Flux

expanse.
    “Behold the Styx!” exclaimed Bert while picking a sticky bogey from his nose, rolling it in his fingers before popping it into his mouth.
    “What? You’re shitting me?”
    “It’s not as bad as what people say down here you know. All you have to do to is cross.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “Because you want to be free. No more slaving for somebody else, no more world judging you. You can be a Prince.”
    “But, isn’t that hell?”
    “Erm, yes and no. I know it’s had a bad press, but it’s all propaganda, from above.” He looked at the clouds of filth. “Seriously, it’s not that bad. They just want you to believe it is; so they can control you. Over there, life and death don’t exist, you will be immortal.”
    “How would we cross?”
    “Sit here, the ferry will be along soon.”
    Iain had no desire to wait for the ferryman but thought about what waited for him in the world above; a lab rat to be dissected. Then he thought about his friends. They were still in the detention centre; he had to do something to try and save them, he couldn’t just leave them to their fate at the hands of insane doctors.
    “So, what’s that baby crying?”
    “Ah, nothing.”
    “It’s something.”
    “Not my place to say.”
    “Whose is it then?”
    “Not your business.”
    “I’m making it my business.”
    “Just leave it.” Bert was becoming agitated.
    Sensing he’d hit a nerve, Iain thought he’d push the point further. “Tell me?”
    “No. Some things are much, much better left alone.”
    “I’m not going then!”
    Bert’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “That’s not a wise move.”
    “Why not?”
    “He won’t be happy.”
    “Who’s ‘he’?”
    “The Master.”
    “Will he tell me who the baby is?”
    “I wouldn’t ask.”
    “Take me back.” Ian demanded.
    “No.”
    “Take me back. NOW,” screaming. He sensed something vast and horrible waiting on the other side of the water; waiting for him.
    “What do you want to go back for; there’s fuck all for you up there. You have no family, your friends are idiots; nobody likes you or even cares. None of that matters anyway because the minute you’re back, they’ll cut you to pieces; probably take your eyes first: Pull them out and turn them round while they’re still attached so you can see your own bloody face”
    “Fine, I’ll go back myself, I know how.” He started to walk back towards the steps. Not rushing but determined, he began to climb.
    Bert made no attempt to follow. “You’ll never make it,” he shouted at Iain’s back.
    “Watch me.”
    The spiders also watched as he climbed upwards, whatever had tamed them before no longer exerted any power and they knew it. Slowly at first they made an advance, moving towards him; scuttling up walls, traversing the rock until the first of them jumped onto the steps just ahead of Iain.
    Instinctively and without thinking he kicked out, catching the spider full on in the mouth. It let out a small howl before sliding off the steps and hurtling downwards. They can be hurt! Iain, given extra momentum by his small victory increased his pace, now running, taking the steps two at a time but the spiders were faster, better adapted to moving over gnarly rock and they soon had him surrounded.
    Back to the wall, he flailed, kicking and punching and although he claimed more than his fair share of casualties they were too great in number. He was cornered and had nowhere to run. One of the creatures jumped, landing on his chest, powerful mandibles snapping at his throat; all eight black, shiny eyes firmly fixed on his. Iain thought of his dream, where Michelle had the insides pulled out of her and clamped his own mouth tightly shut. Pushing with all his might, he managed to shove the spider off, only to find it replaced with another. He felt pain in his legs.

    A flash of light temporarily blinded Iain and he shut his eyes against the glare.
    When he opened them again, he was strapped to the trolley; doctors and nurses were looking down at him, relief etched onto their faces. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, he thought to himself as he let his lids shut once again and gave up the fight.

Chapter Twenty
    Assessments

    “Seizure? What kind of seizure?” Doctor Goodman rested her head in her hands whilst clutching the phone between ear and shoulder. “Can you mail me the scans please?”
    “Yes of course, but they didn’t show anything conclusive because of