Constructive crit is always welcome!
Mistakes
The late afternoon sun tracked a mirror of their path, a few dense clouds having moved in and threatening to overtake it. 9 gave them little attention as he asked, "Do we have some sort of plan?"
5 said nonchalantly, "Don't get killed, I guess."
They'd traveled with little conversation, though 5 had already said twice "I am not looking forward to the walk back." 9 was determined to stay optimistic, thinking the trek back to the cathedral would be so much better because they would have 2 with them. He busied himself imagining what they would talk about after saving 2 and kept thinking of it even after it became boring, but his mind needed a distraction. A thought had slowly come to him, so very much like the clouds above, and it kept questioning, What if he isn't there? Or what if you can't find him? Then what will you do? 9 couldn't think of an answer.
For another distraction, he asked 5, "Have you ever had to do this before?"
"Do you function off of question marks? No, this is the first time." He helped 9, holding the light-staff, over the remnants of a bureau. "Usually he hides at the first sound he hears. I don't know why this time he messed up. Maybe he was too busy thinking of some new invention."
Or maybe he was too busy saving you.
The thought came like a shove, making 9 stumble. He heard 5 advising him to be careful but it was overridden by horrible comprehension. He'd been sure getting 2 back was the right thing to do and was why he'd been so vehement about the idea. But what if this was all fallacy and the true reasoning was so he could avoid a guilty conscience? It made such clear sense: 9 had ignored 2 telling him to hide; 9 had shouted and been heard by the cat-machine; 9 had stayed only to make 2 push him out of harm's way.
He shook his head hard enough to hurt. He repeated stay optimistic, stay optimistic. What had happened was just a chain of unfortunate coincidences, he told himself, and he had little impact on any of it. Besides, he was helping 2 now and that had to mean something.
Stay optimistic, stay optimistic...
He was about to say something—whatever he first thought of—when there came a soft sound, like pebbles skittering, and they both stopped. The land here was flat and relatively uncovered with trash so they should have been able to see anything dangerous coming towards them. No, 9 corrected. They should have seen anything big. But that cat hadn't been much taller than him and it was the reason he was out here, worrying now of something else hunting him.
Silent as possible, 5 pulled out his odd weapon and motioned for 9 to be quiet, an unneeded suggestion. 9 hadn't moved at all, apart from the extremely slow scan over the horizon for another machine, much less said anything.
How much time passed he didn't know, but after a long wait without sighting anything, or hearing another sound, the tension seizing them slipped away. 5 replaced the weapon in his pack, telling 9, "We should be more careful and hide next time we hear an–" He didn't get to finish his sentence as a pale blur knocked him aside. 9 had barely yelled his companion's name in surprise before he was slammed into the ground. A foot pinned him down and the sharp point of a spear was put alarmingly close to his face. Yet this wasn't solely what caused him to start; the holder of the spear stood over him, the fierce skull of a bird hiding their face.
From behind the mask, a female voice said casually, "I could kill you right now if I wanted to."
9 could only blink for semblance of a response.
5 reacted faster, snapping to a sitting position and demanding, "What do you think you're doing?"
The foot was lifted from 9's chest and his attacker turned, lifting the mask, to answer, "I'm proving you're completely incompetent for this little adventure." 9 started to get up when a hand was offered to him and he looked up to a kind face. The former attacker smiled. "I'm 7. Are you hurt?"
He was helped back to a stand and replied, still feeling a bit confused, "No, I'm fine." He wanted to ask why she'd bothered knocking them down but 5 spoke first.
"And was that noise supposed to be proof of your amazing stealth?"
7 replied, "I got this far without you knowing I was following you."
5's weakly attempted retort, after a pause, was "You can go back just as quietly then." He went to leave but only took a few steps before he realized 9 hadn't moved. He turned back with an earnest look. "Aren't you coming?"
9 wanted to go to 5 and explain a thought to him but knew doing so would make 5 assume he would be following him again. All he could do was ignore how rude he was being when he turned to 7. "You're a fighter, aren't you? You're brave and protect others?"
Behind her expression, 9 could see 7 slightly taken aback by his directness, but she never lost her smile. "That's quite the flattering description." She patted his shoulder when saying to 5, "Where did you find this kid? You could learn some things from him."
5 didn't even glance to her. With the same pleading face, he said, "9, we've already lost so much time."
"But why can't she come with us? That cat will probably be there, and she could help." 9 would later ponder why he was the one defending 7 and he'd then realize the look she gave him now was of complete amusement.
5 glanced to the building, to them, and to the building again, any small shred of pride he had fighting a losing battle. He gave in, as 9 knew he would, with an exasperated "Fine! But for the last time, we have to hurry."
9 gave him a nod that he wanted to show a mix of appreciation and apology, but went unnoticed as 7 walked past, teasing, "Fine, but you'll be the one that will have to keep up." She ignored 5's incoherent grumbling and said to 9, remaining at her side, "You seem to know a lot about being a fighter. Are you one yourself?"
"No, 2 mentioned you. I'll never be able to fight. A person has to be brave to do that."
7 grinned. "And you're convinced you're not brave."
9 returned the smile, or at least what he hoped was half of one. "And you think I am? You've only known me for a minute. I'm not the type you would call fearless."
"You left when most people I know would have stayed where it was safe. Something inside you must be strong for you to do that."
Was there? He didn't feel strong, not as the conversation was happening and surely not as he recalled this blurred yet clear memory. He saw selflessness as nothing more than an illusion. There was always a selfish motive behind someone's actions, whether people would admit to it or not. Yes, some motives were more noble than others, but even when someone went back to save another from harm, didn't part of them know if they hadn't gone back, their own guilt would kill them?
From behind them, 5 said, "I left with him."
7 responded, "Yes, but you're spineless. You don't count." When she saw 5 give an annoyed shake of his head, her expression that hadn't changed since knocking them down—almost like she was laughing at them—softened into something that 9 could only describe as true. She went to 5, placing a hand on his shoulder—much more real than the pat she'd given 9—and told him, "We're not going to be too late."
Those words were able to coax a smile out of 5 and 9 wished he could grasp the same hope. He was trying to but just as his fingers skimmed it, it flitted out of his reach. This was why he needed to get 2 back. He was still unsure what was powering his motives, but he knew for certain that, if he failed, his own guilt would break him.
Their destination hadn't been much larger than a dot when they'd begun, but it started growing. The closer they were to the building, the more formidable it became. Just like he'd known the cathedral was home, he looked at this structure towering over him and knew death once lived here. He didn't voice this opinion, aware of how silly it was, but he thought the others may have felt it too. There was something about this place that at once told you to escape while you could and this made the pull of temptation all the much stronger, telling you to see what lay inside.
A lone flag above the entrance drifted lazily in a breeze 9 couldn't feel. It was a haunting reminder of a dead world; that flag had probably drifted the same way when humans walked under it. A feeling like insects shifting over his back made him wince and he looked away.
As they entered the building's bleak and dusty lobby, he asked 5, "Are you sure this is safe?"
5 answered in a whisper, "Don't worry, we've come this way before. As long as we stay close to the walls, we'll be fine."
"I thought you said–"
"That we've never had to rescue anyone, yes, but coming here to scavenge for materials is different."
"What do you–"
The sharp exhale made 9 stop. 5 turned to him, saying, "Look, 9, I'm sure I would love to answer this question later but we have to be quiet now, so try and keep all those little thoughts inside your head for just a few minutes."
Part of 9 was aware he should be insulted but 5's voice told him more than words could. This place still scared him, whether it was simply the atmosphere or the very real danger of the cat-machine, and he was begging 9 to keep up the illusion that they were safe.
9 nodded, proving he would stay quiet.
7 took the lead, crouched incredibly close to the ground yet still able to move faster and more silent than the two following her. 9 wanted to use the light-staff but it was determined too risky. Shadows blended with shadows to the point he couldn't tell if they'd passed through dozens of rooms or if they'd even left the lobby. Outside, he'd hoped most of the building's size came from high ceilings, but it was becoming more and more depressingly obvious how enormous this place was. How could they find one person—one lone person—before the sun went down?
His spirit was being crushed to such an extent that he practically leapt at the grey hint of light in a room but the sound of rusted joints interrupted his short-lived celebration. 5 pulled him back while simultaneously trying to hide behind him. The hint of grey brightened and 9 heard debris scattering over the floor, punctured by the click of sharpened metal. 7 gestured for them to stay put as she slipped around the overturned furniture blocking their view. When she returned, she pointed to one end of the room and said, "It came from that direction. You two go search that way, I'm going to distract it." She flipped the mask down over her face, gave a quick "Good luck", and darted towards the rasping of claws on the ground.
"Wait!" 9 ran after her, shaking off 5's grip and barely remembering to keep his voice low. Between a table and a broken chair, he caught a glimpse of 7 running right at the cat but just as it noticed her, she dropped and slid under it. With a hiss, it tried to swipe at her but by then she'd already bounded over a debris obstacle with such ease and enthusiasm that 9 suddenly realized, to her, this was fun. The cat gave chase, the light from its other "eye" disappearing along with it.
When the darkness returned and he could feel 5's presence next to him again, 9 asked, "Is she going to be okay?"
"She'll be fine, she's always doing stupid stuff like this." Through the gloom, 9 could see 5 look to where 7 had pointed them, then came his voice hardly louder than a sigh. "Do you think we'll be able to find him?"
9 replied instantly, "Of course we will." He held up the light-staff. "Can we please turn this on now?"
5 instinctively glanced to where the cat had been only moments ago. A bit of uncertainty remained as he said, "It should be harmless enough."
9 twisted the light bulb to its proper place and even the preceding flickering brought relief to him. He looked to 5, seeing for the first time how truly miserable his companion was, and said sincerely, "We will find him."
5 managed a small smile and echoed, "Of course we will."
Since 9 was the one holding the light-staff he was also the one to lead, 5 never straying more than an inch away from the soothing radiance. Light. Everything would be better with light.
He'd been in far worse situations, he was sure of it, but he had yet to think of one.
From the very second that thing had caught him, 2's mind had been unusually blank and empty. He couldn't recall feeling any kind of emotion when he was being carried off or at seeing poor 9 get tossed aside. He was aware but felt nothing. It wasn't until a rough jerk had shaken his hat off—and with it went most of his vision—that he knew what a mess he was in.
He kept trying to convince himself this wasn't anything new, he'd been in plenty of scrapes during his lifetime. But this had never happened before. He had no precedent, and it was trepidation of the unknown that had him so completely terrified. Was he going to be killed right away? If later, how much time? Where was it taking him? Why was it taking him? It was a predator, why didn't it kill him now and do whatever it wanted with the remains? Was it possible there were other machines hiding just like his people hid in the cathedral? Had there been more this entire time they'd thought there was only one left?
Was he going to live?
Would he ever be able to see everyone again?
The cat took him to the building on the edge of the city, or he guessed. The best help his sight had to offer came only when he focused his eyes a certain way, and that merely improved marginally the clarity of objects close by. Blurred shades of blacks and greys passed him and his weakly contained panic was mounting. He almost wished the thing did decide to kill him as soon as possible because if it didn't his own fright certainly would.
He saw, or at least thought, there was a lighter coloured blur ahead, something dully reflective that may have once been beautiful. He'd just started to accept this as some sign he might still have hope when everything dropped. He collided with a hard, flat surface too quickly to scream during the fall, but it was a good few minutes before he had enough breath to groan over how his back had taken the brunt of the impact.
Then all he could do was wait.
He figured he was in some kind of cage that should have had a dome shape, judging by how much he could see above him. But if he'd been dropped into it, something must have torn the top off. Perhaps he was lucky to have such bad sight; if there existed some horror that could rip apart metal, he didn't want to see its work and start imagining what it could do to the shreds of fabric that made him.
He told himself everything would be fine. Someone would come and rescue him. Someone always came for him. He wanted to think 5 would come, but even if he could force himself to get past his own qualms, he wouldn't be allowed to leave. He probably didn't even know yet what happened. Maybe 7. She spent a lot of time outside. Maybe she'd seen him. Or maybe the new one, 9. He'd been following him before. Before the cat attacked him. Was he even still alive? Did it kill him? Was 2 going to be next?
Insignificant sounds made him jump and it took ages to eventually calm, if he didn't hear something else from the dark. Worse even than the thought of death was thinking it was coming for him and not being able to see it.
He would be fine. He had to keep believing that. He had to.
He was almost back to being calm—as much as he could be—after another whispering sound when he heard something else. A voice. It was hushed and he thought it might have been a trick of his mind interpreting anything into what he found familiar but then it came again.
"2, we're over here. Come this way."
Every instinct told him silence was the best choice, but it didn't stop him from saying "5?" Please let it be him, he begged to no one, please don't let it be a cruel imagining.
There was a bit of shuffling, then another sound: "2, follow our voices and you'll be able to find us."
"9?" Every emotion that had been plaguing him for the last who-knew-how-long-it-had-been left at hearing that sentence, for two reasons he was aware of. First were the duel parts of overpowering joy that he was being rescued and that 9 was still alive, but there was something more selfish. If he was hearing 9's voice, they were actually there. 5's voice he could understand pretending to hear, but why would he hallucinate about someone he didn't truly know?
2 stumbled in the direction he was sure he'd heard them and sensed a soft brushing against his arm. 5 guiding him to where they were, saying soothing lines of how they were here to save him, he was going to be all right. 2 clasped his friend's hand in both his own. There was so much he wanted to tell him now that his mind was working again, yet all he said was, "You came."
5 was smiling, he knew—a real one, not faked. "Of course I did. Now stop looking like you've seen a ghost. We're going to get you out of here." His hand pulled gently back and 2 could hear him mumbling.
9 comforted him by rubbing his arms that still had tremors running through them. The younger asked, "Are you hurt?"
"No, just a bit shaken," 2 replied. "I'll be over it soon. What about you? The last I thought I was going to see of you was–"
He hadn't realized how excessively worried his voice had become until 9 stopped him by assuring, "It's okay. I'm okay. 5 helped me and then we came right here to get you."
How great it felt to be able to smile again! He was sure he'd never get another chance. 2 said, "I told you you'd like him."
5 teased, "You think everyone likes everyone." He sounded farther away. 2 had faith in him that he'd find a way out.
9 started talking in the manner of an offspring trying to impress a parent. "I met the others you talked about. 1, the twins. And 7's here with us. Well, not here, she went to act as a distraction, but she came to help you." 2 nodded along, prompting 9 to exclaim, "And we brought this with us. We couldn't use it earlier and just a few minutes ago we had to turn it off because we thought that thing was coming back."
He heard the thin screeching of rusted material. Whatever controlled the focus in 2's eyes was broken but what absorbed light worked perfectly. His head snapped back and his optics clicked shut in attempt to block out the flash that already felt like it had blinded him.
9 was able to fit several apologies into one second, declaring another few times that he didn't know that would happen; well, of course he knew it would turn on but he forgot that it would be so bright. Before he could correct his blunder again, 2 told him, "It's nothing." He could see a bit better with a light source, which stabilized the reassurance rooting inside him. He asked 9, "Did you help make it?"
"Not really," 9 answered while staring down and sounding oddly disappointed. A silent moment went by and then he asked hesitantly, "Could you teach me as well so I can make things like this?"
"Of course." If there weren't metal bars between them, 2 would have put an arm around the younger to convince that air of self-consciousness to leave his voice. "Why the change of heart, though? You seemed convinced earlier that wasn't for you."
9 looked to the light bulb casting a glow over the lenses of his eyes. He said, "I want to make more of this, items that can help us wherever we go."
2 started to say, "Of course you could," but didn't get far before 5 accidentally interrupted him.
"I can't find any breaks anywhere," he said while walking into the circle of light. "And climbing to the top is a stupid idea." He sighed emphatically and looked up, to see the top of the cage or as if to find some answer, 2 couldn't guess. "You've really gotten yourself in deep this time."
The light moved, almost as if 9 had flinched, but it was more likely just a movement preceding him saying to 2, "Everyone makes it seem like you're always causing trouble."
5 joked, "More or less. Sometimes he comes home with a bit of fabric missing or sometimes he doesn't come home for a couple of days so we go out and find him half buried under a pile of trash he's knocked over on himself."
"That last part is an exaggeration," 2 told 9. He suddenly recalled their earlier conversation and gasped, "Oh! 5, I have to tell you about this excellent idea I had."
9 listened as 2 began explaining about making doors. Though he liked hearing how 5 and 2 talked and how very comfortable they were with each other, as they kept talking he gradually became jealous. It was such a petty emotion and he almost compared himself to an attention-grabbing child when he realized no comparison was needed. He was a child and he was seeking attention. He'd been so insistent on this rescue, convincing 5 to come along and that 7 could stay, and he wanted to be praised. And, yes, part of him was jealous that 5 seemed to be getting most of the attention. He liked it before when it had been just him and 2, when he'd been the only one that 2 was speaking with. Why shouldn't he be commended for not taking one minute to think for himself and instead put all his consideration into looking for a person he'd known for less than an hour?
Every action had a selfish motive behind it. Every single one.
9 asked, "Cages should have doors, right?"
2 and 5, snapped out of their conversation and without a doubt wondering why he brought this up, both nodded slowly.
9 passed the light-staff to 5, saying "I'll go and see if we can open it." When 5 tried to reason it was locked, he said, "I'm just going to check."
He walked around almost half of the cage until he found the door, indeed with an old lock around it. He pulled on the door—2 cringed at the racket it made—but the lock, contrary to its haggard shell, held strongly and he gave up.
5 gave him an "I told you so" as he joined them again, 9 taking back the light-staff that was more like a security blanket to him by now. 2 was kinder and said, "You tried."
For the longest time, no one said anything, though they may as well have because they knew they were all thinking What now? They were out of ideas and nearly out of faith. A few times 5 started "Maybe..." but never got farther while 9 preferred to stay silent. He was afraid if he tried to say anything it would inevitably turn into a blurted "I'm sorry." He was having a hard enough time listening to his own denial, he wouldn't be able to accept it from someone else. He couldn't understand why the more he heard 'No, that's not true,' the more his mind argued, 'Oh, yes it is.'
He spent most of the overly long awkward pause with his head down, pretending to study the details of the light-staff. He glimpsed 2 staring up as he heard the older ponder, "If there was some way to push this over..."
5 said, "It's worth trying." He glanced to the light-staff but his face said either he figured the rod would snap under any weight or that 9 would never let go of it. After giving 2's hand a slight squeeze and returning the other's smile, 5 turned and went to explore the surrounding area, suggesting 9 help by lighting around them and "keep a look out for something we can use."
Junk covered most of the floor and 9 started to wonder where it all came from. Half the objects were distinctly out of place, the cage especially, and he couldn't even guess why they were here. What use did a bent spoon have in this building? It didn't make any sense. Most aggravating of all was that most of it wasn't any help. If something wasn't too flat or too small or too big for them, it was on the verge of breaking or mostly buried. 9, now long since vexed, started to ask 2 if he could think of anything, but the sentence faded away as he turned and saw 2 looking behind him, petrified.
5 noticed right away when 9 stopped talking, and upon seeing his friend so worried, rushed back to him, 9 following, and anxiety coming after. When he was the closest he could be to 2's side again, 5 questioned, "2? 2, what's wrong?"
Staying completely still, 2 muttered, "Turn the light off."
9 heard a muted shrieking from far off, the sound getting louder and closer. Something akin to a shudder went through him and he was left unable to move. It wasn't a sense of horror that caused this stupidity, or even the similarities to that morning. He was too aware of the space around his body and how completely unprotected he was. If he– or 2, or 5– was attacked, they would be so easy to kill. That should have made him want to run but it only heightened the feeling of being paralyzed.
He would have remained immobile if 2 hadn't spun around and insisted "Hurry!" in a barely contained whisper. 9 jumped and quickly twisted the bulb loose in its placeholder. No sooner had he done this then there came the metallic scream as the cat-machine landed on the other side of the cage, the sharp glare from its fake eye stunning 9. 5 wrenched him by the arm into the shadows, leaving 2, now visibly shaking, with that creature staring at him.
The cat didn't move for a few seconds, an unnerving effect. Then, slowly, it began pacing around the cage, as though it knew they were there and was simply playing a game. 2 ran to the middle of the cage once it took its first step, still shivering and grasping his hands tightly together. He watched the cat as it walked by him but kept glancing worriedly to where 5 and 9 were hiding. As he kept doing this, 9 urged him, Stop doing that. It's going to see you doing that and it's going to know we're here, stop! He and 5 inched further into the shadows, trying to be silent but failing since it was near impossible to move without sweeping against some article on the floor. They dropped low when the cat looked in their direction, barely ducking beneath the spotlight. The cat stepped toward them and absently used one claw to tilt the cage slightly so it could get a closer look.
A spark went off in 9's mind and he grabbed the first object nearest his hand—the bent spoon—and threw it as hard as he could. It hit something with more of a thud than the expected silvery clang, but it was enough to fool the cat into jumping at what it assumed was its prey. He knew it wouldn't be distracted for long. 9 bolted before 5 had time to restrain him and he almost slipped as he halted in front of the cage, standing with his back to it, facing the cat still searching for an inanimate object.
He heard 2 say, "What are you doing? You're going to get hurt." His mind was telling him the same, with a few idiots thrown in. But he stayed there, even when the cat finally noticed him and a sound like an angered hiss came out of it.
9 said, "Move back and brace yourself." He didn't get to explain more because he had to dive away from the machine's pounce, hitting the ground the same time it collided with the cage. 2 yelled as his prison, and himself, was knocked down, and the cat nearly toppled over in a comical way that made 9 grin. Adding onto his delight was the feeling of pride that he'd actually created a plan, simplistic as it was, but it had worked and now they could save 2. Unfortunately, his accomplished mood ended when he saw one problem with his spur-of-the-moment decision.
He hadn't given much thought to what came after the cage being felled, specifically the fact he was left lying on the ground while the cat regained its balance and twisted its head towards him. He was thankful instincts took over swiftly as it was possibly the only reason he was able to roll aside as it leapt at him again. Rising panic quickened his stride as he fled, the cat not far behind. The darkness he'd been avoiding swallowed him but he couldn't care for an insignificant phobia like that while running for his life. The blackness couldn't harm him, there weren't any monsters waiting to catch him.
The cat-machine, however, had stopped playing its hunt like a game. If it caught him, it would without a doubt kill him.
5 waited until the echoes had faded away and then rushed to a quite disoriented 2. He crawled into the cage and hastily embraced his friend just to know he was still here, still safe. 2 started to hug him back but 5 ended the moment, helping him out of the cage and asking if 2 was hurt and being told no, he was fine. 5 began to fret over some other small problem, stopped by a hand on his shoulder. 2 looked to him with pure sincerity and said only, "Thank you."
5 beamed, though he tried to dismiss it by saying, "This was nothing. You would have done the same for me." He heard a sound to his right and he turned to see 7 hop over the trash surrounding them. He said, "You did an excellent job being a distraction."
Without pause, 7 countered, "I was, but then you had to go and make a noise!" In a much kinder tone, she said, "Hi, 2, are you all right?"
2 gave the same gratified answer of "I'm fine, thank you," though he must have been tired of being asked that by now.
However much fun it would have been to banter with 7, 5 had had enough of this building for a single day. Gripping 2's hand protectively, he explained to 7, "9 ran off with the cat chasing after him and he's probably hiding somewhere. We're heading back so you'll have to find him." He said a quick "Good luck" and was about to leave but only took a step when 2 pulled him back.
His mentor asked with honest confusion, "We're not going after him?"
5 didn't know how to respond, since he'd assumed returning to the cathedral would be the wisest choice. 7 answered for him, speaking in the calm voice she usually had when addressing the twins. She said, "Don't worry, I'll be able to find him. You should leave before anything else happens."
2 looked about the closest he'd ever come to being annoyed. 5 couldn't blame him considering he was being treated like an invalid. He stared in the direction 9 had gone, or what he thought was the direction when, in truth, he was looking the wrong way, but 5 couldn't make fun of him for it. 2 had a rather naive outlook and thought their entire group got along when reality was far from that. Yet he was under the impression that no matter how long you knew somebody, they would be considered the same as a lifelong friend. It wasn't a bad trait to have and 5 wouldn't change anything about him, but it was these moments when that trait became a hindrance.
2 asked, "What if he's hurt?"
"Then 7 will help him when she finds him," answered 5. "We have to go, 2, it's dangerous here."
2 faced him. "But he came to help me–"
"That doesn't mean you owe him a favour."
2 started to make another response but it changed into a dejected sigh that weakened 5's willpower. 2 glanced again in the wrong direction—they'd have to turn the light on so he could see better—and after a few seconds of thinking, turned back to 5 with a hopeful smile.
He said, "I know this must sound like a crazy idea, and I promise we'll go home soon, but, for my own conscience, I have to see that he's unharmed." When 5 tried to think of an argument, although he would readily admit he was unsuccessful at it, 2 continued gently, "You know I'm too soft-hearted for my own good. This will only take a minute, it will be nothing."
He could have listed off a few more excuses, but 5's resolve had already disappeared. He wasn't exactly sure why. He figured 9 could look after himself for a little while, and he could usually talk 2 out of anything if he persevered. Maybe he gave up because he wanted to be more like 2, a person that cared for others, not the person that let survival instincts control his life.
He smirked. "If you're not careful, you'll turn into a stubborn old man."
As 7 informed them she'd run ahead, 5 found the dropped light-staff and screwed the bulb into place so 2 wouldn't be half-blind. Nevertheless, he kept a firm hold on 2's hand to guide him around the clutter that extended further into the building. His thoughts still told him it would be best to leave for home, but he didn't want to cower anymore. 7 didn't blink at any threat, 9 had used himself as bait, and 2 was concerned more for a person he'd just met than he was his own wellbeing. 5 could pretend to be brave for a minute.
Escape seemed such an easy concept. If 9 could simply find a good place to hide or think of some way to out-manoeuvre the cat, then he could return to the others and this rescue mission would finally be over. Escape was not easy, not with a mechanical abomination intent on catching him and ripping him apart.
The only advantage he had was his size. Whereas the cat was larger and faster, 9 was able to slip under what barricaded his way. Sometimes any space he could find was painfully tight, but if it bought him time, no matter how small, he would take it. But it was never enough. Even when he was convinced the cat had lost sight of him and he could breathe with relief, it would appear again, digging him out of his pathetic sanctuary, and the attempt at fleeing would begin anew.
He was forced deeper into the building until he reached a room that, for an unknown reason, he was able to remember in detail, though he theorized it was more because of imagination than his cognitive skills. Like the rest of the building, the room was dark, a fraction of light creeping through grime hidden windows above and the greyness perching on the edges of silhouettes. This place seemed to be the core of what the building had once been: circular walkways layered each other according to floors, a couple descending into a basement, leading off to other areas and all connected by rung ladders. He didn't understand the design, but then again, he didn't understand how his memory produced such a clear image when he hadn't been giving any notice at the time.
He'd managed to get some distance between him and his pursuer by crawling and sliding through what it couldn't, but he knew he had only precious seconds. He balked as the floor seemingly dropped away in front of him, and he lost time being absurdly disoriented over where he suddenly was. But he couldn't stop, it was right behind him. Exhaustion was beginning to wrap its restraints around him and he would have sacrificed anything, everything, if it meant he could stop running. His own breathing was hurting and there was nothing to take cover behind, just a round platform that any creature could capture him on. He slowed and peered over the edge, hoping perhaps there was some form of retreat, but the most he could see was another pile of trash a few metres down, no different than he'd already seen. There had to be a way out, or a hiding place that wouldn't be discovered, or any comfort at all, if it just got him away from that thing...
The glaring light warned of the cat's appearance and 9 almost froze up again after whirling around to see it skid onto the walkway. In another second or two it would rush at him and he wouldn't be able to out-run it. He checked what was surely a lethal drop beside him, with only a heap of scrap that may not even be strong enough to hold him, but if there was any chance he could survive, he would have to take it. He sucked in a breath to steady his unease, which didn't work well but it distracted him from last second alibis, and then he jumped.
It felt like a wall collapsed onto him when he landed, causing him to fall face-first as his legs buckled beneath him. He couldn't remember exactly what occurred next as it all seemed to end the instant he realized what was happening. There was the sensation of the world slipping away, panic as he tried frantically to grab hold of anything at all, nothing beneath him, something under his feet that only made him tumble backwards, the word emergency flashing by, and then a dull pang across his shoulders. He hit the floor heavily, possibly losing consciousness for a moment, and he couldn't tell if he was staring up or down. Once his head stopped looping and the pain in his back dulled—he must have bounced off the railing—he pushed himself to a sitting position, both problems returning in sickening combination.
A clunk reverberated around, each sharp click cutting into an already awful ringing noise, but the ringing was only in his head. He recognized what was coming after him foolishly late and by the time the cat bounded onto the same walkway he had only a second, if even, to scramble back.
The weight of the cat's claw on him was crushing, but that wasn't what stopped his breath. He wanted to yell and scream, struggle with all his energy, hyperventilate, any regular reaction to being terrified, except he was too weak to do anything but gape at the creation prepared to destroy him. He couldn't be killed, not now, he was only a day old! He didn't even know what falling asleep was, why did he have to feel knife-like claws pressing down on his torso before he felt sleep? This couldn't happen.
The weight increased, evoking a tiny gasp, the last thing he was positive would ever come out of his mouth before his end came. The cat was going to slice him apart for no other reason than because it wanted to. He wished it would be over quickly. He didn't want to be aware while it was happening to him.
More weight. His cloth skin protested. Please let it end.
A low humming noise. He didn't so much hear it as feel its bass through him, and the confusion overtook not only him but the cat too. Its prize temporarily forgotten, it looked around, the spotlight glancing off the railing, but everything beyond was veiled. The sound was strengthening.
He didn't know how but suddenly that horrible weight lifted and 7 was dragging him up, leading him with words that were both encouraging and demanding. The cat had vanished and he wanted to question why as they started climbing a rung ladder, but her mixtures of "We're almost there, just a bit further," and "You're too slow, hurry up," impeded him.
After being hauled over the edge of the ladder—the texture of the walkway was gritty and rough, almost hurting—9 managed to ask, "Where did it go?"
7 answered, "Who knows, who cares. Keep moving."
The humming noise had transitioned into a constant undertone, but he had yet to locate its derivation. The drone came from all directions and he spent so much concentration on it and wherever it was hiding that he nearly missed 5 and 2 meeting with them. He asked, "What are you still doing here?"
"We had to make sure nothing happened to you." 5 spoke like it was an obvious choice for anyone. 9 wanted to argue about what would have been a safer option but forgot once 2 laid a hand on his arm. He was so concerned while asking "You're safe?" that 9 couldn't stop from smiling. 2 had been captured yet he was distraught over someone else. It just seemed so funny.
9 nodded, the only reply he could give because the drone was gaining power. He could scarcely hear 7 telling them to stop standing around and get moving. 5, holding the light-staff with one hand and 2's arm with the other, had to yell to ask, "What is that?"
"I don't know," 9 said, and this was immediately trailed by a scrape so cutting that he instinctively pressed his hands to the sides of his head. The sound bounced off the walls several times and when it dissolved, another came to replace it. He wanted to know what was going on but couldn't even form the thought of a question before that noise like two rusted pieces of steel being shredded against one another sliced through his mind.
7 yelled at him again but he couldn't recall what she said. Instead he remembered hearing 2, his voice barely audible, asking, "Does that seem like it's getting louder?"
The walkway shook and they all lost their balance in some way, 7 being the only one who didn't outright fall. The shudder didn't last long, and when 9 clumsily stood up he glimpsed the shape of a mechanical arm above him. The words "Wake up" were directed at him before 7 shoved him in the side, and he could've sworn she said "Useless" under her breath. It didn't sound right, too high-pitched to be just frustrated at him.
Another violent shake pitched them forward and the light bulb went out as 5 hit the floor. 9 hastily pulled him to his feet, but instead of gratitude, 5, absolutely terrified, demanded, "Where's 2?" Feeling almost sick, 9 turned—in the background, 7 asked what was going on—and saw 2 where they'd first fallen, searching frantically for the people cruel enough to forget about him. There was another shudder and the humming reached almost deafening volume. 9 turned to where he was sure it was coming from and saw red, only the color red, rising above him. He tried to convince himself the sight was just an illusion from the lack of lighting but he could see the thing in front of him too well for it to be a trick. He didn't want to admit it but the words forced themselves into his head until he couldn't ignore them.
There was another machine now and he'd just awakened it.
Behind him, he heard 5 making that shaking kind of gasp that some found funny unless they'd actually listened to it. He expected him to remain stunned longer—he expected the same of himself, truthfully—so when 5 rushed forward, 9 had the jump-reaction of yelling "Don't" and holding him back. It was one of the worst things he could have done but 5 didn't even seem to notice as he instructed, "2, this way! We're over here!"
2 looked up in their direction but didn't move. If he couldn't see where they were or was too scared, 9 couldn't tell, nor could he blame him. The new machine stared directly at them, the dark, red light from its single eye their only illumination, even though it seemed—for lack of a better word—tired and didn't do much else. If it had only stayed like that. While 5 directed 2 towards them and while 7 was wherever she was during that moment, 9 was the only one to take any notice of the cat suddenly behind 2. He didn't know where it had disappeared to, or when and exactly why it returned, but it was back and 2 hadn't seen it yet. He'd taken a few steps when it crouched and someone—maybe 9?—without thinking yelled, "No!" 2 stopped, unsure, and the cat caught him like it had caught 9 no less than a minute ago.
5 started screaming and struggled against 9, once absently trying to hit him with the light-staff, but 9 didn't let go. He hated the reasons he gave himself for doing so, but wouldn't anyone else in the same situation see how terribly this was going to end and attempt to save who they could? None of that stopped the stab that went through him as 5 continued screaming for 2 to get up, don't just lie there, get up! How could a person without a heart put so much of it into his voice?
2 didn't even cry out. He gave up as soon as the cat's claw came down on him, pinning him to the walkway. He didn't look up for 5's pleas, or when the cat called in its grating hiss, or when the new machine moved listlessly so it towered over him. Not until the humming noise changed to being more concentrated, focused, did he seem to notice and he looked to the machine with such apathy that 9 wondered if he saw it at all. But when he turned his head— he still didn't seem scared yet— 9 felt like he was staring specifically at him. Not at 5, not in their general direction, at 9.
Underneath that awful humming, 2 shifted one hand forward and said something 9 never did hear, but he still knew the words.
"Help me."
He didn't want to remember this part. He hated this memory more than any other. Why was it the moments he tried hardest to forget could be remembered so clearly?
2's hands jerked as his head snapped back and something— some kind of light— was ripped from inside him, his body shaking. And the sound; like someone far away shrieking with agony. The last remnant of light was torn out, shattering the glass in his eyes, and 2's head fell onto the platform with a dull sound.
9 couldn't move. He had to run, he knew that, but he couldn't look away from 2's body. That's all it was now: just a body. The odd thing, though, was that 9 didn't even feel scared or confused or anything at all. The only hint of an emotion he felt was a sense of detachment, as if this was someone else's story he'd heard. He couldn't have seen what just happened, that was an impossibility that others had to deal with. He couldn't have seen someone killed in front of him. That couldn't happen.
It was the cat moving that finally startled him to attention. It advanced carefully forward, it's old catch already forgotten like every other leftover piece of life in this building. 9 was still holding onto 5, the other seemingly in a deeper state of shock. The command to run came back to him but if he tried to flee now then the cat would jump at them. 5 wasn't reacting to it coming towards them so even if 9 did try to run, he would have to drag 5 behind him.
He whispered, "5—" the cat was another step closer—"we have to leave."
5 kept staring at 2's body.
A shiver crept over him and he tightened his grip around 5 to hide it. "Snap out of it, 5, we can't stay here." His voice shook, making his words louder than intended.
The cat growled low.
5 kept staring.
9 glanced over his shoulder, glimpsing nothing before he closed his eyes and ducked his head in anticipation for the attack that would follow his careless mistake. Instead he heard a yell from close-by and he opened his eyes to see 7— he'd almost forgotten about her— fling herself onto the cat's head. She stabbed her spear into the fake eye, the light breaking. The cat screeched and swiped at her, but she'd already jumped off and landed in front of 9 and 5. Red light outlined the mask over her face as she yelled, "What are you doing? Get out of here!"
5 started and this was enough for 9. He pulled at 5's arm and ran. This part of the memory was splintered: he remembered a room but not how they'd gotten there; 7 alongside them but not when she'd caught up; and the cat, slipping on the same debris they did, but he didn't remember the sounds of it. He heard the sound of the other machine far behind, that bass hum echoing back like a haunting dream.
An intrusive shriek caused 9 to flinch and suddenly all the memories disappeared, leaving him alone on the windowsill. A hinge. It was a shutter hinge that had scared him so badly. In another time, he might have laughed at something so silly but he hadn't been in the mood to laugh for... How long had it been since he'd last laughed?
He leaned against the wooden frame, eyes closed, breathing deeply to calm himself. He would attempt to remember that later, but for now he wanted to rest. This was only his first day of remembering, and only to the first day of his life. There were many more days he'd rather ignore but he would face them eventually. That was fine. He owned all the time in the world.