Immortal (12 page)

“Hello?” She yelled out. The response was
silence once again. She felt certain she had heard someone cough.
It was muffled as though maybe it came from an adjacent room, but
it was human just the same. It could not have been a Guardian. Of
that she was certain. “Hey!” She yelled. “Can you hear me?” More
silence. “Anybody?” There was still no sound in response. She went
back to working her wrist back and forth. It might be her
imagination, she realized, but she felt like there was a tiny bit
of more slack in her wrist strap than before, and she attacked it
with a new purpose. She hoped that she had at least made some
progress. She heard the coughing sound again.

“Hey!” She yelled. “Hey, can you hear me?”
She strained to hear if there was any response. “Hello?” She called
out again. No response. She sighed, shook her head and went back to
work at her wrist. She was sure now, that the slack had increased.
Still not enough to get her hand loose, but enough to let her know
that she was on the right track. She rested her arm again, which
had begun to ache from her efforts. She worked at the other straps
and now realized that she had made progress on the strap that held
her left leg. Not much slack, she told herself, but some. Again,
she heard the coughing sound.

“Hey!” She yelled again, not expecting a
response. She continued to work on her wrist strap.

“Hello?” a muffled voice responded. Then more
coughing.

“Hello!” Gabrielle yelled, as she held still
to better hear the faint voice. It sounded like a woman.

“Help me.” The voice said weakly, and then
more coughing.

“Hello?” Gabrielle yelled. “Can you hear me?”
She asked directly.

“Yes.” The voice responded. “Yes, I can hear
you.” It said, and sounded stronger now, though still muffled.

“Are you alone?” Gabrielle asked.

“Uh…yes. Yes I’m alone.” It answered. “Who
are you?” It asked.

“Gabrielle.” She answered. “I’m Gabrielle.
What’s your name?”

“Allison…I’m Allison.” She replied.

“Allison. Where are we? Is this Quarantine?”
She asked expectantly.

“Quarantine?” Allison’s muffled voice said.
“Yeah, I guess so.” She coughed again. “Yeah, Quarantine.” She
said.

“How long have you been here?” Asked
Gabrielle.

“How long?” She responded, and then coughed
again. It was obvious to Gabrielle that Allison had been asleep or
possibly drugged, and fought her way through the confusion into
consciousness, as she slowly came to her senses.

“Hello. Allison. Are you still there?”
Gabrielle asked. Seconds ticked by in silence.

“Yeah. I’m here.” She answered.

“How long have you been here?” Gabrielle
asked again.

“I…I don’t know.” Allison answered.

“You don’t know?” Gabrielle asked. The
disbelief came through in her voice.

“I don’t remember.” Allison responded, as she
began to softly cry. Puzzled, Gabrielle began to wonder how she
could not know how long she had been in Quarantine, and just as
quickly, she realized that she herself did not know how long she
had been here. It could have been minutes, because that’s how long
since she had awoken, strapped to this bed. Or it could have been
days. She had no way to know how long she herself had been
unconscious.

“Where is everybody else?” Gabrielle asked,
as she returned to her struggles with the straps that held her
down.

“Everybody?” Allison asked. “What
everybody?”

“Everybody.” Gabrielle answered. “You know.
The others in Quarantine.”

“I’ve never seen anyone else.” Allison
answered. “You’re the first person I’ve even heard since I’ve been
here.” This dismayed Gabrielle. How could that be? She thought.
There had to be more people in Quarantine. There had to be. It
could not just be the two of them, she thought. Could it? She
continued to work at her straps, and she was sure now that the
wrist strap had given way a bit, as it loosened slightly from
around her wrist. Her arm ached from the effort, and the skin on
her wrist felt raw from the constant strain against the binding.
She relaxed and laid still for a moment to regain her strength. As
she lay there, she thought she heard a sound. Not something loud,
and not easily definable, but a rhythmic sound. A sound she almost
felt more than heard. A sound it seemed she should recognize, but
could not place. Gradually the faint sound began to increase in
volume, and suddenly she remembered what the sound was. It was
footsteps. The footsteps of a Guardian.

“Allison?” Gabrielle called out.

“Shh” Allison responded. “They’re coming.”
She said quietly. The footsteps got louder and louder, and then
suddenly stopped, seemingly right outside of the room where
Gabrielle lay. She moved back into action, and struggled harder to
release her hand. The sound of a door as it slid open reached her,
but her door remained shut. She continued to struggle. More
footsteps, and then again the sound of a door as it slid shut. She
could hear muffled moans that must have been Allison. Suddenly her
hand slipped out of the strap, and it was free. Stunned at first by
her success, she could only look at her free hand, but then came
the scream.

“No! Don’t!” Allison yelled, and screamed
again. Then as quickly as it came, the scream faded, as if she had
fallen into unconsciousness again. Gabrielle reached across her
body and used her free hand, and began to work at the strap on her
other hand. Though she could no longer hear Allison, what she heard
now was even more frightening. As she was able to release her other
hand, there were mechanical sounds. It sounded like gears as they
whirred. Now she worked quickly at the strap across her chest,
moments later she had it loose and was able to sit up. She tossed
the sheet that covered her aside, and realized for the first time
that she was naked. She started to work on the strap across her
waist. The whirring sound became louder, almost to that of a whine,
and then came a sound that made her stomach turn. A loud whining
grinding sound like that sounded like metal against stone. The
strap across her waist came free, and she quickly moved to the
strap across her legs when came loose almost immediately. She
scrunched to the bottom of the bed and began to work on the strap
that held her left foot. The whining sound continued to start and
stop. Her left foot came free, and she started on her right foot,
but had trouble with the angle. She scrunched up a little more, and
shifted her weight to better access the strap. The strap released,
and she jumped up from the bed.

When her bare feet hit the floor, she nearly
fell. Though quite conscious and awake mentally, she must have laid
there quite a while. She realized her feet and legs felt slightly
numb. She bent down and grabbed the sheet, and wrapped it around
her in a makeshift covering, as she tied it in place. She quickly
surveyed the room from her new vantage point. White smooth walls,
with the only break in the starkness the barely visible outline of
the door, and of course the bed, with the mechanical monstrosity
looming behind it. From this viewpoint, it sent a stroke of terror
through her. Its multiple gleaming metal arms rose up from behind
the bed, and each ended in a sharp surface, or needles, or fierce
round jagged edge blades. She stepped away from it impulsively, and
was thankful that she was no longer strapped to the bed beneath it.
She had backed herself against the wall next to the door, and now
turned and began to look for an access panel to make the door open.
The horrible whirring and whining sounds had ended, and once again
there was silence.

She laid her hands against the wall on either
side of the door, and looked for a depression, or anything raised
to indicate a way to open the door. As she worked her way around
the door twice, she had found nothing. She pushed against the door,
but did not expect it to open out, nor did she expect it to open
in. It looked like the type of door that would slide open. She lay
her palms against the door, and began to try to slide it to the
left, and then to the right. But regardless of what she tried, the
door remained immobile. She stepped back, and adjusted her
makeshift tunic. She gathered her thoughts, and her eye caught the
machine attached to the bed. As afraid of it as she was, she
recognized that she may be able to make use of it, or at least part
of it, in order to help her escape. She cautiously approached it,
and began to look over its many appendages to see if there may be
an arm or lever she could detach to use as a pry bar to help her to
open the door. One arm, which ended in a shiny sharp knife like
object looked as though it might the easiest to get loose. She held
her breath as she reached up to grab it, careful of the sharp edge
as it gleamed in the overhead light. She wrapped her hands around
the arm, put her foot on the edge of the bed, and began to pull. It
did not move. She yanked at it, but there was no give in the arm.
She shifted her position, so that she could put more weight into
her efforts and once again yanked against the immobile arm. Her
grip slipped, and she tumbled backwards to the floor. She landed on
her back hard and rapped her head against the cold hard smooth
floor.

She lay there for a moment, dazed by the blow
to her head and tired from all of her efforts. As she lay there she
breathed hard. She blinked under the glare of the overhead lights.
Gradually, the pain in the back of her head began to subside, and
her breathing began to relax. She sat up and faced the bed as its
multi-armed contraption still loomed over it. She began to get up,
and stumbled as she did. She was dizzy from the knock to her head.
She gained her feet, stood there a moment, and let the wave of
dizziness pass through her. She touched the spot on the back of her
head that had hit the floor, and when she pulled her hand back, she
could see the spot of blood on it clearly in the glare from the
ceiling lights. Suddenly the door slid open. She turned to face the
Guardian as it loomed before her. As her mind tried to grasp the
vision before her, her stomach still flip flopped from the
dizziness. Her eyes blinked under the glare. She recognized the
unmistakable movement from the Guardian, as it raised its control
stick. She knew she should pull back. That she should jump back.
That she should roll out of the way. But she stood frozen as the
control stick brushed against her make-shift tunic. Her eyes went
wide, as she felt the control stick move the cloth closer to her
body. And as it made contact with her side, she felt the world drop
out from beneath her, and the darkness took her.

It was more on instinct than anything else
that Jericho dipped and leaned to the right, as the Guardian’s
control stick continued its upward arc, and barely missed his left
side. As the Guardian realized it had missed, the control stick
stopped its arc a foot above Jericho’s head, hesitated and began to
come back down. In that moment of hesitation, Jericho stepped back.
Just enough for the control stick to barely brush the front of his
shirt as it came back down, but thankfully it did not make solid
contact. He kicked out and down with his right foot, and hit the
stick just above the handle with vicious power. It came free from
the Guardian’s hand and clattered to the ground and through the
doorway, and landed just inches from its own foot. As Jericho
stepped back again, the Guardian’s other arm snaked out in an
effort to grab him. Gracefully Jericho dodged this attempt, as he
spun away and swung the chain. As he held it by the end, the length
of chain swung over and across, and wrapped around the Guardian’s
outstretched arm. It reached for the chain with its other hand, and
Jericho lay both hands on the end of the chain, as he dropped his
own control stick, and pulled with all of his might. It seemed like
minutes or even hours to him, but in a flash of seconds, the
Guardian toppled forward, even as it struggled to get its hands out
to stop the fall. It smashed to the ground with a heavy clang of
metal, as Jericho released his grip on the chain, leaped onto its
back, and then ran through the door. Once on the other side, he
turned, reached down and grabbed the Guardian’s control stick from
the floor, and quickly touched the Guardian on the back of its leg.
The now familiar blue light sparked. The Guardian convulsed and
then froze, as smoke began to poor out of it. Jericho turned,
expressionless, with control stick in hand, and continued down the
new hallway.

He was cautious as he made his way forward.
This hallway was also brightly lit from the ceiling panels above.
It was white, with smooth walls and floors, just as the previous
one had been. He slowed at each corner, and peered around
carefully, with his control stick held firmly in his hand. As he
saw that the next stretch of the hallway was clear, he rushed
ahead. He had made several turns, some left, and some right, when
he finally came to the next junction. Here the hallway was a
crossroads, which continued ahead some distance before it turned to
the right, and branched both to the left and right from the
junction. He looked left, and could see a turn ahead, and when he
looked right, he saw the same. With no way to know which direction
to go, and no way to know if any of them would ultimately lead to
Gabrielle, he paused. He quickly tried to reason in his mind, one
direction or another, but with no other information, there was no
logical choice. He looked left, and reached out with his mind, and
hoped to get some feel for this choice. But nothing came to him. He
looked right and tried the same, but again nothing came. He looked
forward and tried again. He closed his eyes and tried his best to
feel something, anything. But again, he felt nothing. He took a
deep breath. He thought again of Gabrielle. Of her smile, her eyes,
and her love, and then without hesitation he turned to the right
and ran to the turn ahead.