Tag: Sam

7.4

Anna B.3 Comments

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Naomi

They walked down the street together, Falcon’s larger brothers surrounding the group protectively. At times, they all had to crowd together to squeeze down particularly narrow stretches of road.

Naomi stood to Chelsea’s left. Angelina was at her right side, clinging onto her arm.

“Give C some space, Angelina,” said Naomi.

“It’s okay,” said Chelsea. “It’s nice having you here, Angelina.”

“Chelsea’s being too nice, but she’s been through a lot today,” said Naomi. “Give her some breathing room.”

“Oh, and I haven’t been through a lot today?” said Angelina. “For your information, I fell through an abyss! I got chased by a snake man! I fought a giant three headed monster with a really small sword! The sword was actually scissors, but that’s not important.”

Oh. Naomi felt a pang of guilt. She’d been so focused on Chelsea, she hadn’t even considered that Angelina must have been through some equally bizarre shit.

“Right. Sorry,” said Naomi. “I didn’t realize.”

“C, if you do want space, I can let go of your arm,” said Angelina. “Just tell me.”

“I don’t mind, really,” said Chelsea.

Naomi noticed Chelsea had a slight flush to her cheeks. Maybe her face was pink from the cold, or maybe Angelina was embarrassing her with the excess physical contact and she was too nice to say. Either way, Naomi decided not to force the issue anymore. Chelsea was a grown woman and could take care of herself.

“Are you sure?” said Angelina.

“I’m sure. In fact…” Chelsea linked her arm with Naomi’s so the three of them formed a chain. “There. Perfect.”

Naomi startled as she felt another arm slide under her left arm, linking with hers. She looked over to see Jen standing beside her.

“Hi! Are the girls linking arms?”

Naomi stared at her, not sure what to say.

“We’re off to see the Wizard,” sang Jen as she skipped a few steps.

“I love that movie!” said Angelina. “Want to learn how that song goes in Italian?”

“Sure!”

“Okay, it goes like this… Insieme andiam da Mago…”

The cute little bat thing on Angelina’s shoulder perked up at the singing.

“In… inseam…”

“No, no, no. Insieme.“

“Inseam-ay?”

Naomi tried to tune Jen and Angelina out as Angelina continued teaching Jen the song. She glanced at Chelsea who was watching Angelina with a good-natured smile.

Naomi felt a tap on her shoulder and turned her head to see Lachlan and Sam behind her.

“Naomi, I need to talk to you for a second,” said Lachlan.

Naomi unlinked herself from the chain and fell back a few steps. Jen quickly re-linked herself with Chelsea.

“Sure,” said Naomi. “What did you need to talk about?”

“Nothing,” said Lachlan. “You just looked like you needed rescuing from Tweedledee and Tweedledum up there, and as a dashing, manly hero, I figured it was my duty to aid a citizen in distress.”

“A citizen in distress?” Naomi raised an eyebrow. “Not a damsel?”

“Of course not. I’m not a misogynist.”

“Really?” said Sam. “You’re commenting on the ‘citizen in distress’ thing, but not the ‘dashing, manly hero’ thing?”

“If you’ll recall, Samarskite, I happen to have saved your life countless times.”

“Countless? It was more like two times, maybe.”

Naomi wondered what the ‘Samarskite’ thing was about. She didn’t even know what Samarskite was, but Sam’s name definitely wasn’t actually short for it. Did Lachlan and Sam have inside jokes already?

“I was going to comment on the ‘dashing hero’ thing too, actually,” said Naomi. “We both know it’s bullshit. You’re definitely going to hold this over my head the next time you need a favor.”

“Nah,” said Lachlan. “I’d also accept your unwavering loyalty and your eternal reverence and adoration.”

“I think I’ll just do the favor,” said Naomi.

“Your loss.”

Naomi looked over at Sam, trying to find a sign indicating whether or not the talk about ‘rescuing’ her from his girlfriend had offended him. He didn’t look upset, but he had one of those faces that was hard to read.

“I hope you’re not mad that we’re talking about rescuing me from your girlfriend,” said Naomi. “It’s not that Jen’s not great, it’s just that–“

“It’s cool,” said Sam. “I know she can be kind of… a lot.”

“And then you combine that ‘a lot’ with Angelina’s ‘a lot’, and you get, well… whatever this is.”

Naomi gestured ahead of them. Angelina and Jen sang the song together, while skipping at a walking pace. They seemed to have roped Chelsea into joining them too. Jen sang with a heavy American accent, likely mispronouncing at least half the lyrics. Angelina seemed to be having trouble matching her pace to the other two, skipping too quickly and dragging poor Chelsea along with her.

“Do you think we should rescue Chelsea too?” said Naomi.

“Nah,” said Lachlan. “She actually likes Angelina for some reason. Besides, I somehow doubt Mrs. Sharma will let this go on for too long.”

“I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t already made them stop,” said Naomi.

“Ten bucks says she’ll blow up at them within the next five minutes,” said Sam.

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7.3

Anna B.1 Comment

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Lachlan

“Hold on a minute,” said Mahender. “Did you say ‘finding our way out of the Pit’?”

“Yes, that’s what I said,” said Mrs. Sharma. “Congratulations. At 25 years old, you’ve finally learned how to listen and pay attention. If you were 20 years younger, I might actually be proud.”

“Well, you’re a delight as always.”

“Unfortunately, it seems you still haven’t learned not to be sarcastic to your elders.”

“You were being sarcastic to me first,” said Mahender. “Maybe I learned from your example.”

Mrs. Sharma’s fist clenched.

“You’re in my house, and you will show me proper respect.” Mrs. Sharma turned to the rest of them. “That goes for all of you, too. Is that clear?”

Lachlan noticed her directing especially pointed looks at him and Angelina.

“Yes, ma’am!” said Jen. “Crystal!”

“Good,” said Mrs. Sharma. “Now, let’s get back to the matter at hand. Finding our way home.”

“I don’t understand, though,” said Mahender. “Where’s this coming from? We’ve been here for years. I thought you’d given up on making it home? You’ve been so obsessed with finding–“

“25 years old and you still haven’t learned how not to interrupt me.”

“Oh, I’ve learned. I just choose to do it anyway.”

Mrs. Sharma’s jaw clenched so hard, Lachlan saw it from all the way across the dim room.

“You irritating, disrespectful little–“

“Ahem,” said Lachlan. “If I may interrupt–“

“You may not,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“If I may interrupt,” Lachlan continued, “the two of you clearly have some family issues you need to work through. But maybe you could consider tabling that discussion until after we all escape from the murder pit. Just a suggestion.”

“Fair enough,” said Mahender. “Sorry.”

“Fine.” Mrs. Sharma paused, looking each of them in the eye as if daring them to interrupt again. “Angelina, you somehow appear to have information that could be useful to us, and you believe you’ve discovered a way back to our plane of reality. Can you tell me what you think you’ve figured out?”

“Sure!” said Angelina.

“Excuse me,” said Mahender.

Mrs. Sharma’s jaw clenched again.

“She looks like a cartoon character, the way her vein’s popping out of her forehead like that,” Jen whispered just loudly enough for Sam and Lachlan to hear.

“What was that?” said Mrs. Sharma.

“Nothing, ma’am!” said Jen.

“Really?” said Mrs. Sharma. “If it’s nothing, then why is it important enough to interrupt our discussion about getting home?”

“Um, because…”

“She said you look like a cartoon character,” said Lachlan.

Mahender huffed out a laugh into his sleeve.

“Excuse me?” said Mrs. Sharma.

“Hey!” said Jen. “Tattle much?”

“I look like a what?” said Mrs. Sharma.

“Well, I, um,” said Jen. “I didn’t mean–“

“She didn’t really mean you look like a cartoon character. She just meant you’re so mad right now, you look a little cartoon-ish,” supplied Sam.

“Lucky for you three idiots, I have more important things to focus on than your childish insults,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“What do you mean childish insults?” Sam protested. “I said you don’t really look like a cartoon character. How is that an insult?”

“And why am I included in the ‘three idiots’?” said Lachlan. “If you recall, unlike these two, I didn’t actually say anything about you. I’ve been a perfect little angel.”

“If anything, what I said was a compliment,” said Sam.

“I don’t really think you look like a cartoon character,” said Jen. “You look very nice.”

“I know I look nice. You’re not winning any points with me by sucking up.” Mrs. Sharma sighed. “From this point forward, I am going to ignore any further remarks from the three stooges here unless they directly pertain to our conversation.”

“If we’re talking about going home, we need to include Nancy,” said Mahender. “She should be a part of this conversation too.”

“Who’s Nancy?” whispered Jen.

“She’s an older lady who lives in an airplane,” said Sam. “She’s been trapped here for a while.”

“So you’re suggesting we leave the safety of my home and walk all the way to Nancy’s plane?” said Mrs. Sharma.

“Yeah. My brothers will come with us. It’s not as dangerous as you’re making it sound.”

“That’s out of the question,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“I’m not leaving this place without her,” said Mahender. “And you wouldn’t leave here without me.”

“What makes you so sure I wouldn’t?”

“I know you. And as much as you don’t like me, I know you wouldn’t leave your family behind.”

“Really?” Mrs. Sharma shot him a dark look. “You’re going to talk to me about leaving your family behind?”

So much for tabling the discussion about family issues.

“Well, I, for one, I don’t think we should leave Nancy out,” said Sam. “We can’t just leave her here.”

“Yeah,” said Lachlan. “We should go talk to her.”

“I have an idea!” said Jen. “Why don’t we all vote on it? Everyone who thinks we should go find this lady, raise your hand.”

Everyone but Mrs. Sharma raised their hand. Even the strange little bat-like creature sitting on Angelina’s shoulder raised a hand after Angelina whispered something to it.

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7.2

Anna B.1 Comment

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Naomi

Naomi, Mahender, and Angelina followed Mrs. Sharma down the hall.

“Why can’t Falcon come in?” said Angelina.

“He’ll be safe outside,” said Mrs. Sharma. “I can’t say the same for my useless nephew, or his new friend. Besides, my house has limited space.”

They entered the combined living room and kitchen area, and as Mrs. Sharma moved out of the way, Naomi saw who was standing by the couch, bruised and a bit disheveled, but alive.

“Chelsea!”

Naomi’s relief was the kind that washed every bit of tension and worry from her body so abruptly it left her legs feeling weak; it was a wave that swept over her, threatening to knock her off her feet.

Naomi ran over to her friend, falling into her arms.

“Naomi! Not that I’m not happy to see you, but how are you here?”

“Oh, my God, C! You’re alive! You’re safe! When that woman said she put you here, I thought…” The threat of tears stung the corners of Naomi’s eyes, and she fought them back. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“The rest of us are okay too, thanks for asking!” said a familiar voice from behind Chelsea.

Lachlan, who was sitting on one of the two barstools in the kitchen, swiveled around to face her.

One time, Lachlan had video called her the morning after a particularly wild night out, informing her with some extremely misplaced pride in his voice that he’d woken up wrapped in a tarp in his neighbor’s driveway. The bags under his eyes now were twice as dark as they’d been then.

The clothes he wore were very un-Lachlan-like–white slacks that would have been stylish if they had been clean and a size larger, a light blue button-down shirt, and a jacket with red stripes. Each item would have been nice paired with something else, but together, it all clashed horribly.

“What are you wearing?” she asked him.

“What am I wearing?” he said. “Oh, sure. Chelsea gets all your tearful concern, and I get outfit criticism.”

“To be fair,” said Mrs. Sharma, “you and Sam both look horrible.”

“First of all,” said Lachlan, “I’d like to see you try to pull together an outfit in the dark from a stranger’s closet. Secondly, I’ll have you know that I’m handsome enough to pull off a paper sack, and Sam here’s not too hard on the eyes himself for a massive nerd. We make extradimensionally-scavenged chic look good.”

Naomi looked at the boy sitting backwards in the barstool beside Lachlan, arms resting on the stool’s backrest. The other boy’s clothes were equally mismatched; he wore a similar, dirtier pair of white slacks that looked like they’d been tailored for someone just a bit bigger than him and a brown aviator jacket over a white undershirt. The jacket suited him, at least.

Jen sat on the countertop between the two boys, holding onto the unfamiliar boy’s hand, which was bandaged with strips of cloth.

He must have been the boyfriend Jen had been looking for.

“Having to wear scavenged clothes is not an excuse,” said Mrs. Sharma. “All of my clothes were taken from strangers’ houses.”

“Well, some of us have bigger things to worry about than picking out a matching outfit,” said Lachlan. “Excuse us for having our priorities in order.”

“You think I don’t have bigger things to worry about?” said Mrs. Sharma. “You think I don’t have higher priorities? One of the most important things you learn in life is how to handle all of your priorities at once.”

“Doesn’t it make more sense to focus on the most important priorities?” said Lachlan.

“Yeah,” said Sam. “Why not dedicate your energy to the things that matter most and not waste any of it on stuff that really doesn’t affect anything?”

“Exactly,” said Lachlan.

“I don’t have to answer to two children who think they know better than I do,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“Spoken like a true person with no counterargument,” said Lachlan.

“I could come up with a counterargument,” said Mrs. Sharma, “but arguing with teenagers is not one of my priorities.”

“But putting together a swanky outfit is?” said Lachlan.

Mrs. Sharma turned her nose up at him and addressed the rest of the group.

“Anyway.” She cleared her throat. “First thing’s first. Jen, get off of my counter. Sam, if you’re going to use my chair, sit properly. I swear, it’s like all of you were raised by animals.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Jen slid off the counter and landed on the floor. “Sammy, you heard the lady!”

Sam rolled his eyes as he turned around to sit the right way.

“Now,” said Mrs. Sharma, “everyone look at me and pay attention. We need to discuss our way out of the Pit.”

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Interlude 15 – Are You Listening?

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Sam

The rational part of Sam was relieved that they’d run into other people, some of them familiar. He knew he was safer now, and more likely to make it home. He was relieved Chelsea was okay.

Still, there was a small, irrational part of him that felt intruded upon. Sudden changes in routine always threw him off, and he and Lachlan had slipped into a strange kind of routine in the last day–or however long they’d been there–working together to avoid danger and try to figure out some of this place’s mysteries. When the others had arrived, the shift had felt abrupt and jarring.

He knew it wasn’t fair of him to feel intruded on, not when he and Lachlan had been the ones snooping in Mrs. Sharma’s bedroom, but he found the feeling hard to shake.

Angelina sat on the sofa, looking down at her lap. Mrs. Sharma stared her down.

“The Italian team at CPSI discovered other–look at me when I’m talking to you–other planes of existence layered with our own. How could you have known about that?”

Angelina shrugged.

“Well?” said Mrs. Sharma.

“Well, what?” said Angelina. “Like… what do you want me to say?”

Mrs. Sharma sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“I want you to answer the question.”

“I thought I already answered it,” said Angelina.

“Okay, this is going nowhere.” Mrs. Sharma sighed again. “If you’re going to insist on being difficult, we’ll focus on what you know. We can come back to how you know it later.”

“Huh?” said Angelina.

“You said you knew a way out of here. I still find that very hard to believe, but I’m willing to entertain whatever idea you have. Especially given that you know things about the nature of reality itself that should be impossible for you to know.”

“Well, this conversation has taken an unexpected twist,” Lachlan whispered to Sam.

“Yeah!” whispered Jen. “The nature of reality itself? This is like a TV show or something.”

Something that could have been irritation flashed over Lachlan’s face, and Sam wondered if Lachlan felt the intrusion too. Either that, or he was just annoyed by everyone he met.

Sam could understand that. Most people were pretty annoying.

“Like I said before,” said Angelina, “does anyone have a notebook?”

“Yeah, we have one,” said Sam.

He reached into his bag with his right hand. He felt the notebook at the bottom of the bag, but his fingers–

Oh. Right. His fingers.

His palm throbbed as he lifted the notebook with his thumb, ring finger, and little finger.

He’d found it interesting how easy it had been to adjust to his missing fingers, and how little conscious effort it had taken on his part. His hand had quickly and instinctively found workarounds, his ring finger stepping in to fulfill the purpose of his lost index finger.

Still, all the unfamiliar motions were wreaking havoc on his hand muscles, to the point where every motion of his right hand made it more sore. The notebook nearly slipped out of his grasp, but he managed to hand it to Angelina, practically dropping it into her lap.

“Thanks!” she said.

She glanced at his hand, opening her mouth as though she was going to say something, then closed it again.

“No problem,” said Sam.

“Okay!” Angelina looked around at everyone, as if to ensure she had everyone’s attention. “So it’s like this. This page is our reality, and this page is like another layer. And right now, we’re here. In between the pages…”

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Interlude 14 – Kids

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Mona

Mona’s head was swimming. She had a rare urge to sit down, to sink into her sofa in an undignified slouch, but she resisted. She didn’t want to sit down in front of these kids, and she didn’t slouch ever.

As if reading her mind and mocking her, Angelina plopped down onto the couch, throwing her legs over the arm and sliding her backpack under her head as a makeshift pillow. Mona shot the girl a glare, but didn’t say anything. She had more important things to think about.

For nearly two years, she’d been alone, with only mutated fabrications, her useless nephew, and the woman with the airplane providing occasional company. She wasn’t used to being surrounded by people, let alone five unruly college kids.

She wondered how her husband managed, being a college professor. She wouldn’t have been able to tolerate it. But then, Rahul had always been the more patient one in their marriage.

These noisy kids had dropped information on her that had turned her desolate existence on its head. After two years of doing nothing but searching, she knew where Sarah was. She could be reasonably certain Sarah was alive. And they weren’t even letting her process it.

Sarah was still in CPSI’s clutches, doing their dirty work, but she was safe. She was in Charlotte.

Mona had been searching every corner of the Pit for two years, and Sarah was in the one place she couldn’t reach her.

Angelina had mentioned a way to get out of the Pit. Mona highly doubted the girl had figured out anything worthwhile, but she didn’t have any other leads at this point.

“Angelina,” she said.

Angelina lay on the sofa, singing to herself and tapping out a beat on the cushion.

“Angelina,” said Mona again, more sharply this time.

Angelina jerked her head up, startled.

“Eh? Cosa? Oh.” Angelina at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “What’s up?”

Mona frowned down at her.

“First of all, if you’re going to sit on my sofa, sit properly.”

“No, I’m good like this. It’s more comfy.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

Angelina sighed, swinging her legs over the chair arm and swiveling into a seated position. She pulled the backpack into her lap and hugged it to her body as she slouched backward into the cushion.

“I said sit properly. Straighten your back and put your bag down.”

Angelina tossed her bag to the ground and sat up a fraction straighter, mumbling something under her breath in Italian. Mona didn’t understand the words, but it sounded sarcastic.

“I’m going to ignore whatever you just said under your breath and get straight to the point. You said you knew a way out of this place. Tell me what you think you know.”

The boy with the bandaged hand–Sam, Mona thought he’d said his name was–perked up.

“You know how to get out of here? How?”

The other boy, Lachlan, gave his companion a look that communicated exactly what Mona had suspected. Angelina had no idea what she was talking about.

Still, Mona didn’t have anything better to go on.

“It’s like this,” Angelina began. “There are all these different layers to reality, and stuff can pass in between them in a specific pattern. Does someone have a notebook? That would help me explain it more–“

Mona wasn’t sure what she’d expected Angelina to say, but it certainly hadn’t been that.

“How do you know about that?” Mona interrupted.

Angelina stared at her, blinking with large, vacant-looking brown eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“You said there were layers to reality. It’s a crude description, but an accurate one. How did you know about that?”

Angelina blinked at her again.

“It’s obvious if you look hard enough.”

Mona frowned, unsure what to say.

It most definitely was not obvious. What was becoming obvious was that this girl wasn’t at all what she seemed.

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6.16

Anna B.1 Comment

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Lachlan

Sure enough, Chelsea stood in the living room, along with two other girls. A short blonde girl Lachlan didn’t recognize stood beside Chelsea, while a familiar-looking girl with chin-length brown hair lounged on the couch, her legs dangling over the arm. It took Lachlan a moment to realize who the brunette girl was.

“Angelina? I… what? How the motherfuck are you here?”

Before Angelina could answer, the blonde girl let out a shriek, running toward Sam and nearly knocking him over with a hug.

“Sammy-wammy! You’re alive!”

Sammy-wammy? Lachlan would have to remember to give Sam a hard time about that.

“Jen?” Sam looked startled. “What are you doing here?”

So this was Sam’s girlfriend? She was pretty good-looking, Lachlan guessed, but something about her bothered him.

“I was looking for you because you disappeared, and then there was this girl looking for Chelsea, and then this other lady tried to kill her but I saved her life! Then the other lady was like–“

“That’s enough,” said the woman with the axes. “I can sum it up for you. Jen was looking for you after you went missing. She ran into Chelsea’s friend Naomi, who was looking for Chelsea–“

“Wait, is Naomi here too?” said Lachlan.

“Don’t interrupt me,” said the woman. “Jen and Naomi ran into an… old friend of mine who was working for CPSI. She trapped them here, along with a biotechnologically engineered human calling himself Falcon. They were attacked by a creature and Jen became separated from the group. The end. There. I just saved us all about twenty minutes of listening to Jen chatter on. You’re welcome.”

“I still have some questions,” said Sam.

“So Falcon and Naomi are here?” said Lachlan. “We have to find them.”

“Falcon’s one of the Stanley fabrications, correct?” said the woman.

“I… think so?” Jen looked up, still latched onto Sam like an overly chipper, blonde vice.

“If so, he’ll probably be fine, at least for the time being. He’ll have plenty of allies here,” said the woman. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about this Naomi you mentioned.”

“Can we like, take a time-out for a second?” said Jen, finally untangling herself from Sam and facing the group. “I think some of us should probably introduce ourselves, because I have no clue who Sam’s hot friend is, and he looks super confused too.”

Hot friend, huh? Lachlan revised his initial impression of Jen. Maybe she wasn’t so bad. At the very least, she had good taste in men.

“Fine,” said the woman.

“Why don’t we go around in a circle and say our name, how we ended up in the Pit, and one fun fact about ourselves?” said Jen.

“No,” said the woman.

“I’ll go first. Hey, y’all, I’m Jen Washer, and I was stranded here by a crazy lady while looking for my boyfriend–hi, Sammy! My fun fact is that I have a black belt in Taekwando.”

“We’re not doing this,” said the woman.

“I’ll go next!” said Angelina. “My name is Angelina–that’s long for ‘Angela’–and I ended up here after I went to Borgo San Severino to look for clues about what happened to my friend Chelsea. My fun fact is that I am the president and founder of the official Italian street team of the greatest band in the whole entire universe–The Goldfish Technique!”

“It’s not a real street team,” said Lachlan. “It’s you and your twelve-year-old sister.”

“Does this mean you’re going next, friend of Sam’s?” said Jen.

Lachlan shrugged. “If I must. I’m Lachlan Newton, I was ambushed outside of my work by what I now assume were CPSI goons, shoved into a van, and thrown into this delightful place. My fun fact about myself is that I’m a much bigger fan of The Goldfish Technique than Angelina is–Oi!” He dodged as Angelina hurled a small, round object at his head. It bounced off the wall behind him and rolled to his feet, and he saw it was a grape.

Angelina was so weird.

“Don’t throw grapes at me!” he said. “What’s the matter with you?”

Angelina stuck out her tongue.

“Oh, that’s very mature,” he said.

“Your butt is mature,” she retorted.

The woman with the axes sighed, rubbing her temples.

“I’ll go next,” said Chelsea. “I’m Chelsea Brown, I was caught by a woman named Sarah and put in here, and my fun fact is that I collect odd things.”

“What constitutes an ‘odd thing’?” said Sam.

“I know it when I see it,” said Chelsea. “Um, I have medical antiques, a Victorian locket with someone’s hair in it, a toad skeleton encased in resin… You know. Odd things. I find them at antique stores and stuff.”

Lachlan gestured at Angelina, who was clinging to Chelsea’s side, draped over her arm like a coat.

“Is she part of your collection?” he said.

Angelina made a face at him.

Jen threw an arm around Sam, squeezing his shoulders.

“Your turn, Sammy!” she said.

“Okay, then,” said Sam. “My name is Sam, a machine sent me here while I was trying to save Chelsea, and my fun fact is that when I was a kid, my family moved out of our house because my dad thought it was haunted. And… I guess that means it’s her turn.” He looked at the woman with the axes.

“Fine,” said the woman. “My name is Mrs. Sharma, I was sent here because I was a CPSI employee who no longer served their interests, and my ‘fun fact’ is that I need an aspirin.”

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6.15

Anna B.1 Comment

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Lachlan

Sam pulled one sword off the wall, reaching with his right hand first, then reconsidering and grabbing it in his left hand. He brandished the first sword in his left hand, then reached for the other with his right hand. He tried to grab the other sword’s hilt, fumbling with it for a second before it slipped out of his hand and fell onto the table, knocking over several small bottles and sending them rolling to the floor.

Lachlan crossed the small room and reached for the fallen sword. He picked it up.

“Hey,” said Sam. “I wanted both swords.”

“If you have both swords, one or both of us is going to end up extremely decapitated,” whispered Lachlan. “And keep your voice down.”

Four sets of footsteps approached, and the voices were loud enough that Lachlan had no trouble hearing what they were saying.

“They’re in my weapon storage room,” said one voice. “You three wait here.”

The speaker’s accent sounded Indian with a hint of American. Her tone was measured yet clipped, with an authoritative edge.

“Wait, you have a weapon storage room?” said a second voice. The speaker sounded American. She had a very slight Southern twang, but rather than having a stereotypical slow drawl, she spoke as though she’d recently downed about ten shots of espresso. “Why am I not surprised you’ve got a weapon storage room?”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay? We don’t know who or what’s in there.” said a third voice. This voice sounded familiar, but Lachlan couldn’t place it.

“I’m more than capable of handling myself,” said the authoritative voice. “I doubt you three could say the same.”

Lachlan relaxed a fraction. This didn’t sound like a conversation between bloodthirsty monsters.

The door opened, and Sam brandished his sword with surprising grace.

A woman’s silhouette appeared in the doorway. She had two strange shapes over her shoulders that Lachlan first thought were strange, tall shoulder pads, then realized were two axes strapped to her back.

Sam lowered his sword a fraction.

The woman switched on a lantern that lay on the desk, giving Lachlan a better look at her facial expression.

She did not look pleased.

“Would you like to explain what you’re doing in my bedroom, rifling through my desk?” she said. “And put those swords down. You look ridiculous.”

Sam lowered the sword to his side, looking sheepish.

“Maybe he looks ridiculous,” said Lachlan. “I happen to think I look rather awesome and badass.”

The woman scoffed.

“I’m not a threat to you, and you two idiots wouldn’t know what to do with those swords if I was.”

“Forgive me for being suspicious,” said Lachlan, “but how do we know you’re not a threat to us?”

“Because if I wanted to kill you, I could have easily done so already.”

“Huh. Fair enough.”

The woman crossed her arms.

“You still haven’t explained what you’re doing in my room.” She looked down at the floor and frowned as she spotted the trail of faint, bloody footprints from Sam’s shoes. “Or why you’ve tracked dirt into my house.”

Sam slid his shoes off and kicked them toward the corner of the room.

“We were just looking around,” said Sam. “All the other houses were empty, so we thought this one was too.”

“Hm,” said the woman. “I guess I can excuse you breaking in here. That was an understandable mistake. What’s not understandable is why you thought it was acceptable to ransack my desk.”

Lachlan paused, unable to think of a reply. In retrospect, what they’d done hadn’t been such a good idea.

“Um, such is the folly of youth?” he finally said.

“Even at five years old, I knew better than to dig through another person’s things.” The woman sighed. “So, I guess the two of you are stuck here just like the young ladies in the other room–although calling them ‘young ladies’ feels like stretching the truth.”

“We’re looking for a ‘young lady’, actually,” said Sam. “My coworker Chelsea. I got stuck here when I was trying to help her.”

“Chelsea. Yes. She’s back in the living room,” said the woman. “Her and her two very obnoxious friends. Come with me. I’ll take you to them.”

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6.14

Anna B.1 Comment

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Lachlan

“Hey,” said Sam. “Do you hear that?”

Lachlan looked up from the notebook he was reading and listened. He heard nothing at first, then faint voices became audible. He sat up, swiveling his body around to look out the window.

He could make out four figures in the dim light, approaching about a quarter of a kilometer away. They looked human in shape, but that didn’t mean anything in this place.

“Do you see anyone?” said Sam.

“Yeah, four someones as a matter of fact. They’re too far away for me to get a good look at them, though.”

“Let’s hope they’re friendly,” said Sam.

“Based on our previous experience,” said Lachlan, “I’m going to venture a wild guess that they’re not.”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “Probably not. We need a plan.”

“To start, why don’t you turn off that torch? If they’re not friendly, we don’t want them seeing us.”

“What torch?” said Sam. “All I have is this flashlight.”

“Flashlight, torch, tomayto, tomahto.”

“It’s not ‘tomayto, tomahto’. A torch is a stick with combustible material on the end of it that you light on fire.”

“Maybe in America it is. In Australia, we understand context enough to know when someone’s talking about a stick that’s on fire and when someone’s talking about a battery-operated–” Lachlan cut himself off as he saw one of the figures point toward them. “Fuck.”

“What is it?”

“We’ve been spotted.”

“How do you know?”

“One of them just pointed at us. Turn off the torch and let’s hide in another room.”

Sam nodded and switched off the light.

“Just what I was going to suggest,” he said. “Let’s go for the one next to this one. It’ll be the easiest to get to, and we’ll still be able to keep an eye on the window.”

Lachlan stood up and headed for the door.

“Don’t just sit there, then, Samurai. They’re getting closer.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Sam stood up and followed him out of the room. They hurried down the hall, and Lachlan opened the door to the next room, holding it open so Sam could catch it and enter behind him.

Lachlan dropped to a crouch and motioned for Sam to do the same, but Sam was staring at the room’s walls, distracted. Lachlan grabbed Sam by the back of his jacket and pulled him down, nearly causing him to lose his balance.

“Hey!” said Sam.

“Shh!” Lachlan whispered. “The whole point of us coming in here is so we can stay hid–”

He trailed off as he looked up at the wall in front of them and realized what Sam had found so distracting.

Hanging on the wall from metal hooks and canvas straps were dozens of axes and knives, organized by type, size, and shape. In the center of the wall, there was even a pair of long, thin, single-edged swords. Each weapon was labeled with a small square piece of paper, though Lachlan couldn’t read the labels in the dim light. A table was set up against the wall with a sharpening stone, sandpaper, a few small plastic bottles, and some equipment Lachlan didn’t recognize.

“Woah,” said Lachlan. “Holy fuck.”

“You’re just now noticing this?”

“I’ve been a bit more focused on our survival,” said Lachlan. “Let’s get through our current predicament in one piece, and then we can address the fact that we’ve apparently stumbled into the den of a very organized serial killer.”

“Whatever.” Sam squinted out the window. “It looks like they’re getting a lot closer. I can’t make out what they’re saying, though.”

Lachlan listened closely. The voices still sounded human. He couldn’t make out every word they were saying, but he made out the words ‘house’ and ‘window’.

“Well, that’s not good. Something about a house and window. They’re probably talking about how they saw us in the house through the window,” said Lachlan. “On the bright side, it’s not as though we’d be unarmed if they came in here.”

“We’re also in a room full of weapons they could use against us, you know.”

“I know that, but I’m trying to see the glass as half full here.”

“You know, most of what people consider optimism is just an unwillingness to consider things logically. We’re outnumbered four to two, you know. A direct physical confrontation isn’t likely to end well for us–“

Sam fell silent for a moment as they heard the front door open. Then, he spoke again.

“I call the swords.”

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6.5

Anna B.1 Comment

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Lachlan

Lachlan lay on his side in the bed reading a Moleskine notebook, while Sam squinted at a diagram of a squid-like arm.

“Interesting.” Sam held up the diagram. “Most of the mature forms of the creatures here seem to have arms that look just like this.”

“Yeah,” said Lachlan. “It’s written here too. ‘The mature forms of all three varieties of fabrications possess similar cephalopodan retractile limbs, each limb terminating in a spatulate club-like appendage. In the case of Dave and Stanley fabrications, these limbs are garish blue in colour and rather offensive to the eye.’ Get wrecked, murder rectangles.”

“Why do they keep calling the creatures Dave and Stanley?” said Sam.

“‘Cause they’re a weirdo?” Lachlan shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, Samurai.”

“I think Ms. van Vleet mentioned Daves too. Who came up with that? Who looks at a vicious rectangle with teeth and tentacles and says ‘he looks like a Dave’?” Sam looked down at the diagram and nodded approvingly. “I’ve gotta hand it to this person, though. The detail here is impeccable.”

“Here’s what I’m curious about,” said Lachlan. “They keep calling those things ‘fabrications’. As in, inventions, or falsifications.”

“Fabrications. Ugh,” said Sam. “That word makes me think of my stupid language arts teacher from 8th grade.”

Lachlan gave Sam a curious look.

“Every time I didn’t have my homework, when I told him I forgot it at home, he’d always tell me he’d had it with my ‘wild fabrications’. Like I was feeding him some crazy story.”

“You? Sammy Alexander, boy genius, forgetting your homework?” said Lachlan. “Now there’s a wild fabrication.”

“I guess he had a point,” said Sam. “I didn’t forget it, I just didn’t do it because it was stupid and I didn’t want to. So it was a fabrication, just not a wild one.”

“I’m impressed,” said Lachlan. “The mild-mannered nerd has a hidden rebellious streak. I didn’t know you had it in you, Samurai.”

“Shut up,” said Sam. “What you said does raise an interesting question, though. If these creatures are fabrications, does that mean that they’re lies? That they’re not really real?”

“I think that depends,” said Lachlan. “To which sense of the word is this person referring? Do they mean fabrication as in a lie? Or fabrication as in an invention?”

Sam held up his right hand, indicating the stubs where his index and middle fingers had been.

“They seemed real enough to do this.”

“You’re assuming your hand is real,” said Lachlan. “If you’ll recall our little chitchat earlier, you’ll remember that we can never truly know the nature of reality. Your own hand could be a mad-scientist induced illusion.”

“Not helpful.”

“It wasn’t meant to be helpful.”

“Hey.” Sam looked up from the diagram, eyes lighting up as though recalling something.

“Hey, yourself.”

“98 said that him and his brothers were created by CPSI.”

“That would explain a lot,” said Lachlan. “There’s still so much that doesn’t make sense, though.”

“Like those creepy sisters?”

“Yeah, like them,” said Lachlan. “And like Falcon.”

“You lost me,” said Sam. “Who’s Falcon?”

Lachlan sighed. How was he meant to explain everything that had happened?

“It’s a long story,” said Lachlan. “It started when the greatest band in existence found this guy lost in the bush…”

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“So, let me get this straight,” Sam began. “Let me get this straight, um…”

He trailed off, seeming unsure which part of the story he was trying to get straight.

“Cat got your tongue, Samurai?”

“That’s one way of putting it. I think I’m even more confused than I was before.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nearly as confused as you were.”

“There’s one thing I think I should bring up,” said Sam. “I think we have a mutual acquaintance.”

“A mutual acquaintance? And just who might that be?”

“You mentioned that one of the sisters attacked your friend Chelsea?”

“Yeah,” said Lachlan. “I didn’t realize it before. I didn’t make the connection until I saw that drawing out there.”

“I think your friend Chelsea is the same Chelsea I was looking for when I got stuck in here,” said Sam. “Just before it happened, she mentioned being attacked in her friend’s apartment.”

“Her surname wouldn’t happen to be Brown, would it?”

Sam nodded.

“Huh. Small world.”

“It can’t be a coincidence,” said Sam. “Before she disappeared, it sounded like she was screaming for help. She had to have been sent here on purpose like you were.”

“Because we witnessed the attack on Falcon.”

“Ah,” said Sam. “Disposing of the witnesses.”

“I wonder why they didn’t just kill us,” mused Lachlan. “Probably didn’t want to have to deal with the bodies.”

“Wow, you’re morbid.”

“Well, we survived, so the joke is on them.”

Sam didn’t respond, frowning down at the notebook his was looking at. He attempted to turn a page with his thumb and ring finger and fumbled, the paper sliding out of his hand.

“You alright over there, Samurai?” said Lachlan.

“Something concerning just occurred to me.” Sam turned the page with his good hand. “These monsters looked used to look human. They only started changing when they entered this place.”

“Ah,” said Lachlan. “I think I understand your concern.”

“That raises some worrying questions about what’s happening to me.”

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6.4

Anna B.1 Comment

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Lachlan

“Okay,” said Sam. “That’s different.”

Lachlan followed Sam into the house and realized right away why the house had felt strange. It was too clean.

The other houses were caked with a thick dust layer and full of clutter, personal belongings, and decorations. The inside of this house was spotless, Spartan and minimalist. It was clean enough that someone had to have been in it recently, but it looked the least lived-in of all the houses they’d searched for supplies.

The house’s front room was a small combined kitchen and living room that opened into a hallway on one side. It was sparsely furnished; the living area contained only a single couch against one wall, a shelf of neatly arranged books against the other, and a coffee table with nothing on it between them. Other than the kitchen cabinets, counters, and bar, the kitchen contained only a non-operational refrigerator and two bar stools. The only decorations were two framed portraits hanging on either side of the bookshelf.

The portraits were drawn in clean pencil lines. They were pretty good drawings, but they had an impalpable quality that made Lachlan think the person who’d drawn them hadn’t been an artist. One drawing was of two somber-faced children with large dark eyes, drawn with similar enough features Lachlan suspected they were meant to be siblings.

The other drawing was of a woman who’s face looked strangely familiar. It took Lachlan a moment to realize why.

“Sam.” Lachlan pointed to the portrait. “Look at that picture.”

Sam had already disappeared into the hallway, so he poked his head around the corner.

“What?” Sam came into the room and walking over to stand near it. He squinted. “Wait a minute. Is that who I think it is?”

The likeness was unmistakable. It was one of those creepy sisters.

“It sure looks like it,” said Lachlan. “The question is, what kind of lunatic would hang a picture of one of the Donner sisters in a place of pride in their living room?”

“Maybe it’s not one of them.” Sam disappeared into the hall again. His voice grew more muffled as he walked farther away. “Maybe it’s just a picture of a lady who looks like them.”

Lachlan frowned at the picture. The resemblance was too uncanny to be a coincidence.

The squeak of Sam opening a door came from the end of the hall.

“I’m gonna see if I can find anything useful,” said Sam.

“Wait.” Lachlan started after him. “This house isn’t abandoned like the other ones. Someone’s staying here.”

Lachlan followed Sam into a bedroom that was as plain and sparse as the kitchen and living area. It contained an immaculately made double bed with a plain gray bedspread, a nightstand with an old-fashioned alarm clock, a dresser, and a desk with a swivel chair. Sam had already started rifling through a desk drawer.

“What are you doing?” said Lachlan.

“Satisfying my healthy scientific curiosity,” said Sam.

Sam pulled a notebook from the drawer and opened it, squinting down at the pages.

“Find anything interesting?” said Lachlan.

“Check this out.” Sam held up the book.

On the page was a detailed illustration of a rectangular monster like the one that had attacked them earlier, with notes and labels in pristine cursive. The clean, precise pencil lines reminded Lachlan of the drawings in the living room, even though the subject matter was pretty different. The top of the page was labeled ‘Dave fabrication (mature)’.

“Hm,” said Lachlan. “That is interesting.”

“This person is keeping detailed notes about everything they’ve encountered here,” said Sam. “This could help us figure out what’s going on.”

Lachlan sat down cross-legged on the floor beside Sam and pulled a file out of the drawer.

“I guess it pays to be nosy,” he said.

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