some reason.

This voice lacked an American accent. In fact, aside from its nightmarish, pulsating quality, it had an almost generic voice that wouldn’t sound out of place coming from an Australian newscaster or radio personality. Lachlan wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Lachlan started to turn around.

“Wait,” said the voice. “Don’t turn around yet.”

“Uh…” Lachlan stopped turning around. “Why not?”

“My appearance is strange. I don’t want to frighten you.”

“Everything here’s appearance is fucking strange. You’re not special.”

Lachlan turned all the way around.

The creature that stood behind him was as immense and terrifying as its voice. It had dozens, maybe even hundreds of faces, all of them pallid, skeletal, and rotting. The faces formed a cluster over twice Lachlan’s height, roughly the shape of a skull without a bottom jaw. Two large, black eyes stared down at him from the eye holes of the ‘skull’. Thousands of tendrils writhed beneath the clusters of faces, some of them reaching and stopping a few inches short of him.

If he’d seen that thing yesterday, he might have screamed or even passed out, but today, he’d seen enough that he was almost unfazed. Almost.

“Holy motherfuck, mate, ‘strange’ was the understatement of the millennium. You’re a walking nightmare.”

“I told you not to turn around.”

All of the creature’s mouths moved as it spoke, but the voice came from somewhere else, somewhere deeper in its core.

“And why would I listen to you? I’ve nearly been eaten twice today. That’s the sort of thing that gives a guy trust issues.”

“I’m not going to eat you.”

“Oh, sure. Anyone can say they’re not going to eat you. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’m not. I promise,” said the creature.

“Oh, you promise? Well, in that case, I feel all better. Completely reassured.”

“You’re being sarcastic.”

“What? Me? Being sarcastic? No, never.”

“I only want to talk.”

“Then talk.” Lachlan shrugged. “I’m not stopping you.”

As the creature fixed its large eyes on Lachlan, each of its many smaller faces shifted to look at him as well.

“Your friend doesn’t look well.”

The creature pointed a tendril in Sam’s direction.

“Oh, him?” said Lachlan. “He’s not my friend.”

“What happened to him?”

“He, uh, had his fingers eaten off.”

“Looks like you two had a run-in with the Sisters, then.”

Lachlan nodded.

“You were lucky you got away as unscathed as you did. The ones you ran into must not have been fully matured.”

“Not fully matured? The implications of that phrase are terrifying.”

“They are,” said the creature, “but I have other things to discuss with you.”

“Other things such as?”

“Things about my brother. I’ll tell you in a moment. First I have to feed.”

Lachlan scooted backward away from the creature, eyeing it warily.

“You… said you weren’t going to eat me.”

The creature extended its tendrils beyond Lachlan, pointing behind him at Sam’s prone body.

“I said I wouldn’t eat you,” said the creature. “I didn’t say anything about him.”

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3.5

Anna B.2 Comments

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Naomi

Naomi’s phone buzzed as she pulled into her parking spot. She picked it up, then placed it her pocked when she saw it was an instant message from Angelina. She really didn’t have time for that right now.

The phone buzzed again with a second message. Sighing, she picked it up.

“What’s going on?” said Jen. “Do you need to get that?”

“No,” said Naomi. “No, it’s just this girl I know from online. Chelsea’s friend.”

She climbed out of her car, then walked around to open the door for Sarah and undo her seatbelt.

“Thank you kindly.”

Sarah smiled at her as she stepped out of the car, struggling a little to steady herself without use of her arms.

“If she’s Chelsea’s friend, maybe she can help,” said Jen.

“No.” Naomi shook her head. “Trust me, she wouldn’t be much help. She’s, well…”

She’s weird? She’s childish? She’s an annoying teeniebopper?

Naomi paused. It was hard to explain Angelina to anyone who didn’t know Angelina without sounding mean. Even some people who did know Angelina, mainly Chelsea, seemed to think Naomi was being mean when she said those things. But then again, Chelsea was way too nice sometimes.

Chelsea was the type of person who’d try to peacefully reason with Sarah’s sisters, something that could get her hurt or worse if she wasn’t careful. They had to get her out of the pit soon, or… or…

Jen spoke, interrupting Naomi’s thoughts.

“She’s what?”

“She’s… well…” Naomi frowned. “She’s not very mature for her age. She’s definitely not a girl you’d want helping in a life or death situation.”

“What did she say?” said Jen.

“I don’t know what she was talking about,” said Naomi. “Something about a disaster in Italy.”

“A disaster in Italy?” said Jen. “That’s kinda random.”

“Well, she’s Italian, so it’s not as random as it could be. It’s still pretty random, though.” Naomi gestured to her small front porch. “This one’s my apartment.”

Sarah and Jen followed her to her door and waited as she turned the key.

“Did she have a reason for bringing it up, or was she just like ‘hey, check out this disaster in Italy’?” said Jen.

“It’s hard to know with her. I’m sure she meant well, but…” Naomi sighed.

“But she’s a distraction you don’t need right now?” said Jen.

“Yeah. Yeah, that.” Naomi opened her front door and held it for Jen and Sarah, then led them into the living room. “Come in. I’d offer you a seat but…”

She frowned at Sarah and gestured to her broken couch where it lay against the wall.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders, not even trying to look apologetic.

“Oh, yeah. Whoops.”

Jen’s eyes grew large as she took in the broken furniture, shattered glass, and crumbed drywall.

“Holy crap. It looks like Hurricane freakin’ Hugo hit this place. What happened?”

Naomi frowned at Sarah again.

“She happened.”

Jen turned her wide-eyed stare to Sarah.

“You did all this?”

“Yup.” Sarah flashed her a grin.

“Holy crap,” repeated Jen. “Why?”

“I had a job to do.” Sarah smiled at Naomi and nudged her with her shoulder. “But I have a new job, now. Helping Naomi here in whatever way I can. Right, ally?”

Seriously?

“You’re laying the false charm on really thick for someone who tried to kill both other people in this room less than two hours ago.”

“She’s got a point,” said Jen. “You kinda sorta did do that.”

“Not to mention, two of my friends are in danger because of you,” said Naomi.

“Y’all are never gonna let that go, are you? I’m on your side, okay? I realized the error of my ways or whatever.”

“That would have been a lot more convincing without the ‘or whatever’,” said Jen.

“Look, you want to help?” said Naomi. “Fine. You can start by cleaning up some of the mess you made. The broom and vacuum are in the laundry room. I’ll cut your arms free, but if we even think you might be trying anything, Jen here–“

“Hi!” Jen waved.

“Jen here will kick you into another decade.”

<><

Lachlan

Lachlan placed his fingers on the side of Sam’s neck. Sam’s pulse was weak but present, which scared Lachlan as much as it relieved him.

Sam was alive, but was he comatose? When would he wake up? What if another monster came after them? What was Lachlan supposed to do then?

Shivering from stress and cold, he pulled what was left of his shirt back on. With so much of it missing from the back, it did little to keep him warm.

The unmistakable copper smell of blood was relentless, assaulting his nose and making him flash back to the memory of Sam’s ruined fingers each time he thought about it. It was bad enough that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to handle coins again.

If he ever got home, he’d probably never be able to work the register at Chaz’s Chicken Hut again without feeling sick.

As he rubbed his arms for warmth, sending flecks of Sam’s drying blood scattering to the ground, he studied his surroundings. Concrete stretched out around him as far as he could see, featureless save for the distant spot of light from the hole out of which he and Sam had climbed, and the trail of dark red leading from it.

The boundless concrete expanse was strange, but this place’s most noticeable feature by far was its sky.

In February, Lachlan had been in the car with his mum, stepdad, and sister, on the way to visit his grandparents. He had heard about the Bunyip State Park and Delburn fires a few days before, but they had felt distant and weightless, mere news reports that didn’t have much bearing on his everyday life.

Then he’d looked up from his book and out the window to find the clear summer sky had mutated into something sickly, yellow, and smoldering, the swollen crimson sun pulsing within it like a wound. The thought reminded him of Sam’s wound–deep blood red with explosions of yellow–and he almost gagged again.

The sky in this place reminded him of that bushfire sky, but with none of the heat behind it. It was green and black rather than yellow and brown, the glow it emitted somehow bitter cold.

The moment he had seen that smoke-deformed sky from the car window was the moment the fires had begun to feel real and frightening to him.

Now, sitting here beside Sam’s prone, blood-soaked body as the last of some unknown drugs worked their way from his system, the smell of blood so overpowering it left a metallic taste in his mouth, the gravity of Lachlan’s situation began to sink in.

He was stranded with no way home, in a reality with no sun and a monstrous seasick sky, surrounded by things that wanted to kill him. He was dimensions or realities or whatever away from his home and family, and he might never see them again. He was trapped in this strange, hostile place, almost completely alone.

He looked down at Sam.

If you don’t wake up, I will be completely alone.

Sam had been so annoyingly confident he would get them home. It had been obnoxious, but it had given Lachlan a shred of hope at the same time. He reached into Sam’s pocket and retrieved the notebook, on which the blood had left a kind of gruesome red marbled pattern. He opened it and stared down the blood-flecked notes inside, trying to intimidate them into giving him an epiphany.

Nothing came to him. Frustration welled inside him until he gave up, slamming the notebook onto the floor beside him. The impact wasn’t hard or loud enough to provide a satisfying outlet for his emotions, so he tried another outlet.

“FUCK!” he screamed into the frozen green sky. “Fuck, fuck, fucking motherfuck! Fuckity McFUCK!”

He felt a bit better, but not much.

He still had no way home, and no idea what to do.

When some people felt as though there was nothing they could do, they turned to their deity or deities of choice and prayed, but Lachlan had been an atheist since he’d been old enough to think for himself.

Before now, he’d never understood the appeal of prayer. But before now, he had never felt truly, utterly helpless. It was a feeling he hated more than anything, he decided.

He looked back up, facing that cold and forbidding sky, clasped his hands together, and addressed the closest thing to a higher power he had any iota of faith or belief in.

“Dear mad-scientist-who-has-my-brain-in-a-jar, hallowed be thy name, if you’re there and you’re listening, it’s me, Lachlan.”

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3.4

Anna B.5 Comments

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Content Warning: Violence, Gore

Lachlan

More blood than Lachlan had ever seen poured from Sam’s hand, soaking his clothes and dripping down the woman’s face as she pulled back, crunching.

What the motherfuck?

“Mmmm,” she said with her mouth full. “Delicious.”

What the fucking motherfuck?!

Lachlan felt a surge of panic course through him as the other two women advanced on him. Oh fuck no, they were not getting his precious, guitar-playing fingers. Not over his dead body.

He shoved one of the women backward, but she hardly seemed to notice. He swung his fist blindly and felt it collide with something, then felt a hand grip his wrist.

Oh, fuck. Oh no, no, no, no, no.

He wrenched his hand free and kicked at one of the women’s shins. It didn’t seem to hurt her, but it threw her off balance enough that he was able to push past both her and the other woman cornering him.

Lachlan grabbed the woman’s shoulders from behind, pulling her away from Sam. The two boys ran from the room, the women’s footsteps pounding behind them.

“That’s okay! We’ll just work up an appetite!” One of them called from behind.

They ran through room after room, turning left and right in hope of losing the women, but they still followed, never more than two or three rooms behind. Lachlan’s hurting leg screamed at him to stop, but he ignored it. Drops of Sam’s blood splashed onto him as they ran, soaking into his work uniform.

They came to a room with a gaping hole in the ceiling and deep groves and gouges in the nearest wall.

They weren’t having any luck getting away from the women by turning instead of going straight, but maybe they could get away by climbing.

Lachlan scaled the wall, digging his hands and feet into the gouges, and Sam followed, climbing surprisingly quickly considering his injury. Lachlan reached the top, then offered his hand to Sam. Sam ignored him, attempting to pull himself out of the hole with both hands, leaving broad smears of crimson on the wall.

Stubborn fuckhead.

Sam stumbled, nearly falling backward, and Lachlan caught him by his arms and pulled him onto the concrete, trying to ignore the feeling of Sam’s blood-soaked sleeve sticking to his hand.

They climbed to their feet and continued running.

<><

“Uh, Sam? Samurai?”

Sam continued running ahead.

“Samurai, we’ve–” Lachlan paused to catch his breath. “We’ve been running for at least five minutes and we haven’t seen the fucking Donner sisters since we climbed out of that hole. I think you can stop now.”

Sam slowed to a stop and turned around, walking with labored, unsteady steps back toward where Lachlan stood catching his breath.

A fine sheen of sweat covered Sam’s face, and his normally brown skin had taken on a grayish pallor. His shirt was almost completely saturated with his blood.

“Fuck, you don’t look so good,” said Lachlan. “Let me see the hand.”

Sam stepped closer, holding up his right hand, and Lachlan carefully took it.

He tried to fight the wave of sickness that rose in his throat at the sight of Sam’s hand, but he couldn’t stop himself from gagging.

“Sweet, holy mother of fuck,” he said.

Lachlan had expected Sam to be missing a chunk of flesh, but this was much worse. The index finger down to the knuckle and the tip of the middle finger had been severed clean through the bones. Blood–so much blood–gushed relentlessly from Sam’s hand soaking his clothing, and yellow stuff exploded from the site of the injury.

Blood dripped onto Lachlan, streaking his arms. The cloying, coppery smell was overpowering. He gagged again.

What was he supposed to do? When people lost fingers in movies, they always put them in plastic bags in coolers until they could be re-attached, but when the fingers had been eaten, that wasn’t exactly an option.

“Is it bad?” said Sam.

“Is it bad?” Lachlan could only repeat incredulously. “Is it bad?“

Sam looked down at his hand.

“Oh, no,” said Sam. “Look at that.”

Sam didn’t look or sound like he was in any state to take care of himself, and as irritating as he was, Lachlan couldn’t just let him stand there with blood pouring down his body.

Okay, think, Lachlan.

The wound probably needed to be sterilized, but there wasn’t anything around he could use for that. What else could he do for Sam?

As much as Sam got on his nerves, he didn’t want the guy to bleed out and die or anything.

“Oh, God,” said Sam. “My hand.”

Could someone bleed out from losing fingers? He wasn’t sure, but there was a lot of blood.

Stop the bleeding. Right. He needed something to stop the bleeding, some kind of gauze or cloth, but there wasn’t any of that around.

Wait a minute. Clothes. Clothes had cloth.

He shivered as he peeled off his Chaz’s Chicken Hut shirt, realizing how cold this other reality was. He tore strips from the back of the shirt, feeling a small amount of satisfaction as he tore through the stupid grinning chicken’s face.

Good riddance. He hated that fucking shirt.

He wrapped the strips of cloth around Sam’s hand, trying to make the makeshift bandage tight, but not too tight. He secured the strips by tying them around Sam’s wrist. The pressure seemed to keep the bleeding in check, as the blood didn’t immediately saturate the cloth as it had Sam’s clothing.

“There,” he said. “That should, uh, stop the bleeding so you don’t die, maybe.”

“Oh my God,” said Sam.

Lachlan had never been good at reassuring people.

“Okay, uh, fuck. Let’s see,” he said. “You’ve probably lost a lot of blood. Shock. That’s probably a concern, right? Okay, let’s see. You should probably lie down? That might help?”

Sam stared at him as though he hadn’t registered a word. Then his legs wavered, his head fell back, and he slumped to the floor.

Lachlan lunged forward, reaching to catch Sam just before he hit the floor. He caught Sam at an awkward angle and fell backward, his right shoulder and part of his back scraping against cold, rough concrete. He gently pushed Sam off of him and laid him on his back.

“Sam?”

Sam lay motionless, his eyes open but glassy and fixed.

“Sam? Oh, fuck. Sam?”

Was he dead? Could you die from losing fingers? Lachlan didn’t think so, but looking at the amount of blood soaking Sam’s clothing made him less sure.

He leaned over Sam, shaking him.

Fuck. Please wake up. I don’t want to be alone in here.

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3.3

Anna B.5 Comments

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Naomi

A melodic rock song played softly over Naomi’s car speakers as she sped down I-85. Normally, she would have turned off her music with strangers in the car, but today she needed it to calm her nerves.

Sarah sat beside Naomi in the passenger seat, her arms freshly re-taped together, while Jen sat behind them.

Naomi wasn’t entirely sure why Jen was still with them. Maybe she thought her boyfriend’s disappearance was related to Lachlan and Chelsea’s. Whatever the reason, she had climbed into Naomi’s back seat, and Naomi hadn’t tried to stop her. Naomi didn’t want to be alone with Sarah, and Jen’s presence made her feel safer, especially after seeing her in action in the elevator.

If she got the chance, she would have to apologize for calling Jen annoying. She felt pretty awful about that, especially given that Jen had probably saved her life.

Naomi had decided to drive to her house rather than Chelsea’s, mostly because she wasn’t sure she wanted Sarah to know where Chelsea lived.

“Is st59 still at your apartment?” said Sarah.

That’s not a suspicious question at all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” said Sarah before Naomi could reply. “I’m asking because if we’re gonna go back in there, we’ll need all the help we can get. He’s got abilities like me. He’ll be useful.”

“I’m wondering something,” said Naomi

“That doesn’t answer my question,” said Sarah, “but I think I can guess what you’re wondering.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“I was wondering that too,” said Jen.

“I’m guessing you won’t accept ‘out of the goodness of my heart’ as an answer, will you?” said Sarah.

“No,” said Naomi.

Sarah sighed, leaning back in her seat.

“The truth is, I’ve been thinking for a while. More than anything, I want power. It’s a stupid fab defect, but it’s the closest thing to a goal or a dream I have.” She turned away from Naomi, angling herself toward window. “But I’m not gonna get it. Not from Mr. Clyde. I take out st59, and then what? I go back to being a mindless servant?”

Sarah paused, turning her gaze further toward the window. She had an almost mournful look in her eyes, but Naomi couldn’t quite bring herself to feel sorry for her.

“Mr. Clyde saved my life. If I was human, maybe I’d feel like I owed him or something. But I don’t. Not really. He’s not gonna keep his promises to me, and I get why. It’s not like I’m a real person. But the fact is, I’ve got almost nothing keeping me loyal to him.”

“Okay,” said Naomi. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re suddenly claiming you want to help me.”

“I’m just a dumb fab. If I don’t have the Clydes, I’m not gonna get real far on my own. I need allies.”

Naomi frowned.

“And you think I’ll be your ally?”

Sarah turned to face Naomi, giving her a small, almost expectant smile.

“I’m hoping you will be. I’m hoping if we work together, I can win your trust.” She craned her head toward the backseat, directing her hopeful smile at Jen. “Both of you.”

“Yeah, right,” said Naomi. “You’re full of shit.”

“I’m all for trusting people and working together,” said Jen, “but you did kinda try to kill us like an hour ago.”

Naomi slowed down as she exited onto the off-ramp, and a pickup truck began tailgating her.

“Two of my friends could be–“

The pickup truck’s driver interrupted her with his horn. He sped around her, flipping her off out the window as he passed her in the right lane.

“Seriously? Ass. As I was saying, two of my friends could be in danger because of you.”

“And maybe my boyfriend, too,” added Jen.

“I know,” said Sarah. “I know you have every reason to hate and distrust me. Hell, I’d hate me too if I were y’all. But I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance. I’m gonna do everything it takes to save them. I promise.”

As Naomi pulled up to the red light at the end of the off-ramp, she took the chance to fix Sarah with what she hoped was a withering look. Sarah maintained eye contact, unflinching.

“You’d fucking better,” said Naomi.

<><

Lachlan

199 and 254 cornered Lachlan, blocking off any possible escape routes. 112 focused on Sam, closing in on him and causing him to back into the wall. He looked petrified, his previously squinting eyes now as wide as spotlights.

As undeniably creepy as Lachlan found the women, and as nervous as he was, he wasn’t truly scared–not like Sam seemed to be. The women may have had them surrounded, but they didn’t look strong enough to overpower the two of them with physical strength alone, and their strange numbered jumpsuits didn’t have any pockets where they could have stashed weapons.

Lachlan didn’t see any way they could really eat him and Sam, short of them just trying to bite into them right then and there, and they weren’t going to do that.

At least, he hoped they weren’t.

Looking at the predatory smiles two of the women had fixed on him, he was suddenly less sure.

“Y-you don’t want to do this,” said Sam. “You don’t.”

The woman cornering Sam–was she 112? Lachlan was having trouble keeping track–drew closer to him.

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

“N-no. No. You don’t,” Sam said. “I know you’re starving. But try to think clearly. I really think I can get us out of here if you just give me a chance. And then Lachlan can cook you all the chicken you want. Chicken nuggets. Chicken fingers…”

It was a little annoying how Sam was painting his argument, with himself as the genius who would single-handedly find the way out of this bizarre reality, and Lachlan as the dim-witted chicken chef. It wasn’t a good time to nitpick, though, so Lachlan played along, despite not being quite sure what “chicken fingers” were. Some weird American thing, he guessed.

“Yeah! Uh, chicken fingers. I make the best chicken fingers you’ll ever taste. One bite, and your taste buds will proclaim me their god.”

The woman cornering Sam smiled, shook her head, and reached for Sam’s hand.

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, uh,” said Lachlan. “You don’t like… chicken fingers? Because mine aren’t just any chicken fingers. People swear they hate chicken fingers until they taste the ones I make.”

The woman picked up Sam’s hand and raised it toward her mouth.

“Those aren’t the type of fingers we’re hungry for.”

Before Sam could pull away, she bit down.

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3.2

Anna B.3 Comments

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Lachlan

“See?” said Lachlan. “No murder rectangles. Just a perfectly normal human woman. Hi, by the way.”

“Hi.”

The woman grinned at him in a way that gave him an uneasy feeling in his chest. He pushed down his unease and spoke to her again, trying to sound relaxed so Sam didn’t think he’d won or something.

“So,” he said, “I assume you’re in the same boat as us. You got stuck here somehow too, and you’re trying to get out?”

She gave him an amused smirk, which made him a little more uneasy. What was so funny?

“You could say that. Couldn’t you, sisters?”

“You most certainly could, 254,” said a voice from behind the first woman.

The woman–254, apparently, although why her name seemed to be a number was anyone’s guess–moved over, making space for them to step into the room, and Lachlan could see two nearly identical women standing behind her, each with numbers on their sleeves–112 and 199.

199, the taller of the two waved, and he realized with a chill that her hands didn’t quite look human.

It didn’t have to mean anything. Just because her hands looked strange didn’t necessarily make her dangerous.

“Well?” said 199, her inhuman hand still raised. “What are you waiting for? Come in.”

Her voice had an eerie, echoing quality.

“No, thank you,” said Sam. “I think we’ll stay out here.”

“He’s scared,” said 254. “He’s scared of us.”

“No,” said Sam. “It’s not that. I’m… I’m cautious.”

“That one’s scared too.” 199 pointed to Lachlan. “Not as scared as he should be, but still scared. He’s just trying to hide it.”

“I’m not scared,” said Lachlan.

He realized as he spoke that he had blurted his words out too quickly, causing him to sound more nervous than he was.

“I’m not scared,” he said again, trying to keep his voice even. “Why would I be scared?”

254 stepped toward them into the room, and Lachlan took an instinctive step backward.

“He’s stepping away,” said the woman. “Now, why would he do that if he wasn’t scared?”

“I was making room for you,” said Lachlan. “I was getting out of the way so that you could walk into the room, like the considerate and polite man I am.”

“Wow.” 254 another step toward him. “What a gentleman. Don’t you think, sisters?”

“Such a gentleman,” said 112.

She and 199 edged closer to the door.

“So…” Lachlan began.

The women looked at him, moving their heads in unison as the two in the other room continued walking toward him.

No, walking was too innocuous a word. They were stalking; it was the only way he could think to describe how they were advancing on him and Sam.

Ugh. He didn’t want Sam to be right about the people in the room being dangerous. This was partially because he, like most humans, had an instinctive drive to avoid things that could hurt him, but mostly because if Sam was right, it would mean he was wrong.

Even in his desire to be right, though, Lachlan had to admit these women were extremely creepy.

“So,” he began again, “I’m Lachlan, and the terminally uncool guy cowering beside me is called Sam.”

“I’m not cowering,” said Sam. “I’m just standing.”

“The terminally uncool guy standing beside me in a cowardly fashion is called Sam.”

Sam squinted and frowned at him.

“You’ll have to forgive him,” Lachlan continued. “He’s a massive nerd. I, on the other hand, am probably the most awesome man you’ll ever have the good fortune of encountering.”

“Such an honor.” 112 edged closer. “What brings such an awesome guy to our humble pit?”

“Someone kidnapped me and brought me here,” Lachlan said. “As for my unwanted companion, he was fucking around in some lab he wasn’t supposed to be in, like the genius he is–“

“I wasn’t… messing around, I was–“

“See? He’s such a nerd he can’t even say the fuck word.”

Annoyingly, Sam’s nervous expression became tinged with smug amusement rather than irritation.

“Feeble minds,” said Sam. “I wasn’t messing around. My coworker was calling for help, and I was looking for her. Some machine activated and I ended up here.”

“We’ve been trying to figure out where we are and how to get home,” said Lachlan.

“We’re trying to compile all available information about what we experienced and where we are,” said Sam. “If I figure out how this place works, I can figure out how to get us home.”

A rush of irritation spread through Lachlan.

“Excuse you, Samurai. I believe you mean that we can figure out how to get us home.”

“Unless the way home is through a giant oil fryer, I somehow doubt you’ll be much help.”

Lachlan’s fist clenched at his side.

“If that’s meant to be a comment about my place of employment, I’ll have you know that Chaz’s Chicken Hut mainly specializes in roast chicken.”

“Oh,” said Sam. “My apologies, then. If the way home involves a rotisserie, your skill set will prove extremely valuable.”

The women all stepped closer in unison, 112 and 199 walking together through the door.

“They’re arguing,” said 112.

“Arguing about which of them will be the one to find the way home,” said one of the other two. “They both want to be the hero.”

“Typical boys,” said whichever number the third one was.

Why are they numbered? This is extremely confusing.

The women walked around them, fanning out to surround Lachlan and Sam in the corner of the room, and Lachlan’s nerves grew tenser. While he had an inch and at least ten kilos on even the largest of the three women, being surrounded like this reminded him of the night before, of being ambushed behind the restaurant and stuck with some unknown drug.

“So, uh…” he began, suddenly painfully aware he’d started about three sentences with the word ‘so’ since encountering the women.

Why were they making him so nervous? Why were his instincts screaming at him to run away?

“So.” 112 moved closer.

“You, uh… you sound… American? Like Sam here? He was in Charlotte before he came here. North Carolina. Is that where you came from too?”

“In a past life,” said a woman. Lachlan wasn’t sure which one.

“O…kay? That’s… nice.” Lachlan shifted backward, away from the women. “Me? I’m from Brisbane. Do you know where that is? A lot of Americans don’t. Sam didn’t, despite his claims of brilliance and genius–“

“Why would I know some obscure town in Australia?” interrupted Sam.

“Obscure town? It’s a state capital. It has a population of two million. It’s lucky that you decided to pursue engineering and not geography.” Lachlan shook his head. “And to think, he insults my intelligence.”

The three women stepped forward, closing in on Lachlan and Sam. Lachlan stepped backward and his back hit the corner of the room.

“I’ve never heard of it, so it can’t be that major a city,” said Sam.

Why are Americans like this?

This may come as a shock to you, Samosa,” said Lachlan, “but the world does not revolve around you and the things of which you have and have not heard.”

“I never said it did, I only said–“

One of the women cut him off.

“Now, now. Stop it, both of you.”

“Yeah,” said another. “Stop it. You don’t want to die arguing, do you?”

Wait, what?

He should have probably been more afraid, but he was mainly annoyed. Fuck. Sam had been right. He really shouldn’t have knocked on the door, and now, assuming they escaped, Sam was going to rub it in his face.

Sam did look afraid, his eyes wide as he looked at the three women closing in on them.

“D-did… did you just say what I think you just said?”

The women answered his question with three chilling grins.

“I told you that you shouldn’t have knocked on that door!” said Sam.

Great. They were in immediate danger and he was already rubbing it in.

“Wait.” Lachlan held his hands up in front of him. “Wait, hold on. You’re going to kill us? Why?”

“We’re hungry,” said 112.

Sam’s eyes grew even wider.

“Y-you’re going to eat us?”

“Hold on, hold on,” said Lachlan. “So what is this? Some sort of Donner party situation? You’ve been stranded here so long that you’re resorting to cannibalism?”

” You don’t have to do this.” Sam backed into the wall beside Lachlan. “D-didn’t you hear me before? I’m going to get us out of here, and then… and then Lachlan here can fix you some nice roast chicken.”

“Yes,” said Lachlan. “Yes. I’ll cook you all the roast chicken you want. I’ll even throw in some corn cobs. Mash and gravy. Whatever you want. I can also do chicken nuggets, if that’s more your speed. Do you like nuggets? Nug-nugs? Chicken nuggos?”

Sam took a momentary break from his terrified expression to shoot Lachlan a derisive look.

“Nuggos? Seriously?”

“I’ve never had them,” said one of the women.

“They’re good,” said Sam. “Really good.”

“So good,” said Lachlan. “So much more appetizing than humans. I mean, look at Sam over there. He’s all scrawny and sad-looking–“

“Hey!”

“I’m making a case for not eating you. You’re welcome,” said Lachlan. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’ll cook all the chicken your hearts desire. Do you like wings?”

“Of course you do!” Sam laughed nervously. “Everyone loves wings, right?”

“I can do buttermilk wings, spicy buttermilk wings, extreme spicy buttermilk wings. You name it,” said Lachlan. “Much better than eating us. We don’t even come with a little cup of barbecue sauce on the side.”

“Think about it logically,” said Sam. “If you eat us now, I won’t be able to help you get home.”

“We won’t be able to help you get home,” corrected Lachlan.

“There are so many things you’ll be able to eat at home. Rotisserie chicken. Wings.”

“Nuggos,” added Lachlan.

112 smiled.

“There’s no way home. Not anymore, and especially not for you two.”

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3.1

Anna B.1 Comment

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Naomi

Sarah had said traveling back through the portal would be ‘real uncomfortable’.

That turned out to be an incredible understatement.

An ear-splitting sound tore the room in half, and Naomi’s body shuddered so violently she felt it in each molecule. The vibration intensified, and she began to lose her fixed shape, feeling as though if she moved even a little, she would liquefy into a pool on the floor.

The sound grew more powerful, and she was pulled inward, siphoned into a single point in her body and spit out backwards in the wrong order.

As the shuddering died down, she began to feel her body again. A stinging cheek pressed against cold metal, impending bruises on wrists, hipbones digging into a hard floor.

She tested her fingers first, folding them to make sure they still moved as they were supposed to.

She tried to roll over onto her back, and found herself weighed down. Sarah was lying on top of her.

“Hey! Get off! What’s your problem?”

She shoved Sarah off her and stood up. She steadied herself against the chamber wall as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

“Hey, no need to shove. We’ve gotta be touching or the portal won’t take both of us.”

Jen was standing next to the chamber, one hand pressed to the glass, the other holding Naomi’s phone to her ear. She was speaking, but Naomi couldn’t make out what she was saying.

Sarah pulled herself to her feet and opened the door.

“After you,” she said.

Naomi left the chamber and Sarah followed.

“Yeah, they’re back!” Jen was saying. “They look like they got a little hurt… no, no, not seriously hurt, but they’ve got some cuts and scrapes. Here, I’ll give you to Naomi.”

Jen handed Naomi’s phone back to her, and Melanie’s worried voice carried over the line before Naomi had a chance to speak.

“Naomi, oh, my God, what happened to you? Jen said you disappeared, and you were gone for five minutes at least. We were so fucking scared. Are you alright? Jen said you were hurt.”

“I’m fine,” said Naomi, feeling far from fine. “I think I have a couple bruises, but nothing serious.”

“What happened?”

“After Jen activated the machine, we ended up in this weird place,” said Naomi. “Sarah said it was the Pit she was talking about.”

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“We were attacked,” said Naomi.

“Attacked? What? Fuck. Oh, my God. By who?”

“I don’t know,” said Naomi. “There were three women who looked just like Sarah, and they attacked us almost as soon as we got there. I don’t know who they were or what they wanted, but I’m assuming Sarah does.”

She pressed the speakerphone button.

“I do. Those were my sisters,” said Sarah. “I don’t know how much Fab st59 has told you.”

Melanie’s voice became steely.

“Don’t call him that. His name is Falcon.”

“It is not,” said Sarah. “That’s a stupid name. I’m not gonna go around calling myself Ostrich or Chickadee. If I call him anything like a real name, it’s gonna be Stanley.”

“Chickadee’s kind of a cute name, actually,” said Jen.

“Stanley’s not his name either,” said Melanie.

“I mean, no,” said Sarah. “It’s not, no more than Sarah is my name. But it makes more sense than Falcon.”

Melanie’s tone lost some of its sharp edge.

“Haven’t you ever thought about choosing a real name for yourself?”

Sarah snorted.

“Why is that funny?”

“You’re cute,” said Sarah. “You’re… what’s the word? Anthro-something. Anthropomorphic?”

“I’m anthropomorphic? What?”

“No, not that. I’m not thinking of the right word,” said Sarah. “It’s like when CPSI used to have these big machines that would roll around and clean the floors in the evening. People used to give them names, tell them they were doing a good job, stuff like that. That’s what you’re doing, but with me and st59. What’s the word for that?”

“Anthropomorphizing?” offered Naomi.

“Yeah! That’s it,” said Sarah. “Imaging we have human qualities just ’cause we look like people.”

“I’m not anthropomorphizing,” said Melanie. “I knew Falcon for over a year. He is a person. And so are you, Sarah.”

“I’m not,” said Sarah. “You were born, I was designed. You probably have hopes and dreams or whatever. My only purpose is to serve CPSI.”

“You must have hopes and dreams too,” said Melanie. “Isn’t there something you want? Something that doesn’t involve serving that utter shit show of a company?”

“I guess,” said Sarah. “Technically. But it doesn’t count.”

“What is it, then? What do you want?”

“Power, I guess,” said Sarah. “Fortune, power, someone beneath me I can exploit.”

Naomi turned to stare at her. Based on her experience with Sarah so far, she wasn’t exactly surprised, but it was still alarming to hear her say that so bluntly and casually.

“Fuck. Jesus. Alright, then,” said Melanie.

“It’s probably why Mr. Clyde and I get along so well. He’s kinda the same way and I think he sees some of himself in me or something,” said Sarah. “He anthropomorphizes me too sometimes, I think.”

Naomi thought there was a wistful note in Sarah’s voice as she continued.

“With him, it’s real though. With me, it was just a design flaw in the Sarah models. It’s why the rest of my sisters were disposed of.”

“I’m sorry,” said Melanie.

“Don’t be,” said Sarah. “They were tools that were discarded when they were no longer needed. I’m not st59. I never felt any false sense of loyalty to them.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“The so-called bond between the Stanley model fabs was just another design flaw,” said Sarah. “What you’ve gotta understand is we don’t feel friendship or loyalty. Not the way you do.”

“That’s not true,” came Dominic’s voice from the phone. “He is our friend.”

“You must feel loyalty,” said Melanie. “You’re loyal to the people you work for, right? Loyal to the Clydes?“

“I guess. The Clydes, and there was someone else once, too. None of it was real, though. I can feel something like loyalty, but it’s not genuine,” said Sarah. “Us fabs, we’re like… hollowed out people, made for specific purposes. Our emotions are hollowed out too.”

Melanie paused again.

“Do you have any other wishes? Something other than power? Something that doesn’t involve hurting anyone else?”

Sarah shrugged.

“Not really.”

“Nothing at all?”

“I guess…” She paused. “I guess I’d like to be a real person.”

<><

Lachlan

“Are you sure it came from this direction?” said Sam.

“Yeah,” said Lachlan. “It definitely came from this way.”

“Based on how loud the sound was, we should be getting close,” said Sam. “Assuming you’re right, of course.”

“I’m always right,” said Lachlan.

Lachlan started to reach for the door in front of them.

“Wait,” said Sam.

“What is it?”

“There are voices coming from behind that door,” said Sam. “We don’t know what could be in there.”

Lachlan pressed his ear to the door. He did hear soft voices on the other side.

“Maybe it’s that girl you were looking for,” said Lachlan. “Or maybe the sound we heard was someone else getting transported here.”

“Maybe,” said Sam. “Or it could be more creatures. The one we ran into before could talk.”

Lachlan held his ear to the door. He couldn’t hear what the voices were saying, but they sounded normal enough.

“They sound human to me,” said Lachlan.

He knocked on the door.

“Knock knock! Hello, potential murder rectangles. We humbly request entry into what is almost certainly another crummy room identical to the one in which we are currently standing.”

“Stop it!” said Sam. “Anything could be in there–“

The door opened, and a woman peeked through.

She looked to be in her mid or late twenties, with tan skin and dark brown hair. She didn’t look like she’d just been pulled into this place; if her tattered, stained jumpsuit and matted hair were anything to go by, she’d been stranded for a long time.

Something about her face was very familiar, but Lachlan couldn’t place it.

“By all means,” she said. “Please come in.”

She turned back, addressing someone else in the room they couldn’t see.

“Sisters, come look at what I found.”

“What is it?” responded someone in the room.

The woman’s face spread into a grin as she turned back to Lachlan and Sam.

“A consolation prize.”

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