He stepped up to the bars and inserted the pin to the top. He pulled away automatically with shock, but the electricity held the pin there. As he watched the pin began to glow white hot, until finally the bar’s generator exploded in an array of white and blue sparks from which he had to shield his eyes momentarily.
He stepped up to the bars again and attempted to stretch them. To his surprise, they slid open. He stepped out and looked around.
There was no one in either corridor, in any direction. Both sides seemed equally long and equally intimidating, stretching on forever. So he just went with his gut and chose right. He started to run but his body rebelled, smashing him to the floor. He looked down at his feet, which were now bleeding again from the crucifixion wounds.
“Dammit. Where’s my guardian monster when I need him?” he uttered in self-pity as he began to crawl along the floor. Inwardly, he thought, It hurts. It hurts so bad. But I can’t stop. Just like Sara always said. You can never stop. I swear I’ll kill that monster for what he did to you.
“Just like his mother,” chuckled the voice behind the intercom, before letting out a massive, hacking cough. “An admirable try, my boy. But nobody escapes from Alpha Quadrant twice in one lifetime.”
He pressed a small red button on his control panel, and a buzzer began to sound throughout the facility.
Xander heard the buzzer and forced himself to his feet, despite the incredible amount of pain that it caused. He made his way to the end of the corridor already gasping for breath, then looked around for options.
Again, it was a simple choice of left or right. He thought he heard something and turned around quickly, sending shoots of pain up and down his spine. He thought that he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t be sure. Turning back around, he decided to once again go right.
He limped to the end of that hallway, to a large yellow door. A gold plated plaque on it read: STORAGE. He opened it slowly and stepped inside.
It looked like a warehouse, but with no visible exits that he could see. Large wooden crates were stacked up almost to the ceiling and there was moving equipment everywhere. He walked to the middle of the first column.
He heard the faint sound of scuttling footsteps and turned around quickly. It was like thousands of crabs all clambering toward him at once, their tiny legs pounding against the tile. Or spiders. It could have been spiders, too.
The door that he came in through was swinging, back and forth, then came to a slow stop.
Somebody’s here.
Xander turned around slowly, surveying his situation and his environment.
The crates seemed to go on for forever and ever, like a large wooden stairway. There were gaps where he could see through to the next column and when he looked out through them, all he could see was a long, slender hallway filled with more wooden crates.
He leaned on the box in front of him to get a better look. The cover rattled slightly with a clunk. He reached his nails under the lid and began to pull up. Almost instantly, pain began to shoot up his arms from his wrists. Blood poured fresh again, and he let a swear pass through his blood spattered lips. The cover finally popped off, revealing that it was filled with items that appeared to be bottles, all wrapped in a thick layer of soft gauze. Taking the prime opportunity, he unwrapped some gauze and wrapped it around his wrists. When they were done, he applied some to his heels, the cuts on which had stretched and bled with every step he’d made, and then finally to his side. The makeshift bandages almost instantly filled with blood, but they seemed to be helping.
He glanced down at what was in the jar.
It was a heart.
He jerked back with shock, dropping the jar to the floor. It shattered with an ear splitting sound that echoed throughout the entire facility. Formaldehyde splattered onto his cuts, causing a slight burning sensation as he backed into the row of crates behind him.
He felt a sudden rush of wind and turned around, but there was nobody there. He felt cold. He began to turn around and thought he saw something in the next row out of the corner of his eye and followed it. Again, nothing. He ran to the end of the column, turned the corner, and gazed down the next row. Nothing. He looked down the next. Again nothing. He kept running down the same direction, trying to trap his follower. It occurred to him that given his condition that this may not have been the wisest tactic, but he had to know.
The columns ended abruptly.
There was nobody to be seen. Then it dawned upon him: he could have easily doubled back... and followed him. He stopped dead in his tracks and slowly began to turn around. He closed his eyes, expecting that when he opened them, Genblade would be raining down hell on him. He fully believed that it would be the last thing he would ever see. Coming to a halt, he slowly opened his eyes.
Nothing.
Nothing but the bare hallway. He let out a sigh of relief.
-clunk, clunk-
The sound came from above.
Xander looked up just in time to see the crate fall.
“Get up,” said the soft, soothing, feminine voice.
The voice triggered a memory deep within him. He had gotten into a fight with
