Chapter Thirteen: A Short Break

“The very instant that I saw you, did

My heart fly to your service”

-Ferdinand, The Tempest

            The flooded corridor was, thankfully, not very long. They only had to force themselves to swim about fifty yards before they came to a short staircase leading up onto dry land. Relieved, thinking that finally they could rest for a moment, Hendricks shrugged off the air-tank and helped Helen limp up the stairs.

            For a few seconds, as they slowly emerged from the dank, filthy water, Helen and Hendricks were able to enjoy the ability to breathe freely and the relief of having escaped Nelson and his sharks. But it didn’t last long at all.

            When they were still about waist-deep in the water, they were both grabbed by rough, strong arms, which pulled them painfully off of the staircase and shoved them down onto the floor. Helen gasped in pain as she fell on her injured leg, and Hendricks looked around to see who their attackers were.

            They were in a wide, open space; like a kind of entrance hall. There were a couple hallways running off it and a large balcony overlooking them. Benches and potted plants almost gave it the appearance of a train terminal. Their captors were about a half-a-dozen men; all Hispanic by their appearance, all big, all wearing the same orange and brown uniforms, and all carrying AK-47s, which were all pointed at Helen and Hendricks.

            “Who are you?” barked a mustachioed man with a yellow design on his cap that seemed to mark him as the captain.

            “Uh, we’re…” Helen sputtered, trying to think.

            “I said who are you?” he snapped, giving her vicious kick to the ribs.

            “Hey! Leave her alone you bastard!” Hendricks snapped, trying to rise, but receiving a club from one of the rifles in return.

            “Shut up!” the captain snapped. “Answer the question!”

            “We’re…workers,” Helen gasped. “We were…below when…when it happened.”

            “What were you doing down there?” the captain demanded.

            “Working with…with Dr. Ted Nelson,” she said. “He…he has his own lab down there and…and he needed the extra hands.”

            The captain looked at her critically for a few moments, then lowered his weapon. The others did the same. Hendricks could hardly believe it; were they really going to be able to bluff their way out of this one?

            “I see,” the captain said. “Then it appears I was mistaken.”

            He held out his hand to Helen. She eyed it warily, but at his encouraging smile took it and allowed him to help her to her feet.

            The moment she stood up, the captain punched her hard in the stomach, dropping her to the ground again.

            “You lying bitch!” he snarled, pulling out a knife. “You think I am stupid, do you? You expect me to believe that that maniac would invite anyone other than that gorilla of his into his lab?”

            Helen couldn’t speak. It was all she could do not to throw up. Hendricks was holding her protectively and glaring at the captain.

            “But I think I know who you are,” said the captain excitedly, fingering his knife. “You are those two who caused all this mess, aren’t you?”

            “What do you mean we caused…” Hendricks began. He realized his mistake a second later.

            “Aha!” the captain laughed. “I knew it! And Mr. Simon said you must be dead. Well, won’t he be glad to hear I found you.”

            He nodded to his men and they grabbed Helen and Hendricks and shoved them roughly against the wall while the captain pulled out a radio.

            “Mr. Simon!” he said (he spoke Spanish, which meant that Hendricks didn’t understand anything that followed, though Helen did). “We’ve found the policeman and the girl.”

            “Really?” came Charles’s voice from the other end speaking the same language. “They’re alive? That is a surprise! Well, what are you waiting for? Shoot them. Now.”

            “Yes, sir,” said the captain. He hung up the radio and nod to his men. “Shoot him,” he said. “But not her. Not yet.”

            He grinned cruelly as he fingered his knife. Helen, who had been leaning on Hendricks this whole time because of her injured leg, clung to him more tightly.

            “But, sir,” said one of the guards. “Mr. Simon said to shoot them both right now.”

            “Oh, well,” said the captain. “As far as he’s concerned, we will. But, why waste such a fine specimen as her without enjoying it a little?”

            The men snickered to each other.

            “You two, get her,” he barked.  

            Helen had no time to think or to plan or to even to fully realize what was happening. Three of the guards raised their guns, two started toward her with evil looks, and then the captain was suddenly cut in half.

            It happened so suddenly that the other guards only noticed what had happened when they found themselves being coated in a fountain of the captain’s blood. They screamed and whirled around to see Boa emerging from the balcony overhead, hissing angrily. The guards opened fire, but their bullets merely glanced harmlessly off of her double-hard scales. 

            Her tail whipped through the air and sliced through three guards at once. The others tried to make a break for it. Helen and Hendricks imitated them, Hendricks supporting Helen as best he could. Boa – whether out of luck or simply because they had been shooting at her – followed the guards, which gave Helen and Hendricks enough time to get through a door, down another hallway, up a flight of stairs, and on and on until they simply collapsed from exhaustion.

            Neither spoke for a long time, they simply lay on the hallway floor, panting and sweating, each marveling that they could possibly be alive after everything they had been through. Finally, when they had gotten their breath back somewhat, Hendricks managed to gasp.

            “Best not…stay here. Should…keep moving.”

            Helen nodded and with his help managed to struggle to her feet. They walked on like that, her leaning on him and limping badly, he just barely managing to stay up as well, for what felt like a long time.

            They passed many doors, but most were locked. The ones that weren’t opened onto dark rooms of which they could discern neither the size nor the purpose. They always hurried on when they found these, since they didn’t know what might be lurking or sleeping in those shadows.

            Helen, for her part, was beginning to have trouble remembering a time that they weren’t walking through dim corridors, fearing pursuit or attack at every turn. It was as if this was all they had ever done or would ever do. She recalled how she had always thought Matoul had a dream-like feel to it. Now it still had that timeless, unreal feeling, but the dream had become a nightmare, one which she saw no hope at all of awakening from. For a fleeting second, she even wondered seriously whether they had indeed died already and this was Hell.  

            Finally, they came to a stairway that led to the next level. There was a door here standing slightly ajar. By some silent agreement, they stopped and Hendricks slowly pushed open the door and flicked the lights on.

They found themselves in a small room, with a pair of vending machines on the far wall, an old couch, and a couple tables. The sight of these prosaic, everyday objects had an oddly rejuvenative effect on the two of them. They suddenly shook off the dreamlike, exhausted fog they had been travelling in and felt as though they had suddenly woken up again. Hope and good-cheer returned to their hearts, not in great force, but enough to make them relax.

            “Looks like a break room,” Hendricks said. He turned to Helen. “You want to take a break?”

            “I thought you’d never ask,” she said and she limped over and sank down onto the couch.

            Hendricks pulled a chair from one of the tables and sat down on it. He laid his crowbar on the table, pulled out the flashlight, and checked it.

            “In case you were wondering,” he said gloomily. “This thing isn’t water-proof.”

            He threw it aside and massaged his aching head. Meanwhile Helen extracted the now-soaked towel from her pocket.

            “Well,” she said with a grimace. “Here goes…”

            “Hold on,” said Hendricks, getting up and walking over to her. “I think you’d better let me help.”

            She shrugged, nodded, took a deep breath, and pressed one of the Goop stains to her ankle. The next second, she had thrown the towel aside and was screaming in agony. She tried to clutch at her ankle, but Hendricks seized her wrists and forced them back. He held her tightly while she thrashed and screamed in unendurable pain for about ten seconds, then, as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.

            “Ho…holy…” she gasped.

            “I told you,” he said, letting go of her and picking up the towel very gingerly. “And now…”

            Gritting his teeth, Hendricks pressed the towel to his broke ribs.

            “You know,” he said, ten hideous seconds later as he tossed the now-empty towel aside. “I don’t think it should be possible to break the same bones twice in a twenty-four hour period.”

            “Yeah, well,” said Helen, leaning back on the couch. “’Possible’ isn’t what it used to be, is it?”

            Hendricks chuckled, hanging his head in weariness. “You can say that again.”

            Helen wrung out her wet hair onto the carpet. “Thank you, by the way.”

            Hendricks lifted his head and looked at her.

            “For what?”

            “Uh, you did just wrestle a shark for me,” she reminded him, smiling slightly. “So, let’s start with that.”

            “Oh, right,” he said. He felt strangely embarrassed by her gratitude; what did you say to something like that? ‘You’re welcome’ didn’t quite seem to cut it.

            “I don’t think that was exactly wrestling,” he said stupidly. “I mean, I just grabbed it and…

            “Can I ask you something?” Helen interrupted.

            “Sure.”

            Helen bit her lip and glanced around the room for a few seconds, thinking, before asking:

            “Why are you doing this?”

            “Doing what?”

            “Helping me?”

            Hendricks felt his stomach contract and he tried to think of an answer quickly.

            “Well, it’s just the right thing to do, right?”

            “Yeah, but you just met me…what, two days ago?”

            “I’ve lost track.”

            “My point is, since then you’ve risked your life for me about half-a-dozen times, and I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong, but it just…it’s unusual, I guess. I mean, you just took on a shark – a mutated, flying shark – with your bare hands. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do…and you did it for me. Why?”

            Hendricks looked at her. She was cut, bruised, and dirty, but even with all that she was still radiantly beautiful. He felt a powerful urge well up in his chest to tell her everything, everything he felt, everything he we beginning to dare to hope for…

            “Honestly?” he said, steeling himself. “It’s…I like you,” he offered lamely.

            Helen raised her eyebrows dubiously.

            “You like me?” she repeated. “That’s it?”

            “Kind of.”

            “So, after about an hour’s worth of conversation you decided that you ‘liked me’ enough to do suicidal things for me?”

            “Well…pretty much,” he admitted. Suddenly, he blurted out “I just can’t stand the thought of anything bad happening to you.”

            Helen stared at him with an odd expression on her face; he couldn’t tell whether she was flattered or embarrassed or simply shocked.

            “Maybe this isn’t the right time,” she said at last. “We can talk about it later if we, you know, survive.”

            “We are going to survive,” he said sternly. “Don’t think like that.”

            She gave him a sad smile.

            “I’m the one who can see the future, remember?”

            “Yeah, but still, try to be optimistic.”

            Helen rolled her eyes and said, in a voice broken by what was either suppressed laughter or tears.

            “What about this situation would make me optimistic?”

            Hendricks tried to think of something.

            “We made it this far,” he said.

            Helen considered this.

            “No, that doesn’t really help,” she said. “What else do you got?”

            There was a pause as they looked at each other.

            “…I’m here,” he offered. “And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

            She blinked, then snorted.  

            Hendricks thought this was a little much, considering she had just been talking about how much he had done for her so far. But as he opened his mouth to protest, Helen shook her head.

            “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m honestly not laughing at you. I’m laughing because that actually does make me feel better.”

            She smiled brightly at him. It was the first genuinely happy smile he had seen on her since the night they met. The effect reminded him of standing in the warm sun after emerging from cold water.

            “Thanks,” she said simply.

            He smiled back.

            “You might want to get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”

            “No, you’re the one who’s been fighting worms and sharks and whatever else! You should sleep first.”

            “Yeah, and you were the one who warned us about Python,” he reminded her. “Frankly, I’d feel a lot safer if you slept first.”

            She shrugged.

            “Fair enough. But wake me up in an hour or so; you really look like you could use a nap.”

            She stretched out on the couch and laid her head upon her outstretched arm. Within only a couple minutes, she was asleep.

            Everyone in the control room looked very tired as they hunched over their terminals, typing frantically. But at least some semblance of order seemed to have been restored.

            “The holding tanks are still flooding into each other and we have no way of stopping them,” one man reported.

            “Fires are still burning on levels six, seven, and nine,” said another.

            “Power fully restored to level ten and sprinkler systems back online,”

            “Python currently contained on level five; do you want us to send an extermination crew?”

            “No,” said Prosser. He was the only one who didn’t look exhausted. Indeed, he looked exactly the same as he had hours ago when the disaster started. “That would be a waste of resources. Continue to track him and guide all extermination crews away from him.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Charles.”

            “Yes, Doctor?” came a familiar voice over the radio.

            “Report.”

            “Your lab’s secure. I still haven’t heard from Batista, so it’s probably safe to assume they got away somehow. He always was a bit of a moron.”

            “Remarkable,” said Prosser. “I am frankly astonished that they have survived this long.”

            “As am I,” said Charles. “Would you like me to go take care of them?”

            Prosser considered.

            “No, not yet,” he said. “I need you where I can find you. But pass the word on to the guards that they are to be shot on sight. Any man who fails to do so will be punished severely. I don’t want any messing around; they need to be eliminated immediately.”

            “Yes, Doctor,” said Charles. “Though I must confess, ‘messing around,’ as you call it, is sometimes very hard to resist.”

            Prosser ignored this. 

            “Do you have a plan, doctor?” asked Charles.

            “We will contain them within the facility and concentrate on guarding the vital areas, such as the central lab and my private laboratory. Their aggressive natures will lead them to attack one another, whittling down their numbers. Once enough of them are dead, we will hunt down and destroy or capture the rest. In the meantime, they will surely take care of Ms. Marshall for us.”

            “No!”

            Helen had cried out without remembering that she was in a dream, that Charles couldn’t hear her, and that it would be quite useless even if he could. She thought, for a second, that her shout had awakened her; she found herself back in the break room, and there was Hendricks sitting at the table and there…

            She shut her eyes and shook her head. Even for a dream, this was an odd experience. She was looking at herself lying fast asleep on the couch.

            “Yes, that’s you.”

            The great Dog had appeared at her side, grinning its doggish grin. The instant she saw him, all of Helen’s fears seemed to vanish in a puff of smoke, and she flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

            “Thank you!” she said. “You’ve saved our lives at least twice already!”

            “Much more than that, I assure you,” he said with a hint of laughter in his voice.

            “That was you who saved us from those…things in the drain, wasn’t it?

            “Of course,” he said. “You asked me to.”

            “Thank you,” she said again. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she asked “What…what were they? Ghosts?”

            “Oh, no, a ghost is a human spirit separated from its body. Those things were never human.”

            “Then what?”

            “Well, that’s a difficult question,” he said. “Because there really isn’t a word in your language for what they are.”

            Helen shuddered.

            “Are they dangerous?”

            “They can be,” he said. “But usually not, unless you let them. It’s best not to think about them too much. Quite apart from anything else, it is unhealthy and leads to bad dreams. Put them out of your mind, if you can!”

            “Well, I’ll try,” she said dubiously.

            The Dog looked at her very seriously with his great, golden eyes.

            “Helen,” he said. “Try to do more than try. You have much more important things to worry about than them. Besides, they’re of the sort of creatures who, once you are aware of them, there is nothing to gain by knowing any more. Don’t let your mind dwell on that memory! Don’t let your curiosity linger on those creatures!”

            Helen felt, if anything, more unnerved by this, and she knew the Dog knew it.

            “Dear one,” he said. “Don’t be afraid; it’ll be much easier than it sounds.  But no more! Let’s move on to other things.”

            Helen nodded.

            “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’ve been meaning to ask,” she said. “Do you know what ‘Kobras’ means?”

            The Dog looked at her for a long time as though considering how to reply.

            “Kobras,” he said at last. “Was the name of a very evil person who lived a very long time ago. He was involved in work very similar to what Dr. Prosser is doing. And that, I’m afraid, is all I can tell you about him.”

            “Wow,” she said. “That’s…actually more than I was expecting.”

            “I’m glad to hear it!” he said with a laugh.

            “But then,” she said, suddenly realizing. “Does that mean that ‘Kobras’ was the one blocking my dreams? The one who…”

            “No,” said the Dog. “It wasn’t. That was an entirely different – and far more powerful – person, one whom you need not fear nor concern yourself with. He cannot harm you, nor stop your dreams anymore, so don’t worry about him. You have far more important things to worry about at the moment.”

            “Like staying alive, right?” she said gloomily.

            “Exactly,” said the Dog. “Now, as you have seen, Prosser is beginning to regain control of the island. Even worse, he now knows that you’re alive. You just saw for yourself that the guards and the monsters are starting to penetrate deeper into the facility. You’ll be encountering more as you go.”

            “Yeah, and we only escaped this batch because Boa happened to show up,” Helen sighed.

            “I confess, I had a hand in that,” said the Dog. “But I’m only permitted to do so much; you’ll need to be more careful going forward.”

            “Where should we go?” Helen asked. “I don’t even know where we are!”

            “You are currently on level six in what used to be an office complex. This is about as far down as Prosser’s renovations reached, and he’s been using it as a barracks. But don’t worry,” he added, cutting off her exclamation of horror. “The guards are all out and won’t be returning here anytime soon. You can rest safely here for now.

            “As for where you should go from here, there is an old smelting plant not far from here. Prosser uses it to make his Calvanite, but he doesn’t have enough men to guard it, so you shouldn’t run into any guards there. The plant runs up a few stories, so if you can make it there, you might be able to worm your way up to near the surface before he realizes what you’re up to. In any case, he won’t expect you to go there; he’ll expect you to take the obvious routes through the elevators and stairwells.”

            Helen nodded. “Okay,” she said. “A smelting plant. That should be fine.”

            “Be careful, though,” said the Dog. “I said you wouldn’t encounter any guards there; monsters are a different story.”

            “Oh, yeah,” said Helen, her face falling.

            “I’m sorry,” said the Dog. “But there simply aren’t any safe routes on Matoul. This will be your best chance, but whether you make it through alive or not will depend mostly on you.”  

            Helen took a deep breath and nodded, trying to appear braver than she felt.

            “Where is it?”

            “When you leave here, turn left, go back down the stairs, then take a right at the first junction and follow that all the way down. At the far end you’ll find a heavy metal door which will lead you to the plant.”

            “Left, right, metal door; got it,” she repeated, trying not to show how frightened she was by the prospect.

            The Dog bent forward and kissed her forehead with his blood-red tongue. Immediately Helen felt warmth and courage flowing through her.

            “Be brave, little one,” said the Dog. “It will be alright.”

Helen smiled in spite of herself. She regarded her own sleeping form.

            “Is that really what I look like when I sleep?”

            The Dog nodded. “Aren’t you pretty?”

            She glanced sideways at him and they both laughed.

Next Week:
Chapter Fourteen: Fire, Knife, and Fang