The Speed of Darkness
Chapter 37 – Reanimation

HE FELT A STRANGE TINGLING.

It was a feeling that came and went, sometimes becoming so intense that he could have sworn his body was engulfed in ants. His flippers and feet went completely numb at when it happened, and even though he couldn't see much anyway, his vision became very blurry. Sometimes he blacked out from the sensation, other times he just sat still and awake. He let the its waves roll through him like the ocean he heard outside.

Whenever the sensation faded, though, it was always replaced with a strange warmness. It was as if some fire had just been burning inside him, and he knew his body temperature was higher than it would be regularly. That sensation faded after some time, too, and some brief pain followed. It was quickly removed by the tingling again. The whole cycle was like some weird battle going on over his senses, as if the tickle, burning, and pain were locked together in a big dispute.

He knew better though. The doctor had made sure that he had at least some defense to his one weakness. Electrical surges were his Achille's heel, whereas his ability to regenerate his circuits was the shoe defending it. The realization had hit him when he awoke from his exhaustive slumber after showing Skipper some of what had happened in the Penguin Army base.

He knew that the tingling sensation was the circuits mending themselves; rearranging, recalibrating, reanimating. The electrical surge he forced upon himself had blown out many components as well. Those were being removed, placed aside, or being reconfigured for new tasks if possible. The rest of the chips and circuits inside of him were being outfitted to take on the tasks of the destroyed parts. Manfredi briefly alluded it to some sort of computer society, where specialized individuals were being retrained to take up the jobs of the deceased.

He knew that the doctor had planned for this ability - the ability to regenerate himself. It wasn't perfect, by far, but it still gave him a second chance. He wasn't sure if he could get a third, though. Even though his parts were being reused, he knew that another shock would probably destroy those as well. Then he'd have nothing left, and surely succumb. He was glad that when Sarge tased him on the dock, he hadn't contacted any of his metal parts. If that was the case, he knew he would be dead by now.

Either way, he was being repaired, and it was only a matter of days now before he would be able to stand again. He hoped he would be back up to speed before they reached Antarctica, as he would need all of his strength. He could already move his flippers more easily and with nearly no pain. His legs were a different story, though, and he still found it impossible to move his beak. His body was restoring itself piece by piece, he thought.

His blurry vision flashed, and he saw Skipper standing over him. The leader penguin looked focused, curious, and a little bit excited. "Can you show me more of what happened in the bunker?" he asked.

Manfredi nodded slowly, a sharp pain shooting through his temples as he did so. Skipper nodded back and propped the heavier penguin up again. Manfredi knew it was time to tell Skipper how he had become this way – part robot. He needed to tell the leader how organic cells had been replaced with microprocessors. He needed to tell him about the doctor.

As he thought about his memories, he let himself fall into the same state of trance that he had been in the previous night. Knowing he was now projecting the images for Skipper, he let his entire body go limp. After that he saw darkness, heard Johnson's high voice, and smelled rotten eggs...

A strange silence seemed to envelop the bunker-turned-freezer after the force of the blast had rocked it. None of the penguins standing there said a word, only glanced at each other. Manfredi felt stunned, like the force of the blast had knocked the wind out of him. He was amazed, and equally thankful, that the bunker was still standing. Deep cracks now ran up and down the curved walls, large chunks of concrete along with chunks of ice littered the floor, and the metal hatch door they had closed behind them was now bowed deeply inward, like it had been formed that way from the beginning. Manfredi figured the only reason the ceiling hadn't fallen down on top of them was the bunker's dome shape, giving it unreal strength.

It was dim inside of the bunker, but not impossible to see around. There were a few strands of sunlight making their way through cracks in the ceiling, and there were a few emergency lights that were still operational. Manfredi knew that their batteries would run out soon, though, and they'd have no light to work with.

The large penguin heard a soft moan from below him. He had entirely forgotten about Caspian, who was on the ground in front of him, rocking back and forth. He was holding his face, with his flippers, but Manfredi could see that most of his feathers around the right side of his face had been scorched off and his eye was bleeding. He wondered now why he had bothered to drag the bastard into the safety of the bunker. It was all because of the heat of the moment, he thought, I just wanted to get that door closed...

The black beaked, red eyed penguin was now dragging the wounded penguin across the room to one of the light sources. Then he proceeded to better check his superior's wounds. He then produced some basic medical supplies from a kit that had been knocked off the wall from the force of the blast. Manfredi briefly wished that the first aid kit wasn't there, so that Fishslader would have to suffer just that little bit more. He shook his head as Johnson spoke.

"Wow!" he said, almost excitedly, "This place is as solid as a rock. Great job building it, Manfredi."

Manfredi looked to his smaller friend and nodded, then attempted to twist the hatch door open. He could rotate the handle, but it wouldn't budge. It was either entirely fused shut from the heat of the blast, or it was too dented to open anymore. There was no hope of trying to bash it open, either, as its inward curve would hold up to anything Manfredi could throw at it. Suddenly, he realized there was a scarlet liquid dripping down his flipper as he exerted himself against the door.

"Manfredi, you're hurt!" Johnson said, worriedly. He grabbed the larger penguin's flipper and began poking at the pieces of glass that were embedded there. Manfredi pushed his flippers away.

"I'll be fine," he assured, "it's just a scratch."

"You're bleeding quite profusely actually," returned Johnson, "you should at least try to get the glass out so it doesn't get infected."

Manfredi nodded and walked over to where the other two penguins were to help himself to some of the supplies in the small box. He found a pair of tweezers and a spool of bandages. He tried digging out one of the larger pieces of glass, but it wouldn't budge. He winced from the pain.

"If you'll hold on a moment, I'll give you a hand," said the red-eyed penguin, not looking up from the Sargent. He had already cleaned his face and wrapped the right side of his head in the bandages. There was some blood soaking through, but he looked a lot better than he did only moments ago.

"Uh... thanks," said Manfredi as the penguin began working on getting the glass shards out of his flipper.

"No worries," he returned with a nod, "its the least I could do for you after you helped me rescue this lamebrain over here." He gestured to his superior, who had now fallen unconscious. "I told him not to go down that tunnel, and like usual, he didn't listen to me."

"So you're pretty close to Fishslader, then?" asked Manfredi. "I mean, like you are his adviser or something?"
"You could say that," the penguin returned, wrapping Manfredi's flipper with the bandages now. He worked fast, and Manfredi had hardly felt him yanking out the glass shards.

Manfredi looked towards the penguin, sleeping with his head on a large chunk of concrete. He had never felt as repulsed by another living thing in his entire life as he did looking at him. He smiled slightly though. Seeing him unconscious, injured, and weak was exactly what he wanted. "Do you think he's going to survive after that blast?" he asked.

"Likely. No major cuts, no head trauma, and no severe burns. He'll probably loose sight in his right eye, but that's a small price to pay in exchange for living."

Manfredi nodded solemnly. He wasn't sure whether that disappointed him or made him glad. While what Caspian had done to him was vile, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wish death on another penguin. It seemed like the wrong thing to do.

"So you're Manfredi, aren't you?" the red-eyed penguin said, finishing up the bandages. He got up and walked over to sit on the concrete block near his superior.

"Yeah. How do you know my name?" Manfredi asked.

"Oh, you were just public enemy number one, as all. At least up until about fifteen minutes ago. And you must be Skipper, then?" he asked Johnson, who had just walked up to the group.

"Oh, no," returned the short penguin, "I'm Johnson."

"Johnson. Weren't you the one who used to work in the kitchen a few months back? You made that delicious herring casserole, right?"

"Yeah, I did," the penguin smiled. "What's your name?"

"I go by a lot of different things around here. My name is Edgar Blackbeak, though most of the others called me Doc. Or smart-ass." His eyes briefly danced between the other two penguins, "So where is your third man? I'm not wrong that his name is Skipper, right?"

"He made it out," answered Manfredi. "He got away with the Sun, I'm hoping."

Edgar nodded slowly, looking towards Caspian. "You know, I told him you guys would break in eventually and steal it back."

Manfredi felt confused at the statement. "Seems like you're treating the fact that we're supposed to be mortal enemies well," he said. It did feel strange, though. In any other situation, they would be at each others necks. His enemy had helped him get the glass out of his flipper and was now holding a friendly conversation with him.

"Bah," huffed Edgar, "now that we're stuck in here, we're back to square one. What happened before has no repercussions. We're going to need to work together to figure a way out of here, anyway."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Edgar," offered Johnson.

"Likewise," Edgar affirmed. "We wouldn't even be stuck in here if Caspian had just given me time to implement the proper safety procedures. I could have devised a system to stop any explosion from happening."

"You're the one behind all the technology in this place then?" asked Manfredi. He knew that the entire penguin base was as high-tech as any human military base might be.

"Exactly. I've got some lackeys who do the installation for me, but most of what you see was designed entirely by me. I even designed and built the reactor that was able to convert the Sun's energy into useable electricity. Like I said, if I had more time, I would have been able to make it a little safer. Then, maybe half of the penguins who died today might still be alive."

Manfredi thought back to the penguin he had tripped over during his scramble to run back into the base. "Maybe if you hadn't have built it in the first place, they would be too," he said a little harshly.

Surprisingly, Edgar chuckled at the statement. "And maybe if you hadn't betrayed us all and stole the Sun away, they would be too. I can play the blame game all day long if you'd like, but we'll still get nowhere. I'm blaming myself for this already, so I suggest you watch your mouth."

Manfredi narrowed his eyes and felt his muscles tighten up a little bit. Sarge was the one who had carried out the plans to kill his family and take the sun, but this was the penguin who had given him the resources to do so. He felt like getting up and walking away from the black beaked penguin when Johnson spoke up.

"So, uh..." he said, awkwardly, "any clue on how to get out of here?"

"I didn't spend much time down in this sector since its so new," responded Edgar, then redirected his attention to the large penguin, "but you might know, seeing as how you built this place."

Manfredi nodded. He knew that the design had called for only one door into the bunker. One way in, one way out. It made filling the place with ice and fish a major pain. He knew of an alternate way, though. Something that he and Skipper had convinced the other penguins to build into the plans right under their superior's noses. It was a tunnel that lead from just outside the base to where they were now. They had built it with hopes of using it to sneak rations out at a later date. He got up from the group and waddled over to a special area of the floor, pushing some fish, ice, and concrete out of the way.

"Right here," he said, "should be a passage that will lead us out of here." The large penguin reached down to the concrete and found a specific nick in it. It wasn't there from the destruction that had just occurred, but rather been put there intentionally. He slipped his flippers underneath the slap of concrete and heaved, prying it open. The concrete was thin, but still weighed a lot. He flipped it off and revealed a small, three foot diameter hole in the ground below him.

"That wasn't part of my specification," Edgar scoffed, but then laughed. Manfredi curled his flippers into balls at the joke, but then relaxed. "I'm glad you put it in, though."

"Uh, Manfredi," came Johnson. "That hole is filled with water."

The larger penguin had noticed this too. A water main must have broken and flooded the tunnel. "We're penguins, we'll swim," he said, simply.

"We could, yes," continued Edgar, "but it is probably pitch black down there, don't you think? It would be far too easy to get turned around and entirely disorientated."

"You're actually right," agreed Manfredi, "and tunnel might actually be caved in. We didn't support it with anything when we dug it."

"This may be our only way out, though," offered Edgar.

"Maybe the water will drain out after a while," said Johnson, "we've got plenty of fish to eat and ice for hydration. We could wait it out."

"That's probably the best bet," affirmed the red-eyed penguin. Manfredi also nodded.

Suddenly a voice came from the other side of the bunker. Sarge was stirring.

"What's... this?" he cried, "I can't see, I'm blind!"

"I'd better go calm him down before he flips out," explained Edgar. "Why don't you guys check around here and see if there's anything useful we can use.

Manfredi nodded, knowing there wasn't much else to be done at the moment.

About an hour later, Manfredi and Johnson and scoured the entire inside of the bunker. It was almost entirely composed of fish, but Manfredi knew of several useful items that had been put into the bunker in case of an emergency like this. They had founded another battered first aid kit, though this one had been soaked entirely through and most of the items were ruined. They also found a toolkit. Inside it were several useful items, including a few basic tools like a hammer and a few screwdrivers. Also inside the kit were a few unused glow sticks and a packet of matches. Manfredi knew they'd come in handy for navigating the tunnel if and when the water subsided. Finally, they found a mangled knife that had been partly crushed by a falling chunk of concrete. The blade was bent crooked, but it was still sharp. Manfredi decided to keep it close to himself, rather then even let Sarge think about getting his hands on it. The penguin was crippled, but Manfredi still didn't trust him. Edgar didn't seem to mind.

Caspian had now returned to full consciousness. He didn't seem to be in too much pain anymore, and was now using two pieces of rebarb and some of the tape to make a splint for his foot. It looked mangled, but Manfredi knew it would heal over time.

Manfredi sat about one hundred feet from where the Sargent leaned up against the wall, working on his wounded foot. He had the knife next to him, but he didn't think about picking it up. Every once in a while his gaze would meet with Caspian, and they would stare each other down for a bit. Neither looked particularly angry or aggressive, but there was definitely hatred between the two penguins. Manfredi wondered why the other penguin didn't just attack him because he knew he wanted to. He thought it must have been his injury combined with the fact that Edgar and Johnson were acting like mediators between the two.

He thought about Skipper and wondered where he was. He wondered if the flat-headed penguin was on his way to Antarctica to return the Sun or trying to find way to rescue them. He didn't know what one he hoped for more. He thought briefly that he might never see his teammate again, and felt sad.

Even though it had only been just over an hour, Manfredi felt like the four had been inside the bunker for several days. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic already. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but he still wished that more sunlight would come through the cracks in the ceiling. Nether of those things compared to the smell that was now filling the air around him, though. He had not noticed it at first, but now it was too strong to ignore. His eyes were beginning to water. It was completely unique to him, like nothing he had ever sensed before. His nose burned. He wondered if the fish around him were rotting.

He got up and tried to look for a pocket of fresh air. It was to no avail. He turned his head to look for the source of the smell, but only saw a smashed pipe. It was completely broken apart, emerging from the wall. Nothing seemed to be coming out if though... at least not water. He saw something inscribed on the wall near it and called Johnson over to read it.

"Natural gas feed," read Johnson, "That's what it says. What the heck is natural gas?"

"No clue, but I recognize the name of the stuff from when we built this place. I installed some pipes like this one, but nobody told me what it was for. All I know is that if there's something coming out of that pipe, it is stinking this place up."

Johnson rubbed the water out of his eyes. "Yeah."

"Hey, Edgar," called Manfredi. The red-eyed penguin waddled over to where the other two were standing, and immediately clutched his beak upon growing closer.

"What the hell," he said through his flippers, "did you do."

"We didn't do anything," returned Johnson, coughing. "It seems to be coming from this pipe here that says natural gas feed on it, though."

Edgar's eyes went wide-eyed. "Natural gas?"

"That's what I said."

"Wonderful. Now my idea to steal gas from that nearby human village has backfired too."

"Huh?" asked Manfredi, unable to understand Edgar's muffled words. The penguin gestured away from the source of the smell.

"Good," he said when they got away. "I was beginning to feel light headed. Now, let me explain. Natural gas is a hydrocarbon mixture that, when burned, produces a great amount of heat. We were using that heat to generate electricity for this place until we got the Sun. I never switched off the feed, though, so now its blowing a constant stream of natural gas into this room.

"So? We can deal with a little smell," said Johnson.

"You don't understand," returned Blackbeak, "it's toxic if you breathe in too much of it. That's why it smells so bad, so you know its there. Otherwise its invisible, tasteless, and odorless. It would be an invisible killer if it wasn't for the smell the humans add. This place is going to be our coffin in a few hours if we don't find a way out soon."

"So let's just swim the hell out of here," said Sarge suddenly, "like we were planning to do anyway."

Edgar sighed. "We've already discussed why we can't swim through there... unless..."

"What?" The three penguins said in unison.

"If I remember correctly, the armory borders this facility to the north edge. I stored a set of rebreathers in there. They're incredible little tools that extract oxygen from water, so we'd be able to swim for much longer in the tunnel if we'd need to."

"We need to get in there somehow then," affirmed Manfredi. "we can't risk going into the tunnel without them. I'm not particularly interested in drowning."

"We'll I'm not interested in suffocating either," added Sarge. Manfredi couldn't decide if he'd rather down or suffocate if it came down to it.

Knowing something must be done, the heavy penguin made his way to the north wall of the domed structure. He knocked sum rubble out of the way, and with a heave, rolled a large slap of concrete out of the way to reveal a small hole in the base of the wall where it had split. It was quite small but Manfredi could see the ruined armory on the other side of it.

He pushed forward, trying to squeeze through the crack. He sucked in his chest and pulled his flippers in tight, but he was still several inches too wide. Becoming frustrated, he reached into the room on the other side of the foot-thick concrete. He tried to grab anything, but could only feel rubble.

"Johnson!" he called. The small penguin made his way over. Clutched in his flipper was his journal.

"What is it?"

"You're up!"

Manfredi's vision flickered and faded again much like it had the previous night. He slowly returned to reality once again, the feeling returning to his flippers and legs. He was glad his nostrils were now filled with salty sea air once again rather than the smell of the natural gas.

Skipper was standing over him, saying something to him. He wished it wasn't so taxing to project his memories for Skipper to see. He had wanted to show Skipper everything. Knowing he was already slipping from consciousness, though, Skipper would have to wait.

As he slipped into his dreams the only thing he could think of was Sarge laying on the cold concrete in the dark. His foot broken, his eye bleeding. He wanted to see him like that again. He wanted to see Sarge weak, broken, and dieing just like he was. If it did happen again, though, and he gazed over the nearly-dead Sarge, he would be sure to not waste the chance to end him once and for all.

Skipper placed his flippers on Manfredi's shoulders and gave him a gentle shake as if to keep him awake, but it only accelerated the robot-penguins exhaustion and he lost consciousness entirely. Knowing it was not worth it to fight sleep any longer, he fell into it.