SEQ_18 // POST_HOSPICE

  STATUS: IN_TRANSIT?

  Chapter 18

  A SHORT

  TRIP

  [RECOVERY]

  [UNKNOWN]

  “Can you stop looking at me like that?” The spec kept his eyes glued to the road.

  Clunk.

  “I just…” Xu started.

  “It’s just very…”

  “Quaint…”

  Clunk.

  Xu stared at the dashboard. Millard had a literal bleeding-edge biotech lab set up in his office, yet he drove a Zaddy One-Speed Eco Sport. The car felt like it was made of recycled milk jugs and sounded like a dying lawnmower.

  I would have rather walked. Assuming I had the legs for it.

  “It… was the last thing my wife left when she passed,” Millard said, his voice becoming somber.

  Clunk.

  Poor guy…

  Xu looked down at his half-grown foot. The new flesh was a raw, translucent pink, tingling with phantom pins and needles.

  Bzzz. Bzzz.

  A phone vibrated in the cup holder.

  “You gonna get that?” Xu asked, studying the water stains on the car ceiling.

  “It’s probably not important.”

  Maybe it’s Taylor.

  Xu scooped up the phone and immediately squinted.

  Seriously?

  “You sure? It says ‘Wifey.”

  Millard didn't miss a beat.

  Click.

  “Hello?" Millard answered, his tone suddenly incredibly corporate. "No. I told you I would be working late this week. Just call someone to fix it.”

  Xu stared at him, his eyebrows slowly creeping up his forehead.

  Click.

  Millard cleared his throat. “Business,” he said casually.

  “Of course.”

  Silence stretched over the hum of the Eco Sport's sputtering engine.

  “Did she call you Millard—” Xu asked.

  “We’re here.”

  “I feel like you could have waited at least another twenty seconds to say that,” Xu muttered. Millard just rigidly checked his watch.

  “We’re here,”

  Creak.

  Xu pushed the flimsy car door open, leaning heavily on his newly issued crutches. He looked back at Millard.

  He held the steering wheel with both hands and was staring straight ahead very, very hard.

  Xu stood before the metal door of the server room.

  Alright. The room was safe enough to pass out in. It should be safe enough to walk in, grab my stuff, and get out.

  Xu braced himself, took a shallow breath, and shoved the door open.

  The smell hit him first—putrid meat. Ten steps in, bathed in the flickering light, was the bag. It was resting neatly—and wetly in the center of a viscous, half-congealed puddle of… Xu.

  That is insanely rank, Xu thought, his stomach flipping back and forth.

  He hobbled over, holding his breath, and pinched his belongings out of the sludge with two fingers. He tried not to look too closely. He saw a floating finger anyway.

  He paused at the door.

  Turned around to look at the puddle.

  I mean…

  When he finally dragged himself back into the passenger seat, Millard’s nose immediately wrinkled.

  “What is THAT smell?”

  “Me.”

  Millard gave him a disgusted look.

  “Me from three days ago,” Xu clarified, dropping his sopping bag onto the floor mats.

  His disgust deepened.

  “Thanks for the drive. For you.” Xu held out his hand.

  Millard raised an eyebrow and hovered his hand under Xu’s.

  Xu let go.

  Millard watched the finger fall into his hand before flinging it as his face contorted in disgust.

  Xu watched. Lately, his perception had been improving, leading to a front row seat of slow-motion Millard.

  I bet his wife would’ve wanted a photo.

  Some of it splashed the windshield.

  The rest of the drive back to the clinic was blissfully silent.

  “So all your stuff was just in there?” Millard asked, leaning against the clinic counter.

  “Yeah.”

  “Just sitting there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You made it sound like an ancient monster was guarding it.”

  “It could have been.” Xu shrugged, adjusting his grip on the crutches.

  “But you just picked it up? No monsters? No werewolves? No fighting?”

  “Millard, you were there.”

  “A friend of yours?” Millard deadpanned.

  Just own it. It’s not that bad, man.

  “Alright, well… You said I could leave, so…” Xu shifted his weight, the rubber tips of his new crutches squeaking against the linoleum.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  The room tensed. Neither of them moved.

  “So… I’m gonna go...”

  “You sure you don’t want to stay? I’m making pasta.” Millard gestured vaguely toward a stove in the corner.

  Yikes.

  The sound of water coming to a boil filled the silence. Xu looked at the bubbling pot. He looked at the man who faked a dead wife to excuse driving a Zaddy Sport.

  Click.

  Xu left.

  Millard Sighed.

  The hallway outside Lee's apartment smelled like a candle named “Burnt Charcoal.”

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Xu leaned on his crutches. His half-grown foot was still throbbing.

  Peng.

  Clunk.

  The door swung open. Lee squinted out into the harsh hallway light. His hair was sticking up in three different directions, and a deep red crease spanned his cheek, probably from whatever he'd clearly been sleeping on.

  “Eh?” Lee rubbed his eyes and let out a yawn. “Yo, what’s up, my man?” He held out a hand for a dab, completely on autopilot.

  "How many days until the exam?" Xu asked.

  Lee’s hand slowly lowered. His watery eyes traveled from Xu's pale face, down the metal crutches, and finally landed on the part of his foot that wasn’t.

  “That’s wild,” Lee said wistfully, his brain clearly still rebooting.

  "DUDE. How long until the exam?"

  Lee stared at him. "You ask a lot of questions, sink boy."

  "Seriously?"

  "I—" Lee rubbed his face vigorously with both hands, leaning against the door frame to keep himself upright. He looked deeply confused.

  Suddenly, Xu’s phantom leg twitched. A violent, uncontrollable muscle spasm shot out. His leg flew out like a flying steel pipe, landing squarely between Lee’s legs.

  He folded like a lawn chair.

  "Why," Lee whispered, sinking to his knees, his forehead resting against the door frame. "Even in my dreams you still..."

  He stopped. His eyes snapped wide open. The pain was too real.

  "Xu?"

  "What."

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "You’re okay!?"

  Xu just met his eyes, exhausted. “I am about to explode, and after what I’ve gone through in the last twenty-four hours, it is a miracle that I haven’t hurt you more than I just did.”

  “I feel like I’m having a fever dream! None of this makes any sense!” Lee yelled, still clutching his groin. “I thought I was asleep! But then, when I realized how bad it hurt, I realized that… you…” Lee looked Xu up and down, his voice pitching higher. “Have… an entirely new… leg…? And… Arm…?”

  "The exam, Lee.” Xu waited.

  Lee’s face blanked.

  "HOLY SHIT, THE EXAM!"

  Lee vanished into the apartment. He reappeared three seconds later with one shoe on and the other in his hand, hopping along as he tried to slip the other on.

  "Taylor doesn't know either!" Lee shouted, already halfway down the hall.

  "How could she not know? She’s more responsible than both of us combined!" Xu yelled back, swinging furiously after him on the crutches.

  Squeak.

  Hop.

  Squeak.

  I am so sick of everything squeaking.

  "Instructor Vance told me! To tell Taylor and you—"

  "But Vance told me!"

  "Maybe he told both—"

  "If he didn’t, you know you're dead, right?!"

  Lee was already down the hall in front of the stairwell. He glanced at the stairs, then at the elevator, then at Xu's crutches. "Um, do you want to—"

  "I’m still a Stage 9—er 8 Zero," Xu glared at the stairs.

  Lee stared at him.

  Ding.

  Taylor's building was a chaotic blur of three twenty-second walks and one unreasonably slow six-minute elevator ride away. A small strip of warm light peeked out from under her front door.

  Thank god she’s up.

  But, I’m not even sure we can make it even if we leave right—HOLY—

  CRASH.

  Lee had planted his foot squarely on Taylor's door and shoved it completely off its hinges. It hit the opposite wall with a concussive boom, somehow still standing, doorknob submerged into the drywall. Dust rained from the ceiling. Deep inside the apartment, a framed picture clattered to the floor.

  Taylor was standing two feet away from her newly minted archway, holding a steaming bowl of noodles—at least—she used to be.

  She looked at her ruined door.

  She looked at Lee.

  Her face mourned her noodles, which were now rapidly cooling down her legs.

  She looked back at Lee.

  "I'm literally." She breathed. "Right here."

  "Oh. Weird. You're usually a heavy sleeper," Lee said, casually stepping over the splintered wood.

  "LEE, THIS IS THE SECOND BOWL THIS WEEK—" She stopped. Her eyes moved past her door executioner.

  Xu stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on his metal poles.

  PENG.

  Taylor dropped her empty bowl. She crossed the room in two strides and threw her arms around him. Xu's arms came up automatically, hovering awkwardly over her back.

  I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do in this situation.

  His eyes shot to Lee.

  Lee shrugged.

  “Thanks… Taylor.”

  His eyes drifted past her shoulder, landing on the kitchen counter.

  Wait.

  Something flitted around the edge of his mind. Something important. He just couldn't pin it down. It felt like searching a small room for an elephant, and still coming up empty-handed.

  "Taylor," Lee said, coughing into his hand and looking at the ceiling.

  She let go immediately, stepping back and clearing her throat.

  Splash.

  She looked down, pursing her lips as she gazed into the puddle of her own broth.

  "Right. Good," Taylor said briskly. "You look terrible. But… a lot better than you did before. Actually… weirdly better. Oh my god… How did he even do that?"

  "Yep," Xu answered curtly.

  He hobbled past her, drawn toward the kitchen. He stood in front of the sink. He stared at the stainless steel basin. He stared harder and tilted his head.

  It’s RIGHT on the tip of my tongue. Why can’t I remember? "Xu," Lee's voice was concerned. "We got you the best doctor we could find, and the first thing you do is go straight back?"

  “Back?” Xu squinted, trapped in his own head. He wracked his mind as hard as he could.

  I went down into the darkness where people basically went to die. I watched a guy in a nanosuit get eaten like a bag of popcorn, bottom up. Lost an arm. Lost a leg, and I almost died. My meridians were rebuilt by an illegal beta project that was the legacy of a rogue madman. I spent three days unconscious in a medical office with someone who lied about his dead wife to feel better about his car. I was studied like an experiment and picked up my bag from a puddle of my own liquefied flesh. Yet… I know. I KNOW I’m forgetting something even more important.

  Taylor walked over, raising a single eyebrow, and barely nudged the sink handle without breaking eye contact.

  Drip.

  Xu froze. His breath hitched.

  The… faucet…?

  "We need to find a way to get to the exam. Fast," Xu said, his voice entirely too casual.

  The ideas that followed were objectively terrible.

  Lee’s master plan involved smuggling themselves in a cargo shipment. He seemed incredibly confident until Xu pointed out the shipment wasn't scheduled to leave for six days. Lee promptly announced that Xu was "killing the vibe."

  Xu suggested braving a condemned section of the underground subway. When Lee asked why people didn’t use it anymore, Xu decided there was no answer that wouldn't lead to being insulted, and abandoned the idea.

  Taylor hadn’t said a word. She sat on the counter, arms crossed, while her eyes focused on the horizon out the window. Her apartment felt suffocatingly small with all three of them pacing. Outside, the city was waking up. The morning shift of the mid-sector seemed to be coming online and clogging the transport lines.

  "That guy," Taylor said finally.

  Both of them looked at her in confusion.

  “Who?” Xu asked.

  "The one who helped Xu." She tilted her head slightly. "He works in the medical sector. He'd have clearance for inner district infrastructure. He could probably get us access to the teleporter."

  Silence fell over the kitchen.

  Xu thought about the man with the Zaddy Sport. "...Millard?"

  Taylor looked at him. "Is that his name?"

  I mean, I'm not even remotely sure, but—

  "Yes."

  Lee tried the name out quietly to himself. "...Millard. That’s tough.”

  "You think he'd do it?" Xu asked.

  Taylor thought for a second. "...Yeah. He'd do it."

  Taylor shoved the door open. It swung hard, catching Millard directly in the shoulder. He spun with a yelp, the hot plate pot in his hand tilting violently. The noodles he had apparently just finished cooking hit the tile floor in one long, criminal, waste of pasta.

  “WHY DON’T YOU PEOPLE KNOCK?!”

  Millard's office was exactly as Xu had left it forty-five minutes ago. The crinkled examination table. The new window. But there was a new faint smell of antiseptic-choked pasta.

  The three of them stood in the middle of the doorway. Millard stood in the middle of his dinner.

  He looked down at his shoes. "My—"

  "Been there," Taylor said, stepping cleanly over the pasta and giving him a quick pat on the shoulder. "We need access to the inner city teleporter."

  Millard's eyes twitched. He looked at the three teenagers who had just demanded high-level clearance. His gaze landed on Xu, then fell to the crutches and foot.

  He exhaled a long, exhausted breath through his nose.

  "The inner city teleporter," he repeated flatly.

  "For the sect examination," Xu said. "In two days."

  Millard gave them a long look. "I mean…" He laughed slightly, his voice became a little higher-pitched. "Teleporters, you know? The Mk1's specifically, they're just… I don't know… Have you considered going the normal way? Might be a better experience. More of a… bonding thing. Scenic even."

  "Can you get us access or not?" Taylor snapped.

  He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, technically I have clearance, yes, but I only get ten uses a month and—"

  "And how many have you used?"

  …

  "...Zero."

  "So you CAN get us access."

  The inner city teleporter hub was significantly larger than any of them had expected, and infinitely more crowded. The ceiling vaulted upward into a massive lattice of steel and frosted glass that all met in the center of the dome, rhythmically flashing a beam of light that reached toward the sky each time it activated.

  The queue stretched back from the glowing platform in a line that disappeared around the corner. Hundreds of people were standing almost motionless.

  One guy was arguing with a security guard off to the side, yelling and swinging his arms in big explanatory gestures.

  Xu grimaced, his crutches digging into the polished floor. “I hate lines.”

  Beside him, Taylor had her arms crossed, her foot tapping against the tile. Lee had his phone out, put it away, sighed, and took it out again.

  The line moved forward one step.

  It had been twenty minutes.

  [ AUTHOR_LOG ] (PSA: INTERLUDE QUESTIONS UNSOLVED)

  DISGUST LEVEL: HIGH

  Xu retrieving his belongings from a "viscous, half-congealed puddle of himself" is a level of character growth I didn't think we'd reach so soon.

  Nothing says "Inner Sect Material" like picking a floating finger out of your own liquefied remains and then using it to traumatize your doctor.

  At this point, he’s stopped fighting the "Super Freak" label and started weaponizing it. He’s just a guy with a set of crutches and a grudge that he handles exclusively through "gifts."

  Millard might have faked a dead wife to feel better about his Zaddy Sport, but Xu made sure to leave him with a little piece of his patient. Literally.

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