Derelict: Chapter 5
#13 of Scrap Book
Derelict: Chapter 5
The place that the two Dobermans brought me was nothing short of a war camp set up in the dying remains of a clinic. Dozens of people, most of them unarmed and with the look of death about them huddled close together around small tea candles that littered the floor. They bore the faces of those who had seen too much in their lives and shy away from me as I walked past.
The reason why I called it a war camp was because of the guards who defended the place. They wore makeshift armor made from whatever was lying around, whether it be a metal sheet from a wall as a shield that a place faced man hefted with his left arm while carrying a spear fashioned from an IV drip and kitchen knives to standard military like combat suits. They stood watch at the hatch that I came in through, staring into the darkness beyond, waiting for anything that may dare to enter without their own blessings. They were ready to fight and I could tell that any fighting that occurred was up close and bloody by the series of splatters that adorned the wall like trophies of previous victories.
I began to doubt my reasoning for flowing the Dobermans who had kept silly grins on their faces the entire slow walk through the dimly lit halls. Then again, these people weren't trying to kill me at the moment, I could have run into something far worse, whatever that may be. I didn't know what laid waiting in the darkness of the station and I didn't want to know.
The guards let me pass without even giving me a second look. A man who appeared to be the leader of them just returned a nod that Benny gave. It was a small nod to acknowledge our existence until he returned his stone hard gaze to the hatch that we had just come through. I feared the kinds of things a man would have to see, or in the case of the guards, fight, to give a small hatch undivided attention. It was as if even a moment's lapse of focus would spell certain doom for all of the inhabitants of the clinic.
"Doctor Morrison's office is over here." Benny led me through a short maze of twists and turns, giving me an unofficial tour of the setup they had. All hatches leading out of the clinic, minus one, were sealed, welded and barricaded. Graffiti was scrawled across many of the walls, telling the tale of people who had lost hope.
Help is never coming!
The ferals are just outside, waiting for us to let our guard down.
Why has god forsaken us?
Their messages did little to calm my nerves that had never ceased to quicken my breath and draw the feeling that I was going to have to face whatever horrors that had spawned in the darkness. Jerry and Manny were still out there. We had all gone merrily into the dark depths of the derelict station, unaware that we were far from being alone.
The floor was littered with debris of all kinds. The empty tin shells of what I would assume to be months of tea candles were kicked aside as I walked. No one had cared to clean them up or store the garbage properly. The garbage was left where it was dropped, only to be moved when it was an inconvenience like it was now. The tins shells scattered before my feet, clinking and clanking as they rolled and bounced away.
"Here it is." Stubby cheerfully barked, which I actually welcomed. They may have been annoying, but their oblivious bliss was a nice contrast to the doom and gloom that inhabited ever corner of the clinic.
I stood before a normal looking door made of the same metal that everything else was made of, dull, grey steel. Above the door on the frame, in white acrylic was the name of the man who inhabited the room beyond.
"Dr. Albert Morrison." I read it slowly to myself. The name seemed familiar, giving me the feeling that one would get when they had a dream that closely resembled real life, a sense of Déjà vu that I could not shake. I didn't immediately go in, I let the whole situation soak in for a moment. I needed to have a clear head. I was the one who was going in without the slightest idea of what was going in and needed to be as prepared as possible for whatever this doctor wanted. The dogs had said that they were told to kill engineers for whatever reason. This told me that Dr. Morrison wasn't afraid to sentence others to death, I suppose me included if I did something wrong.
"You going in?" Stubby asked, his ears twitching at the silence that surrounded us. His hand was now wrapped in several layers of bandages, but otherwise was left forgotten, dangling at his side. I didn't regret doing what I did, he lunged at me and I defended myself, simple. Why couldn't everything be simple? Why couldn't he station be empty and not full of exploding monitors that shredded my face which had thankfully stopped bleeding? It still hurt, a constant stinging and burning sensation had been erupting from every inch of my face for the past hour. I could feel every single one of the many lacerations that now disfigured me, I would be unrecognizable to anyone who knew me.
Without another word, I grasped the door knob and turned it. A small click greeted me as the door swung slowly inward, leading me into a rather well kept office of the middle aged man who stood at the far end. His eyes were dark, only small white reflections from the single candle that sat on a counter lit his face.
I slowly walked in, leaving the two happy dogs behind who stood just outside like sentries that would more be more likely to ask you how the weather was rather than stop a murderer. The man's eyes followed me as I walked to the center of the room. He wore a ragged doctor's coat that was, like the wall, covered in dried blood. He had a full head of grey hair with only the slightest of white at the sides. He was rather well groomed with his combed hair and a neatly trimmed Van Dyke beard.
"Uhh. Hello." I said, breaking the silence. I wondered if the blood on his clothes was from saving or taking lives.
"Hello." He answered back with a smooth voice that would have been perfect for a motivational speaker. Deep enough to be assertive, but soft enough to be welcoming to all. "Please have a seat." He gestured with hand to a rather worn looking metal chair. It was the only chair in the room and sat next to the table that carried the sole candle in the room.
I took the seat, easing my aching body into it where the hard metal only seemed to agitate the bruises more. I ignored the pain like I had been doing the entire time, giving the doctor my full undivided attention. The dogs had brought me here on his orders and I was going to figure out why.
He crossed his arms while looking me up and down. "You look worse than most of the people hear." He laughed, catching me completely off guard. The room seemed to lighten up a bit at the man's sudden change in demeanor.
"Happens when things explode in your face." I chuckled, more than happy to discard any ill thoughts I had. I wanted the man to be nice and not some insane psychopathic doctor that only brought me here to kill me himself.
"Indeed." He nodded and dug into the large pockets at his side where he took out some bandages. "Let me take care of your face first and then we'll talk." He offered and I did not refuse his help.
Silently, he wrapped up my face as best as he could. The sheer amount of cuts made it impossible to cover up everything without entirely covering my eyes and mouth so I was left with a patchy job. Despite that, I was still better off than before and the feeling of the bandages that were tightly woven around my face was soothing. My guess was that they had some sort of weak numbing agent imbued into them to help with the paint that had dulled greatly.
"There." He said and stood back as he tied a knot to keep his handy work from falling apart. "Not the best I've done, but not the worse either."
"Thanks." I felt the rough texture of the bandages with a hand.
"Now let's get to business." He extended a hand. "Chief Medical Specialist, Dr. Albert Morrison at your service." He took on a bad British accent and I half expected him to add an "Oi" in there somewhere.
"Troy." I said, aware of how dull it sounded when compared to his own introduction. I took his hand and shook it before bringing it back to rest on my lap.
"Pleasure." He grinned. Just with that short exchange, the reality of where I was and what was going on had slipped to the back of my mind. I was thankful that he was so inviting. "Now if you don't mind, let me ask you something." He scratched at his beard. "You with the engineers?" He voice got dark and his eyes brooding at the question.
The sudden change in demeanor scared me at the way he said engineers. The poison in how he said it told a tale of hate.
"N..no." I raised up a hand in a sign of what I hoped would be peace or something non-threatening. "I just got to this station."
"Just got here?" He asked, the hate replaced with confusion. "How?"
"On a ship." I said, the stupidity of both of our words not dawning on either of us. Of course I came on a ship, I didn't walk here from Jupiter.
"From the outside." He mumbled in what I assume was shock. I couldn't tell, his demeanor had changed so much in the past ten seconds. "How many came with you?" He finally calmed down.
"Two others. We separated to try and get the station working." I don't know why I began to spill everything out, it just felt right to tell him everything. Maybe he would help? It was worth trying to get it. "We're salvagers."
"Of course your salvagers." He rubbed his eyebrows. "The company doesn't care enough to get here before salvagers. Probably isn't sending anything anyways." He breathed out a sigh and looked at me.
"Company?"
"Jostens and Hawthorne." I knew them. Everyone did, rich, powerful, that kind of stuff. "So rich that they can build this station, but so full of themselves that they won't save us when it falls apart." He leaned back up against the wall that was decorated with a single picture of Neptune, glowing due to the sun which was off to the right.
"What now?" I questioned. It was a question aimed both at me and him since I couldn't exactly go anywhere. I didn't get the feeling that I was being held here against my will, but I didn't exactly feel like wandering out in the dark alone.
"How big is your ship?" He raised an eyebrow. I could see the gears in his head turning.
"Not massive, but it's decent." I answered back, trying to think of what he was getting at. "Big enough to carry a good amount of salvage."
"Life support for the entire thing?"
"Yeah." I started to get an idea of where this was going.
"I have a proposition for you."
"Only if you help me find my friends." I wasn't about to leave the station with a bunch of desperate people unless Jerry and Manny were with me. I wondered where they were or even if they were alive. I still didn't know what was out there, lurking in the shadows. The graffiti earlier had talked about ferals, that didn't sound good and I would need help to find my friends.
"Deal." He said without a moments hesitation.