He stops to chat with the Security guy, like he enjoys stretching this out. I almost want him to hurry just so I can stop hearing him yap. Anyway, he whips out a recorder from his pocket, only it’s way nicer than the one I had. Makes me kinda jealous, actually. He sets it on the table and starts talking.
“Begin recording. Doctor Rivera, Tower Date 515.14.22,” he says. “I am currently receiving a patient into custody to begin Reinforcement. The patient is from Floor 4 and has been tried and found guilty of violations of the Thought Code. Recording pause.” He turns around and looks at me, picking up a massive needle from the table. You could practically puncture armor with it. “Young woman, your actions are a travesty. You have to be mildly insane to get thrown into Reinforcement when you’re from a floor as high as four. Do you know the kind of privilege you’ve thrown away?”
What does he want me to do? Answer from behind this mouth strap? Anyway, he keeps yapping. “I’m aware of who you are. Doctor Coleman’s daughter.” That gets my ears perking, but there’s really nothing much else I can do. Still, he’s got my attention. “Doctor Coleman’s a genius, you know. I suppose that it’s not entirely surprising that his daughter would be inquisitive. Still, he should have taught you some discipline. Now we’re going to have to put some Creep in you, and after that, well, I don’t think you’ll be quite as curious as you are now.”
So, I might not be able to talk, but one thing I know without a doubt: I utterly despise this guy.
Rivera walks toward the wall, and I know what’s coming next. With the tap of a button, a panel shifts away, and a tray of the Creep slides out. He hovers over it with the needle in his hand for a second, and then, right before he jabs it in, the Security agent interrupts him.
“Doctor,” the big guy says, earning what can only be deemed a diabolic scowl from Rivera, “does it look agitated to you?”
“What could possibly agitate it? It’s too small of a sample to respond significantly to emotional stimuli.”
“Have you ever actually been in the Creep?”
The doctor takes a step back and glares at him, like just his eyes could laser cut through the guy. “Of course not. I wasn’t born for that line of work. That’s your job.”
“Right, and I’m just saying that I’ve been in the Creep enough to know when it’s agitated. Maybe we should get another sample.”
Rivera looks like he’s about to blow the top of the agent’s head off as he slams the panel, sending that gross piece of muscle vanishing back into the wall. He taps at the buttons again, and for a second you hear something like a loud sucking sound. In a second more Creep slides out. The doctor takes a step back, gesturing at the tray. “Is this good enough for you?”
The Security guard shakes his head as he steps away from the door. “I’m telling you, doctor, there’s something wrong with these samples. This one looks agitated, too.”
“Well, I can’t very well go through every sample in the entire facility! Maybe you’d like me to play some music and make it happy? Would you like to sing for it? Or what do you think is going to satisfy the samples?”
As a matter of fact, I’ll tell you what will satisfy the sample.
The Creep lashes out from the tray, grabbing the doctor like a moist tongue whipping around his wrist and yanking him toward the tray. Rivera screams as it happens, and Security doesn’t waste any time. He whips out a knife, but believe me—this is the most amazing knife of all time. He flicks a button on the side, and suddenly it lights up orange, like it’s burning, and he jabs downward into the Creep. The stuff screams as he does this, thrashing and quivering like melting jelly before it suddenly deflates into this ashy black heap. Doctor Rivera collapses to the ground, panting like a tired dog, while the Security guard reaches down to help him.
He does this just as the room becomes bathed in red light. It flashes over and over, like it’s trying to induce a seizure. The worst part is the siren. It wails like an angry animal until it’s so loud that my teeth clench the strap in front of my mouth, my head splitting as I try to brace against the pain. I can feel the noise bouncing around between my ears and rattling my brain. Rivera looks outside, then back at the guard, and asks, “What’s going on?”
Security hesitates a second as he looks toward the window, then yanks the doctor to his feet. “Creep Incident. Must be.”
“Here?” the doctor asks, the color in his face shriveling away. “On Floor 1?”
“We need to get you somewhere safe,” Security replies as he shoves the doctor by the shoulder, ushering him outside. They’re like panicked animals as they rush to the far exit of the laboratory and vanish into the outside hall. There’s just one problem, though. The entire time I’m the one left sitting there, and all I can wonder is: What about me?
Through the windows I watch as the Creep floating around in those tanks start to bubble and stretch, their tendrils gluing to the surface of the glass. They begin to “breathe,” expanding and contracting every few seconds, then quivering as they push against the inside of the tanks they’re trapped in. I watch as one of the containers bursts open, flesh and muscle spilling out and down the side of the tank. My eyes zip around my wrists, trying to figure out some way to get myself free. The straps are built into the chair, though, and no matter how much I struggle, I can’t slip free. I rock back and forth, trying to do whatever the hell I can possibly do to just get out. But the whole time my face is frozen to the outside, watching as the Creep starts spreading along the wall and inching toward the window. Somehow it knows I’m in here. It’s coming for me.
The door to the lab flies open, and a Security member steps in, and he’s rocking this huge tank across his back. The rifle in his hand is dripping fire, and the only thing I can think of?
This… is… awesome.
Why don’t we get any cool weapons on the lower floors?
This guy just lets out hell with it until half the room is engulfed by fire. He stands back, swiping his gun back and forth, and just douses the entire right wall. I don’t know who this guy is, but even if I’m just getting one more day to live, I’ll take it. It’s not until I start panting that I realize I’ve been holding my breath for practically a minute, and this guy, whoever he is, marches straight to the lab. He stands outside the glass for a minute, tapping at some controls I can’t see. Only thing about him is, for Security, he’s kinda, I dunno, thin. Especially compared to all the other guards I’ve seen on Floor 1.
The door on my right slides open, and he dashes inside. I’m really starting to pick up on the fact that he’s a pretty scrawny dude at this point, but, hey, beggars can’t be choosers. He doesn’t bother with anything else in the room, and, you know, I kinda like being someone’s priority for once. Feels nice. Anyway, he undoes the straps holding me to the chair, and I practically fly into his arms.
“Oh my God,” I sigh, practically saying all my words in one breath. “Thank you so much.”
The guy has this musky laugh that’s filtered through his mask. Then he steps back, adjusting the strap and sliding the helmet off. Still, the moment his light brown skin comes into view, I already know who it is.
“Dad!” I scream as I launch into him again, and he chuckles for just a second. He’s already motioning me to the door.
“Come on, Jacko,” he says, heading to the exit. “We don’t have time to waste. We’ve got to go.”
“Yeah, sure,” I agree. I mean, of course, I agree; what else would I do? He’s already outside when I pause, looking over my shoulder. Doctor Rivera forgot something. Finders, keepers, right?