The Divine Infection

Chapter Twenty: Going Under

The door before me quietly clicks as I turn the handle, silently shifting open. I step into the building, holding my breath, rolling my hands up into fists as I begin to wish I'd brought some sort of weapon. Maybe I wouldn't be feeling quite so defenceless?

The room before me is dark, the sort of dark that allows your imagination to run wild, allows you to make out shadowed outlines of almost everything in the room and make you believe it's all something much more sinister. Upon concentrated observation - and a fair amount of squinting - I can see that meta shelves and cabinets line the dark walls, the surfaces stacked with what appears to be ammunition. I tip-toe over to take a closer look, confirming my rough guess and further concurring that there appears to be no guns around. Why have a stockpile of ammo and no guns to put the ammo to good use?

As if in response to my question, I hear a click, very precariously close to my head, and quite loud in the otherwise silent room.

"That's maybe so little girls like you don't come running in here to blow all these guys to pieces." A low, Scottish accent growls near my ear. I frown; they answered my question, a question I didn't say aloud. How did they-?

"I'm not a 'little girl'," I frown, fighting the fear bubbling through me, "and I happen to be highly against violence against the living, thank you. If you don't mind-" I pivot around to move away from whoever this is, only to be met by the open barrel of a shotgun, twin gaping maws pointed right at my face, A pair of blue-yellow eyes glare at me from behind the weapon. I try not to gulp, and feel sweat forming all over my body, my entire form shaking with sudden terror. I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die...

"You're not going to die. This shotgun isn't loaded with any of this crap." The man tells me. "Special tranquiliser shots, designed purely to either knock out and paralyse the recipient, or enhance their senses. I'll let you figure out which one it is when I shoot your pasty little trespassing ass for-"

"Please don't shoot me!" I gasp out in a whimper, my hands flying up to cover my face as I feel myself beginning to cower pathetically. I want Barrone... Where are the others?

"There are others?" Crap. How is he doing that? "I'll tell you once I know what the hell you're doing here, along with your little kid friends. Now tell me," the shotgun's twin barrels poke against my forehead insistently, "what're you doing here?"

"I...I..." I know what I want to say, but fear suppresses my words. The figure before me narrows his eyes. "M-my friends and I came from Dundee on a p-pick up, and...and I came in t-to look for them-"

"Lies. Through the back entrance? Your van is parked out back, and I know three guys came in the front on a pick-up. So what are you up to, sneaking around back here when you should be with them?" He studies me for a second, and then smiles grimly. "Oh, I get it... You're not meant to be in here. You're meant to be in the van, looking after your injured little friend. Chappell, is it? Shame what-"

"Shut up!" I gasp out. "I don't know what kind of mind-trick crap you're playing right now but I'm not listening to this! I didn't want to feel useless so I'm here to help, because Barrone said no but Chappell said to ignore Barrone, because Crilly said Barrone goes through-"

I feel a palm smack against my forehead, in place of where the shotgun's twin barrels were seconds ago. "Sh. Calm down. No need to get worked up. I told you, these tranquilisers can't kill you. I'm not going to hurt you. And anyway, I already knew why you're here." He pulls the shotgun up to rest the long barrel against his shoulder, glaring eyes studying me. "You think really loudly."

"H-how...?" I ask nervously.

"A matter of the science of genetic and cellular modification and molecular studies." He tells me, before turning and moving to walk away. I stare at him in silence, and a second or two later he speaks again. "Are you coming or not?"