All or Nothing by Stuart Keane Page B

matter of time.

FIFTEEN
     
     
     
    Heather Mason was awake.
    Awake and afraid.
    She sat on the panelled flooring rubbing her head, not sure if she'd hit herself on the way down, but knowing for sure she had landed in the vomit below her. It was all over her front and face and hands.
    Gross .
    So she'd leaned across and wiped herself on one of the fallen clone’s garments. Then she realised that they'd all fallen down. They lay randomly on the floor, three on their backs, one on his front. Another was strangely bent, with his arse still perched on the bench, but with his face on the floor. One sat leaning against the wall and three more were just lying on their sides as if they were happily sleeping.
    Nothing moved.
    Why had they fallen ? She wondered, curious.
    Heather didn’t want to wait around and find out. She stood up, reeking of puke and feeling terrible, and started walking. She made sure to step between the fallen bodies and navigated well, treading on one outstretched hand. Heather half expected to hear a yelp and for the hand to grab her ankle. But it didn’t. She pushed open the door and went through the opening, slamming it behind her and leaning against it, feeling a huge wave of relief at leaving the inert bodies behind.
    The room was just like all the other hallways, except for one difference. Sure, it was panelled and mirrored in the same way; the steadfast light bars adorned the ceiling and illuminated the room for her. The difference was a gaping hole in the wall. Also there were no doorways. She tried to estimate how much force would be needed to break through one of these walls, and didn’t even want to consider the consequences if she tried to do so.
    She tip-toed across to the hole and peered through it.
    Heather felt as if she might vomit again.
    However, she didn’t, even though the fear returned in droves.
    The room had the same decor once again.
    How fucking predictable and boring!
    The panelling, mirroring and lighting were the same.
    The four dead clones on the ground were her main concern.
    One clone had a hole in his head and lay face down, pools of blood congealing around him. His legs appeared to be broken and his arms were splayed out at awkward angles. His gown was stained dark brown with dried blood.
    Next to him sat another clone, leaning against the wall with his entire left arm and part of the shoulder missing. Heather assumed that was the cause of the blood spatter on the wall behind him, and his limb had simply been obliterated in combat. His throat was also slit and, again, his gown was coloured dark brown with dried blood. Sputum hung from his mouth, mixed with blood.
    As for the third clone, only his legs were visible, the upper half of his body had been slammed through a mirror on the wall, and presumably blood had smeared the wall below it as he’d struggled, now he was impaled on the glass. The fourth man had been beheaded, his headless corpse still standing in the middle of the floor; his arms hung lifeless at his side while his feet remained perfectly stable, supporting the weight of his torso. A shove would clearly knock him over. Behind him, a huge blood smear streaked around the room’s corner, as if one of these corpses had been dragged along.
    Heather desperately wanted to go back.
    But how could she? That route led nowhere.
    She had to go forward, past the headless corpse and follow the blood trail.
    Heather had no choice.
    Stepping carefully so as not to tread in the blood or gore that was festooned around the room, Heather navigated her way to the corner and past the headless corpse. She fully expected the body to come alive and seize her, but it didn’t. Paranoia was starting to creep up on her. She pushed the corpse over for good measure: it wasn’t so disquieting when it was lying down with its buddies. It hit the floor with a soggy squelch. Heather found the corner of the room and peered round it.
    There was another door.
    The blood trail disappeared,