In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Matthew had learned to run without thinking. A kind of running that was more like throwing himself forward than anything. It wasn't artful, it wasn't athletic. It was fast, it was necessary. It was the perfect embodiment of Matthew's few crazed acts of desperation.
And as he ran through the hallway at Nerve Center, he couldn't think of anything other than the fact that he needed to leave. The way was blinding -- white walls and the white linoleum floor, a few white doors flew past as he ran.

He went to the end of the hall, straight for the window, where he expected to see nighttime. The hall was empty, much to his surprise, and the sounds of his bare footsteps echoed off the walls. The window was flush with color -- red, orange and bright... Matthew turned past the window and threw himself into the staircase, rushing down as fast as he could, sucking in deep, huffing breaths through his mouth.

He was halfway down the stairs when he realized he had been staring into flames.

He reached the bottom floor, the very last flight and ran to the door at the end of the staircase. The handle buckled under his weight and he pushed forward into darkness. It was unnatural darkness, and Matthew's senses quickly adjusted to the space, still acquainted with the room upstairs. It was dimly lit, entirely closed off. Every few feet, a fluorescent light in the ceiling cast a pale beam down the floor. From where he stood, just a few feet from the staircase, he stared directly down the concrete aisle, his footsteps still echoing to the end. Large white trucks were stacked on either side, all about fifteen feet height, with barely a few feet in between. They were lined up all the way down the room in long, calculated rows. Matthew didn't have to look long before he realized he was not somewhere where he should be, and his stomach dropped. He could've sworn somewhere beyond, somewhere past his eyeline, he heard movement.

He turned to leave, a quick thrash backwards. He went to the door to the stairwell, big and metallic like the rest of the place and landed his hand on the cold knob. It caught halfway, and the keypad to the left of it lit up bright red. It beeped out into the open, the sound cascading down the path into the darkness, like an alarm. Matthew shushed it, stupidly, turning back to the room around him, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever. The empty darkness felt more suffocating than Main Street.

And then, the familiar, inquisitive beeps of a Bot, from the other side.

Matthew jumped to action, rushing to his right. He still clutched the screwdriver in his hand, and he pulled it up towards his body. He tried his hardest to tread lightly, scurrying to the side of the first white truck in the assembly line. These trucks, big, white and nondescript only made sense in Matthew's mind for one reason: transport. Whether that be Bots or humans, he didn't know.

Matthew pressed his back up against the truck, comforted to have something against his back. He heard the Bot grow silent, like it was sneaking up on him. The things were stealthy, he had to remember, and he knew he had to move. The room was perfectly rectangular from what he could see, the cramped trucks providing ample hiding spaces. Matthew ran to the front of the truck, and started to go around the front. He squeezed between the wall and the headlights, sucking in his stomach as he went along. Just as he did, he felt the painful grumble deep in his stomach. He wondered how many hours it'd been since he'd eaten, and felt suddenly weak.

He came up upon the second truck in the line. He slipped past the front of this one too. He almost went to the third when the Bot slipped past down the center aisle, where Matthew had been only seconds before.

Matthew was nervous. He was nervous, but confident. He thought about how he could take out this Bot if he wanted to, but in his current state, it was cruelly impossible. He was in a hospital gown, completely defenseless. If only he had something sharp. Something that could do the job.
Once it passed Matthew slipped towards the third truck. He looked down at the rest of them, this line seeming to extend into the hundreds. He couldn't imagine this kind of long, rectangular space existed. There had to be another way out. It couldn't just be the stairwell...

Matthew paused between the third truck and the wall, taking a slow, deep breath inward while he took some time to think.

He saw movement, a flash of white, out of his peripheral vision, but he stayed entirely still.

Amazingly, it didn't notice.

Matthew kept on this way, sliding between the trucks, one by one by one, trying to get a look at anything beyond.

Sixteen trucks later, he caught a glimpse of the elevator.

It was wedged between two trucks on the adjacent side -- out front, a small table was set up. The Bot was there again, standing outside of the elevator.

Matthew crouched alongside the truck's front wheel, peeking around to his left to get a longer look. He waited, hand to the ground for some support. He watched the thing as it stood there, completely still. It almost looked bored.

Matthew stood, feeling that sudden strain of misplaced confidence, and walked out from between the trucks. He had his eyes set on his target, and he walked with his shoulders forward, heart racing as he got closer.

HALT, the Bot started, it's strange metallic voice felt itchy against Matthew's eardrums. He shook his head as he walked, poising the screwdriver in his grasp, ready for action.
The Bot made some strange clicking noise, then alarmed again, ringing out into the lot. It was a few feet from Matthew now, taking strong, fast strides. Matthew was almost frightened. Almost.

He ducked a little as he approached it, bringing the screwdriver up to its neck and jabbing in the wrong spot. The Bot grabbed hold of Matthew's wrists and pushed them away from him.

Matthew felt the muscles in his shoulders and his chest burn with the stretch. He tried to move against the Bot, but it was too strong, and he was too weak.

The Bot pushed Matthew towards the floor, pinning him against the floor. It was making strange, clicking noises like Matthew had never heard one make before. He knew it was recording him. Sending messages to someone. Something was happening, and he needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

Matthew brought his left leg hard into the Bot's knee, and it skidded backward on the asphalt. It's grip slipped, just enough so that Matthew could turn onto his shoulder. He brought the screwdriver up again, straight into the bottom of the thing's neck. The Bot was on top of him now, both hands against Matthew's shoulders, its hands twitching as it started to malfunction.

Matthew brought the sharp tip up again, that same familiar pop of a seal breaking. He went again, again, feeling the sweat bead on his upper lip. Blue blood dripped from the thing and its lights flickered -- it started to jolt, started to give way.

Matthew stabbed again, again, drops of the blood went on his face, hot like tears on his cheeks. He spat, going again, again, his muscles were burning with exhaustion, and then all at once, it went rigid in his grasp. The Bot collapsed on top of him in a heap of metal.

This Bot went straight into him, head diving straight into Matthew's stomach, causing him to cough out into the open. All the air had been pushed from his chest, and he took a minute to breathe. His right arm throbbed in pain, and he sputtered. He rolled the Bot over to his right, standing as quickly as he could without passing out from all of the adrenaline and lack of blood to his brain.

Just as he gathered his bearings and faced the elevator, he heard the door to the stairwell slam shut. The familiar movement of footsteps. Then silence.

"Matthew?" Brick called out, his voice sounding loud and clear. Matthew was worried that the place wasn't as big as he thought, and he quickly went to the elevator, spamming the UP button.

He pressed it hard and fast, waiting for the compartment to come down.

The elevator doors slid open not a moment too soon. Matthew ran inside and pushed himself far back into the corner -- his hands frantically smashing in the close button and first floor button in unison.

The doors began to shut again, and just as they did, Brick and his men came into view. Brick saw Matthew first, and his face ignited with anger. He ran at the doors, and through the sliver, Matthew could just see the way he bared his teeth. He didn't have to say anything, but Matthew could see the hatred in Brick's expression as they shut.