The Dreamweb, part 11
Part 11
Thomas smiled as he walked down the street. New boots, a cleaned and stitched up wound, and still a few dollars to spare. For the first time in weeks, Thomas smiled, even though the boots were second hand and the wound was stitched with simple thread in stead of silk. It was still far more luxury than he was used to. Even the weather was dry enough to permit him a cigarette on his walk home.
When Thomas reached the front door he threw away the cigarette bud, rubbing out with the sole of his boot. The inside still smelt faintly of cabbage and urine, but the cigarette smoke numbed his nasal passages enough to block it out. Even the fact that the elevators were out of order didn’t put a dent in his good mood. Compared to what he was used to, his new boots made it feel like he was walking on air.
When Thomas finally reached his floor, something raised his suspicion. The door to his apartment was slightly ajar, even though he was sure he had locked it when he left. If he hadn’t been smoking, he would have smelled the scent of freshly mown hay that hung about the hallway. Now he simply stepped inside, a surge of adrenalin preparing his body for a confrontation with whoever might await him inside.
Kneeling inside the mouldy closet, Tetra peered through a crack in the wood. She could see Thomas stepping into the apartment, glancing around. Earlier that day she had snuck inside, but she had been too panicked and confused to remember to cover her tracks. Still, all was not lost. She held her breath as Thomas crept closer. She would strike him down. She would kill him. She would complete her mission, and then she would beg her superiors for forgiveness. Closer. Closer. Three steps. Two steps. One step. Now. The muscles in her legs uncoiled, and she launched herself forward.
His clothes on the floor, the bottle in the kitchen and his battered and broken furniture, everything seemed to be in place. However, this was not what he was concerned about. The only thing that mattered to him was his Dream machine, which should be tucked away safely in its hidden compartment in the wall. He hurried towards it, cursing himself for wasting his money on trivial things like new clothes and medical care when he might have to replace his machine now. He was so caught up in his panic that he never heard the cracking of the planks in his wardrobe until it was too late.
Clutching to the section of wood that just a moment ago been a wardrobe door Tetra launched herself forward, battering Thomas to the floor. The wood broke on impact and Tetra rode the two pieces to the floor with Thomas trapped underneath. She heard him let out a muffled scream and curse, but she forced herself to ignore it. Die, Thomas Gaelen. Die. You have to die. I will kill you now, and then they will take me back. They will not dismantle me if I kill you, so you will have to die for me.
For his part, Thomas refused to go quietly into the void. Tetra was stronger than he was, but he was heavier and had the advantage of momentum. The moment his shoulders connected with the floor he shifted his weight backwards, throwing his legs up in the air and causing Tetra to loose control of her forward motion. She connected head first with the floor, and she felt something pop in her neck. Immediately her artificial glands responded, releasing endorphins into her bloodstream. However, the process distracted her too long to allow her to prevent Thomas from striking back. He pulled her up roughly by her right arm, using it as a lever to fling her towards the couch. Had she been human, Tetra would have collided with it and probably be knocked out or at least winded by the impact. However, her superior reflexes allowed her to regain control of her forward motion. In stead of stumbling she was now running, and in stead of colliding with the couch she put her foot on it and kicked off, sending her fist first in Thomas’s direction. Her aim was perfect, and the impact landed squarely on his face, cracking his nose and sending him to the floor.
Tetra didn’t relent, landing on top of Thomas and pinning him between her legs. She forced one hand under the back of his head and placed the other on his jaw. One motion. One quick pull would shatter the man’s spine, He would die instantly , and she would be back in good graces with her superiors.
As she tried to command her arms to move, to complete the action, she couldn’t help but stare in her victim’s eyes. She could see fear, and as she struggled to remain in control she felt his warm blood trickle from his nose onto the hand on his jaw. A jaw that was moving, producing a weak, gargling sound.
“Please…”
That single helpless word shattered Tetra’s misguided resolve, and the truth of her situation broke through relentlessly,. The music returned in a chaotic wave of cacophony that washed away the hope that she would ever return to the safety of the Facility’s endless white hallways, leaving behind only the notion that for some reason it would be wrong to take this man’s life. She sobbed hysterically, letting go of Thomas’s head and running back to her hiding place, hoping she would be safe there.
Still groggy from the unexpected blow, Thomas pulled himself back onto his feet. His right leg screamed in protest, the sutures ripped loose from his skin in the struggle. He glanced around wearily, and then he could see Tetra’s feet sticking out from the wardrobe, no longer blocked from view by the door she had used as a battering ram. When he had shaken his head enough to stop the room from spinning he reached down, taking a piece of wood from the floor and clutching it in his right hand as an improvised bat. Quietly he stalked forward, eyeing Tetra’s feet wearily.
For her part, Tetra was completely lost in her mental breakdown. She was huddled up in the foetal position, her hands clamped firmly over her ears as she tried to fight the chaos in her head. Two personalities were waging war upon each other; the cold, merciless killer that had been created by the Doctor and trained inside the Facility and the traces of her old personality, all but erased by the old man’s experiments. She unconsciously tried to hum the lullaby from the music box. The sound of her sobbing hums confused Thomas, and he paused briefly as he walked towards the wardrobe, ready to strike. No. She had tried to kill him, he couldn’t hesitate. In one swift motion he pulled the remaining door open, nearly pulling it from its hinges. In the same breath he brought the piece of wood down on the back of Tetra’s head. She let out a pained cry and fell forward. Immediately Thomas struck again, and this time she fell silent. As he pulled her limp body from the closet, he noticed the strange blue-black fluid trickling out from between her hair. Not human.
Hours later, Tetra awoke. Immediately she felt a throbbing headache, and a pungent stench overwhelmed her senses. Her mouth felt scratchy and dry. She tried to move, but something was holding her back. When she opened her eyes, she could see the blurred outline of a pair of boots. She heard someone say something, but she couldn’t make out the words. She struggled to get up, but the effort almost immediately caused her to slip back into unconsciousness.
She was standing in front of a large wooden door, trembling of fear, a fear that was caused by the paper she held in her hands. Two red numbers chalked down at the top spelled out her doom. 98. To her teacher they had been a simple matter of giving a grade, but to Claudia the two red smears meant imperfection. Still she stood patiently, knowing that she couldn’t hide from her mentor. She would have to be honest with him, as she always was. Finally the buzzer sounded, and the door swung inward. She stepped inside, her feet immediately sinking into the navy-blue carpet. Normally she enjoyed its warmth, but right now she was too nervous for pleasant thoughts. She walked forward slowly, staring at the floor while the figure sitting behind the desk regarded her sternly.
“You’re late, and you seem… afraid. Does this mean what I think it means?”
Claudia nodded quietly, completing the walk up to the desk that seemed like it had lasted for hours. She felt an uncomfortable knot in her stomach, and all she really wanted to do now was run to the nearest bathroom. As she stood there, the figure regarded the paper stoically.
“98? That’s the second time this month. I had hoped you would adjust to your workload better. I’m afraid there will be… consequences…”
Immediately, Claudia let out a fearful sob. Her mentor got up, placing his hand on her shoulder and staring at her with those unreadable eyes. “We’ve been working so hard for you Claudia, why do you keep disappointing us?”
Claudia answered timidly. “I… I don’t know…” She didn’t know. She didn’t know… she didn’t…
Tied up on the floor of Thomas Gaelen’s apartment, Tetra dreamed the nightmares of her lost personality all over again.
Thomas smiled as he walked down the street. New boots, a cleaned and stitched up wound, and still a few dollars to spare. For the first time in weeks, Thomas smiled, even though the boots were second hand and the wound was stitched with simple thread in stead of silk. It was still far more luxury than he was used to. Even the weather was dry enough to permit him a cigarette on his walk home.
When Thomas reached the front door he threw away the cigarette bud, rubbing out with the sole of his boot. The inside still smelt faintly of cabbage and urine, but the cigarette smoke numbed his nasal passages enough to block it out. Even the fact that the elevators were out of order didn’t put a dent in his good mood. Compared to what he was used to, his new boots made it feel like he was walking on air.
When Thomas finally reached his floor, something raised his suspicion. The door to his apartment was slightly ajar, even though he was sure he had locked it when he left. If he hadn’t been smoking, he would have smelled the scent of freshly mown hay that hung about the hallway. Now he simply stepped inside, a surge of adrenalin preparing his body for a confrontation with whoever might await him inside.
Kneeling inside the mouldy closet, Tetra peered through a crack in the wood. She could see Thomas stepping into the apartment, glancing around. Earlier that day she had snuck inside, but she had been too panicked and confused to remember to cover her tracks. Still, all was not lost. She held her breath as Thomas crept closer. She would strike him down. She would kill him. She would complete her mission, and then she would beg her superiors for forgiveness. Closer. Closer. Three steps. Two steps. One step. Now. The muscles in her legs uncoiled, and she launched herself forward.
His clothes on the floor, the bottle in the kitchen and his battered and broken furniture, everything seemed to be in place. However, this was not what he was concerned about. The only thing that mattered to him was his Dream machine, which should be tucked away safely in its hidden compartment in the wall. He hurried towards it, cursing himself for wasting his money on trivial things like new clothes and medical care when he might have to replace his machine now. He was so caught up in his panic that he never heard the cracking of the planks in his wardrobe until it was too late.
Clutching to the section of wood that just a moment ago been a wardrobe door Tetra launched herself forward, battering Thomas to the floor. The wood broke on impact and Tetra rode the two pieces to the floor with Thomas trapped underneath. She heard him let out a muffled scream and curse, but she forced herself to ignore it. Die, Thomas Gaelen. Die. You have to die. I will kill you now, and then they will take me back. They will not dismantle me if I kill you, so you will have to die for me.
For his part, Thomas refused to go quietly into the void. Tetra was stronger than he was, but he was heavier and had the advantage of momentum. The moment his shoulders connected with the floor he shifted his weight backwards, throwing his legs up in the air and causing Tetra to loose control of her forward motion. She connected head first with the floor, and she felt something pop in her neck. Immediately her artificial glands responded, releasing endorphins into her bloodstream. However, the process distracted her too long to allow her to prevent Thomas from striking back. He pulled her up roughly by her right arm, using it as a lever to fling her towards the couch. Had she been human, Tetra would have collided with it and probably be knocked out or at least winded by the impact. However, her superior reflexes allowed her to regain control of her forward motion. In stead of stumbling she was now running, and in stead of colliding with the couch she put her foot on it and kicked off, sending her fist first in Thomas’s direction. Her aim was perfect, and the impact landed squarely on his face, cracking his nose and sending him to the floor.
Tetra didn’t relent, landing on top of Thomas and pinning him between her legs. She forced one hand under the back of his head and placed the other on his jaw. One motion. One quick pull would shatter the man’s spine, He would die instantly , and she would be back in good graces with her superiors.
As she tried to command her arms to move, to complete the action, she couldn’t help but stare in her victim’s eyes. She could see fear, and as she struggled to remain in control she felt his warm blood trickle from his nose onto the hand on his jaw. A jaw that was moving, producing a weak, gargling sound.
“Please…”
That single helpless word shattered Tetra’s misguided resolve, and the truth of her situation broke through relentlessly,. The music returned in a chaotic wave of cacophony that washed away the hope that she would ever return to the safety of the Facility’s endless white hallways, leaving behind only the notion that for some reason it would be wrong to take this man’s life. She sobbed hysterically, letting go of Thomas’s head and running back to her hiding place, hoping she would be safe there.
Still groggy from the unexpected blow, Thomas pulled himself back onto his feet. His right leg screamed in protest, the sutures ripped loose from his skin in the struggle. He glanced around wearily, and then he could see Tetra’s feet sticking out from the wardrobe, no longer blocked from view by the door she had used as a battering ram. When he had shaken his head enough to stop the room from spinning he reached down, taking a piece of wood from the floor and clutching it in his right hand as an improvised bat. Quietly he stalked forward, eyeing Tetra’s feet wearily.
For her part, Tetra was completely lost in her mental breakdown. She was huddled up in the foetal position, her hands clamped firmly over her ears as she tried to fight the chaos in her head. Two personalities were waging war upon each other; the cold, merciless killer that had been created by the Doctor and trained inside the Facility and the traces of her old personality, all but erased by the old man’s experiments. She unconsciously tried to hum the lullaby from the music box. The sound of her sobbing hums confused Thomas, and he paused briefly as he walked towards the wardrobe, ready to strike. No. She had tried to kill him, he couldn’t hesitate. In one swift motion he pulled the remaining door open, nearly pulling it from its hinges. In the same breath he brought the piece of wood down on the back of Tetra’s head. She let out a pained cry and fell forward. Immediately Thomas struck again, and this time she fell silent. As he pulled her limp body from the closet, he noticed the strange blue-black fluid trickling out from between her hair. Not human.
Hours later, Tetra awoke. Immediately she felt a throbbing headache, and a pungent stench overwhelmed her senses. Her mouth felt scratchy and dry. She tried to move, but something was holding her back. When she opened her eyes, she could see the blurred outline of a pair of boots. She heard someone say something, but she couldn’t make out the words. She struggled to get up, but the effort almost immediately caused her to slip back into unconsciousness.
She was standing in front of a large wooden door, trembling of fear, a fear that was caused by the paper she held in her hands. Two red numbers chalked down at the top spelled out her doom. 98. To her teacher they had been a simple matter of giving a grade, but to Claudia the two red smears meant imperfection. Still she stood patiently, knowing that she couldn’t hide from her mentor. She would have to be honest with him, as she always was. Finally the buzzer sounded, and the door swung inward. She stepped inside, her feet immediately sinking into the navy-blue carpet. Normally she enjoyed its warmth, but right now she was too nervous for pleasant thoughts. She walked forward slowly, staring at the floor while the figure sitting behind the desk regarded her sternly.
“You’re late, and you seem… afraid. Does this mean what I think it means?”
Claudia nodded quietly, completing the walk up to the desk that seemed like it had lasted for hours. She felt an uncomfortable knot in her stomach, and all she really wanted to do now was run to the nearest bathroom. As she stood there, the figure regarded the paper stoically.
“98? That’s the second time this month. I had hoped you would adjust to your workload better. I’m afraid there will be… consequences…”
Immediately, Claudia let out a fearful sob. Her mentor got up, placing his hand on her shoulder and staring at her with those unreadable eyes. “We’ve been working so hard for you Claudia, why do you keep disappointing us?”
Claudia answered timidly. “I… I don’t know…” She didn’t know. She didn’t know… she didn’t…
Tied up on the floor of Thomas Gaelen’s apartment, Tetra dreamed the nightmares of her lost personality all over again.