"You gave him that filth? The green stuff?" The stranger asks, his brow furrowing. He seems genuinely concerned. "You have no idea what that is, do you? Just another toy you found to play with."
"It's a stimulant," David says, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. "It restarts the system. Gives the body a jolt. I've seen it work."
"Seen it work? Or you mean you tested it on yourself and you managed to survive it?"
David huffs and waves a hand. "In a situation like this, isn't self-testing the most humane method? It keeps you focused." He adjusts his glasses with a single finger, a delicate, precise motion that feels utterly out of place. "Besides, he'll be fine."
"I've seen the results of that stim, doc. More often than not, the result is... messy." He turns those unnerving, unblinking blue eyes to me. "He's not a doctor. He's a scavenger who likes the power trip. He'll use anything. On anyone. For the thrill of seeing what happens."
David's smile tightens. "That's a very cynical perspective."
"It's a realistic one." The stranger takes a step toward David. The air crackles with a new tension. "And you should stay away from him, doc. You're starting to smell. Too much 'helping'."
The insult hangs in the air, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something dangerous behind David's glasses. His jaw tightens, and the pleasant, vacant facade drops completely. He looks at the stranger with a cold, assessing gaze, like a scientist examining a specimen.
"I smell?" David asks, his voice deceptively soft. "And what do you smell like?"
"Freedom," the stranger replies, and then he steps back away from the doctor, giving a short huff of what might be laughter, pulling out a cigarette.
David immediately begins swatting him. "No! No! No! Not in here! Do you want to bring them back here? Put that out! We don't have enough supplies to save you!"
I watch the exchange, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. The stranger is dangerous, unpredictable. But David is something else entirely. A smiling monster hiding in plain sight. The memory of the convulsing boy is burned into my mind.
I need to get away from both of them.
I need to find the next floor.
I take a step back, toward the far end of the factory floor. There's another door there, a heavy steel one, identical to the one I came through.
"You're new," the stranger says, turning his attention back to me. He didn't light the cigarette. "So I'll give you some free advice. Don't trust anyone. Not the 'doctor'. Not me. Not anyone. They all have their own game. Their own score to settle." He taps his own chest. "My game is staying alive. And I'm good at it. If you want to live, I'd suggest you pick one for yourself." He finally looks at David. "His game is playing God with broken toys. He gets off on it."
David scoffs, but there's a tremor in it. "That's enough. I'm the only one trying to help people here. What have you done besides lurk in the shadows and pretend to smoke cigarettes you can't even light?"
"Careful now, doc," the stranger says, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Your mask is slipping."
"You are trying to intimidate me. How droll." David says, pushing up his glasses with a single, precise finger. "You forget. You all forget. We are already dead. What is there to be afraid of?"
The stranger's gaze flickers to me again. "He's right about one thing. We're already dead. But you can still die here. Could be a fading death like that one," He jerks a thumb toward the unconscious figure. "Or a violent one. Near as I can tell, that's the only choice we get here."
"Nonsense." David waves a hand again. "All you have to do is make it to floor 100 and you could get any wish. I'm sure that includes escape." He says this with the kind of confidence that I can't imagine having. "Eventually I'll get there."
"Haven't gotten far yet." The stranger says, and I see David's jaw clench in response.
I use the distraction to take another step back. I need to find the way out. I can't afford to get caught up in their rivalry, their little games.
I don't...
I don't know what i want yet.
I've already had a violent death, I don't want another. But I also don't want whatever happened to - or is happening to - that unconscious boy, either.
...I can't imagine...
I don't know what 'game' I'd pick. I don't have anything I'd want a wish for.
The image of a blade in the moonlight.
The whisper of 'sorry' in my ear.
It's all that flashes through my mind. The only thing that flashes through my mind.
The strangers unblinking blue eyes watch me as I shift my weight. He sees something. My knuckles tightening. The change in my breathing.
He takes a slow step toward me, away from David.
"
"Level 1, huh?" he repeats, his raspy voice a low murmur, just for me. "Careful you don't climb too quickly. They get stronger the higher you go. That's the real cost of the wish it promises."
David makes a small, irritated sound, a tut of disapproval. "Don't fill her head with your nonsense. The system is easy." He gestures to himself. "I'm level 5, as I said. It's not so bad."
"Then why are you still on this floor?" The stranger challenges, not turning. "Why are you so scared of leaving your little lab?"
"I am not scared," David snaps. "I am being cautious. And thorough."
"You're hoarding," the stranger corrects him, his raspy voice dripping with contempt. "You're waiting for someone new to play with." He glances at the boy on the floor. "And now you've got another one. How many are you going to break, doc?"
I see the shift in David's posture. The forced calm evaporates, replaced by a rigid, cold fury. His eyes, behind the glasses, are no longer vacant. They're focused, and there's a chilling, calculating light in them. The resemblance to my husband vanishes completely, replaced by something much, much worse.
"Get out," David says, his voice dangerously quiet.
"Gladly," the stranger replies, and then he moves.
It's not a walk or a run. It's a lunge, so fast it's almost a blur. He closes the distance between us in a heartbeat, his hand shooting out and grabbing my arm. His grip is like iron, fingers digging into my flesh.
"Hey!" I struggle, trying to pull away, but he's impossibly strong.
"He's going to try to use you next," the stranger growls in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "Come with me. Now."
"Let go of her!" David shouts, his voice high with outrage. He starts toward us, his hands raised, fingers curled like claws. "You don't touch my patients!"
The stranger doesn't even look at him. He just yanks me, pulling me off my feet and dragging me toward the far side of the factory, the direction I'd been trying to go. My bare feet scrape against the gritty concrete.
"Stop!" I cry out, twisting in his grip. The pipe is useless in my other hand.
"Shut up and run," he snarls, not letting go. "Unless you wanna be stabbed." He nods toward David, who is now moving with a speed that seems impossible for a man of his build. He's pulling a scalpel from the pocket of his lab coat, the small metal blade glinting in the dim light.
The sight of the blade sends a jolt of cold terror through me. The memory of the knife flashes in my mind, so bright and sharp it's a physical pain. My husband's face, the moonlight, the word 'sorry'.
"Fine!" I gasp, and I start to run, letting him pull me along. The momentum allows me to find my footing, and we sprint across the factory floor, past silent hulks of machinery and rusted-out drums. Despite the size of the factory surrounding us, it barely seems a few moments before we burst through the door of it and out...
Into the buzzing yellow corridor.