Yo yo yo-giddy-yo, everybody! How's life?? Here is another update! Happy random holiday! (This chapter was inspired almost entirely by three things: the song Show Me What I'm Looking For, by Carolina Liar, which may or may not become a chapter title for this fic (props to Smasher for the writing playlist), the book The Red Tree, by Caitlin R. Kiernan (who I love with a love that is unrivaled and, sadly, unrequited) and the song Skeletons by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (I luuurrrve them). Yay for my random self-centered rambling! Sorry. Anyways…
PS: Thanks a lot Zombie Smasher, now I have to relocate my secret base again! .
Murder Junkie: I love your random advice! It is like chocolate ice cream with plot bunnies in it! Here, have a face-hugger/prawn hybrid baby!! And I, too, enjoy the dissection! Gore is fun to write.
Crazzi Turdi: I could totally see Wikus getting completely hammered and calling Christopher Chrissy. Chris would be torn between being annoyed by the nickname and really, really amused by drunk Wikus.
Lorescien: Hooray, emotions are fun to toy with! Get ready for some more turmoil!
Rogi16: 0.0 Cyber muffins…. Whoa. Delicious and nutritious! They fill my writing fuel tank!
Long openings are… um… long. And stuff.
In the three years since Christopher Johnson's departure and Wikus van der Merwe's "disappearance", MNU had poured more money into their laboratory, expanding it and raising its funding in the hopes that one of their scientists would find a way to locate Wikus or convert prawn weaponry. Neither objective had been reached, but testing and research still continued with no signs of stopping. The building itself had doubled in size, so that the squad of Poleepkwa rescuers had to split into groups of four or five to search for survivors of the experiments. Wikus was invited to join a troop and given a gun. The soldier he'd spoken to earlier (whose name, no matter how many times he repeated it for Wikus, sounded like 'Brick-a-brack') led the way, following the newcomer Poleepkwa's directions.
Their squad was sent to the lowest level, the holding cells and vivisection labs. As they reached the bottom steps, the group simultaneously gagged, one prawn even dry-heaving for a minute at the powerful smell of disease, fear and death that hung palpably in the air. Wikus felt his stomach clench involuntarily. The thought of Christopher in here, bound and helpless in one of the tiny cells, or, god forbid, pinned to a table, a scalpel poised over his chest, made Wikus squeeze his eyes shut as his hands clenched his weapon.
"Come on," Brick-a-brack clicked bracingly, urging the soldiers forward. "Let's get our brothers out of here."
The other Poleepkwa pressed on reluctantly, fighting with growing apprehension the images of what they knew they were about to see. Brick-a-brack paused and glanced sideways at the volunteer, who was still frozen in apparent horror.
"Are you alright? You can stand guard at the top of the stairs if you would prefer," he offered.
Wikus shivered like a cat, dislodging the fear that gripped him. "No," he said firmly. "I have to… I have to help." The prawn who had been human started forward boldly, heading for the farthest cells, his gun raised in case of guards or scientists. Brick-a-brack nodded respectfully, admiring the smaller Poleepkwa's courage, then joined his fellows in prying open the door of one of the rooms.
Wikus reached the end of the hall and kicked in a door. With some anxiety, he stuck his head in and was met with a white, sterile, mercifully empty operating room. He swiftly shut the entrance, scratched an "X" into it with his arm spines, and moved on to the next chamber. A cell this time, with a small, unfamiliar dead prawn rotting in one corner. Unsure whether to leave it there or drag it out, he propped the door open and kicked in the next one. Another lab, this one occupied by a group of cowering scientists who began to shriek and babble the instant he stepped inside. Another prawn lay on the table, its organs spread out across its opened chest like some sick display of red and black ribbons. The slits in its throat moved feebly as it turned agonized green eyes to stare imploringly at Wikus. He held out a hand as if to comfort the doomed creature, keeping his gun pointed toward the humans with the other. The Poleepkwa stirred slightly, its antennae trembling, and then it lay still and silent. Wikus stared at the murdered being for a moment, reassuring himself that it definitely wasn't Christopher, before turning to look at the doctors. One let out a low, terrified moan, an almost bestial noise, as he leveled his weapon at them. Another started to pray. A third begged.
"Please, please, we were just doing our jobs, we didn't-" he never got the chance to finish. Wikus snarled and fired once, twice, watching with grim satisfaction as the humans were reduced to red, pulpy splatters. He passes a hand over the dead prawn's eyes, shutting them respectfully before moving on.
There was a brief jabber of human gunfire down the hall—the soldiers had found an MNU guard—that was silenced by an answering blast. Wikus glanced toward the others; Brick-a-brack was carrying a gravid Poleepkwa to the stretchers they'd set up in the space between the stair and the corridor. One of the other soldiers cradled a child, its legs turned into bleeding stumps by a surgeon's saw. Eyes tight, Wikus felt a familiar wave of revulsion at himself: he'd been one of these butchers, smiling and laughing and killing. Shuddering, he turned and faced another entrance. Steeling himself, he shot the lock off and pushed it open.
The prawn that curled against the far wall in a pool of its own blood was scrawny and broken, and lacked the red vest he'd had worn when Wikus had seen him last, but there was no doubt in the ex-human's mind that it was Christopher.