VOCOM

chapter XXV

He turned his sphere-shaped head to glare at me with that blue, condescending light vilely. His hatred for me seemed to keep building, but mine for him had already reached its peak. He’d never overcome my will and pride; it was all I had left in connection with Kortan save the horrid marking upon my wrist.

“Quintley can’t get the computer to work,” VOCOM’s voice rang out. “Not even to run; hang in there, Vera.”

“Tell that boy to go back to law school.” Benlark seethed.

“Law school? Why in the blazes would I do that? Bloody law school? Could you imagine a bloke like me as a lawyer?”

I hesitated for a moment. How was Quintley’s voice coming out over the communicator? He didn’t have one—or a way to hack mine. Even so, didn’t he realize who he was talking to? I grumbled to myself. Then wasn’t the time to ask a million questions; I needed to stay focused before I passed out from pain.

“I can’t—for Chrissake, I don’t even like—“

“Shut up!” Benlark bellowed in frustration. His massive frame turned towards me.

I moved quickly, only to trip and stumble down. I looked to see a hole about the size of my foot where previously there wasn’t one in the floor. This was yet another reminder of my stupidity with not killing Benlark before destroying Kortan in the way that it was a lot harder then and would present me with more terrain challenges.

His dark laugh greeted me, making me instinctively roll out of the way of where he was reaching for me. I got to my feet and ran adjacently, still wobbly in my sense of stability, and aimed for the mainframe’s gaping hole. But before the light beam of the Shooter even got far, he caught me off guard with an arm I had failed to notice behind me.

I cursed Quintley’s distracting me as the arm clamped around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides and rendering the Trans Shooters useless. They were pointed at the cracked floor, and only a sheer idiot would think of shooting them at that moment.

His laughter continued, quiet and mechanic. He brought me closer to that glowing eye as the last remaining arm tugged at the guns around my hands. I struggled to keep it away by kicking at it, panicking with him stealing my only weapons.

“Oh, keep still now,” he said gently, like a doctor to a squirming child under inspection.

I wanted to cry out in anguish, but that would only satisfy his dark happiness. The Shooters had slipped from my wrists at the forced tugs, the inner mechanics believing I was releasing them from my grip, and were dropped carelessly to the floor. I shuttered at the cracking noises they made as they clanked against each other and cement. But I couldn’t look down—it’d be a deadly mistake.

He was lifting me off the ground then, closer yet to his structure. “Vera darling,” his voice was soft, like the sweet, senile man people believed him to be. “What shall we ever do with you?”

I didn’t answer and just kept staring. I wouldn’t give him an answer—especially because I didn’t have one. Then wasn’t the time to give cheeky remarks. I was still squirming when something cold, hard and rough was pressed to my temple with agitated pressure.

I froze. I didn’t know what it was, but it felt obviously sinister. I wouldn’t take my chances on it being something pleasant.

He laughed loudly, making me rather irritated. “Feeling fear yet? Have you ever wondered why it was you that had to watch everyone die? Why you survived when all you loved perished?”

I focused on remaining still. He’s only trying to taunt me, I kept reminding myself. Right then was what I accepted as my last moment. He was going to have the upper hand and kill me after all I had worked for. Perhaps I had been careless with my vendetta; naïve and sloppy in my work. So my entire painstaking work had been in vain?