The reception hall was splattered with blood, crimson streaks and smeared footprints surrounding a pool of glistening liquid in its center. From the grim expression on Ru’s face, he guessed that was where she’d last seen Ivar. A long, irregular smear led away from the main pool, toward the curved counter that dominated one end of the room. Perhaps the mark of a body being dragged?
With a last wary look around, Ru headed for the counter, and Micah followed. And yes, there was a body behind the counter, battered and bloody. If he was breathing, Micah couldn’t see it. “Is he alive?”
She knelt down beside the body and slid a finger under the coarse beard. “Still a pulse,” she muttered. “But barely. If we can get him to the skimmer while his heart’s still beating I might be able to save him.”
“How far away is that?”
For a moment she said nothing. Considering whether to trust him? It seemed a moot question at this point; either they were in this together, or not. Finally she nodded. “The engineering complex. There’s a maintenance hatch there.”
Engineering. That was where he had encountered the deadly vines, blocking the way. He opened his mouth to warn her—but then stopped. Had those vines been real, or another Shenshido illusion? Shit, had anything he’d seen on this damn station been real? “It’s one hell of a hike,” he muttered hoarsely. “We’ll have to take turns carrying him.”
She rolled Ivar onto his back and opened his jacket. There was a wet red mass beneath it; apparently before Ivar had passed out he’d managed to stuff a piece of cloth into the wound, stanching the flow of blood. It was a primitive repair, but trying to remove it now might do more damage than good. She settled for closing his jacket again, tightening the straps at the waist to help hold the makeshift bandage in place. “We could try to carry him together. Not sure how well that would work, though.”
He looked around the room for something that would make the job easier, and after a moment his gaze fell upon the bloodstained cushions of a couch. He pulled out his utility knife, headed over there, and started slicing into fabric. After a moment she realized what he was doing, headed to another cushioned seat, and did the same. Soon they had salvaged enough fabric to wrap Ivar in a protective cocoon and attach two straps for dragging him. It wasn’t a dignified solution, but the floor was smooth, and it would be a gentler journey for the man than being bounced on someone’s shoulder.
It was a long hike and a difficult one. Periodically they had to shift their grips to ease muscles that had cramped, but they didn’t stop moving. Time was too precious. Now and then Ivar muttered something feverish, then sank back into unconsciousness. Any sign of life from him was a good thing, Micah told himself.
Then they reached the vines.
Black, spidery, glistening fingers hung down from one of the ceiling vents, waiting for unwary travelers to walk into them. Remembering how they had curled around his food tube, Micah shuddered. He must have stopped walking for a moment, because Ru looked over at him. “You okay?”
“The vent.” He pointed. “Do you see anything there?”
She looked at it, at him. Her eyes narrowed. “No. Do you?”
He bit his lip and said nothing. After a moment she just nodded, and they resumed dragging Ivar. He ducked low enough that the vines wouldn’t touch him, hoping she didn’t notice.
Not real. They’re not real. I know that. I can override this nightmare. But the vines remained. In fact they were growing more numerous by the minute, and harder to avoid. They were even more frightening now than they had been the first time he’d seen them, because earlier they’d just been alien plants, and now they were signs of his madness.
Keep it together, Micah. He ducked under some low-hanging vines and saw Ru glance at him, concerned. If she decided he was too mentally unstable to be trusted on her ship, might she leave him behind? Then he really would go insane. They dragged Ivar over a nest of black vines, some of which stuck to the cloth cocoon, pulling loose from it with a wet sucking sound. Ru apparently heard none of that. They approached a tangle of vines hanging down below face level, and he forced himself not to go around them, not to brush the tendrils aside as they spread invisible slime across his face. He tried not to flinch.
She didn’t respond to them at all.
Finally they reached the place where he had stopped so long ago—an eternity, it seemed—where the vines filled the hallway from floor to ceiling, rendering it impassable. He could see his cheesecake tube hanging in the midst of the thicket, one long vine curled around it like a snake. He couldn’t walk into that. He tried to make his legs move, and just do it, but he couldn’t.
“Micah?”
He focused on breathing steadily. In. Out. In. Out. “What do you see?” he managed.
“An empty corridor, like all the others. There’s a small white object on the floor ahead of us. Looks like it might be a food tube.” She looked at him. “Dare I ask what you see?”
“Plants,” he whispered. “Vines. The corridor is full of them. There’s no way through.”
“You know it’s not real,” she said. Her tone was surprisingly gentle.
“I know,” he whispered. He shook his head. “That doesn’t help. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got to walk through them.”
He shuddered.
“Just shut your eyes. I’ll guide you.” She let go of the strap she was holding and held out her hand.
“But Ivar—”
“I’ll come back for him once you’re through.”
He let his own strap drop and took her hand. Her grip was firm, reassuring. He shut his eyes and let her lead him forward.
—and the vines were all over him, sliding across his face, slithering across his body, leaving trails of slime across his mouth, his eyes, his ears. He stumbled, but her grip pulled him upright. The vines were so thick beneath his feet that they tangled about his ankles, and the nightmare sensation of falling enveloped him again. It’s not real, he thought. It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real . . .
At last the vines were gone, and she stopped pulling him forward. He dared to open his eyes, and saw nothing but a normal corridor ahead of them. Releasing her hand, he staggered over to the wall for a moment, leaning against it as he caught his breath. Meanwhile he heard her walk back to Ivar’s body, then drag it through the danger zone by herself. His face burned with shame, because he had failed in his share of the labor. As soon as she came up beside him he reached down and picked up his strap again.
“The bios told me this place was inaccessible,” she said, looking around. “Locked up tight and constantly guarded. And you’ve clearly seen something else that would keep people away. Whatever is causing your hallucinations doesn’t want people entering this section.”