Page 2 of Alchemised
“Sure was. Started screaming when we lifted the top and pulled her up. Gave me a heart attack, I can tell you. Willems was so startled, he nearly drowned her, and when we did get her out, she was fucking feral. Scratched the shit out of me until we got her knocked out. Had the intravenous and all, but the sedation was turned off. Someone must’ve bumped it.”
“That doesn’t explain the lack of records for this one,” said the woman. “Seems odd.”
“Probably done in a hurry. Couldn’t have been kept for long. Even the ones properly done are mostly dead. Lot of the tanks are just soup and bones.” The man laughed nervously.
“We’ll know more once I have her in Central,” the woman said. She sounded disinterested. “You were right to call this in. It’s anomalous. Let me know how many of the rest wake. Any corpses intact enough for reanimation go to the mines. The living stock goes to the Outpost.”
“Of course. And you’ll put in a good word for me, right? It would mean a lot if it comes from you.” The man sounded hopeful, and his chuckle was forced. “Not getting any younger, you know.”
“The High Necromancer has many petitions to consider. Your work will not be forgotten. Have a lorry made ready for transport.”
There were retreating footsteps followed by an irritated sigh.
“There’s no need to feign unconsciousness; I know you’re awake. Open your eyes,” the woman said. “I’ve altered your senses, so the light shouldn’t be too much.”
Helena peered cautiously through her lashes.
The world around her was greenish dusk, every form shadow-like. The vague shape of a person moved on her right side.
Her eyes followed sluggishly.
“Good. You’re following instructions and tracking motion.”
Helena tried to speak, but a low gasping emerged.
There was a click of a pen and papers shuffling.
“So, Prisoner 1273, or are you Prisoner 19819? You have two inmate numbers, and there’s no record of either in this facility. Do you happen to have a name?”
Helena said nothing. Now that the mere concept of light was not a terror, she could think a little. She was still a captive.
The woman gave an impatient huff. “Do you understand me?”
Helena gave no response.
“Well, I suppose I can’t expect much. We’ll know soon anyway. You, bring her.”
The shape blurred away, and new figures appeared. Cold skin pressed against her wrists. The stench of chemical preservatives and old meat burned in her nose. Necrothralls. She tried to make out the faces, but her eyes kept sliding off, refusing to focus.
The table began vibrating as it was rolled across a stone floor, radiating through her skull into her teeth.
Then it was so bright, it was like needles being driven into her retinas. She gave a muffled scream, squeezing her eyes shut again.
There was a nauseating lurch upwards, and everything grew darker again, a motor rumbling to life somewhere beneath her.
She needed to escape. She tried to shift and felt the clank of metal.
“Lie still.” The woman’s voice was suddenly back. Very close.
Helena jerked away, breath coming in rapid pants and her hands and feet twisting against the restraints. She had to run. She had to—
“Don’t make my day harder,” the woman said, her voice icy.
Fingers gripped the base of Helena’s skull, and a pulse of energy flooded through her brain.
Darkness again.
JOLTING AGONY AND SUDDEN TERROR ripped Helena back into consciousness.
