Chapter 28: Chapter 28: … And Patchwork Heroes

Pain shot through Will’s shoulder and chest.  He groaned.

“Hey there, Champ,” a cheery voice said.  He struggled to open his eyes. “Welcome back.”

He found Dai, hood still firmly resting on her head staring at him from the bed next to his, her leg suspended with a small contraption similar to Mic’s bird zooming around it shooting different colored lights at seemingly random intervals.  The room was bright.  Everything was white, sterile, the smell of some kind of cleaner burnt his nose.  He blinked.

Mr. Mathews lay in another bed past Dai.  He twitched fitfully, releasing small sounds as he slept.  Will was about to ask how he was when something beeped beside him.  

He jumped, twitching his head to find the source.  Nothing was there, no bells or levers to initiate the sound, just a tube running from a clear bag to his arm filled with an odd flowing blue liquid.  The beep sounded again.  The flow stopped.

His eyes narrowed as he focused on the bag.  He couldn’t find what triggered the flow.  There weren’t any pulleys or gears that he could see, nothing that he would recognize from years of helping Chleo with her inventions.  He wondered if she would know how it worked.  Probably.

“Hey, Kid!” Merk’s voice filled the room after the door slid open.  Will figured he pushed it open from the outside, some kind of internal spring responsible for it closing behind him.  “You’re awake.”  He smiled under his hood.  Did they ever take them off?

“Is that what this is?” Will croaked.  His head pounded, and his shoulder ached.  “Could have sworn it was the other thing.”

Merk boomed out a laugh. “Nope, your heart’s still ticking.  That’s why everything hurts so much.”  He took a few steps to Will’s bedside and slapped him on his good shoulder.  The jolt still sent a shock of pain down his arm.  “Should have made it to you sooner, but I forgot the blasted lullaby.  I had to have Mic play it back through my ear piece so I could get under the door.  I still can’t believe Melody had a Port rigged on the book.  Where did it drop you?”

Will stared at him.  “Port?”

“It’s a small device that can send you to a preset destination,” Dai said, shooting him a sympathetic smile. “Melody most likely hid it between the pages, and it snapped when you picked it up.”

Merk snickered. “I keep forgetting you lunas don’t know anything.  What, you thought you just magically rematerialized somewhere else?”

“No,” Will mumbled.  A soft green glow filled a corner of the room.  He spotted his jacket, light spilling from the pocket, his watch.  He groaned, digging his head into his pillow.  Merk snickered again.  “It dropped us in the workshop.  Agent Miles was there waiting.”

The smile melted from Merk’s face.  “They took the girl.  We’re working on a location now,” he said seriously. “Best we can tell, they took her to the king.  After that, it’s a bit of a crap shoot.  It’s Luna so there isn’t a virtual trail to follow and hunting down the right people to question is taking time.”

Will’s brow furrowed at the word virtual, overlooking it for the part of the conversation he understood.  “Did you ask Mops?”

Merk nodded. “He’s doing the questioning.  Based on the information he’s bringing back, it looks like they’re boxing him out, probably due to his connection to you.”  He wandered over to watch the small machine working on Dai’s leg.  “Your uncle thinks you’re dead, by the way.”  Dai poked him in the side when he reached up to tap it.  “Congratulations.”

Will wasn’t sure what to do with the information.  On one hand, he was happy he was off his uncle’s radar, the constant hunt he feared in the back of his head stalled.  On the other, he was worried about Chleo.  Where did his uncle send her that Mops couldn’t find?  Something tickled his memory.  Something about the day he ran.  

He’d stumbled through the corridors, sticking to unused passages as much as possible until he found the entrance to the main servants’ tunnel.  The exit his mother described was two floors down and a tower over and the only way he knew was through the tunnel currently occupied by a battalion of his uncle’s best guards.  

He stared at the entrance, letting his back fall against the wall with a sigh.  It was impossible.  He stared at his purple sleeve imagining what Luna would be like beyond the palace walls.  His mother’s plea for him to run, to find a life outside, it was impossible.  He leaned his head back against the stone closing his eyes against the task.  He needed another way.  His head pressed into the masonry, trying to feel something other than failure.

They were going to find him.  They were going to kill him.  Something in the wall gave way from the pressure of his head.  A stone pushed inward, a click sounding behind his ear before the section holding his weight swung open spilling him down a short stairwell.  He rolled down one step, two, three, bouncing to a stop facing the way he came, butt to the platform.  Slightly stunned, he stared as the hidden door swung closed behind him triggering a set of lanterns to ignite. 

He snapped his mouth shut, gathering his senses.  Wooden stairs stretched before him leading into the depths of the castle, cobwebs crossing the walkway.  “At least it’s going in the right direction,” he whispered to himself.  

Gingerly, he stood, climbing the few steps needed to grab a lantern before descending into the darkness.  The corridor spiraled straight down.  Long after passing the needed two floors, he found the door, simple wood inlaid into the stone.  He searched for the peephole common in all of the castle’s corridors.  Whoever built them either wanted to be sure servants wouldn’t interrupt them or that they had a reliable way to spy.  Probably both.

He found it quickly, the orientation similar to the one to his uncle’s study.  The crack lined the side of the door, the masonwork pulling easily from its place.  The chamber he found beyond chilled him.  Gas lamps lit beds filled with chained figures.  Half of them lit the room with a glow he’d only read about, Neons.  The others looked no different from him if not older, men and women alike.  Groaning sang through the room, their voices joining together in a symphony of pain as they twitched and tugged against their cuffs.  It set his teeth on edge.  

Will slammed the masonry back in place, eyes wide with fear.  Where was he?  Neons weren’t allowed on Luna.  Everyone knew that.  Where did they come from?  Were they under arrest?  The chains would make more sense if they were.  He swallowed trying to wet his dry throat.  The chamber looked like an infirmary, not a prison.  Maybe there was an outbreak of a new disease and his uncle offered to help.  It would explain his uncle’s new obsession with creating research Guilds.  He clenched a fist.  His uncle helping?  Not likely.

It didn’t matter.  He didn’t have the time or power to help. He needed to find a way out.  The way he’d come wasn’t an option.  His only path was forward.  He pressed a hand against the wooden door.  The patients, er, prisoners were asleep, and he didn’t spot any guards when he searched the room.  He pushed the door open and stepped into the infirmary.

The door, on the other side, was a bookcase slotted between a wall of shelves.  With a small snap, it latched into place making his breath hitch at the noise.  A few groans split the air.  The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.  Where there were chains, there were guards even if they weren’t in the room.  He needed to tread lightly.

Straightening his shoulders, he turned to face the infirmary.   As he passed the first bed, he swallowed a gag.  The patient lay on his side to avoid aggravating the skin on his back.  It flayed open in spots, dark around the edges as if charred, flaking off with every breath, a pale yellow glow fading at the same rate.

Will raised a sleeve to his mouth, hoping it was enough to block whatever disease filled the room.  The purple of the fabric caught his eye as it filtered his air.  Compared to the simple undergarments the patients wore, it was nothing if not conspicuous.  If he ever made it out, he would have the same problem.  The royal color would attract unwanted attention.  He needed to lose them if he could.  He passed the next bed, a woman with blisters peppering her face and arms… Maybe later.

He rushed forward, eager to reach the chamber’s door.  Another man’s red light stuttered from his skin, body trembling with a phantom chill.  Another woman twitched and moaned in her sleep a green glow flickering in spots.  Her chains clinked against the bed’s rails.  Will clenched his teeth behind his sleeve.  

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His mother specialized in Neon physiology and though never seeing one, most of his lessons focused on it.  Neons were known for their resilience, their immunity to most diseases.  The ones they did catch were cured in minutes.  Their glow, directly linked to their life line, was never, under any circumstances, allowed to fade even for a moment.  

The symptoms he saw around the chamber were too varied, too familiar.  Neons didn’t get fevers or blisters.  Cuts and welts healed faster than they could appear in most cases.  The only exceptions were linked to rare events when the injury broke through their outer defenses to bone.  Whatever was happening wasn’t natural.  It was inflicted.

He passed each bed, making a promise to himself, to the Seven Point Star, he would return.  He would find a way to help.  He hated that he had to save himself first.  The few empty beds were a relief.  There could be more.  There weren’t.

His thoughts distracted him.  He reached the center of the room when a loud clang echoed around the chamber.  His eyes widened as the door groaned against its hinges.  He dove under the sheets of the closest empty bed, any fear of contagion forgotten.  As it cracked open, he ripped the covers up to his chin hiding his purple clothes.  Two guards appeared forcing the door wider, nearly buckling under the weight.

Will froze under the covers, begging the Star that they would overlook him.  He should have turned back when he had the chance.  All things considered, a battalion of guards wasn’t that bad.

A man in a white lab coat strode in, head buried in a clipboard.  The guards grabbed two mounted cast-iron rings and began to pull.  The door creaked as it reversed its swing crunching against the ground.

“Don’t,” the doctor said, not bothering to look up from his paperwork.

“But sir,” one of the guards tried to protest.

“But nothing.  They’re in no condition to walk much less run, and if they were, the chains would stop them.  If you close the door, it’ll take another five minutes to open.  Five minutes I could use studying the solution’s effects.” Will watched him look up.  “Would you like to tell the king why my research was delayed?”

The guards snapped to attention. “No, sir.”

The doctor went back to his clipboard approaching the first bed.  The occupant flashed green while his muscles convulsed.  The guards shadowed the doctor, standing sentry at his shoulders.  Will held his breath.  The doctor hummed in disappointment and tossed a final look at the patient.  With a tiny shake of his head he moved to the next bed.

Will stared at their backs as he slipped to the floor and crawled under the neighboring bed.  He was careful to keep his movements slow and precise afraid sudden movements would draw attention.  As the doctor worked his way farther into the chamber, Will rolled closer to the door.  He crouched next to the end of the line, stealing glances around the patients to check on the doctor’s progress.

“I’ll need a few more human patients soon,” the doctor mumbled to one of the guards.  “I need to compare the solution’s effects.” He turned a page on his clipboard and added as an afterthought. “Chances of survival are low.  Ensure they are expendable.”

“Sir.” The guards snapped to attention again.

Will held his breath, crept the few steps needed, and slipped out the door.  His heart pounded, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.  He forced his feet to carry him forward ducking into the next chamber he could find.  Scouring what must have been the doctor’s lab, he found a small engraving etched into a bookcase in the far corner.  The Seven Point Star.  He pushed it, the etching gave under his finger and the shelves swung open.

In a daze, he followed the narrow corridor, his fear pushing him forward. Looking back, he couldn’t remember his exact path, but he made it to his mother’s passage, then outside.  He forced his feet into a jog and didn’t look back.  His mother had told him to run.  He would run.

Will came back to himself flinching at the similarities between the med bay and the infirmary from all those years ago.  “I think,” he said taking a breath.  By the Star, he hoped he was wrong. “I think, I may know where she is.”

Merk turned from the contraption circling Dai’s leg.  Will squirmed under his full attention.  “It was in the palace, some kind of lab.  It was a few years ago so it may be different, but there were prisoners.  At least they looked like prisoners…” He trailed off, not willing to explain any more.

A flash of recognition sparked across Merk’s face.  “The lab?  You know where the lab is?” he asked all sense of playfulness gone.  Will picked at a thread on his blanket.

“Maybe?  It was a long time ago.  There was an infirmary and sick Neons.  I’d never seen anything like it.  I was only there for a few minutes.  The king was hunting me and I had to… run.”

Merk’s face hardened.  “You left them there.”

Air rushed from his lungs.  His skin prickled with guilt.  “There was nothing I could do.”

Will watched Merk’s jaw clench as tight as his fists.  He froze, prey waiting for a predator to strike.  

“Merk,” Dai’s voice broke through the tension, compassion lacing her words. “Merk, he was just a boy.  He would have been caught.”

The man’s head turned in her direction.  Will swore he could feel the heat from the glare. Something gave in Merk’s posture.  He turned and stormed out of the strange self-opening door.  Will could breathe again.

“Can you get us back there?” Dai asked. “To the lab?”

All Will could do was nod.

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