The Great Below

The Outdoors

Victor led her by hand to the weapons cage. Octavia was trying desperately to form a plan on the fly which, much like her self-defense, wasn't going well. She had always thought of Victor as a burden, and yet he'd shown up to do almost precisely what she wanted. Victor, acting as a weapon she could aim at her enemies. Well, more of a cannon she could loosely turn in the direction of her enemies. Of course she'd have to deal with him on the outside, adding a second phase to her escape, but she could deal with that later. Canons all had their share of recoil when fired.

He contemplated the locked gate and the skinny horizontal window of the cage, the red spreading across his neck and face.

"We can't take any guns," Octavia whispered. "The security guard on duty will shoot us."

"And how easily do you think we'll get out unarmed?"

"We need something. We need leverage."

Victor let go of the gate and returned to her, scanning the hallway. "If we don't take guns, the only other thing we could get down here is...silverware. Hand weights, maybe."

"There are sharp knives in the kitchen. That's how we get out of here. You take me as a hostage. I'm your leverage."

"That would only work on one person," he said. And then an unpleasant gleam came to his eye and his hand stretched out once more, gripping hers.

"Nobody dies," Octavia blurted. "No one gets hurt."

He started to lead her without speaking, but she dragged her feet and began to go limp, knowing that a dead weight would make his escape that much more difficult. He gave her a warning look that could have burned. He said, "Because you insist, cariña, no one will hurt but you."

Victor hauled her to the Infirmary. She wasn't sure if he wanted first aid supplies before they went to the cafeteria, or if he'd ignored her advice entirely. He planted her at the door forcibly, with both hands, and told her not to let anyone in. That wouldn't be hard considering the hour of night; she held the frame steady and tried to remain calm while listening to the clank of stainless utensils behind her.

They made it up the final staircase and the reality of rushing the checkpoint at the front door set in: Raul dropped the book he was reading and scrambled to his feet, pulling a gun from underneath the desk. There was something wrong with his throat. There were marks and he wheezed as his breathing spiked.

"Victor," he rasped.

Octavia stopped. She didn't want a fight with mild-mannered Raul. Victor's arm came across her chest from the back and his fingers clamped over her left shoulder. There was a gleaming scalpel in his other hand; it hovered in front of her stomach. The gun in Raul's hand gradually came to rest on top of the desk, his hands moving reluctantly away.

"Use your phone to call Alex. I will only talk to him," Victor said.

"I have to use the alarm."

"If you activate the alarm, I will cut her open." The scalpel brushed against the cotton of her t-shirt, waking all the nerve endings around her navel. Octavia didn't have to put on a performance; Victor would have done anything to get his way.

Raul considered, touching his throat where it probably throbbed. He picked up the phone.

#

"Quickly," Victor said, as Alex and Nick came out of the upper stairwell. "Quietly." He held an awkward pose, Octavia pressed to his front like a human shield with one arm protectively across her chest and the other hovering out in front, holding something thin and silvery like a butter knife. No, smaller. What was it?