The Perimeter by Will McIntosh Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Will McIntosh
dressed in orange and wearing a mask, was holding vigil over her, hovering uncertainly, keeping her distance in a small room with a low, rounded ceiling. For a few seconds, Phillipa couldn’t remember the terrible thing. She knew something awful had happened to her but couldn’t remember what.
Then she saw the creature peering up at her, and she remembered. She made a pitiful, hopeless sound in the back of her throat.
It was hurting her. Not as badly as when the security people burst into her kitchen, but bad. She stood. The pain stopped.
Relief washing over her, she tried to catch her breath. She could only take shallow breaths, and the terror she felt demanded great whooping breaths.
“I can’t breathe,” Phillipa whimpered, looking at the medic, whose mouth was a tight line, her eyes filled with tears.
The thing pricked Phillipa again, and she jolted and cried out. It was less harsh this time; its legs were pressing and easing in a rhythmic motion, not puncturing, and it was only using a few of its legs, all on her left side, high on her rib cage. She sat.
Instantly, the pricking turned to vicious stabbing. Screaming, she leaped to her feet. It stopped.
Melba burst into the room. “What’s happening? What is it doing to you?” Phillipa was too distraught to answer. The rhythmic, focused pricking had started again. It grew more intense, more insistent with each repetition, until it felt like she was being stabbed with a dozen needles. Whimpering, she stepped toward the medic. The medic took a step away reflexively as more feet pricked Phillipa, all on her left side.
“Somebody help me,” Phillipa pleaded. She turned toward Melba, looking for help, any kind of help.
The pain stopped.
“I can give you more painkiller or a stronger sleep inducer,” the medic offered, looking sympathetic but also terrified.
The pain started again, only this time on her right side.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Make it stop. Somebody please make it stop.” She wanted to sit, to sleep, but she was afraid if she did, it would sting her again. The pricking was bad, but the stinging was much worse.
“Phillipa, do you want more painkiller?” the medic asked. Phillipa turned toward her, and the pain stopped.
It started up again instantly on her left side. Phillipa turned toward Melba, to her left, because last time that had worked. It worked again. Phillipa looked down at the little face looking up at her. She almost expected it to nod, but it didn’t; its cold, strange eyes only stared.
The pricking started again, only this time it ran right up the center of her belly and chest, and it was less painful, more of a prod.
Phillipa thought she knew what it wanted her to do. She stepped forward between Melba and the medic. The pricking stopped for an instant, then started up again right up her center. She took another step, then another. The pricking stopped.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Melba asked, following her.
“The pain—it’s directing me with the pain. If I move where it wants, the pain stops.”
“ Wait ,” Melba called as Phillipa stepped out of the little room right into an open field. For a moment, Phillipa didn’t understand where she was. The repulsion fence was fifty meters away. Hundreds of people were lined along the other side, peering…out. They were peering out at her—she was outside the fence. The encampment for the banished—those condemned to die outside the walls because they were both low value and criminal—was a hundred meters to her left.
The people inside were staring, their eyes wide. There were shrieks of surprise and alarm at the sight of Phillipa. Two security people who had been waiting outside the hut eyed her with outright suspicion.
The pain started again, prodding her to walk forward—toward the fence. The thing’s head was darting left, right, up, down, taking in everything. Phillipa stepped toward the fence and the pain eased somewhat. She wasn’t
Then she saw the creature peering up at her, and she remembered. She made a pitiful, hopeless sound in the back of her throat.
It was hurting her. Not as badly as when the security people burst into her kitchen, but bad. She stood. The pain stopped.
Relief washing over her, she tried to catch her breath. She could only take shallow breaths, and the terror she felt demanded great whooping breaths.
“I can’t breathe,” Phillipa whimpered, looking at the medic, whose mouth was a tight line, her eyes filled with tears.
The thing pricked Phillipa again, and she jolted and cried out. It was less harsh this time; its legs were pressing and easing in a rhythmic motion, not puncturing, and it was only using a few of its legs, all on her left side, high on her rib cage. She sat.
Instantly, the pricking turned to vicious stabbing. Screaming, she leaped to her feet. It stopped.
Melba burst into the room. “What’s happening? What is it doing to you?” Phillipa was too distraught to answer. The rhythmic, focused pricking had started again. It grew more intense, more insistent with each repetition, until it felt like she was being stabbed with a dozen needles. Whimpering, she stepped toward the medic. The medic took a step away reflexively as more feet pricked Phillipa, all on her left side.
“Somebody help me,” Phillipa pleaded. She turned toward Melba, looking for help, any kind of help.
The pain stopped.
“I can give you more painkiller or a stronger sleep inducer,” the medic offered, looking sympathetic but also terrified.
The pain started again, only this time on her right side.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Make it stop. Somebody please make it stop.” She wanted to sit, to sleep, but she was afraid if she did, it would sting her again. The pricking was bad, but the stinging was much worse.
“Phillipa, do you want more painkiller?” the medic asked. Phillipa turned toward her, and the pain stopped.
It started up again instantly on her left side. Phillipa turned toward Melba, to her left, because last time that had worked. It worked again. Phillipa looked down at the little face looking up at her. She almost expected it to nod, but it didn’t; its cold, strange eyes only stared.
The pricking started again, only this time it ran right up the center of her belly and chest, and it was less painful, more of a prod.
Phillipa thought she knew what it wanted her to do. She stepped forward between Melba and the medic. The pricking stopped for an instant, then started up again right up her center. She took another step, then another. The pricking stopped.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Melba asked, following her.
“The pain—it’s directing me with the pain. If I move where it wants, the pain stops.”
“ Wait ,” Melba called as Phillipa stepped out of the little room right into an open field. For a moment, Phillipa didn’t understand where she was. The repulsion fence was fifty meters away. Hundreds of people were lined along the other side, peering…out. They were peering out at her—she was outside the fence. The encampment for the banished—those condemned to die outside the walls because they were both low value and criminal—was a hundred meters to her left.
The people inside were staring, their eyes wide. There were shrieks of surprise and alarm at the sight of Phillipa. Two security people who had been waiting outside the hut eyed her with outright suspicion.
The pain started again, prodding her to walk forward—toward the fence. The thing’s head was darting left, right, up, down, taking in everything. Phillipa stepped toward the fence and the pain eased somewhat. She wasn’t