The Final Freedom Chapter 6: Persistence

You stare at the fireball, unbelieving. You close your fist, you marvel at how it glows, yet does not hurt. A tiny exhalation, and it winks out.

Nineteen's voice is almost hoarse, so low and soft she speaks. "No way. You ... Eighteen ... But-but-but-" She gives up trying to voice her thoughts and throws her arms around you. Leaning on you, she rocks side to side.

A pointed stage-cough interrupts the reunion. Claes waves the flashlight on and off your face, causing it to strobe. "Look, I know there's a lot to try to understand, but we can do that after we get out of here. Where's Eighteen?"

You look up at Claes. "She's dead. The Doctor got her."

"No, she isn't! She's right here!" Nineteen gives your hand a squeeze.

"What? Never mind. We don't have time. Do we have to wait for her?"

You and Nineteen shakes your heads in unison.

"No? Okay, then. Come on." She turns and starts up the stairs again.

As you exit the stairwell, Claes picks up the fire ax she left leaning against the doorframe. She studies the wall for a quick bit, then turns to the right. "This way."

"Uh, okay." You follow, Nineteen in tow.

In the dark, the hallways seem all alike. A right, a left, another right. You are glad Claes knows where she's going.

Just then, she stops and sighs. "Someone's messed up my marks."

"What?" "Huh?"

"I left marks when I was up here. These are leading me in circles. Someone's playing games."

You sigh. "Must be Doc Ugly."

Claes turns at you, eyebrow slightly raised. She opens her mouth to speak, then merely inhales. "Well, we do this the hard way. Trial and error."

After two or three turns, you hear a crunch behind you. You turn and extend your hand. A fiery blob streaks down the hall, to be met with a crackling hiss and a growl.

The flashlight is turned that direction, and you see The Doctor approaching again. His clothing is soaked. Muscle memory, but not your own, guides your motions. You slap the wall, and a river of fire streaks from that point outward toward the approaching man-monster. Just in front of him, the flames leap up.

You gasp. Not at the result of your action, but simply because doing it felt like it stole the air from your lungs. You pant, you suck air in greedily, as if you were holding your breath for the limit of your ability.

"No…" Claes gasps.

Following her eyes, you look down the hall, expecting to see a deadly wall keeping you safe. Instead, it is a glowing, dancing backdrop against which is silhouetted the deformed near-human form, one still lumbering toward you.

Again, three blasts buffet your ears. Again, three flashes dazzle you.

The Doctor lurches to one side, his head suddenly bowing.

Claes fires again, another three-shot burst.

Instead of crumpling further, The Doctor straightens, then arches his back until his head faces the ceiling. He groans, and relaxes his back, coming back to an upright stance. As he does, his cry grows louder, fiercer. He crouches.

You can see a flap of flesh hanging off the right side of his skull. Where he once had two glowing orbs, only the left one remains.

At the height of his scream, when you think he can cry no louder, it turns into a shriek and he launches himself at you.

Beside you, Claes screams, "Die! Die!" as she dry-fires her pistol repeatedly.

You throw your hand forward, and an incandescent ball flies forth.

It splashes against The Doctor amid an angry sizzling and a burst of steam.

The Doctor fills your view. His arms are outstretched, his jacket billowing like leathery wings.

Nineteen screams.

Just as he is about to rip into you, an invisible blow collapses his clothing against him.

You see his hollowed torso, each rib in stark relief.

This unseen force continues, and he is lifted off his feet. He is thrown back, landing with a sickly cracking sound.

You take a step forward, a timid one. Could he be…?

Nineteen grabs your elbow. "We need to go. He'll get up soon."

As if in response to her words, The Doctor's supine form contorts. His joints seem to dislocate. That sickening snap is repeated over and again.

You back up, bumping into Nineteen. This galvanizes her to move. The three of you break your eyes free of the sight of The Doctor seemingly rearranging its body.

Claes' bobbing flashlight guides you and your compatriot. You turn a corner, then a second. After two more, you aren't sure if you are moving away from The Doctor or not. "Wait!"

She whirls about and blinds you with her light. "What for?!"

"Do you know where you're going?"

Claes falls silent. The light points at her feet.

Nineteen offers a hug. "It's all right, I'm lost, too."

Claes mumbles something. The sound is inaudible. Only the shadow of her lips barely moving lets you know she spoke.

"Gun-girl? What did you say?" You step forward and join in the group embrace.

Claes is so tense her body feels as if it was cast metal. "No. I don't." Her voice is soft, devoid of the confidence that once strengthened you. "I don't know. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know how you do … whatever it is you do with fire. And you, with that … push. I don't know how he, no, how it, how it is still alive. I don't know. I just don't know."

Nineteen nods. "I don't know, either. Does that help? All I know is I do this." She extends her arm. "I think that. And then, it happens." She shrugs.

"I didn't see anything, Nineteen."

"That's because I didn't do anything." She giggles. It's throaty and husky, but the waves of merriment seize you all. You all dissolve into laughter. The barest of escapes you just survived wound you tight. This gives you release you didn't realize you ached for.

As the guffaws die away, Claes' eyes regain her steely focus. "You know what? Nineteen, when you hit The Doctor with your … your power, it was a solid body blow, right? That force, that push, it doesn't stop until it hits him, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

She turns to you. "And your fireball. It doesn't hurt him because he has—"

"A wall of water!" A rush of hope seizes you. Turning to Nineteen, you smile and say, "See? I promised you we'd get out of here!"

She wraps her arms around you, smiling. "I never doubted you!"

You smile back at her, elated. You look toward Claes, expecting the same joy on her face.

She's looking at you with a puzzled expression, not one of happiness.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Claes takes a slow breath, then speaks carefully, measuring her words. "You and Nineteen are pretty good friends, right?"

Now, it's your turn to be puzzled. "Yeah. Why are you asking?"

"I was just … remembering. You know, when you and I first met." Her words, taken at face value, are normal, if a little oddly timed. Her speech cadence was anything but.

"Of course, you were shooting at Doc Ugly. It wasn't doing jack, so I had to save you. Right?"

She nods. Again, it's slow, contemplative. It's unnerving. "Do you remember who was with me?"

"Yeah, Sixteen. Why?"

Nineteen gives a nervous titter. "Uh, don't you want to try our one-two punch on The Doctor?"

You're torn between being annoyed at being interrupted, and trying to understand why Claes is asking so many strange questions. You opt for the latter. "Hey, Gun-girl? Why are you acting so funny?"

Nineteen grabs your hand and pulls. "I really think we should start trying to find The Doctor. Come on."

You shake your hand free of hers. "What is with you?" You turn toward Claes. "And you, too. What's with all these crazy questions?"

Nineteen fumbles for your hand again. "I just... just… just don't like the way this conversation is going, that's all."

You extricate your hand. "Me, neither. But I'm not the one asking all these strange questions. You were there, Gun-girl. Why are you asking this stuff?"

"What's your name?"

You blink. "What? Why are you asking me that?"

"What's your name?"

"She's Eighteen, of course!" Nineteen steps between you and Claes. "Come on. Let's go!"

"Yeah, I'm…" You pause. "I'm…" Thoughts, images, memories, and identities clamor in your mind. "I'm… I'm Sixteen."

Nineteen sinks to her knees and sobs.