WnW 8.16

The paranoia, the racing thoughts, the tremors and hallucinations. It was all connected to the Broken-Neck-Man. The talk with my mom had bought me a reprieve. I’d calmed down enough to start thinking clearly. The symptoms were directly linked to my state of mind. Like an accelerant on a fire, any heightened emotions would spread quickly, infecting my reasoning and physical senses in a self-propagating loop.

This was a reset, but the timer was ticking towards another breakdown. I’d need to keep reminding myself of that.

I returned to the room with the dead soldier who was splayed across the love seat. His throat had been slashed, laid open with such horrific force that he was halfway to decapitation. I briefly paid my respects before pulling him over to lay him face down on the ground. He had multiple stab wounds in his back, same as the one by the bathroom. I scanned the room, searching for bullet holes in the walls or spent casings in the carpet. There were none.

These soldiers hadn’t seen the threat coming, hadn’t had time to fire their guns. But Capiz was different. She had seen something. My chest ached where her Shape had struck me. There was a temptation to restore my energy and heal my wounds with the corpses. But I suspected that it would exacerbate my symptoms.

I winced as my armour chafed the skin around the wounds. Ignore it. You’ve become too dependent on your healing ability. You can deal with a little pain. At least you’re alive.

I began to search the pockets of the dead soldier.

Something small moved past the open doorway and I ignored it. If the threat was real, I’d have to hope my armour would be sufficient.

I found his phone and tried to open it, but a numpad showed up on the screen. Password-protected. I wouldn’t be finding any clues on it.

Something fluttered past my ear and then landed on my arm. The sting that it brought with it was welcome, an added sign that this was real. Kay’s butterfly flexed its wings. Seeing it up close, it lacked some of the anatomy of a regular butterfly. The body wasn’t furry and I didn’t see any eyes, although the antennae were still there. Some of the dots on the wings themselves might be simple eyes, probably better for detecting differences in light than any meaningful visuals. 

Two more butterflies joined the first on my arm. Taking interest?

I was afraid to see Kay again. The thought that she might look at me with the same distrust as the soldiers was heart-rending. But I needed her help. Gently, I took one of the butterflies onto my finger and then retracted my armour, bringing it up to my face. My eye watered a little as the bug’s legs touched my cheek. The other two joined the first nearly immediately. I tried to smile. 

Then the butterflies flew away, back towards the open doorway. One landed on the top of the door while the other two flitted around the threshold.

“Do you want me to follow?” I asked.

The winged Shapes just flew in lazy patterns. When I stepped forward, they flew through the doorway.

“Alright. Deal.”

I followed the path marked out for me in black and violet. More butterflies joined in, creating a tunnel that led me through the labyrinthine hallways. 

I was about to reform my armour and paused as I noticed something. The cuts in my chest were aligned with one another. I traced the raised red ridges of the wounds, each a rigidly straight line about a finger length across. In some places the lines were less clear, due to them not penetrating my skin. But Capiz had been trying to inscribe something, perhaps even subconsciously with her Shape. The wounds lined up in an arc, forming a half-circle.

The letter C? Or was some of it missing? Perhaps an O?

Or perhaps I was getting paranoid again and was seeing meaning where there was none.

The echoing reverberations of a gunshot rumbled down the hall, timed with the dropping of each and every butterfly to the ground, as if all of their lives had been cut short in an instant. I stared in horror at the carpet that was now covered in what looked like iridescent black leaves.

I didn’t want to step on them, but the gunshot had come from the other side and now I could hear the low notes of someone’s voice, speaking angrily.

Just as I was cursing my indecision, the leaves began to stir and pick themselves up again. They flew to the walls where they remained on either side of a set of double doors. Letting out a shaky exhale of relief, I moved forward.

Beside the doors was a plaque that read “Kitchen”. Upon entering, the soft red and brown aesthetic of the manor melted into gray walls and white tiled floor.

It was a large industrial kitchen, intended more for banquets than making yourself lunch.

Conrad’s voice carried clearly through the space, “Stay in there! I’m your superior in this mission. If that fact means anything, you’ll stay put. Because if you don’t, I won’t fire another warning shot!”

I ran past the stainless steel prep table and spotted him. He was kneeling, with a spasming Jason in his lap. The parasite was freaking out, wrenching Jason’s body into painful positions as blood sprayed out in spurts like a faulty hydraulics system.

“Okay!” Kay shouted out, her voice muffled behind a thick metal freezer door.

“And keep your Shape out of here too!” Conrad spat. Blood from the parasite sprayed onto his face and he had to squint with one eye.

“Conrad!” I called out.

He wheeled around, pointing the handgun at me instead. Recognition crossed his expression and he raised his gun arm to wipe at his face before struggling to reposition Jason on his lap so he could aim at the freezer door again.

“Nick, it’s Kay. No one else is left except us.” He eyed me fiercely. “I know you’re friends but you were deceived. We all were. I know the choice is difficult, but you have to side with me.”

I raised my hands placatingly. “We don’t know that for sure.”

“Bullshit!” he yelled. “This soldier was stabbed and it wasn’t me. Basic math.”

“Nick-” Kay started.

“I will start putting bullets through this door if you don’t stop!” Conrad shouted. “Be grateful I didn’t decide to become judge, jury, and executioner! All because I don’t drop my morals out of convenience. Unlike the rest of you.”

Kay’s butterflies were forming a symbol on the wall behind Conrad. I didn’t look at it directly so I wouldn’t tip him off.

“Let me help you with Jason. Maybe I can get that thing off of him by absorbing it.”

Conrad’s arms were shaking as he held the writhing Jason. “Not until I know I can trust you.”

The butterflies formed a C on the wall. My head felt fuzzy. There was no way. Conrad, of all people? It just didn’t add up. He was married to the job, he stood out, he clashed with authority constantly. No one was his friend. How could someone like that be a mole? But when Wilson had cracked and revealed his allegiance, he had spoken to Conrad like they were on the same side.

It didn’t fit. Looking at him here, cradling the injured while standing up against an enemy who wielded terrifying powers while he had none. Why would Kay and Capiz both think it was Conrad?

The C on my chest. If I were to look at it from Capiz’s perspective, it would have been reversed. Not a C but something else… A ‘D’? Or perhaps… I stared at the dying parasite that was slowly curling up, drawing Jason’s limbs backwards.

An unfinished P?

“Kay isn’t the traitor,” I said gently.

Conrad’s frown weakened for a moment before he steeled himself and he aimed the gun at me.

“I expected more from you, Nick. If Mac were here, he would be disappointed. It can’t be me. Which means you’re siding with her.”

I swallowed and said, “I agree that it can’t be you. I can’t see a world where you would betray H.E.S.P. You’re too obsessed with upholding the truth. Which would make you the perfect person to keep tabs on. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen a Shape with its own intelligence, grafted onto a person.”

Conrad’s eyes widened.

“Have you been feeling heavier recently? Or perhaps just a shift in your weight? Maybe it wasn’t even recent. Was there a time when your eating habits changed? An unexplained sharp ramp in hunger? It could have originally been quite small when it was planted on you. The changes could have been so gradual that you didn’t notice. One of Host’s I wonder? Or perhaps she was placed on the team to be the scapegoat if it were discovered too early?”

Conrad’s neck was turning pale. The outline of a handprint became apparent, like a ghost cradled his neck. Something moved underneath his shirt around the collar. Conrad didn’t so much as flinch as the handprint peeled away from his neck like sticky paper. At certain angles, I couldn’t even see the parasite. Then it extended, slender arms emerging from the neck of his shirt. When an arm finally crossed his vision, Conrad flinched. An eye opened on his cheek and then a mouth on the bottom of his chin.

“Leave,” it rasped, a pale white tongue hanging down from this second mouth.

Conrad’s head was forced to the side as a stiletto finger pressed against his neck. Even without any force, the edge of the nearly two-dimensional parasite was razor sharp and bit into his skin. The other arm lowered to threaten Jason’s life. A second skin, holding the two hostage.

Conrad looked at me from the corner of his vision as the finger pressed deeper, easily drawing a bead of blood which traced a thin line down the pronounced vein on his neck. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

“Leeeeeeave,” it repeated. 

“No, I will not,” Conrad answered, finding his voice, if a bit hoarse. His gun hand rose, glacially slow.

More hands emerged from under his clothes, wrapping together to form larger limbs with some weight behind them. They pulled at his arms, cutting into them with the slightest friction. He struggled against their restraints as he looked me in the eyes. 

“The truth always comes out in the end.”

More arms lashed together, gaining strength, they twisted his gun hand, trying to get him to drop it as blood poured from the cuts. Then he switched focus, ripping his other arm free and grabbing the parasite hand that threatened Jason. The paper-thin fingers cut deeply into his palm but he didn’t let go.

The freezer door swung open and a tide of black butterflies poured out, enveloping Conrad. When the cloud of wings dissipated, Conrad had the gun to his own head. He grinned with great satisfaction.

“Thank you for your time.”

The shot jerked Conrad’s body and the second skin screamed as it splayed its limbs across Conrad, trying to prop his lifeless body upright. A marionette and puppeteer in one, the limbs jerkily shifted Conrad’s head, causing blood to splatter onto the ground from the wound. The pale limbs began to take on the colour red, the bleeding spreading to it as it tried and failed to get Conrad to stand.

I approached the hideous thing and seized it, melting it into my hand. Without its foundation, the parasite was too weak to resist.

Memories rushed in. I grabbed Conrad’s chin so I could make sure the parasite could see me with its eye. 

“Thought you wouldn’t leave a trail, hm? Too bad, I see one leading right to you.”