The days stretched and blended into a single protracted wait. With no sun or stars by which to measure time it instead revolved around the doctor’s visits. Everyone of them was meaningful to Chris. Everytime that door opened was another chance to put his plan into motion. Every time the doctor called him to his table Chris would sneak just a little more fabric into the bolt hole of his cell door. The motion required to do so had become such a constant source of stress and fear for Chris that his nightmares revolved around some small variation, or even lack of variation, completely ruining all of his effort. It had almost certainly raised his resting heart rate by some unhealthy degree over the last few days.

But today his heart was racing for a different reason. When the doctor had slid the bolt home yesterday, it had not clicked. The pin that held the bolt shut and locked, had not dropped. The door could be opened.

He forced himself to sleep, to retain an air of normality. Everything was exactly as it should be, and there was no reason for anyone to look any closer. He completely failed at doing this, but the plan was salvaged by his inherently alien nature, the Doctor watching him on the cameras assuming that his unusual demeanor was simply a human condition. Chris had certainly come across as strange enough to excuse this latest eccentrency.

The door opened and the doctor shuffled in, carting his bag behind him. He moseyed around the room, exchanging a brief good morning with Chris before giving a cursory look to the other caged animals within the room. “I believe you’ll accompany me today Scabs.”

“Bite me slaver.” The dog spoke. Chris brightened at the sound. Today was the day.

The dog was always the most difficult of patients for Seethis to handle. By the end of each of their sessions the Doctor was always dripping with sweat, though to Chris’ eyes all the dog did was lie still on the metal slab.

Seethis opened the door to the dog’s cage and Scabs lunged forward, intent to drive his teeth into the doctor’s flesh. Then he froze, as if grasped by a thousand hands and the doctor dragged him to the slab and slammed him forcefully onto it. “I wish we didn’t have to do this song and dance every time Scabs. I honestly, truthfully mean that. But I cannot suffer attacks upon my person so lightly. As you have seen. And yet you persist. Perhaps if your attempts were not so stupid I could at least find it in my heart to respect you and your tenacity. Unfortunately for us all that cannot be the case.” The doctor talked, undercut by the rattle of his cart as he wheeled it next to the slab and hoisted the straps to hold the dog in place.

Then he began his work, moving in a practiced, fluid manner to draw blood and inject various concoctions of questionable purpose into the beast. Chris’ testing was nowhere near as invasive as what the other animals received, the only use of needles had been to draw blood for examination.

Chris rolled himself forward in complete silence. His nails had grown long in his captivity and now they pried anxiously at the small gap between lock and frame through which he could see single the bolt that stood between him and freedom. It was hard to find purchase on the smooth metal, but he had time and refused to panic only to ruin everything now.

His blood was rushing in his ears so loudly that the sound almost drowned out the sweet sigh of metal on metal as the bolt slowly, but surely, pushed back. The door swung open and Chris stepped out, his eyes boring into the back of Seethis’ head. He crept forward, every muscle in his body tense and alert.

Then he was close enough to touch the Doctor. His eyes flicked away, just for an instant. The axe was right where he’d known it would be. He kept his eyes on Seethis as he crouched down low, hands held at his side. Then he turned away again, reached, and with a motion practically burned into his conscious mind he grabbed the haft of the axe and swooped to his feet. Chris held his breath as his eyes turned back. The Doctor was carrying on, with no inkling of what stood behind him. Chris raised the axe above his head and stopped. Could he really do this? He absolutely could.

The axe swung down with every ounce of the sizable weight Chris carried trailing behind it and buried its head deep enough that the wood cracked and splintered against the doctor’s skull. Then hell’s choir began as the animals all began howling and thrashing at the bars of their cages. But Chris couldn’t hear a thing. The circle of his vision was sealed to the point of impact. A gaping hole that bled far more than he could have expected. His hands felt hot. Too hot, as if the haft of the axe was burning into them. A searing pain that didn’t hurt. The dog was barking something at him, but he didn’t have the heart to listen. His hands were still gripping the axe, he tried to let go. He couldn’t. His hands were shaking. His emotions boiled in the pit of his stomach. Some mixture of equal parts disbelief, horror, success and delight. The dog was barking still. “Shut up.” Chris whispered, to the dog. His hands grew hotter still, and now he felt liquid running down his face in rivulets, too fast to be sweat. It was all so red. He hadn’t expected it to be red at all. He thought it would be some alien color, but it was all red. Just like His mother’s had been. Just like Rays had been.

He wanted to close his eyes. He couldn’t, so he tried to look away. His face wouldn’t move. The dog was barking. “Shut up.” Chris whispered to himself. He could smell it now. A cloying metallic smell that stuffed itself into his nose and mouth like a vengeful, ghostly fist. He wanted to puke. He couldn’t even do that.

The dog was barking.

“Shut up.” Chris squeaked. He was about to cry again. He didn’t want to. This was supposed to be his moment. He’d played it through in his head hundreds of times. He’d planned and worked all for this. He didn’t feel any pride. He just felt sick. And it was far too loud. “SHUT UP!” Chris howled.

The lab sent silent. Chris tore the axe to the right, a forceful movement to try and regain some semblance of control over himself. Seethis’ body fell over limply. Chris’ eyes met the dog’s. There was none of the pitying hatred he’d seen before, there was respect. And fear. Chris liked that look, he liked how it made him feel. It made him feel powerful, like he was more than just some boy barely holding on to an axe that was too heavy for him.

“What do you want?” Chris asked forcefully.

“The keys. You can free us.” Slabs spoke, hushed and careful, eyeing the axe that swayed in Chris’ weak grip.

Chris tried to think of something cool, or at least clever to say. But when he started thinking, his hands began to grow hot, and his gut started boiling all over again. So he stopped. And now when he looked down at Seethis, he felt nothing. There was nothing left in his head to feel.

The keys jingled as he pulled them free from the Doctor’s pocket. He threw them onto the table and turned to leave. “Wait, please. My straps.” Right, Chris thought. He turned and brought the axe down on each of the straps with a clang. His arms would barely lift high enough for the fourth and he perhaps should have been worried that the dog would turn on him.

Slabs didn’t however and simply took the keys into his mouth with surprising dexterity and turned to open the cages, straps trailing from each of his limbs. Chris left before the first was open and moved deeper into the caves. He stumbled into a room, it might have been the first, he couldn’t remember. He shut the door behind him and sank low. He sat, shaking. He wasn’t asleep, he definitely wasn’t awake. He simply stared forward, looking at nothing at all.