Chapter 32: The Laboratory

Instead of taking point, submachine gun facing ahead, Fred entered the wood-lined hallway, sword at the ready. Still strange to be using such ancient weapons. Ave followed him in, then me, Marci, Bent, Dylan taking up the rear.

“Am I the only one who’s disturbed by a medical gurney being here?” Marci crouched down beside it, not quite touching the metal frame, “There’s blood on it, too. Old and dried. And these leather straps are thick. I think they’d even hold Fred.”

“This place just keeps getting worse and worse,” I said, touching her back. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

“Door on the right, Boss. Traps?”

I stepped ahead of our heavies, checking the thick, wooden door, first eyeing it, then running my hands along its frame. “Let’s see. None I think. But this is just wooden paneling. Underneath is metal.”

Bent took a position behind us, “They sure seem to be working with very strong subjects.”

“Yeah. We don’t want something at our flanks. Let’s check it out.” Hand on the handle, “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Check.”

Pulled it open, Fred and Ave presenting themselves first.

Walking in, lowering her hammers, Ave said, “It looks like a hospital.”

Another gurney, bedding set just above waist height was in the center of the room. Around it, stands holding angled mirrors to maximize light on the bed. Or, rather, the patient if there was one. Thankfully, it was empty. Wheeled trays held all manner of equipment, from saws of various sizes to tiny-bladed knives reminiscent of surgical knives, straps, bands, wash basins, dirty and clean cloths.

Marci headed over to it, inspecting it more closely. “There’s no . . . no IVs. No anesthetic. No monitors. I’m not sure how someone would survive this.”

Bentley pointed at the far wall, “I’m not sure it’s for the living.” Jars with heads, arms, other body parts. Some human, some that can only be described as other. One had a bear claw.

“Jesus.” I backed away from the glass. “You think this necromancer, whoever set up the altars, is experimenting on bodies?”

“I think he or she may be building zombies,” Bent looked back at me, “or whatever. Frankenstein.”

“Why oh why couldn’t this be a child-friendly game?” I asked no one in particular.

“You mean Frankenstein’s monster,” said Dylan, staring around. “Frankenstein is the doctor.”

“Yeah, but the monster wrote a note saying it was ok to call him by the doctor’s name now,” said Bent. He stood up quickly, backing up, “Shit! This head’s eyeball just blinked and moved.” He stepped forward, leaned toward the tank, peering into it. “Yeah, this guy must be waiting for a body. That’s got to be boring.”

Marci called over, “Let’s leave him in there.”

“Agreed.”

“Hey guys,” said Dylan, his ear against the wall to the next room down the hall. “Lots and lots of moaning in this one. I think it must be their, uhm, subject storage area.” Then he looked back at the tanks. “Free range subjects, that is.”

“I think,” I turned around to make sure everyone was listening, “we should just head upstairs and get this damned quest over. No point in exploring this creepy guy’s labs. We just need to destroy the altars.”

“What about monsters at our backs?” asked Avery.

A new voice from the doorway shouted, “Holy shit!” A man in his twenties wearing grey clothing and a black apron stood there, clutching the door. He bolted, yelling ahead, “They made it to this floor! They’re here!”

“On it!” said Ave, charging after the guy.

Fred raced after her, saying, “Boss!” as he exited the room.

“Guys! Careful!” I gestured everyone to follow, running after them and hoping this wasn’t some kind of trap. The next one out the door, I saw Fred speeding toward the elevators, then turning a hard left in the opposite direction.

I raced up the thick, white marble stairs two at a time. At the top, a large landing overlooking this floor, paintings lined the walls, chairs in front of them.

Before a doorway, Ave swung her hammer at a giant of a man wearing mismatched clothing, mismatched arms outstretched, trying to hug her. Ave’s hammer smashed into his chest just as his arms took hold of her shoulders. As the creature’s chest caved in, its arms detached, nails clawing into her shoulders.

The hand on her right shoulder was larger, its blackened fingers deep in the leather, blood trickling past them and down. Fred tore one off and tossed it away, but Ave was already stiffening, hammers falling one by one to the floor.

I caught up, took hold of the other hand, trying to pull it off. It was smaller and greyish, and squeezed all the harder as I pulled as hard as I could, opening up wounds in her shoulder more deeply. Giving up on that, I drew my glowing sword, pushed it through the wrist of the detached arm, and the thing stopped moving, fingers twitching as if dying. Fred helped me rest Ave against the wall, trying to get her to sit down, but she was stiff, and mumbling something, lifting her arm slowly to point at the ground.

The other hand crawled up to Fred’s ankle, grabbing hold and he shouted, “Arg! Creepy fucks!”

“Fred, use the hammer!” I shouted.

Ave’s weight suddenly fell on me as Fred dropped to the floor, grabbed the hammer, then turtled up to smash the hand off his leg. I held her against the wall as best I could, worried that she’s fall and hurt herself.

“River! Watch out!” Marci shouted at me from the stairs, lightning spinning around her arm.

Stepping out from the doorway, the earlier man grabbed my left wrist from the doorway. Through gritted teeth, he said something, and icy cold pain shot into my body, muscles shivering, teeth chattering, Ave fell sideways as I hugged myself, falling forward into the wall, then sliding down to a crouch.

A burst of intense light, the smell of burnt hair, Marci in front of me, touching my head, “Jesus, you are so cold.” She pulled me into a hug, putting my arms over hers. Her body felt almost too hot. Marci shouted at the others, but I couldn’t really tell what she was saying and closed my eyes.

After a while, or perhaps longer, someone brushed hair off my eyes. Opening them, it was Marci, worried look on her face. “You’re warming up. How do you feel?”

I found myself lying on the ground. “A little . . .” I closed and opened my fist, touched my chest, which was cool to my hand, “A little better now. Warming up. How long have I been laying here?”

“Thirty seconds, a minute, maybe. Not long.”

“Ave, Fred . . . the baddie?”

“Ave’s paralyzed but breathing. Fred’s leg seized up a bit, but he killed the, uh, hand. I took care of the guy, the one who attacked you. And then Dylan stabbed him. Dylan and Bent are keeping watch in case that guy’s shouting draws more people, but no one has responded so far.”

I found myself squeezing her more tightly, then letting go of Marci and sitting up. “I’m good now. Wow. That was not fun, do not recommend. Just a sec,” I pushed on the floor, Marci helping, and I stood. “Yeah, I feel fine now. It was so cold.”

“His attack must have been designed to take you out of the fight temporarily. Mine’s electricity, his must have been cold. I’m not sure where that fits on my air, earth, fire, water spectrum. Opposite fire?”

“Let’s analyze this later. We probably have incoming soon.”

“Right, sorry.”

“No,” I looked into her eyes. “Thank you, Marci.” Smiled from the corner of my mouth, “For the hug.”

She gave me a smile mixed with a head tilt, blond hair sliding across her face. Her ear pointed through a sea of golden threads.

I focused, then called over to Bent and Dylan, “Anything in the hallway?”

Bent looked down it, back at me, “Nothing.”

“We’ve got to regroup. Fred, can you carry Ave?”

“Yes, but my right leg’s numb. And I have to put her down to fight.”

“We can’t leave her here. The altar must be on the other side of that hallway, in the main rooms.”

Dylan stepped over to her, “I’ll help.”

How would we advance with our heavies tied up? Maybe getting Bent to help Fred would be better, unless we came up against more of the paralyzing monsters, then we’d need our casters up front. I could help, but then I couldn’t direct. Whatever, I thought, saying, “We need to move into the hallway and shut the door, just in ca-”

All around us, the sound of metal hitting concrete, like a door being thrown open, rang out. Moaning echoed up the hallway.

“Into the door now!” Fighting the urge to rush back and help drag Ave, I moved into the hallway, paying as much attention as I could to my trap sense, looking around as quickly as possible. “It’s safe! I mean, free of traps, I think. Come on!”

Dylan slung one of Ave’s arms over his shoulder, Fred did the same, and they dragged her into the doorway. Marci joined me, but Bent was pulling the other guy by the legs in when the first of the zombies crested the stairwell. These ones had helmets on.

“Bent, forget him!”

“He might have keys or something!”

I rushed over, grabbed a leg, and we dragged him in. The undead rushed at us, faster than before. Off where I’d slumped against the floor, one of Avery’s hammers, the mundane one, left behind. No time to pick it up.

Marci slammed the door shut, I jumped over to help brace it and, finding the lock, bolted the door.

“Think it’ll hold?”

“No. Those zombies looked, I don’t know, determined.”

“Determined?”

“Different than the other ones. They moved more quickly and are wearing armor.”

She rested against the door, “God, this whole place sucks.”

The banging started, loud and hard, booming out.

“Yeah. It really does.”

Bent stood up, holding out his hand, “Keys.”

This hallway was oddly luxurious. A gold-painted wooden banister ran the length of it. Above, more paintings, of scenery, of people, each with a uniquely carved frame. Along the top of the walls, twisting, bronze bars held white globes that lit up the place in soft yellow light. A long red and brown carpet, designs like an iron sigil running its length, led to the far double doors at the end of the hallway, perhaps twenty meters away.

“Why the long hallway?” asked Fred.

Dylan said, “Probably hates large rooms. Made this to shorten them.”

“Or give them time to run away,” said Bentley, “in the event of a breach.”

Marci blinked, “We’re a breach. We qualify as a breach.”

“That means they’re prepared for us. We have to expect that.”

“I wish we had a potion for paralysis,” said Fred, worried expression on his face. “It’s not fun coming out of.”

“Alright, this is how we’re moving.” I looked at Fred, “No rushing ahead,” even though he couldn’t now, not with his right leg stiffened. But I hoped he understood why we kept getting into these problems. Although, perhaps this time, Ave and him stopped this guy from getting help. Probably not, given the zombies outside trying to get us, but possibly.

He nodded.

“I’ll take point, looking for traps. When we get to the far door, I’ll open it. Dylan, here,” I passed him my sword. “It’ll be more useful in your hands. You and Bent will enter first, ready for whatever’s there. If it’s those paralysis things, Bent, I want you to hit them with your fire magic. Dylan, try not to get clawed.”

The fighter held up a gauntleted hand and squeezed, “Got it.”

Fred said, “Yup. Smooth sailing from here.”

“If it’s more people,” I nodded toward the dead body, “we’ll try talking first. Get some info out of them if we can. If not, don’t let them near you. That cold attack took me right out. We can’t afford that for anyone now. Marci, you can hit them with whatever you just did?”

“I think so. It’s coming back.”

“Coming back?”

“Yeah. Recharging, I guess. I can feel the power building.” Marci’s bright blue eyes flashed briefly golden.

Looking at Ave, I wondered if we could wait enough for her to join us, “How much time do you need?”

“Good soon.”

The problem is, the more time we gave us, we gave the enemy. And it took Fred and Dylan more than half an hour before they could move, perhaps hours before they could fight. “The more time we keep them talking, the more likely Fred and Ave’s paralysis will wear off. Fred’s probably sooner.”

“The problem with waiting,” said Marci, thumbing toward the door behind us, thumping on it continuing as hard as before, “is that we may not have the time.”

“Right. Yeah, let’s go.”

We moved slowly down the hallway. No sense of dread arose in me, none of us triggered a trap. The pounding continued apace behind us, sound becoming more echoey the further away we moved.

Standing in front of the walnut double doors, bronze bars crisscrossing them, bolts lined up in a grid pattern, bronze handles, I couldn’t feel any traps. I took one by the handle, said, “Ready?” and pulled it open.

“Welcome,” said a woman, black eyes and bluish hair, dark red shirt, with a black robe overtop, man standing to her left, dressed like the dead guy down the hallway, grey pants and shirt, black apron, and two of those large detachable-arm humanoids, which I was thinking of as Frankenstein’s monster now, standing tall on either side of them. “I presume you’re here to kill us and take our hotel?”

“Not especially,” I said. “We’re here to, ah, well honestly, we’re looking for the computer mainframes that govern the nanotech.”

Tilting her head, she crossed her arms. “Those aren’t here.”

“Wait, you understand what I’m saying? Do you know where they are?”

Bent stepped forward, “Why did you set up the altars in this hotel? Why underground?”

She looked from Bent to me, asking, “What do you want with the mainframes?”

“We’d like to turn the nanotech off. Return this world, it’s people, to, I don’t even know if this is possible, the way it was. The way they were.” I put my palms up, “It’s our mission.”

Unfolding her arms, smile on her face, she said, “Kill them.”

The monsters leapt forward arms wide open, teeth bare.