James Axler – Cold Asylum

In the open space at the junction of several corridors, a small group of the muties stood together, watching in silence as the seven outlanders advanced.

“Cover them,” Ryan said.

He looked at the coded panel beside the doors, checking his memory for the combination of letters and numbers that would give them access.

“Green with envy, Claude Monet painted nineteen pictures in his blue period. Five of Edward Edgar’s compositions made him red with anger.”

Everyone stared at Doc for a few moments in total incomprehension. Mildred tumbled to what he was saying first. “Nice one,” she said admiringly. “Excellent mnemonic for the code on the doors.”

Then Ryan realized what was going on, working slowly through Doc’s memory aid. “Green, C, M, nineteen, blue, five, E, E. Red. Yeah, that’s what I make it.”

He punched in the code, waiting for several fraught seconds before the mechanism responded. Once before, they’d had terrifying trouble with a broken elevator, and it wasn’t an experience that he wanted to repeat.

Finally there was a pneumatic hiss, and the dull metal doors slid apart.

“Inside.”

Ryan stood and kept an eye on the cannies, four male and two female, but they were so apathetic that they seemed to be merely waiting for death.

J.B. went in first, turning with the Uzi at the ready. Mildred was second, then Doc and Dean. Michael came next, with Krysty last.

Ryan bolstered his blaster and joined the others, reaching out to press the button that would take the elevator speeding to the lower level.

“Look out!” Michael shouted.

The doors were already sliding shut, but one of the muties had decided to attack them.

It ran in curious slow motion, holding a jagged-edged dagger that looked like it had once been part of a pruning saw. The cannie’s mouth hung open and a thread of green saliva dangled from its thick lips.

But it was too late, and the gap had narrowed to a few inches as the creature finally arrived. The knife jabbed out, but the warning had given everyone time enough to back away out of reach. The doors clamped shut, just above the mutie’s elbow, gripping it for a moment.

Ryan reacted fastest, drawing the eighteen-inch panga and hacking at the trapped arm. He put all of his strength into the blow, feeling the sharpened steel cut through skin, flesh, muscle and bone, the blade severing the limb just above the wrist.

There was a muffled groan and the hand dropped inside the cage, the stump of the arm being instantly withdrawn. The doors had begun to open, reacting to the obstruction, but now they hissed smoothly shut.

“Come on,” Dean whispered. “Yeah” He smiled and punched the air, as the elevator finally began to drop.

They all stared in fascinated horror at the bloody severed hand. It had released the knife, but the stubby fingers were still opening and closing, the crooked, broken nails scraping on the dusty metal floor.

“I fear that I may be about to lose the remainder of the contents of my stomach,” Doc muttered.

But he held on until the doors opened once more, revealing the corridor that stretched toward the mat-trans unit.

THE SMELL OF DEATH and corruption was less overpowering down in the cooler passages that wound toward the gateway, but it was still there, lingering at the back of the mind like a constant reminder of mortality.

The cherry-red armaglass walls of the chamber stood cold and empty.

“Everyone ready?” Ryan asked, waiting while J.B. joined them, having made sure that the sec doors were safely locked, keeping that part of the complex secure.

“Mebbe we should all hold hands,” Michael suggested. “After what happened last time, next jump we might all go someplace else and then not be lucky enough to get back together again.”

“Not a bad idea.” Krysty looked around. “Let’s do it this time, okay?”

Doc stepped in first, the heels of his cracked knee boots tapping on the metal disk in the floor. He was holding his prized new golden Le Mat in his left hand, the sword stick in the right. As he sat down, leaning against the wall, he laid both weapons across his lap.