[Original Novel] Pressure 3: Beautiful Corpse, Part 17
Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16
She made a show of ducking her head as she ran and worked up some crocodile tears by the time she arrived. Being able to cry again was oddly welcome. “Any more in there?” He gestured to the corridor she’d come from. “N..no, all dead inside. I’m the only one.” He looked aghast. “Motherfucker. First they took Hydroponics, now this. If we lose any more, there’s gonna be no place to fall back to.”
One of them popped up and traded fire with an unseen gunman. Olivia struggled not to laugh, but quickly regained composure. “You won’t be able to kill them that way.” He grunted and passed a full magazine to his comrade. “Don’t I fuckin’ know it. You can immobilize ‘em though if you shred their limbs. We had a guy in that stronghold you came out of, he was workin’ on figuring out their weak spot. If they have one. Guess that plan’s up in flames. Let’s see if we can’t get you back to the sub terminal. All personnel who can’t fight are being evacuated.”
This was it. A ticket out of here. But not without Violet. “I can’t leave without my daughter. I know she’s hiding someplace, she left me a message.” Following a rapid series of incomprehensible hand gestures, the men partially stood and hurried to the next serviceable cover, a fountain. “Lady it breaks my heart to tell you this, but if your daughter’s missing, odds are good she’s one of ‘em by now. But I know you won’t listen. And I can’t spare any of my men to escort you. You know what that means, right?”
She nodded, wiping away residual tears. He looked frustrated for a bit, then raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Fuck it. If I was you I’d do the same. Listen, we’ll hold the sub docking terminal long as we can. If you make it, you make it. Good luck.” They were now close enough to a corridor that she could close the distance with little risk. She glanced back at the weary improvised platoon. They were human of course, but some part of her still pitied what she knew would soon become of them.
The path was clear now. At least, as clear as it had ever been since Tartarus. After wandering dark, dripping corridors she happened upon a flickering vertically aligned touchscreen displaying a 3D map of the Belusarius with a “you are here!” figure and various other indicators. Once she had her bearings and devised what she felt was the least risky route to level 20 given the ongoing battle, she set off.
The pipes were everywhere. In some places forming tangled clusters that blocked her path. Long stretches of floor were comprised of dusty concrete or wood which, in a state of the art deep sea facility, stuck out like a sore thumb. Had the soldiers noticed? Could they even see it? She reached out and cautiously touched one of the pipes. It seemed real enough to her.
Olivia rounded a corner and just barely avoided a volley of machinegun fire intended for a fabricant in front of her. It took off the top of his head. He stumbled about, motor control no longer working as it should. “Don’t shoot! I’m alive!” She again feigned fear and remarked to herself that she was quite good at it. One of two men in a crude machinegun nest built from layered bags of desiccant slipped a pair of thermal goggles down over his eyes.
“She’s warm.” He gestured for her to join them. “No, I have to find my daughter! I was with one of your units briefly, he let me go. Don’t try to stop me, I won’t leave this place without her!” The other man began pleading with her but the first one stopped him. “No, it’s alright. They took my boy, I understand. Do what you gotta do.” He handed her a pistol and extra clip. She almost turned it down, but did not want to arouse suspicion.
“Six one two eight. No. Six one four eight?” She recited the door code she’d overheard from memory as best she was able, narrowing it down to a few probable candidates. It was a gamble to take the elevator. Who knows what the extent of the collateral damage was by now. But the service hatch was bolted shut. The guns were no help and she simply didn’t have the tools. So the elevator it was.
It made a metallic grinding noise as it descended and here and there loud bangs or clanks quickened her heartbeat. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to have one. Finally the doors opened into the dark, damp chamber with the immense hatch inset in the wall. And the keypad.
Six four one eight was a bust. Six four eight one likewise came back with a flashing red LED and loud buzz. Six one four eight. The light turned green, a trio of quick beeps issued forth, and the hatch popped ajar with a resounding clang. She prepared herself.
Through the hatch was foul smelling humid darkness and a low, loud thrumming noise. The only light came from an immense round dome window at the other end of the chamber. The largest single window she’d yet seen in Belusarius. Flood lights adorning the exterior cast some of that light inside through the huge borosilicate dome, against which she could see a number of silhouettes. “Violet?”
“Olivia….” It came from ahead and her left. She called out again, and continue to follow the replies. “I can’t see a damned thing. Are you alright?” Violet whispered back, no more than a foot or two away. “I feel...weird. It doesn’t hurt anymore though.”
Olivia teared up, this time for real. “I promised I’d get you out of here. Now here I am. Did you think I’d leave you? I’ve been through so much. But I promised. You’ll see the light of day again. There’s a way, Vivian taught me. I’ll take you someplace far from all of this. It will never find us.”
Olivia remembered her new eyes, and strained to adapt them to the darkness. Sure enough, details began to emerge. But as more and more became visible, her confusion only grew. The chamber was a veritable nest of tangled rusty pipes.
Over and around them grew pale, sickly flesh riddled with black veins, slowly engulfing more of the piping as she watched. The flesh coated most of the walls and ceiling, throbbing gently. Long segmented tendrils dangled from the ceiling and snaked around the stationary parts of the frantic machinery.
Oh God, the machinery. Now she remembered what level 20 was for. A series of machines lay before her, engulfed partially in the damp white flesh, with rusty pipes at various stages of integration. An overhead conveyor of hanging bodies in crew uniforms passed them one at a time into reach of a robot arm which cut off their clothing. The next deftly cut a series of seams into their skin, then degloved them. No other word describes it. The skin was cut, tugged on, and simply sloughed right off the body.
“No” Olivia muttered, as if rejecting the spectacle would cause it to vanish. Of course it didn’t. The machines just kept on working. The bodies were next passed to a transparent cylindrical enclosure which prevented splatter as a surgical saw on the end of a robot arm separated the corpse into sections. Not the ones a butcher might choose, but then these were not for consumption. Of the conventional kind.
The sections fell one by one down a chute, onto their own conveyor. Here, the machinery ended. The metal machinery. What followed was an improvised disassembly line of a different sort. The arms which sorted and arranged the parts were made from mended tissue. Bones, limbs, nerves and veins from unwilling donors. Automated machinery of flesh and blood, to pick up where the robots left off. “NO!” Olivia shouted. But the process chugged right on.
The parts were then packed in ice and placed in airtight PVC chests. She recognized them from Vivian’s apartment. Taking in the whole process at once was stupefying. So much had to go wrong for things to arrive at this point. But the worst was still to come.
“Olivia. How bad is it?” She turned to face Violet. And there she was. Eyes, nose, mouth and a tuft of hair. Her face was embedded in a wall of flesh with dozens more, most in a trancelike state. Of course. The processing power for all of this.
“No. Nooo Violet. God no. Not this.” She wept. “They did something to me didn’t they.” Olivia could only nod, hot salty tears streaming down her cheeks. “You can fix it, right? We can still get out of here like you said. Like you promised.”
Olivia collapsed. How could it come to this? She had a deal with it. Violet was like the carrot it dangled in front of her so she’d cooperate. Violation upon violation. She berated herself for trusting it. How she’d wanted to. Only believing that it would release Violet had gotten her this far. Everything fell apart around her.
“Olivia. Please. Kill me.” She choked. Was there anything left to do? She withdrew one of the pistols from her pocket and, hand shaking, carefully rested the barrel on Violet’s forehead. “Release me from this. Like you promised.” Her stomach turned. Her finger hugged the trigger and she fought to summon the strength to pull it.
She refused. There was nothing else left to drive her but this girl, however lost. A switch flipped in her mind and once again the path was clear. Olivia thought back to the gurgling abominations which resulted the last time she’d tried to mend. But she had to try.
Stay Tuned for Part 18!
So sad for Violet, really thought she was going to make it. She still might, but it does not look good.