Liquid Bank - Chapter 8
A Megacosm Novelette
Chapter 2 - Economically Viable
Chapter 6 - The Communication Room
Chapter 8– New Plan
A sensation of wetness trickled down Matthew’s face, in streams of cold that tickled his eyelashes, and ran down his shirt to soak the t-shirt beneath.
With a start, Matthew opened his eyes, bringing his arm up to protect against the person kneeling in front of him with a plastic bottle of water. Vision clearing, he made out Meagan’s soft features as she sat on her legs. Her brow was furrowed, worry making her bite her bottom lip pink.
“Where are we?” He asked, looking around and seeing tall, rusted metal racks, their empty rows covered in dust.
“I found a janitors closet that was turned into a storeroom, I think,” Meagan replied.
Matthew winced as he lifted his back against the wall. “You dragged me here?”
Hands on her hip, Meagan said, “You think I can drag someone like you? No, you were semi-conscious. I nearly broke my ankle walking you here,” she lifted her shoe, “I did break a heel though.”
“I guess no one saw us,” Matthew sighed.
“The robbers did come like you said, but I got you inside before I heard them running by to the control room. This door is hard to see from the outside. I nearly missed it myself,” she replied.
“Don’t think even I’ve been in here, thank God for paranoia,” Matthew replied, “How long have I been out?”
Water trickled from a spout as Meaghan filled a crumbled water bottle from a sink near Matthew’s head. He took the time to check his wrist monitor.
“That long?” Matthew said, “We need to move!”
“Hey, what’s your hurry,” Meagan replied, putting a hand gently on his chest to ease Matthew back down. “You are seriously injured Matthew. That oaf put you through the ringer. I didn’t think you’d ever wake up.”
A thumb massaged Matthew’s temple as he tried to rub out the throbbing he felt behind his forehead, and he found it difficult to breathe from the blood that had dried in his nose. “My head is killing me,” he said.
“No surprise there, hotshot. The guy kicked you right in the face,” Meagan said, leaning over, “here you need to hydrate.”
Several gulps felt cool down’s Matthew’s throat, giving him enough energy to grasp the edge of the sink and pull himself up.
“Easy,” Meagan whispered, hands out as Matthew slid his back up the wall. Heavy breaths escaped his lips with every foot. A trail of dark red blood followed him up, smeared by his weight.
Meagan began to chew her bottom lip again but Matthew assured her with a nod, and said, “I’m okay.”
“Yeah, I’ll take your word for it over my eyes,” Meagan said, voice low with sarcasm, “before you collapsed you mentioned something about a plan?”
“Yeah, but we’re running out of time,” Matthew said, sighing as he leaned off the wall and limped towards the door.
“Well, you gonna tell me what it is?” She replied, following close behind.
“We’re going to rescue Radio,” Matthew said, and then felt her hand on his arm.
“Are you crazy? You want to walk into the lion’s den to save that Mega?” Meagan yelled in a whisper.
“This place is locked down, with no communications to the outside, and half a magazine between us,” Matthew said, looking back, “I’ve never gotten used to the motion of this bank, and I can feel we’re no longer headed towards our previous destination. I don’t know where these people are taking us, but we need to get out of here to get the word out, and Radio is our best chance.”
Looking down at the ground, Meagan let go of his arm and Matthew went to the door, peaking through a crack that he opened.
“Anyone out there?” Meagan asked.
Matthew looked back, and replied, “How many lives dp you think we have left?”
Her soft, dirty features fell into a frown, and Matthew grinned, feeling the sting of the bruise on his cheek. Opening the door, light filtered into the storeroom as he went into the hall.
“Guess I won’t need this,” Meagan said as she broke the other heel on her shoe to make it flat, tucking the stiletto away in a pocket hidden in the pattern of her dress.
A trip through the hidden catacombs in the walls took them to the second floor. Exiting through another grate, a filthy Matthew exited with Meagan close behind, dress now a dirty brown.
With a noticeable limp, Matthew leaned against the wall as he led them down the hallway with the gun up close to his head and holding Meagan behind him with the other hand. Whenever there was a sound up ahead, he would stop and keep them in the shadows, slowly taking them towards the rotunda’s entrance.
“We’re only a few turns away,” Matthew whispered as he edged towards a turn.
As per his routine, he stopped at the edge and looked down the hallway turn.
“Wait,” Matthew said, fingers tightening on the gun grip.
“What?” Meagan gasped, leaning close enough to his back to smell the sweat and dried blood. “Is something down there?”
She looked at the back of Matthew’s sweaty neck as he continued to examine the hallway, then he turned back to her with an intensity in his eyes.
“Do you know how to shoot a gun?” Matthew asked.
She looked down at the black metal in his grip. “A gun?” She swallowed. “Well, my dad took me shooting as a kid, but I haven’t gone in years.”
“How long and how many times?” Matthew replied.
“What, my dad?” She looked away, thinking. “On and off for a few years, mostly from junior high and through high school.”
Matthew’s lips tightened. “I guess this is the part where I say that this is the dangerous end, but I think you already know that,” he handed the gun to her and leaned in, whispering, “I don’t see anyone down there, but something’s not right,” Matthew held his gaze until Meagan looked him in the eyes, “I’m going to take a look. Watch my back.”
There was the air of exhaustion in his face, deep, heavy lines about his eyes and tired skin, but still a fierce determination in his eyes. Meagan nodded, holding the gun in both hands as she watched Matthew turn and walk slowly down the hall, hugging the wall with his back. The hallway was ill-lit like the others, with bell-shaped shadows falling in intervals that he did well to stay in.
Halfway down the hall, he glanced back at Meagan, sweat leaving lines of dirt on his bruised face, assuring her with a soft nod. When she responded by stepping around the corner further, Matthew continued his lethargic pace. He crept through several dark patches draped along the wall before his hand went up, stopping Meagan in her tracks as she held the gun down. Head on a swivel, he looked up and down the hall, before staring at the darkness at the opposite end of the hallway.
There was a nervous step forward, as if he were about to explore the pall before an arm jumped out from the darkness behind him, curling to clutch Matthew about the neck. Matthews’ eyes went wide, teeth and jaw clinched against the muscled bicep that cut off his breath.
“Gotcha, lad,” the attacker said. His attacker wore dress slacks, but was stripped down to a black t-shirt that hugged his muscled frame.
Meagan breathed in when Matthew’s hands went up to stop the other arm. Both men struggled as he held it by the wrist, keeping the gleaming silver knife it held in its hand inches from his face.
“Don’t struggle,” the man said into his ear, “it’ll all be over soon.”
The two struggled in their embrace. Matthew favored his injured ankle, limping as he drove his attacker back into the darkness, hitting the wall with a loud thump.
Taking a step back, he attempted to toss his attacker over his back but was stopped when the man kicked his foot against the wall, stopping his momentum.
“Not gonna work,” the man said, breathing a laugh against his neck.
Red rushed into Matthew’s face, hands slipping as the knife inched closer. Improvising, Matthew looked down and bit the veins protruding from the forearm, drawing blood as he ripped out a chunk of meat when he drew his head back.
“Aaah!” The attacker screamed, pushing Matthew away and following with a crescent slash to his back that returned the cost in blood.
Black material frayed from Matthew’s work shirt when his back curled from the cut that made him stumble forward. From the corner of his eye, he saw Meagan raise the gun, taking aim at his attacker before another assailant jumped from the shadows, slamming her into the wall with his shoulder.
“Meagan!” Matthew shouted, holding his leg as he began to limp towards her. A silver gleam caught his eye, and he jumped back in time to dodge the knife that nearly ripped his neck in half.
“Don’t worry about her, son,” his attacker said, tossing the knife between each hand. He swiped at Matthew several times, drawing blood as the knife slashed through the sleeve of his shirt to cut the top of his arm.
During his defensive tactics training, where he learned how to subdue a drunk or angry customer without lethal force, Martin warned him about getting into a knife fight. Using a plastic knife, he tagged Matthew several times, demonstrating how an attacker could still harm him even while flailing about. And he saw this firsthand when he dodged a knife plunge and answered with a left cross to the jaw of the attacker, only to be slashed on his trapezoid as the attacker stumbled back.
Wiping the blood from his lip, his attacker grinned. “Nice punch for such a skinny lad,” he said seconds before he dove with the knife pointed down.
Once again, Matthew caught the arm, keeping the knife at bay even as the man delivered rapid body punches that drove him back into the wall.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
There was the unmistakable sound of Meagan’s gun going off that echoed down the hall, making Matthew’s blood run cold.
“There goes my brother taking out your burd,” the man said, grin widening, “took him long enough. A fighter that one must have been.”
Back stuck against the wall, the tip of the knife looked like an arrowhead moving slowly towards his eye, moving closer to Matthew’s face as his wounded ankle gave way. The smile vanished from his attacker’s face, eyes twitching as he anticipated watching the inches of cold steel plunging into Matthew’s skull.
Thwip!
Hot, sticky liquid splashed against Matthew’s face. Blinking his eyes, he watched as his attacker tumbled over, a quarter-inch hole in his temple squirting blood. His arms went up defensively when he saw a shadow rushing up to point the gun at the downed assailant, firing into his body until the gun clicked dry.
Wiping the blood from his eyes, he saw Meagan standing before him, her chest heaving with anxious breaths as she continued to fire the empty gun.
“Meagan?” Matthew said, putting his hands out slowly onto her trembling shoulders, “he’s down Meagan.”
Yet, her wild eyes stayed steadfast on the body, as if her anger and rage could be fired through the barrel into the dead man at her feet.
When Matthew grabbed the gun, Meagan’s head twitched up to look at him. That’s when he noticed the bruise on her cheek and the trickle of blood that ran from her nose. The top of her dress was ripped, exposing the pink skin that bled beneath. Taking the gun back, he checked the chamber then looked back down the hall to see a second man in a dark suit sitting with his back against the wall, blood pooling beneath him.
“He tried to kill me,” Meagan said, bottom lip trembling, “he jumped out of the shadows. I never saw him…” she trailed off, glancing back at the body, “I never…,”
Seeing the tears welling in her eyes, Matthew reached out and drew her in, feeling the warmth of her body against his. A sob tickled his chest as Meagan drove her face into his clothes, her sorrow for taking a life forcing her to ignore the blood from his wounds that soiled his clothes.
“You saved my life,” he said in a low voice.
Meagan sniffled, leaning back in his arms to look up at him. Her hazel eyes sparkled a soft sheen from her tears as she forced a wan smile. “Well, now we are even, right?”
“Right,” Matthew whispered. There was a pause between them as he stared into those eyes, electricity that jolted up his spine as her warm hands laid flat on his chest.
Blinking away, Matthew let Meagan go, stepping to his left as her hand slipped down his arm. “Well, we’re out of bullets,” he said, tossing the empty gun atop the body.
“Well, that’s a switch,” Meagan replied.
With a sigh, Matthew went down to one knee. “Don’t think these guys have any. I get the sense they liked to kill up close.”
“I agree,” Meagan said, hugging her body as she looked again at the body down the hall. It was obvious to Matthew that whatever she did to escape her attacker was not something she wanted to discuss at the moment.
“At least we have this,” he replied, holding up the knife, “think the other guy has one for you?”
“I don’t want it,” she replied, looking back at him, “I’m not going to dig it out of where it is.”
A huff shook Matthew’s shoulders as he looked at the dead body. “We’re running out of time, so we’ll stick to the plan. Just going to have to get creative now.”
Novelette
“Writing a novelette allows the writer to create all that supporting information to back up a short story. Whether a short story is meant as a scene in a larger story, or simply as a story by itself, it will always be taking part in a larger world.” -ThisIsWriting
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Plot:
"A chance encounter introduces Linda Mark to Henry Collins, a recently discharged Green Beret. Used to dealing with war veterans because of her husband Shawn, a former Army Ranger, they quickly strike up a friendship."
"Yet, events spiral out of control, and Linda and Shawn struggle to survive as Henry’s affection for Linda turns into a deadly obsession."
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