Inner Workings

Inner Workings - Part 57

Louis jerked from his seat on the floor as a speaker in the containment room came to life.

"Agent Cowl, you may leave."

"About damn time," said Justin, standing as far away from Louis as possible.

The wall bowed out next to Justin's cot and split clean down the middle, showing Justin the way to freedom. The space beyond was blessedly dim compared to the well lit chamber. Louis rose to his feet, still hunched over from the light and cradling his injured arm.

"And me?" He eyed the distance between him and the exit, wondering how fast it could close and if he could get through before they could stop him. To spend a minute out of the light would sooth the prickling sensation under his skin.

"Agent Patriarch, stay."

"I'm not a dog," said Louis.

"Nah, they're nicer." Justin gave a half hearted, tired wave of his hand. "Adios, d-bag."

The door hissed closed and Louis was left alone except for the eyes that watched him from the other side of the mirror.

Alone, he could deal with being alone. Alone was better than being stuck with Justin.

But alone, he felt the edges of the walls closing in on him. Slow and seamless like the previously unnoticed door. Louis closed his eyes and paced. Six steps forward, turn six steps back. Marching, no big deal. As long as he couldn't see the walls, they couldn't do anything to him. Like keeping your eyes closed against monsters under the bed. He kept pacing, six forward, turn, six back.

He was fine until he stumbled, his shin hitting the cot in the middle of the sixth step.

*

Rachel listed on the edge of dream, a deeply needed cycle of REM sleep. After two days of worry and Cetz half listening to her "paranoia", she needed a real bed to sleep off the stress. The clattering buzz of her phone in the tin bowl by her bed, a makeshift bell to make sure she would wake up for emergencies, snagged her into waking, jerking her head off the pillow, hair draped like a veil over her face.

She scooped the phone out of the acoustic bowl and stared at the screen, rebooting her ability to read. Cetz. Calling at 3 in the morning. She took a breath before answering.

"Doctor Sampson."

"Hey, morning," said Cetz, his voice hoarse as if he had been yelling for hours. "Bad news."

Calls this early or late rarely meant something good, but if Cetz said it was bad, then it was probably worse. What kind of trouble had Watch Two gotten into when she was gone? Had Cetz tried to work the BT-10 without the idiot's guide? Bella dead? Car broke down on an iced over lake? Missing a limb and needed a quick robotic replacement?

Rachel turned on the bedside lamp. The sheets barely had a wrinkle in them, and the beige walls and carpet of the room in the morning grey made it look like the inside of a box of oatmeal. "...Okay. How bad."

"Watch One has Agent Louis Patriarch in their custody."

Rachel could have said "I told you so", but she didn't. Instead she sat up in bed, all thought of sleeping gone. "What are they doing with him?"

"I don't know, but if we want him back soon we have to have an "equal" exchange."

"What do they want?" Rachel couldn't think of anything particular in Watch Two storage of value to Watch One. The Devil's Neckbrace maybe? Something in the depths of cold storage?