Creature of Creation

Part 3 - Chapter Three - The Prodigal Child

She clung to the undercarriage with all her might as the truck spluttered to a halt. When Clay arrived in the laboratory parking lot, the only vehicle there was a supply truck waiting its turn to be admitted to the underground unloading bay. She seized the opportunity and scuttled under the idling vehicle on her belly and attached herself like a spider to the undercarriage.

Clay heard the muffled voices of the truckers talking with the guards. The large back doors ground open and the guards climbed up to inspect the back. Clay clung on tighter as the added weight jostled the vehicle. The guards stepped down and chatted with the drivers another moment. Then to her surprise, but immense relief, the footsteps and chattering voices gradually grew distant and then disappeared.

She released her grip and let herself fall to the pavement. Clay rolled over and scrambled out from under the truck bed. Like the parking lot above it, the loading bay was also barren. The overhead lights cast a shallow, yellow glow. Clay could make out the general shape of the guards and drivers in the distance, just outside the entrance. They appeared to be chatting while they enjoyed a cigarette.

There was not much time to waste. Clay climbed up into the back of the truck to find boxes upon boxes lining the walls. She crouched behind the nearest stack. It was precarious, but she had to make do. Her breath came in harsh, shallow bursts through the silence.

She heard the driver and guards approach, but didn't dare to look. When she tasted the copper tang of blood, she realised she had been gnawing on the soft inside of her cheek and let it go. The doors slammed. The bolt clanged closed. Darkness swallowed her and she couldn't see her own hands as they fidgeted on her lap.

The truck engine revved and moved out. Clay felt each turn it took as it wound its way deeper under the garage. Dread snaked its way up from the pit of her stomach to the base of her throat. She badly wanted to go home.

If there's any chance at all she's in there, I have to do whatever I can to get her out.

The thought of Anpiel back in her cell, all alone, was enough to drive her mad. Her fingernails dug into the thick scar tissue of her palms and she tore into them.

After a while, the truck came to a sharp stop. The boxes in front of her teetered but didn't fall. The engine clicked off. She heard muffled voices from outside the metal walls of the truck bed. The bolt pulled open and the doors were pried apart. Clay blinked in the sudden light, then wedged in further amongst the boxes.

"Show yourself Project E1. Nice try, but it's over."

The sound of Smith's voice froze her in place. The blood drained from her body and left her cold. A shiver emerged from the base of her spine and rippled its way up.

"Sir, are you certain you're ok to be in there?" called a male voice from outside. "Just give the signal and we'll take over."

"I got it," Smith snapped. "E1, I am not in the mood for games. You've had your fun. You're only going to make it harder on yourself and A2."

Every muscle in her body went rigid. Her jaw clenched until her temple throbbed. Clay slowly emerged from her hiding place. Smith stood between her and the only way out. She shrunk back under his gaze. Then, disgusted with herself, she straightened up and met his eyes.

For a moment she caught a glint of anger buried behind his wry smile. He had seemed to age immensely over the past year. His pale skin had taken on a paper-like translucent quality and she noticed the way his head and neck had a slight side-to-side tremor.

I could snap him in half faster than any of those agents could get in here and save him.... But then what? He wouldn't have come down here with a small squad. He's not stupid. I'd kill him, then they'd kill me, and where would that leave Anpiel?