OUT OF MIND² ━━ Bellamy Blake

𝐗𝐗𝐕: God Complex

"BP is 100 over 50," reports Abby from her station. "Body temperature is 98.7. Resting comfortably."

Lyra forces herself closer to the radiation tube. It feels like walking through lava. "No visible effects."

"1,000 REM," calls Jackson. "1,500."

"All good here," Abby announces.

"Still nothing," something like hope flickers within Lyra's voice as she slowly but surely comes back to life. "I think. . . I think it's working!"

"2,500!" Jackson calls.

Rattling rapidly, the blazing light in the radiation chamber flickers safely. Something from one of Abby's monitors begins to beep, screeching rapidly as the radiation chamber continues to thrum noisily. The doctor's face falls.

"Wait — "

Lyra's stomach drops. "No."

Burns chew their way through Baylis's skin. Scorching through as if it is nothing but paper. Raking through his bones with talons of pure crimson hell, scattering any porcelain, blood blossoming as his breath becomes ragged.

"Turn it off," Lyra is shaking and her voice is drowned out by the furore. Fear sinks it's claws into her and her voice rises. "Turn it off, Jackson — now!"

Jackson rushes to obey her. At that same moment, a scream erupts from the chamber.

Baylis has woken.

A raw, primeval, hysterical screech blazes through Lyra's very soul as his scream ravishes the air. His wordless shrieks explode into existence in a deafening howl, scattering the light, eyes bulging out of their sockets. His arms and legs are askew with terrible red slashes that glisten hideously in the fluorescent. His skin is cracking, dissolving, exposing the seething flesh.

"EN STING IN!" He screams, his throat raw and brutal. Blood froths around his cracked lips. "EN STING IN!"

It stings! It stings!

Lyra lurches forwards. "I'm getting him out of there!"

"No!" Jackson shouts above the screams. "It's not safe yet! You'll kill yourself!"

"I don't care!"

But before she can get her hands onto the radiation tube, something smashes into her shoulders and then she is dragged backwards. Nate. Fighting against him violently, choked up by horrified tears, a disbelieving thunderstorm rolls up in her throat. This has to be a nightmare. This whole thing has to be a nightmare. Soon she will wake up in Bellamy's arms in the dropship camp and everything will be how it had been Mount Weather. Everything will be as it should be.

"Let go of me!" Lyra sobs wretchedly, clawing at Nate's arms. "Damn it, don't let me kill him!"

"You can't!" Nate yells. There is iron in his voice, as if daring her to fight him on this. Daring her to die for this. "I'm not going to let you kill yourself, not now!"

The lab is molten through her tears, blended with blinding fluorescents, smears of horrified people lurking in her peripheral. A sea of agony, indistinguishable from the own despair boiling in her eyes. Lyra lurches forwards again, tripping over her own two feet, clutching at her heart. She believes she carries a black hole inside of her ribs.