Barrenlands: An Odyssey (Old Work)

Chapter Twenty-One.

1

SHE was left all alone in the room; there being no other noise other than the thin cushion of the bed condensing and the beeping of the machine behind her. With the man now gone, she was trapped – clueless – of how she was going to escape from the room. But there was one other thing – it was unknown how long the man would take with his business, and when he would be back to finish her off. Time was most certainly of the essence. Whilst she couldn't think of anything she wanted more than breaking free from the clutches of the corporation, she suddenly realised that the going would be more difficult than anticipated. It also meant that if she did break free, she would have to navigate through the labyrinth of hallways and rooms that made up the compound by herself, with the lack of memories being of absolutely no aid in her quest. Taking a quick glance at the holding laboratory, the Engineer took inventory of everything that was available to her; everything that could be put to good use if needed be. On the bench lay a myriad of tools, her own from her pockets, and the shining butt and barrel of her pulse gun. This would be a necessity. To the side were an array of charts, gadgets and gizmos. And although these would be invaluable, it didn't help the situation she currently faced – how she would open the thick bands of the shackles of her entrapment.

From the corner of her eyes, she spied the edges of what could may just be her saviour. The toolbox. It lay still just under a metre away, the shining chrome trim and polished sheet metal faces proving to be tantalising. With the one arm free, she might – may ­– be able to reach if only she stretched. Pushing her back away from the padded bed, she arched her back and stretched out her arm as far as it could go. But still, it fell short only just. Her possible freedom and her life were just out of reach by mere millimetres. She tried once more, the very tips of her fingers brushing up against the edge of handle.

"Damn this infernal thing to fucking hell," she expelled underneath her breath, her whisper coarse and brooding. Against her neck, she could feel the cords pull taught and threaten to disjoin from the port that kept her alive. It was a stark reminder of what was really happening in the present. But despite the distance of the wires, the Engineer reached out once more, pushing her body as high up on the bed as it could go, and her arm as far in front as she could manage. Although a struggle at first, she clenched her lips and teeth together, holding her breath. It was only when the tips of her fingers curled around the handle and drew the box towards her did she remember to breath out. With a great sense of relief, the constrained woman began to rummage around in the open top, her fingers pandering over blessed gifts.

Fate had other plans for her.

2

With the restraining shackle now sawn off her limbs, the Engineer carefully slid her way down the bed as to not upset the wires joint to her neck. The floor underneath her feet was a majestic feeling however, she wasn't able to bathe in it long. There was still the matter of escaping from the room. Putting the powered grinder down, she took a few hesitant steps around the slab that she had been chained to, and neared the monitor of the machine that beeped so bleakly – ruthlessly – into the nothingness that filled the room. The LCD screen glowed brilliantly showing a number of figures and statistics but there was only one that grabbed at her attention, yelling 'look at me, you bitch!'

"Status – stable. Stage one of final transition – to be commenced upon input."

The Engineers mind surged into conflict, the words that stared at her making little to no sense; confusion running rampant through her body. It conflicted in all ways to what her captor had told her just previously. Hadn't he said that the machine was the only thing that held her alive? Hadn't he said that she was unsalvageable? Slamming her fist against the mount of the screen, she rested her forehead against the edges of her fingers – not in lost hope, but in frustration. Her world had changed so suddenly that she was unable to keep up with the constant, nagging revelations and smoke-and-mirrors that she had been caught in.

But then, there was a brain-spark; a lightbulb illuminating in her web of thoughts. If there was still hope for herself, there was still an opportunity to rescue Little Girl before they modified her beyond recognition. Grasping the cords that protruded from her neck, the Engineer rushed towards the body of the Little Girl, quickly letting her fingers brush over the touch-screen buttons on the monitor.

Time.