Symbiota Sapiens

Chapter 17

I watched and ran. My eyes flickering madly to dodge obstacles as my legs pumped with inhuman power, propelling me relentlessly forward without a care for the shock and bewilderment among the mortals I passed. They didn't matter. My eyes saw, but that wasn't what I was watching.

What I was watching was...one minute and twenty-two seconds away.

I watched as Julian stopped at the top of the staircase, setting his feet.

I knew what was going through his head just then.

It was a matter of time.

Time. Yeah. That's exactly what it all was coming down to. Time for the autonoids to find the staircase and rush upwards towards him. Time for me to get there before they overwhelmed him with sheer numbers. Time for Rom to get here...I knew he was powerful, together we could force them to abort their attack.

Otherwise we'd be dealing with how much time it would take for...oh shit.

How long would it take the hostile caretakers in his body to finish what they'd started, if they took him away and he was no longer getting his regular doses to combat them?

Julian tensed as the first wave of autonoids appeared at the foot of the stairs.

"Hurry." He whispered, knowing I would hear him.

Then he launched himself to meet the aggressors halfway up the stairs, feet forward, sending them bowling back to disrupt the group just starting up behind them.

I ran.

Limbs flashing as he thrashed with deadly accurate purpose. An elbow crushed a throat then recoiled so the palm on the other end of that arm could slam upward into nostrils, sending cartilage into a brain. Fingers stabbing eyes, knees to groins, leg muscles flexing and jerking around a neck with a horrible "snap".

And then Julian scrambled backwards, leaving three...no four broken bodies twitching on the stairs. Six more climbed over them. One was slightly ahead of the rest, and a snap-kick sent him flying before Julian again charged the others.

He was making full use of his vertical advantage. His adversaries stumbled for balance as he forced them to rock their weight backwards, stepping back into thin air. His knees ideally located for vicious blows to sternum and stomach. Elbows to the face. Six more bodies joined their brethren below.

And then the rest of the crowd was there. A mob of attackers forcing their way upwards through the carnage. A snap kick. Then another. But they weren't flying backwards down the stairs anymore. The mob of densely packed bodies just pushed their limp comrades upward as meaty shields against the blows.

Julian landed one last blow before jumping backwards, slamming the door at the top of the stairwell. It'd be a moment before the conscious ones could get around the bodies of their fellows to open it.

He was down the hallway in a flash, picking a door at random and throwing himself through it.

No lock on the door.

Julian manhandled a small dresser in front of it.

He was in what looked like a young child's nursery, an empty one, thank God. A crib was against the wall, the sides made of wooden bars. I saw Julian's mouth twitch upwards in a brief grin.

Thirty seconds later, the door was rapidly pushing inwards against the dresser and Julian was ready with a couple of jagged-ended oak sticks and a vicious smile.

A hand curled around the edge of the door to push. A flash of wood, a small spurt of blood, and the recently impaled hand was quickly withdrawn. More hands curled around the edge and quickly received the same dealing. There were a few precious seconds as the mind driving the mob considered the puzzle.