Chapter 11
THE WORST LAB PARTNER EVER
I ran like my life depended on it. Odds were, it did.
My soles slapped concrete, and my pulse roared in my ears. Behind me came that awful, terrible mechanical whine.
The steps resumed. Faster this time.
Crunch, whir, creak. Crunch, whir, creak.
Oh my God. It was chasing me.
I didn’t look back. I didn’t have a second to spare—
I rounded the shelf’s corner and stumbled over Styrofoam and paper filler. Somehow, I stayed upright.
A warped roar split the air behind me.
That sound was definitely not from human vocal cords.
“Oh shit,” I gasped. My side cramped, chest seizing in terror. I reached the double doors at a sprint. My foot caught the box that had propped them open, knocking it flying. Without it, the doors banged shut behind me and sealed with a hiss.
My terror-hazed brain registered the cleanroom: two long black tables lit by sterile spotlights, one bearing a skeleton laid out like it was waiting for me to join it. The other held a plastic specimen box. The EXIT sign over the far door glowed like a beacon.
And someone else was in there.
Something.
A tall, dark blur stood over the nearest table and the open plastic specimen container atop it. In front of me. Not behind me. The figure I’d seen before all this chaos started?
Before I could focus—before I could even process whether what I’d glimpsed was real—I tripped over a stool, slamming into the table on my way down.
The specimen box slid off the edge and crashed to the floor, and I caught a glimpse of the figure melting away like a trick of the light before I hit the ground, too.
My knees and elbows took the brunt of it, cracking against the linoleum hard enough to tear a choked cry loose.
But terror swallowed everything when the floor trembled. Impacts. Those clanking, heavy footsteps were back, and they were coming, growing nearer by the second—
Driven by pure fight-or-flight, heavy on the flight, I scrambled on all fours underneath the table.
Just in time.
Something struck the sealed entrance hard enough to crumple the frame.
Protesting metal shrieked, and cinderblock and drywall cracked.
Another blow, and the flimsy card-access lock didn’t stand a chance against whatever ripped through.
The small viewing windows erupted, pelting shards everywhere, and chunks of door and wall exploded outward.
With a gasped curse, I huddled beneath the table, covering my head.
The room quaked. The air. Possibly the whole freaking world.
The spotlights popped in rapid succession. Pale orange sparks rained past the table’s edge. Somewhere to my left, display cases shattered, and the pair of computer screens beside them flickered violently, sizzled, and died. Curls of acrid smoke rose like ghosts of processors past.
But worst of all, mechanical whirring thuds struck the ground in a rhythm I already knew too well. The thing was coming into the room. Dread unfurled greasy wings in my gut as I uncurled from the fetal position and finally made myself look.
Every muscle locked. The last, fading sparks drifted to the floor like falling stars.
What I was seeing couldn’t be real.
Because those were supposed to be feet.
At least…something close. Feet designed by some nightmarish artist. Birdlike in shape but scaled like mini dinosaurs, they were made of interlocking metal segments flecked with blue, red, and black.
Each of the four silver, talon-like toes tapered to scalpel-sharp points that gouged the tiles with every step.
As I watched, whirring gears and levers twitched at the joint, and the ankle rotated in a fluid, too-smooth motion, lifting the foot and slamming it back down again.
Bipedal, I catalogued numbly, as the other foot landed with a crack that jolted through the floor and into my bones.
Crunch. Whir. Creak.
The cadence made my skin crawl.
What. The actual. Hell?
Cold sweat slicked my armpits and stuck my shirt to my spine. I inched backward as silently as I could, deeper beneath the table. It brought me closer to the far exit.
Past those legs and feet, the doors had been obliterated, pieces warped and jagged like a wrecking ball had been used to open them.
That thing was the wrecking ball.
A murderous wrecking ball with nightmare chicken feet—
Except…wait. I stilled.
Something new was happening.
The air thickened. My skin buzzed, and pressure gathered at the base of my skull. The hair rose on my arms.
An invisible tug lurched deep in my middle.
And then…a whisper.
Come here.
A distant part of me recoiled, but it was too late. That tether snapped taut, and I gasped.
The pulling sensation was strange, electric, and familiar. Familiar in a way I couldn’t name, a mutter skating the edge of memory. Like a voice calling my name in a dream I couldn’t quite recall.
The mechanical footsteps faded into the background.
That tug—that draw—it was coming from right behind me. I turned before I even registered the impulse.
The specimen box I’d knocked off the table lay tipped on its side. The same one the figure I thought I’d seen had been standing over when I barged in. Crumpled packing material spilled out.
Later, I would struggle to remember clearly what happened next.
My thoughts were foggy. Shrouded. Like something had slipped inside my mind and taken over. Fear unraveled into nothingness. My blood pulsated in my ears. My body moved on its own.
And like I was a spectator to my own actions, I watched my hands reach out. My fingers gripped the box’s edge and shoved it aside.
I didn’t remember sliding out from under the table. I didn’t remember crawling forward, either, but the linoleum bit into my knees as I hunched over the container.
Behind me, metal groaned and whirred. Talons cracked against tile. Something roared. The table I’d hidden under was knocked clean across the room, crashing into the wall.
But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move.
I leaned over the box and looked inside. Whatever lay in there was buried. It whispered furiously. I didn’t recognize the words, but the urgency was clear.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted movement. An unyielding metal grip clamped down on my upper arm from behind. A hand. It was too big.
Fingers. Strange and multi-jointed. Squeezing too tight.
Muffled panic ignited, but I still couldn’t tear my gaze from the box. Couldn’t stop myself from shoving aside the sterile gel packs cradling its contents.
Those whispers grew louder.
Pain flared where the steel grasp dug into my bicep, but I’d already reached inside the tote with my other hand. It closed around a smooth stone tablet.
The moment I lifted it, a jolt shot up my arm.
The crushing grip vanished. The thing behind me snarled a string of harsh, mangled syllables in my ear. That massive metal hand swept past my shoulder—it had six fingers—reaching for the stone tablet. At the same time, something slammed into my back, hard enough to send me flying.
The impact spun me, and like it’d broken a spell, sound, sensation, thought rushed back.
What had just happened?
I hit the floor on my side, bouncing on my hip. Somehow, I held onto the object, curling my body protectively around it.
And then I looked up…
And up.
All the blood drained from my head. My vision grayed at the edges.
I couldn’t move. I didn’t dare breathe.
I could only stare, clutching the stone plate to my chest like it could somehow save me.
Which wasn’t happening, because I was completely, thoroughly, and cosmically effed.
There was a monster in the lab with me.
A towering mechanical monster, at least seven feet of mismatched metal, gleaming in shades of shiny blue and black.
A jigsaw of junkyard pieces cobbled together, Frankenstein-style.
I caught a glimpse of what looked like a car alternator jammed next to something that resembled a melted iPhone case before my gaze climbed higher still.
A jagged crown of spikes scraped the lab ceiling. Dust rained down as it straightened with a grinding whine of gears. The crests on its head glittered beneath the lab lights.
It was…a robot.
That was the only word I could find, but even that didn’t quite fit. It had a vaguely humanoid structure, two powerful mechanical legs ending in those deadly, talon-tipped feet, two arms made of segmented plating. Six-fingered hands. But its head…
Its head was wrong.
Triangular, mantis-like. Its mandible-like mouthparts clicked together and drew back, releasing another stream of inhuman language. Two eyes, glowing, bulbous orbs of electric green, locked on me.
That insectoid head tilted.
It studied me. Weighed me. As if assessing whether to crush the ant.
Oh, God.
I was the ant.
A high-pitched moan clawed its way from my throat as I clutched the tablet tighter. I kicked my heels against the floor, scuttling backward.
I didn’t get far.
Despite its size, the thing crouched in one smooth, terrifying motion, metal folding with unnatural ease. It was looking at me. Sparks popped in the smoke-filled air.
It barked another unintelligible command and reached out. Reached for me.
Nope. Nope nope nope.
I rolled to the side and scrambled to my feet. I couldn’t feel my legs. Couldn’t feel anything besides horror and an overwhelming urge to escape before those talons ripped me apart.
The exit. The emergency exit at the room’s back.
I ran.
Metallic footsteps thundered behind me. The robot let out a roar, louder than anything I’d ever heard. It shook the room, shook my brain. I couldn’t breathe. The emergency exit waited ahead, visible through smoke.
My shoes slipped on dust. I was too slow, and it was right behind me—
I was still clinging to the tablet like it was life itself.
Then—
A voice.
A shout.
I thought it was my name. But it couldn’t be.