Scott Nicholson - Liquid fear

Alexis peered between two oversized tractor tires, the rotted rubber mingling with the chemicals, dust, and petroleum of the factory air. Kleingarten’s bulky form was between her and Briggs, silhouetted by the dim glow of high-tech equipment. When he moved one arm, the barrel of his gun glinted.

The bank of monitors spotlighted Briggs as if he were a stand-up comedian. He stood in his cage, shirt open, hair unkempt, seemingly calm despite the gun pointed at him. Behind him, Wendy was splayed in a chair, naked except for her panties circling one ankle.

The scene brought back memories of another time, but it wasn’t a cage, it was a university office, a sunlit room, when Alexis had swung open the door to report on Halcyon only to find Briggs and Wendy writhing on his desk. She’d slipped out without Wendy noticing, but Briggs had heard the door and had flashed Alexis a smirk as he thrust inside his willing, moaning partner.

This could be you, that smirk had said. And Alexis had been tempted. Because that would have bought her access to his research, and the secrets would be hers.

But her anger at Briggs and disgust at Wendy shifted to something else when she saw what was playing on the monitor behind them.

Wendy and Roland held Susan’s naked, bloody body.

And there was Alexis, on the screen, approaching them, snarling, face twisted, eyes glittering.

In her hand was a jagged piece of curved metal She squeezed the handle of the broken plow blade.

Almost like this one.

But what’s happening? Susan’s here now, so how could she be on TV?

“Turn it off, Doc,” Kleingarten said. “It’s making me want to puke.”

“We learn from the mistakes of the past,” Briggs said. Wendy moaned, stroking one of her breasts.

On the screen, Alexis lifted the weapon.

Under the conveyor belt, she raked the plow blade across her forearm, the searing stripe of pain bringing a moment of clarity.

M ark was right. Pain worked.

On screen, drops of blood fell from her weapon, Roland’s and Wendy’s faces were stretched and bright with anticipation, Susan’s eyes widened as she denied what was about to happen.

It really happened.

Before the jagged metal fell, the screen exploded, and the gunshot boomed throughout the factory. Briggs shouted, and Wendy stirred in the chair but didn’t get up.

I was supposed to do something.

Kill somebody.

Yeah.

She eased out from beneath the conveyor belt, took five silent steps forward as the shot’s echo died away, and swung the plow hard and high. Kleingarten was fixated on Briggs and the shattered monitor, and he was likely deaf from the resonating din. Or else he’d forgotten he was trapped in a mechanical graveyard with a bunch of rampaging monkeys.

Either way, he was vulnerable, and the vulnerable always died first.

The tip of the plow dug deep into the base of his skull, just at the top of his spinal column. He barked an “Urp” and spouted a couple of gushes of blood as he pitched forward.

She hauled the blade out of him and lifted it again, to smash him and smash him “Lex!”

She froze, blinking and trembling. “Mark?”

“You’re Seething, remember?”

Pain. Something I’m supposed to remember about pain…

She looked at the dim outline of the makeshift ax in her hand. A clot of brain and hair clung to its tip.

Then Mark had her, and she struggled to raise the ax-He bit me, the motherfucker! — and then he slapped her hard and she dropped the weapon. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

“Lex! Where’s the other pill?”

“They killed Susan.”

“You killed her, Alexis,” Briggs said. “You haven’t lost your magic touch.”

Mark slapped her again, and she came around, not all the way, but enough to remember where she was. Mark jammed his hand in her pocket and pulled out the pill bottle, flipping the cap away.

She thought she was supposed to do something, but all she could think about was the lurid home movie Briggs had made, and how they’d all staged a murder scene.

What a weird fucking research project. Pretend to kill somebody so Briggs could measure their neurochemical activity.

Mark shoved the pill in her mouth and ordered her to swallow it.

Mark was right about the pain, so maybe he was right about this.

She swallowed, and he held her as she glanced at the cage. Briggs stood behind Wendy, who looked lost in another world, or in some twisted fantasy Briggs might have planted.

On some of the smaller video monitors, shapes moved and flitted.

More people?

“It’s okay, honey,” Mark whispered, holding her close. “It hurts, but it’s okay. It’s up to you now.”

“Turn on the goddamned lights and open the door,” Roland said. “Nobody else move.”

He held Kleingarten’s gun in his fist, and Alexis wished she’d killed him while she had the chance.

Roland was sick of these fuckers.

He didn’t know how many bullets the gun held, but he figured there were plenty enough for all.

He remembered everything now. Especially how that bitch Alexis had made him take the pills. Telling him forgetting was a good thing.

No, he’d rather feel alive, even if the truth hurt.

“Do it!” he yelled at Briggs. “I’m not like your other monkeys. I don’t jump every time you slip them the banana.”

“Easy, Roland,” Briggs said, and Roland was pleased the doctor sounded a little scared. The smug bastard’s cool was only an inch deep, about as far as his shriveled little pecker could penetrate.

Roland’s finger tightened around the trigger as Wendy moaned, oblivious to everything. The sight of her sweat-slick skin confused him, and he didn’t like confusion. No, he was a fucking monkey with a hard-on for revenge.

Roland fired, and Briggs’s computer exploded.

“My data!” Briggs yelled.

“Open!” Roland roared as the report echoed off the concrete walls.

“Okay,” Briggs said, unconsciously pulling his shirt closed as if that would offer protection from a bullet. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a key ring, digging a key into the hasp lock.

Roland swiveled the gun at the Morgans, but they were staying put, raking at each other’s wounds, bleeding and crazed in the faint light.

The lock popped free and Briggs swung the door open. “Now the lights,” Roland said.

He felt great, better than he had in years. Seethe was like booze and sex and cocaine rolled into one. Why the fuck was that bitch Alexis trying to keep it from them? Probably wanted it all to herself.

Probably wanted to fuck Briggs, too.

Hell, everybody else was.

Wendy.

“Turn on the lights,” Roland said, not even bothering to raise his voice. As Briggs worked the switches on the security system, Roland entered the creepy cage and knelt beside Wendy’s chair.

“I know what happens when you lose control,” Roland said to the beautiful woman. “Hell, that’s the story of my life.”

Her eyelids fluttered. “Roland?”

“Yeah, babe. We’re getting out of here.”

“Don’t do it, Roland,” Alexis said. “We need Halcyon or we’re going to do terrible things, and remember all of this. And what we did to Susan.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“You’re going to lose it. You might Seethe forever.”

“I’ve been Seething since before I was born. This is just how God made me, and that’s goddamned good enough for me.”

The lights began blinking on, stinging Roland’s eyes. All their faces were pale. He picked up Wendy’s clothes and dropped them on her lap.

“Get dressed,” he said.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you later.”