White Noise (The Inadequate Experiments 1)

14. Together or Not At All

Calliope

Smoke assaulted my lungs, burning as hot as the fire itself. It hovered in front of my face, obscuring my vision. I knew I needed to get down and escape the smoke, but I needed to find Libby. Fire flickered to my left, blocking the way back up the stairs we had just descended. There was a crush of people behind me, trying to leave the auditorium. Not all of them were alive. I shuddered despite the intense heat enveloping the foyer and gave up my search, dropping to the floor, gasping for what little clean air was left near the ground. My ears were ringing, the echoes of the explosion still swirling through my mind. The partial loss of hearing was almost more disorienting than the smoke and the flames.

On my hands and knees I stumbled through the chaos towards where the kitchen was – or where the kitchen had been. Even in the dim orange light, I could see the doors had been blown to pieces – much like most of the back wall of the auditorium. My heart sunk at the sight, and I desperately hoped that Libby hadn't reached our goal before the explosion went off.

The explosion.

In the chaos, the idea barely seemed questionable – there has been an explosion in the theatre. Libby was missing. I needed to find her. But somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice muttered about the impossibility of it all – an explosion, in 2538? Not only was it unheard of, it was entirely unthought of. The last explosion had brought the Third World War to a screeching halt, destroying more than a third of Eastern Europe. That had been 2153. There had been peace ever since.

I needed to find Libby. Fast.

I forced myself forwards, my kneecaps already aching, my hands slowly getting covered in friction burns from the rough carpet – perhaps even real burns, too, but as I stumbled and found myself crawling over someone's legs, blistered and blackened by the flames, I couldn't bring myself to check.

The next body I tried to clamber over moved, and I flinched back. I tried to apologise, but my voice came out as a croak. I went to move around them and froze.

"Callie?"

I scrambled back in an instant, shredding the knees of my stockings, gasping both for air and in awe of my success. "Libby," I croaked, "are you okay? Are you hurt?"

With more and more smoke clouding the foyer, I couldn't see well enough to assess her for injuries. But the whimper she gave in reply was enough to tell me she hadn't escaped the explosion unscathed.

I swore. "Libby, listen to me, we need to move. We need to get out of here. Can you stand?"

Her reply was no louder than a whisper; "I just want to sleep."

Panicking, I shook my head. "You can sleep when we get out of here, Lib." I insisted, reaching out to grab her hand. With a jolt, I missed and my hand hit the floor instead; I recoiled when I found the carpet to be sticky and wet. I didn't need much light to know that the thick, dark substance on my hand was blood. I froze. There was an empty space where her right arm should have been, a mess of flesh and bone where it had been torn away in the explosion. I swallowed down the bile that had risen in my throat and took a shaky breath. "Everything's going to be fine." I told her, my voice breaking.

"Is it?"

I flinched at the thought of Libby saying the words, then I realised that Libby hadn't spoken. I looked up, squinting through the smoke. Whoever had spoken was standing above us – my brows furrowed as I took in their blackened legs, their dangling wires, their blood red eyes. Eyes that were normally blue.

A service Android from the kitchens.

No longer caring for her tiredness, I wrenched Libby to her feet. Her weight was heavy on my shoulder. I pretended not to notice the amount of blood pouring from hers.