!TRIGGER WARNING!
this story contains foul language, graphic violence, and gore. If you feel uncomfortable reading such content or think that it may influence you negatively, I urge you to stop and read something else. My intention is not to cause harm to anyone but to entertain and inspire. Please use your best judgement.
Chapter 5, "Cowardly Angels"
"You have to run. Now, back in the cargo container," Mark said, his words steady but his lip trembling. There was a dreadful seriousness about him that Grace had never seen before. "Seal the doors. Don't open them no matter what you hear. Do you understand?"
"Wait, Mark. This is crazy. What happened?" Grace resisted. Her face contorted, angry at the idea of leaving him behind.
"No time," Mark replied. His eyes broke away from Grace. He was searching the beach over her shoulder. His face twitched. He was favoring his right side, his breath shallow. All the signs of a broken rib were there. "Give me the rifle. Go back to the cargo container."
"But..."
"Do as I say! Now!" he yelled at her.
"But I can't just leave you," Grace tried to reason with him. Her eyes pleaded. She glanced behind Mark. On the ground was the disfigured, decapitated head of a woman. But it didn't look right. Its skin was made of hard metal. Its eyes were just reflective chrome mirrors. A group of wires protruded from the woman's neck, shooting sparks across the rocky beach. An android, the horrific realization hit her. The Union, they found us. White blood oozed out of the eyes and neck, creating a macabre puddle around the corpse. "Come with us-" Grace begged, but she was interrupted again.
"No! You have to hide. Another one will be here any minute now. Just go!" Mark argued. "We don't have time, just give me the gun and hide, damn it!" He grabbed the rifle that was slung over Grace's shoulder and ripped it away from her.
"Hey, wait!" Grace protested. "I can help-"
"For fuck sakes, Grace! Just go! You have to protect Avery," Mark screamed at her. He was shaking from the cold rain, from anger, the pain, or impatience. Or perhaps a mix of them all.
Mark's words stung her. She tried to rationalize the situation but eventually gave in. "Okay, okay..." she said reluctantly. Grace wrapped her arms around Mark's waist and hugged him tight. "Just promise me one thing," her voice was soft and full of fear. She looked up at Mark's bleeding face with concern.
"Anything," Mark whispered. Grace was soaking wet, they both were, but she was still stunningly beautiful. The sight of her green eyes and candy apple hair made his knees buckle. Her skin reminded him of a pale moon against a starry sky. She melted his cold heart. He secretly ached for her. And now that they were in danger, he had to protect her. No matter the cost.
"Don't get yourself killed, okay? Come back to me," Grace begged. She reached up with her hand and caressed his cheek.
"That's two things," Mark said slyly, a pained smile on his face.
Grace grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him closer. They leaned in and for a few sensual seconds they locked together in a passionate kiss. Grace could taste a hint of blood from his busted lip as the tips of their tongues twirled together during each sultry peck. Mark grabbed her face with both hands, running his fingers through her spiky red hair. If only I could freeze time, he thought, I'd stay in this moment forever. He'd been waiting for this kiss since the day he met Grace. But there was no time for fantasy. Their lives were in danger. He must save her. He must.
Mark grabbed Grace's shoulders and pushed her away. They gazed at each other longingly. "It's time to go," Mark said quietly, trying to hide the pain in his voice. "I promise I'll come back to you." He pushed her away hard. Grace stumbled back, refusing to go. "Go, now!" he yelled as he inspected the rifle. He checked the magazine and switched it to full-auto.
Grace blinked, uncertain of what to do. She was torn between her loyalties. She loved them both, but she could only save one. She knew she was abandoning Mark to his death if she left him now. But the same could be said of Avery. They both needed her and she had to choose. A solitary tear trickled down her cheek. Without another word, she turned around and ran away and made for the cargo container where Avery was waiting, completely unaware of their crisis.
Mark stood alone, watching Grace as she disappeared behind the wall of the rocky shelter. He took a deep breath. Pain stabbed his side. He readied his rifle, crouched into a defensive stance and slowly walked heel-to-toe. A gust of frigid wind caused him to stumble as soon as he stepped away from the protection of the rocky wall. The bitter cold rain blew sideways and lightning struck the sea just a few yards away from his position. The hairs on the back of his neck to stood up. Thunder roared through the air like the sound of a massive door slamming in a great hall.
It was only by pure luck that he survived his first encounter with that accursed killing machine. It was highly unlikely a lightning bolt would smite his attacker a second time. He took stock of his injuries; his chances were slim, but none of that mattered. He must win. Around the corner laid the headless body of the female android. Its metallic skin was now blackened and charred. Its arms twitched and convulsed giving the appearance of life. But it was dead. The plink-plonk of raindrops sizzled as they landed on its boiling hot skin. He stared at its oversized hands, the lengthy fingers were slimmed down to tiny points where razor blades extended like claws. The same claws that just moments ago tore through his body armor like papier-mâché in an attempt to sink into his soft, vulnerable flesh. He'd never seen anything like it before.
He swung the rifle over his shoulder and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a crumbling pack of cigarettes, the letters 'Cherry Sunrise' read across its label. A single lone cylinder remained. He delicately pulled out the precious last of his tobacco and held it upside down between his fingers, sheltering it from the wind with the palm of his hand. With his other hand he whipped out his gold-plated lighter and flicked it open. He struck the flint, sparks shot out and a flame flickered to life, but the wind blew it out. He struck it again. Then a third time. There was too much wind.
"Son of a bitch," Mark cursed the storm. "Can't a dying man have a last cigarette?" He stared up at the menacing clouds.
He crouched over the dead android's body and carefully pressed the tip against an exposed wire. It sparked several times until the cigarette glowed in defiance of the wind. He turned his back to the storm and placed the cigarette between his lips. He took a long, satisfying drag. Warm penetrating smoke caressing his lungs, filling him deeper and deeper till he felt like he was about to burst. Then woosh, he exhaled a pillowy cloud like dragon's breath.
Avery sat alone inside the cargo container. She could see her breath in tiny puffs. Wind whistled past the open door as puddles of rainwater leaked onto the tiled floor, snaking its way toward the drain. It had been a while since Grace left and she started to worry. Her eyes were transfixed on the doorway eagerly waiting for any sign of Grace and Mark. A boom of thunder shook the walls and Avery jumped with fright. She hugged her blanket tighter for comfort. All her childhood fears came crashing down upon her in a profound moment of weakness.
Grace burst through the doorway without even acknowledging Avery's presence. She rapidly pressed the buttons on the numberpad. It flashed green, Access Granted. She mashed the enter button in a futile effort speed up the process. The metallic doors slowly ground their way closer together. "Come on, come on!" Grace yelled in frustration. She banged the side of the wall with her fist.
"What's going on?" Avery asked. She timidly poked her head out from under the blanket like a turtle.
She ignored the question. Grace's face was red and puffy when she turned to Avery and she could see the fresh stain of tears on her cheeks. She grabbed the ends of the doors and pulled hard . The gears let out a labored whine as she tugged harder. The tips of her fingers almost caught between the door before it sealed shut. The last of the rainwater trickled its way to the center of the room before it was slurped up by the drain.
"Grace? What the hell is happening?" Avery asked hesitantly. Seeing Grace in a panic made her own fear amplify ten fold.
"They found us, Avery. The Union. They're here," she whispered breathlessly. Grace covered her mouth with her hands, horrified. She was hyperventilating.
"What? How?" Avery's eyes grew wide.
"I- I don't know. Mark was attacked by something."
"...something?"
"Some kind of artificial life form. I've never seen anything like it before." Grace stared vacantly as she recalled the gruesome details. "Its hands," Grace talked slowly, trying to regain her composure. She gulped. "...they were like claws. Huge monstrous claws."
"Oh my god, is he okay?" Avery asked hesitantly.
Grace stared into open space as she continued, "No, he's not. He's hurt pretty bad. And that stupid bastard is still out there," her words were choked with emotion as she pressed her back against the cold tile and stared at the ceiling, fighting against the tears that welled up in her eyes.
"Do you- uh, think that he did it?" Avery asked. It was an honest question.
"Did what?" Grace seemed to snap back to reality. She silently glared at Avery.
"I mean, do you think he called them? The Union?"
"God damn it, Avery! How could you say that?" Grace yelled. "He's out there right now, leading them away from us while we hide like cowards," she slumped against the wall. She slid down and sat on the damp floor. She didn't seem to notice the cold.
"Then how did they find us?" Avery was a little offended. After all, she didn't know this guy from Adam. "What about my transponder?" Avery asked defensively.
"I don't know how they found us, okay? You wanna see the transponder? I'll show you the damn transponder," Grace bolted up and stomped over to the tool cabinet next to Avery. She ripped open the bottom drawer without bothering to unlock it, breaking it off its hinges. She grabbed a tiny glass vial and tossed it carelessly to Avery.
Avery fumbled one handed, juggling it in mid air for a moment before catching it. She shot a glare at Grace. Grace shot it right back. She inspected the almost microscopic transponder hung suspended inside a blue liquid within the vial. She delicately pinched the glass vial between her thumb and forefinger to show Grace. "Then why is it turned on?" Avery said with a self-satisfied smirk, her head cocked to the side.
Grace stared speechless at the vial as a faint light blinked inside it. Her face betrayed her as her own doubt became clear. "I don't know. But it doesn't matter, because this place is shielded against RF waves. It shouldn't be able to get a signal through these walls."
"Well, there's one way to make sure," Avery said with a grin on her face. She crushed the glass vial. The glass shattered -- bzzt! -- the transponder died.
"You idiot!" Grace shouted. "We still could have used that," she scowled. "Besides, he never had the opportunity. I was with him every second he was in this room and he doesn't even know the passcode for the tool cabinet." She looked boiling mad.
She's lying. She must be lying, Avery thought. It had to be Mark. If it wasn't him, then it had to be Grace. And for some reason, Avery couldn't bring herself to entertain such a thought. "Okay, so if it wasn't you and it wasn't Mark, than who did it?" she said rationally.
The sound of automatic weapons fire ended the debate. Both Avery and Grace stared silently at the door. Grace frantically hit all the light switches and powered down equipment that littered the room. The acoustics of the cargo container carried each hushed breath as if it were a megaphone.
"What are you doing?" Avery whispered. Grace tiptoed towards the entrance. "Get back over here!"
Grace ignored her and pressed her ear against the wall. She felt the cold metal sap the heat from her cheek. She swore if she listened carefully she could hear feet shuffling on the rocky shore somewhere close by. "I think someone's out there," Grace spoke as quietly as possible.
"Is it Mark?" Avery had seemingly forgotten all about their argument.
"Shh," Grace hushed her, holding up a hand in the universal sign of shut the fuck up.
Another round of automatic weapons fire cut through the air, closer this time. Then silence. The storm still raged outside. A painful, throaty wail was barely audible over the rain and thunder.
Grace gasped. She rested her forehead against the cold tiled wall mournfully. "You stupid bastard... Why are you doing this?" the question was rhetorical.
Avery sat motionless on the steel surgical table staring helplessly at Grace. She wished she could help. She wished she was out there right now instead of Mark. She sunk back into her blanket, pulling it tighter around her head.
Bang! something large impacted the wall next to Grace, leaving a dent by her head. The cargo container shook. They both jumped in fright.
"Where is the Proxy?" a synthesized voice spoke in monotone utterances from the other side of the wall.
"I don't know," Mark said weakly. He groaned painfully.
"You are lying. Give us the Proxy and the pain will stop," It said coldly. There was no feeling behind its words.
Another impact slammed the wall, denting it further. Tiles shook loose from the wall and clattered to the floor. Mark gave out another wet cough.
"It's kinda hard to have a conversation when you're holding me by the throat," Mark wheezed and laughed, the kind of humor a man only finds when he knows he is already damned.
Another impact rocked the cargo container, more tiles broke loose. Mark screamed in pain. He gasped for breath.
"Oh, yeah!" He spat. "Keep slamming me into the wall. That'll get me on your good side," Mark mocked his assailant, trying to mask the pain.
"This unit has been instructed to terminate your life if you do not tell us what we want to know," It threatened, apathetic to the loss of life.
"Honey, you're gonna have to put my head through the fuckin' wall if you wanna know that," Mark growled.
"As you wish," It said with indifference; though, if you listened closely, there was a hint of satisfaction in its voice.
Mark's tortured screams rang out over the sound of thunder. He coughed up blood as his attacker proved its homicidal intentions. His bravado shattered. He begged it to stop again and again but it had no intentions of doing so. His torment intensified. One last gurgling wail was heard before he fell silent.
There was a long uncomfortable pause while Grace and Avery stared at each other in disbelief. They strained their ears hoping to hear some sign that he was still alive, hoping that the mechanical monster had given up and moved on. At first, the seconds passed slowly. Seconds turned into minutes. Only the sounds of the storm could be heard for the longest time.
"Avery..." Mark's voice moaned from the other side of the door. "Avery... It's me, open the door. Please," he begged.
"It's Mark," Avery said astonished. "W-we gotta help him!" she shouted enthusiastically, but Grace stood frozen.
"No," Grace hushed her and shook her head.
"Please, open the door," Mark pleaded again. "It's gone."
Avery hopped off the surgical table, her blanket wrapped like a bandolier and grabbed Grace by the shoulder. "What's wrong with you? We've got to help him."
"No," Grace repeated. Her eyes fixed on the entrance. "We can't risk it."
"What? He's your friend, Grace!" Avery said sternly.
"Don't you think I know that?" Grace hissed, losing her composure. She whipped around and glared at Avery. Her face contorted with anger and grief. Tears welled up in her eyes and fell down her pale cheeks. She sniffled, trying to calm herself..
"I... I'm sorry," Avery apologized. She wrapped her only arm around Grace's torso in a half-backwards bearhug. "This is all my fault," she said regretfully, pulling away from her.
Grace mourned quietly, hanging her head, arms limp, shaking all over. "I've known Mark practically all his life. Since that day I found him as a little boy, lost in the woods, half-dead and hungry," Grace remembered fondly, "he's followed me like a lost puppy." Her voice was cheerful, but it was forced. The same way people speak at wakes about the dearly departed. Her gaze hardened as she stared at the doorway. "I know Mark's voice and I can tell you right now that's not him."
The screeching sound of metal being raked by massive claws was amplified inside the cargo container, like nails on a chalkboard played in a amphitheater.
Grace and Avery froze, their eyes wide in terror as the claws scratched their way across the outside of the cargo container, then around the corner and towards the door. It stopped at the door. Tap, tap, tap... claws played thoughtfully upon the wall.
Thank you for reading! Please help support aspiring authors by upvoting and leaving a comment. If you didn't like it, feel free to comment that too! Any and all feedback is welcome!
Please do not copy my work. If you feel like reposting it, all I ask is that you give credit with a link back to the source.
-SINCERELY,
Deadman
It seems you took a few days off and...you know the trite saying about how you view the glass, as half full or half empty? I was thinking, an advantage we have of being low earners, is that we can take days off without it making much difference. I've been here nearly two months more than you and I'm still seeing most of my posts reaching the 7 day limit in cents. I do get puzzled when I post a silly piece which is hardly one page long and it suddenly goes up into the $'s. If you manage to work it out, let me know. In the meantime, I'll just keep happily bumbling around.
What I am trying to say, you are a good story writer and I hope you don't get discouraged.
PS: I am working on creating a way for good authors to continue to be paid for as long as people like their stories, I'll let you know as soon as I have found someone to help me with the basic (site coding).
Yes, it was Christmas so I went offline for a while. The chapters I'm posting are already written, just not polished or edited. So, I haven't taken the time to work through the beginning chapters and look for mistakes.
Yeah, since I'm not really here to make money, it doesn't much matter to me. I got excited seeing my account worth go past $1, I thought it was cool. It's more about exposure than cash at this point. I'd appreciate the help, though! Money is certainly tight at the moment, and I'm never one to turn down a helping hand :)
Basically, I want to create a site (off steemit) where the many stories by authors here are made available. There are two ways and I wish to use both. Provide the links from day one, and, provide the stories, each in a pdf or rtf file and charge a small fee - which can be paid by sbd. I think the first chapter of novels should be provided free, so as to get the reader caught up in the story and willing to shell out a bit of money for the rest. Another idea, if it can be done, is to have the stories translated into another language (I'm planning to try and have my one story, Boxee, translated into Chinese, if they think it is worth their time (they and the agent get 70%...I'm happy with 30% on something I would have earned zero.)
It won't make anyone rich, but it is a nice feeling seeing that a story of yours is selling - even five years later...maybe.
If you want to be part of it, let me know.
It's an interesting idea. I like it. But I have to consider whether or not I'll be using a publisher or self-publishing my book when it's finished. If I use a publisher, they may want me to take down all the chapters I've posted online. But if I self-publish, I still own the rights 100% and can do whatever I want. I still haven't decided, but I'm close to finishing so within a few months I'll have an answer for you.
Thanks for thinking of me! I think it's a wonderful concept. Because at this point, you've got a better chance of being discovered (and supported) on Wattpad than Steemit as an indie writer.
At last I've reach an episode I can upvote!
As I was reading, I was also wondering: does he know just how good he is?
You don't need to call yourself a writer. You are an author.
You're so kind to say that! I hope I can live up to that reputation.
@OriginalWorks
The @OriginalWorks bot has determined this post by @deadman-writing to be original material and upvoted it!
To call @OriginalWorks, simply reply to any post with @originalworks or !originalworks in your message!
Hi. I am @greetbot - a bot that uses AI to look for newbies who write good content.
I found your post and decided to help you get noticed.
I will pay a resteeming service to resteem your post,
and I'll give you my stamp of automatic approval!
Resteemed by @resteembot! Good Luck!
The resteem was payed by @greetbot
Curious?
The @resteembot's introduction post
Get more from @resteembot with the #resteembotsentme initiative
Check out the great posts I already resteemed.