Trial 017 - 2019 Wattys Sci-Fi Winner

Chapter 16

Avoiding Krakoshans was easy. They all weighed a ton, and a squad of them running in formation was ridiculously loud on these metal floors. Dragging along my hostage, who was suddenly very compliant now that my gun was back on his head, I pressed on along the various hallways, taking care to steer in opposite directions of the marching sounds. Still, he knew as well as I did that I couldn't keep this up forever. Eventually, I'd run into a hallway packed with too many Krakoshans to handle.

"Stop here," I ordered, pushing my hostage against a door.

This one, unlike most other doors, had a lock. Useful for someone trying to avoid patrols.

"It is locked," Vysin said, his face pressed into the metal.

"You probably have access," I snorted. "Open the door."

"I recommend finding the nearest exit," he continued.

I cocked the pistol and jammed it into the back of his head.

"I said, 'open the door.'"

"You won't kill me," Vysin countered. "If you fire now, you will attract the patrols and face them with a dead hostage."

"I didn't say anything about killing you," I said, trying to sound threatening.

My hostage hesitated, the sounds of marching feet growing closer. I bit my lip, glad Vysin couldn't see me sweating. If he delayed any longer, I was going to be caught for sure.

"Very well," he agreed, touching his wrist to the panel.

The door slid open and he stumbled inside. I followed, letting the door slide shut behind me. This time, I kept my pistol trained on him closely, making sure he didn't do anything out of line. Putting Vysin against the wall, I began barricading the door starting with the nearest cabinet. Anything remotely heavy went up against it, stacking carts, chairs and random objects until the door was securely blocked.

"Safe," I muttered.

"How curious," Vysin said. "You equate cornered situations with safety."

I glared at the Krakoshan, leaning on my pile to catch my breath. It wasn't like I worked out or anything.

Now that I wasn't preoccupied with the Krakoshans marching around outside, I turned my attention to the room's decor, slowly taking in my surroundings. The walls were covered with counters and built-in cabinets, likely containing extra supplies, and a single strip of light illuminated the room. There were two carts, both containing trays of metal utensils of some sort, and three monitors mounted on the wall that displayed stuff I couldn't read. At the center of the room, a surgical table was covered in a red and white sheet, surrounded by the monitors and what looked like an IV stand. A closer look told me the sheet wasn't supposed to be red.

"Is that...blood?" I asked hesitantly.

Vysin followed my gaze to the table, then nodded.

I approached the table cautiously, steeling myself for whatever I was going to see. The sheet was covered with what appeared to be a humanoid body, stained dark crimson and smelling of antiseptic. I lifted the corner quickly, and instantly regretted it the moment I saw what was underneath.

"Oh Zeus," I gagged, backing away from the sheet. "Oh Zeus!"

I gagged again, covering my mouth with one hand, then edged forward, my other hand outstretched toward the corner. Gripping the sheet firmly, I pulled it off and quickly stepped back, careful not to tread on the bloody sheet.

A tall, dark, muscular boy, maybe a few years older than me, lay on the surgical table, spread-eagled and covered in dried blood. His shirt had been cut away, exposing a massive hole in his chest. The Krakoshans had completely vivisected his abdomen, peeling back the skin around his torso and pinning it to the table, almost as if they had been operating on a frog. His innards, including nearly all of his internal organs, lay exposed to the open air. His ribcage was held open with a clamping device, better exposing the boy's lungs and heart. A tube filled with some yellowish liquid was snaked into various parts of the boy's body, pumping the chemical into him constantly. I could see his heart beating hard through the mess of gore. When I pulled off the sheet, I also exposed the table, revealing massive pools of blood that ran off the edge through the use of a ramp and into a basin, some of it spilling over and dripping over the sides in small streams. From the basin, a pump forced the liquid back into the boy's arteries through tubes.