Vox Humana Chapter 3: Part 3, a 9 fanfic

Vox Humana - Part 3

The sun was in the early afternoon sky when Five called up for the lift. Seven sat on it, flanked by the twins, and lowered it down.

He was surprised to see her. "What are you still doing up here?" he asked.

She did not smile. She did not even look at him. She walked right past without a word. Behind her, she could feel his gaze following in confusion.

And there was another gaze as well. One was standing in the center of the platform, watching her. She did not look at him, either. If she looked at him, it would all be over. If she looked at him, it would end that way, and that was not the way she wanted to end it, even now. Best to save it for where it really belonged.

Eight was waiting in the bucket lift. Him, she looked at. Stared at, as she climbed in with the twins. He looked back at her, paralyzed for a few moments, until he finally turned and started the descent. On his back was the knife she had seen in the workroom, finished now with a new handle. What was holding it on him? Oh. A magnet, it looked like, on some type of harness. Interesting. Leave it to Two.

She gripped her weapon more tightly.

At the bottom, the twins scurried off the lift and waited a short distance away. Hesitantly, Eight twisted and looked over his shoulder at her, and their eyes locked once again. They stood like that for a long moment, his massive form almost seeming to shrink under her gaze.

Coward.

Not taking her eyes from him, she stepped backward off the lift. Slammed the door shut. Again, he was the one that turned from her, and she kept her eyes still on him as he rose back upwards toward the platform.

Seven escorted the twins back to their alcove, under an archway not far from the workshop, and took their hands. "I'm going, now," she said. "This will all be over soon." In reply, they gave a single brisk nod, in unison, wishing her luck.

Calmly, she marched down the ruined path to the exit, her weapon held across her. Weight in her hands, like ballast.

So he thought this was a game to her? Well, then. She would play.

And she would win.

"So what was he doing?" asked Nine. "What did they tell you?"

"He took their books away," she said. "They'd been collecting them for a while. Some of them had already been there, in the cathedral. Some were ones the others and I had brought for them. They were always too timid to leave the place themselves."

"Were they getting close to something? Some information he didn't want them to have?"

"I have no idea. Maybe he just figured they would, eventually. But I didn't know anything about that at the time. All I knew was that he was suddenly acting like a tyrant instead of a leader. You have to understand something. We all followed him because we wanted to. We trusted him. Up until that point, I had never even thought to question why. Even when I was angry with him, I still went along with him, because I assumed he was looking out for all of them, just like I was.

"But gradually, things had started changing," she went on. "Little things, little ways that he would threaten and intimidate. He never hurt any of them. But he was tightening his grip. Finding ways to control them, in any way he could. Of course, he didn't do those kinds of things when I was around. He knew he couldn't intimidate me, and that I wouldn't tolerate him doing that to the others. And they never told me, because they were afraid of what I'd do if I found out."

"But that doesn't make any sense," said Nine. "If he could only control them when you weren't around, why would he try to make you stay?"

"I'm getting to that," she said.

Night. Far from the watchtower. But not far enough.

The moon, almost full now, set the skull-face glowing almost white. Glinted faintly in the cruel blades upon its back. From her perch on the ledge of a crumbling building, she saw them: the rhythmic hunching of its shoulders, the ghastly glow of its eye.

The faint noises reached her again. Squeak and rattle. That was her advantage, and would be its undoing. At her side, sound and sturdy, her companion was as ready as she was.

Easy, now. Be patient. Wait for an opening.

She followed it, on silent feet, from her position high above. From perch to perch, jumping, landing silently: on a teetering lintel, a tightly-strung wire, a fallen beam. The remains of a wall, its iron supports still peeking out from where the top had been blown away. Following along, silently.

Below, the ghastly glow, the squeak and rattle, moved closer. And finally stopped. In the moonlight, she caught the faint gleam of its claw as it reached out and turned over a sheet of twisted metal. As it bent, to look into the gap it had uncovered.

Bent. The neck, exposed and vulnerable, no longer imaginary, between skull and shoulder.

Now.

Raising her blade high above her, she jumped. Brought it down. And in that instant, she knew it was hers.

In the next, she knew it was lost.

There had to be something she could do. Some way to fix this. Two had dozens of needles in his workshop, in all sizes – where did he get them? Where should she look? And of course, the most pertinent question of all – if she found one, what would she do with it? Her other arm simply wouldn't reach. She tried contorting her upper body in every way she could think of, but she couldn't get to it, not even to grasp the loose threads so they would stop unraveling. She couldn't even get a look at it.

One stitch – one – between her and victory. Between her and everything being all right.

How could she go back like this?

Briefly, she considered living a life alone in the wilderness. It wouldn't be so bad. She was fine with being alone. The pain would have to stop eventually, wouldn't it? Even if she couldn't fix the back of the seam, she could reinforce the front so it wouldn't come completely apart. And if she never regained the full use of her arm, so what? She had another one. It wasn't as if there were a giant, malevolent creature roaming the countryside looking to tear her limb-from-unraveling-limb.

She sighed. At least she still had her weapon.

Maybe she could get in, get to the workshop, and get Two to fix her without anyone else knowing. Then she could head back out and try again. As many times as it took.

The journey back to the cathedral was a long one.

When she parted the curtains, she found Two and Five in the light of their glowing bulbs, surrounded by what looked to be gears and bolts.

"Seven!" they said almost in unison, rushing over to her as she came through.

She motioned for them to be quiet.

"Where have you –" Two's frantic whisper broke off at the sight of her right arm. He gasped. "You're hurt."

"It's not that bad," she said in an urgent whisper. "But I need you to fix it before I can go try again."

"What – try what again?"

She gave him what she hoped was a meaningful look. It apparently was, because he got it immediately.

Five got it a second later. "You – it did this to you?"

"Not exactly," she said. "Look, I can't explain it right now."

"What?"

"Just – " she shook her head and turned to Two. "Could you fix me, please? I need to get back out there."

He looked at her for a very long moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, without a word, he dragged a stool next to the worktable and motioned for her to sit.

"Thank you," she said.

With her back to them, they began examining the wound. Or rather, Two began examining it, instructing Five in a low voice as he went. "It's just a simple seam repair," he said. "None of the fabric has been damaged. See here? It was just one place where it was cut and started to unravel."

"Get me one of those medium-sized needles," he went on, "and that dark thread, right there. And we'll need shears. The good ones."

As Five wove his way around the cluttered shop, gathering the supplies, Two patted her uninjured shoulder.

"Thank you," she said again.

He sighed. "I wish I had it in me not to do this," he said to her. "I have a feeling you might be better off."

There wasn't much she could say to that.

The pain began subsiding almost immediately as Two set to work, instructing Five in the finer points as he went. "When you're doing this type of stitch, it's very important to keep proper tension on the thread. If it's too tight, it will pucker and won't be flexible enough. If it's too loose, it won't hold. I'm going to have you practice later," he said. "It's a good skill to have."

"Now," Two continued, patting her again, "how did this happen?"

She took a deep breath. Might as well. "I – cut myself on its back."

"What?" Five exclaimed.

"Shhh!" She swatted at him with her good arm.

Two grabbed it and pulled it firmly back to her side. "Stop moving," he said.

"Sorry," Five said to them. "What?" he said again, more quietly.

"I had it," Seven went on. "I was right above it, and I jumped down, and – "

"What?" he prompted her.

"It moved."

Silence, as they waited for her to continue.

"It has these... knives, sticking out of its back. At the last second, it moved, and I cut myself when I landed." Though she knew it wasn't possible, she swore she could hear Two shaking his head.

"So... what did you do?" Five asked.

Lurching. Bent back, lurching. Falling, tumbling down and down. "What could I do? I had to run."

"No, but... how did you get away?" He had come around to stand in front of her, a strange expression on his face.

She frowned. "I just told you."

"No, I mean... " he trailed off, his hand going up toward his face. Toward the patch that covered the place where his left eye had been. Stopping before it quite got there. "Never mind."

Oh.

"It – wasn't like that," she told him. "This wasn't – it was just my arm."

Five said nothing. For a moment he seemed to be somewhere private and far away. Then he shook himself and looked over at Two, who had been gesturing to him.

"Come here," Two said gently. "I want to show you how to make the knot." Looking relieved, Five walked back around behind her. "You want it to be on the inside, see? Like this."

Seven felt a tugging sensation as the last of the pain faded. Heard the snip of the shears. "How does that feel?" Two asked her. She stood up and began flexing her arm, rotating it in all directions.

"Like it never happened. Thank you," she smiled, and made to walk past.

"Stop," Two said, holding up a hand. He pointed to the stool. "Sit. Please."

She hesitated. Looked at her weapon, leaning against a side table.

"That creature's not going anywhere," he said, "more's the pity. Now, sit."

She sat.

"You must do something for me." He pulled up another stool and sat across from her, looking at her very seriously. "You must go up and speak with One."

Without a word, she stood up and headed for the curtains.

"Wait! Wait. Please, hear me out. Please," he said again, running after her and taking her arm just as her hand closed around her weapon.

"I have nothing to say to him."

"Listen to me. You can't do things this way."

"What way?" she asked, rounding on him. "You're telling me you're all right with this? Him running your lives for you? You're all right with living in fear?"

"It's not about any of that."

"Then what is it about?"

"It's about all of us standing together. Standing united," he said. "It's the only way we have a chance."

"You don't understand. He wants this thing out there."

"That's not true. Listen." Two was surprisingly strong when he was determined. Her attempts to pull her arm away were unsuccessful. "He wants to protect us. He wants to lead us. If you want to do things differently than he does, then talk to him, reason with him."

"Or," she said, prying at his fingers, "I could just kill the thing and be done with – "

"Stop!" he yelled. He was breathing heavily. Behind him, Five looked as stunned as she was. It was the first time she had ever heard Two raise his voice. "Stop," he said again, far more quietly. He slumped forward, leaning his head against her shoulder. "Please."

Seven closed her eyes. All was quiet. The shout had not alerted them above. "I still don't know how you think it will help."

"Do it for me."

All was quiet.

"All right," she finally said. "For you. But I'm taking this," she went on, mostly to herself, as her hand closed again around her weapon. Two shook his head a little as he released her.

Something occurred to her then. "Where's yours?" she said to Five. "You said you were building one."

"Oh! Yeah. Yeah, it's here."

"Can I see it?"

"Uh..." he glanced uncertainly over at Two. "Sure." Turning a circle, he spotted the object and went to retrieve it. Two gave her a look that clearly said, you're stalling. "Here," said Five. In his hands he held a very strange-looking device. There were springs.

"What is it?" she frowned. She set her own down again and went to look.

"It's a crossbow. Well, sort of," he said. "There's no bow. But it works the same way. See, you put a bolt in here – " and here he took a large needle and inserted it through a ring at the top – "and draw this back, and..." He took aim and pressed something. The needle shot out and stuck, quivering, in the opposite wall.

Five grinned, looking both pleased and embarrassed, as she clapped him on the shoulder. "Look at you!" she laughed. "I knew you could do it."

"Well, it's just for emergencies," he smiled, with a little half-shrug.

It may have been a bit strange and unwieldy and far too complicated-looking – but a weapon was a weapon. "Can I try?"

Was it her imagination, or did he seem a little taller as he handed it over? "Okay, you hold it in one hand, like this, and you put in the bolt, right through there." It took her a few tries to get it right. "Now, take hold of that and pull it back until it catches." The device made a satisfying click.

"Now aim," he went on, "and when you're ready, press this, here." Raising it up, she peered through the ring along the length of the needle and fired.

"Ha!" she said. "Nice!"

"And we have these, too," he said, showing her a pronged hook with rope attached. "For climbing."

She looked over at Two, who had been watching the lesson with some amusement. "What about you? What do you have?"

"Something more like yours. Anything I can see well enough to hit is going to be right in front of me."

"It's not a bad way to do things."

"Yes, well. I suppose we'll find out when I go marching into battle," he laughed.

Maybe it was the way he said it. Maybe it was the way Five stood, straight-backed and proud, as she handed back his weapon. But as she looked at the two of them, an idea began forming. Possibly a very bad one.

"Are you ready now?" Two asked her.

She nodded. As she'd ever be.

As a concession, she pulled the bell rope and waited for Eight's face to appear. She was going to try. Later – much later – it would come to her that she had never expected to succeed – and maybe, never even wanted to – and that perhaps that had made the difference in the end. But standing there, peering up into the shadowy distance, she said it to herself again: she was going to try.

Eight's reaction on seeing her was not at all what she had expected. There was no sniggering, no anticipation of the scolding he would surely see as inevitable; instead he just looked at her very seriously, nodded once, and turned back around to operate the lift. At any other time she might have been curious, perhaps even appreciative, but as it was her mind was already strained from her efforts to prepare herself. Diplomacy was, to put it mildly, not her strong suit, and an unfamiliar – and very unwelcome – sensation built steadily inside her as the lift climbed closer to the platform.

One awaited her at the top, crook in his hand, the ridiculous jeweled clasp of his cape glinting in the pale morning light. And there had been a new addition in her absence – a hat of some sort, tall and cylindrical, ornamented with a metal disk that bore his numeral. "So," he said. "Back from our little adventure?"

"I need to talk to you," she said.

"Of course you do," he said, smiling blandly. "You must be quite anxious to tell the tale."

She frowned at him. "What – "

"The tale! Of how you brought down the great beast, single-handedly, against all possible odds? Naturally you'd want to share." He tapped the butt of his staff against the floor. "Come, then, let's hear it!"

Any reserves of patience she still possessed were rapidly dwindling. "I need to talk to you," she said again.

"And so you are. But it couldn't possibly be that you failed? That no astounding tales of victory will be forthcoming?

"Listen to me – "

"No," he said, all traces of flippancy vanishing from his tone. "It is you who will listen. You will not do this again."

"No," she said. "I won't."

"And further – "

"You should do it." He was clearly taken aback by this statement, and she went on: "You can lead us. We can do this. All of us will go. Six, the twins, everyone. Half of us already have weapons, and we have enough supplies for the rest. There are eight of us. Together we can take this thing."

His expression, which had grown harder by degrees as she had spoken, was now like stone. "That's enough," he said, a bit hoarsely.

"If you ask them to go, then they'll go. They trust you – "

"That's enough – "

"They can do it," she pressed on. "We can do it. If we stand together, we have a chance – "

"That's enough!" One shouted, slamming his staff down with a bang hard enough to echo in the rafters. Eight, who had moved to stand behind him, flinched. "That is the last time," he went on, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "that you will ever suggest such a thing."

"We can't go on like this. We can't go on living in fear – "

"I will determine what we – "

"If you want to lead us, then lead us. Lead us into battle. What are you afraid of? If we die, then we die fighting, not waiting around for – "

"What is it you fail to understand? You think the twins are set to die in battle, that Six is a soldier? Just because you have no regard for your own life – "

"That isn't true – "

" – doesn't mean the rest of us are prepared to throw ours away – "

"You already are!" she shouted. "You're already throwing them away!"

A heavy silence settled on the platform. For a few moments, neither of them moved or spoke. Six, who had stayed out of sight until this point, now peeked his head timidly out from his alcove.

"Of course," One said. "I must have forgotten. Those of us who don't follow your path are wasting our lives."

"That's not what I said – "

"Isn't it? You've made your feelings quite clear in the past."

She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. "That thing will find its way here. It's only a matter of time. We can't take it in close quarters. Our best chance is to – "

"The rest of us feel differently."

"The rest of you are wrong!"

"And you know what's best for all of us, do you?"

"I know that – "

"You know nothing. You're a selfish, obstinate child who won't rest until – "

"I know that we won't have a chance – "

" – every last one of us is dead!"

" – unless we fight!" She stepped around him to Eight, who did not look happy to be suddenly included in the conversation. "What about you?" she said. "You wanted a weapon, and now you have one. Is this really what you wanted to do with it? Why not use it the way you were meant to – "

"How dare you," said One, whirling around to face them. "Leave him out of this!"

"Why? He'll follow you! They'll follow you. And," she said, planting her weapon, "I'll follow you. I'll do whatever you say. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"And what cause would I have to believe that? When have you ever followed my orders, except for when – "

"I've always followed them – "

"You've followed them when it's suited you to follow them. Otherwise you simply act as though you haven't heard them."

"This is different."

"Yes? Well, forgive me for having my doubts. I've had enough of this nonsense," he said, sweeping past her. "Eight, take her back down, and see that she stays there."

Eight attempted to take hold of her, but she sidestepped him easily and pursued One across the platform.

"So it's true, then."

He kept walking. "I said, I've had enough."

"You do want it out there."

That stopped him. When he turned back to her, a very strange look was on his face. "What did you say?" he asked, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I know what's been going on here. Others may be willing to make excuses for you, but I'm not. I know what you're trying to do."

"Really?" he said, narrowing his eyes at her. "And what might that be?"

"You want everyone afraid, so you can control them. That's why you don't want to fight. You don't want to be rid of it. Your worst fear is that I'll manage to kill that thing. That's why you're trying to keep me here. That's why you gave permission for the weapons. You think you can humor me, and at the same time arm your enforcer over there. You think that eventually, you'll be able to control me, too. And once you do that, there won't be anyone left who'll challenge you."

For a moment, One said nothing. Then he closed his eyes, nodding. "Yes," he said, very quietly, "of course. I'm to blame for everything. You vastly prefer that to the idea that there might be a danger we are unable to face. That the others want to be here. That they want to be protected."

"You're not protecting them, you're imprisoning them. You've convinced them there isn't any other way."

"I'm not forcing them to be here. They're here because they choose to be. If they don't like the way things are done, they can leave. Permanently. And so," he said, now looking her right in the eye, "can you. Now get out of my sight."

She did.

Back through the curtains. There could be no doubt, from Two and Five's faces, that some of the goings-on above had reached them.

"Well?" she said. "What's it going to be?"

"What happened up there?" said Two. "We heard shouting."

"Are you coming, or not?"

"Coming where?"

"You said we should stand together, so let's stand together. Let's go get this thing so we can end it."

"What are you talking about – what happened up there? What did you say to him?"

"You have weapons. Both of you. I know you can do this." She turned now to Five, who recoiled from her a bit. "You're strong. Show him that you're strong. Show him you don't need him."

"Wait," said Two. "Are you... suggesting that we go fight this creature? Right now?"

Five gasped.

"Listen to me," she said to them. "This thing is coming. We're in danger here, and One won't listen to reason. We have to go and fight. It's our best chance."

They stared at her. Five wrung his hands.

"Once it's dead, this will all be over," she went on, pleading with them. "You'll be able to do anything you want! You won't have to live in fear – "

"Seven – "

"All it takes is a little courage."

"That's not all it takes," said Two, "and there are other kinds of courage."

Looking from one to the other, in that moment, she also took in the full picture of the workshop. Glowing bulbs strung overhead. Battery in the corner. Parts – engine parts, she now realized – laid out neatly on the floor. A world of trash and treasures. "So – so you are all right with this. You're all right with being prisoners."

"Seven. Calm down. Tell me what happened." He made to take her arm again, but she jerked it back and, without another word, turned and fled.

"This is my fault," she heard Two say, as she parted the curtains for the last time.