“This is the most basic of our rooms,” Erica said, noticing Salvi’s curiosity. “Travis isn’t one for costumes and accessories, though we do keep some basics in the drawers for those who change their minds. Anything more elaborate needs to be ordered through the menu. Now, sit on the bed, face the door.”
Salvi eyed her, unmoving, her mind desperately thinking of escape. Erica scowled and tapped her data pane. The world turned again, and Salvi fell down to her hands and knees.
“Sit on the bed and face the door,” Erica said again firmly.
Salvi, panting, pulled herself to her feet. She had to get that data pane out of Erica’s hands or she would not be getting out of there.
Erica opened a drawer and pulled out a syringe filled with a red liquid.
Flyte.
Glitched memories swirled in Salvi’s mind of leaving Diabolique that night, and her stomach turned in synch. Memories of no memories; of someone controlling her and leaving no evidence; of seeing the bruises on Mitch the next day; of things she’d done but her mind wasn’t there for. Again her stomach turned.
“I’m going to be sick,” Salvi said, sliding her hand over her stomach.
“Sure you are,” she said testing the syringe.
“No, really…” Desperate, Salvi did everything she could to try to make herself throw up. Anything to stall. She started pulling her stomach muscles in, she opened her throat, she made dry-retching, gagging movements. Anything to buy her time or get Erica to move closer to her and maybe put the needle down.
Salvi gagged, and Erica paused to watch. Salvi worked up the saliva in her mouth and spat it out on the floor, still lurching.
“Shit…” Erica muttered. She placed the syringe down, pulled a champagne bucket from the bar, and held it out to Salvi, who now had a line of drool hanging from her mouth. Salvi grabbed the bucket with both hands and moved it to her mouth as though she were about to throw up. Panting, she tensed her body, gripped the bucket firmly, then smashed it hard into Erica’s face.
Erica cried out in pain and dropped the data pane as her hands rushed up to the blood gushing from her nose. Salvi lunged upward and smashed the metal ice bucket into her head again and again, until Erica fell back against the drawers, holding her arms up to block the blows. But Salvi didn’t stop. Time was short and lives were on the line.
Erica tried to pivot around Salvi and reached for the data pane on the floor, but Salvi dropped the bucket and threw her arm around Erica’s throat and pulled her back from it. Erica reached back with her hands, clawing at Salvi’s neural devices. Salvi screamed in pain and began punching at the side of Erica’s face. Erica relinquished her grip of the devices and Salvi grabbed her right arm, twisting it high up her back, then slammed her into the wall, then down to the floor. Throwing her weight on top of the woman, Salvi reached out for the metal bucket once more and smashed it into Erica’s head, again and again, until she stopped moving.
Salvi stared down at the woman’s bloodied head, as her own throbbed heavily and her stomach swirled, and this time she vomited for real. She wiped her hand across her mouth, still panting, as fresh blood dripped down her face from where Erica had clawed at her neural devices. She winced in pain as she glanced around. She didn’t have much time before Travis would arrive. She had to get back to Kara and Bronte and get the hell out of this place. She spied the syringe on the table and quickly leapt up. She grabbed it and stabbed it into Erica’s neck, to ensure the woman, if she woke, would not be in any position to raise an alarm. Once the syringe was emptied, she threw it aside and stepped back.
Now she had to get out of here.
Salvi glanced down at the robe she wore and swiftly tore it off, then set about putting on Erica’s clothes, grateful the dark red nursing uniform hid the blood splatters upon it. Once dressed she used her robe to delicately wipe the blood from around her neural devices. She would not be able to walk the corridors with blood dripping from her temples. She moved for the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. She suddenly realized she needed Erica’s access pass.
And that was inside her hand.
Salvi glanced about the room frantically, then she remembered the menu on the wall. She moved it and, with bloodied fingers, tried to order a knife, but it required some sort of access code to confirm payment.
“Fuck!” she hissed, and glanced around again, head still throbbing. She spied the data pane on the chest of drawers, grabbed it, and smashed it down upon the benchtop until it broke into shards. Then she grabbed a shard, clasped it in her fist and moved back to Erica.
She saw a faint scar on her palm indicating where her access device must have been inserted. She pressed the shard into Erica’s hand and cut around until she found the chip she was looking for. Fighting another wave of dizziness and the urge to vomit, she pulled it out, then moved for the door.
But as she did, she caught sight of herself in a small mirror on the wall.
Her neural devices.
She’d wiped the blood away,
