2083

Sandstorms. He fucking hated sandstorms.

Ash drew the cloth higher up on his face, wishing for something better to help filter the sand out. But the tank had been overturned and most of his supplies had been lost in the rush to get out of there, so he was shit out of luck. He pushed forward, trying to keep P.T. in sight. The goggles helped some, but it was still impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. The sand battered at him, he could feel it even through his thick clothing.

Her quick stride didn't suffer despite her feet sinking just as deep into the sand as his.

"Hold up, will ya?!" His voice would've been lost in the howling winds to human ears. But P.T. wasn't human.

The android came to a stop, head twisting a little too far for comfort as she looked back at him. It reminded him too much of the deadites. She stayed put until he reached her. "You are not functioning at peak efficiency."

"No shit, Hal!" Some sand got in his mouth, but he felt it was worth it. Or not, considering she didn't even blink. He pushed ahead. The wind continued to pick up, and he slipped. A strong hand clamped around his arm to help stabilize him. "Thanks!"

"Do not mention it!" Ash knew it was his imagination projecting a hint of fondness into the emotionless voice, but her hand stayed there as they kept moving.

P.T. had been more than willing to give him a rundown on her programming when they'd met. Her AI was something out of the sci-fi movies he used to watch, but she was limited. A Prototype, not even given a designation beyond the 0 branded on her shoulder. Still, he'd liked to pretend she'd been happy to find him. He'd been thrilled to see her after being stuck in this wasteland for a week. No food, little water--and what he did find of that tasted like crap, he'd wondered if he was killing himself faster or slower by drinking it--and fighting the same monsters he'd thought he'd left back in the fourteenth century. He'd gotten really close to considering eating one of his few remaining shotgun shells and being done with it. He'd kept going back to his cave, trying to get the Delta running because maybe if he could just travel further he could find something...

But he'd had nothing to get it running with. That blasted Wise Man had fucked him over with that sleeping potion, and he was even worse off than he'd been. It wasn't the Wise Man's fault. He was the one who fucked up. It was his fault, it was all his fault, it was all his fault--

Then he'd gotten himself into a fight he couldn't win. Everything else he'd seen had been twisted, Evil corrupted creatures but they were flesh and blood. But that thing... that thing was metal and bone fused together. He'd almost broken his saw blade trying to cut through it.

P.T. had come swooping in like a machinegun-carrying angel. Pulled his ass right out of the fire.

Sure, he'd been disappointed to realize the beautiful woman wasn't human, but he wasn't alone anymore. She'd brought him to some military bunker. The food there was way out of date but it was edible. Didn't even taste half-bad. He would've been happy just staying there, but P.T. insisted there was something he needed to see.

He was wishing they'd put it off another week. Or just tried to hold out at the tank despite the amount of deadites coming. He still wasn't sure how they'd lost them.

But they did. And now Ash had to trust that P.T. knew where they were going because he was fucking lost. Couldn't so much as tell which direction they were going with the sun blocked out. He kept his head down, holding his glove-covered metal hand over his mouth to try to keep a little more of the sand out.

"We are nearing our destination."

Good. If they had to go much farther, he was pretty sure she'd be carrying him there.

It was impossible to tell time or distance, but by the time they hit the sand-buried edge of a building, Ash felt like he'd been walking for miles. When P.T. pulled away, he didn't fight the urge to just sit. His back found the wall, momentarily jamming his shotgun into it before he leaned forward and curled in on himself, blocking out as much of the whipping winds as he could.

Her hand found him again, pulling him forcibly to his feet. Ash stumbled after her. Between one second and the next, the wind stopped. He tugged off his sand coated goggles and the cloth down from over his face. Only the dimmest light reached the inside from the doorway.

"This place got power?" Even as he asked it, his hands started patting at his pockets, knocking grit from his jacket as he searched for a flashlight he wasn't sure was there.

"Yes."

The room plunged into total darkness as the door shut. Must've been soundproof 'cause he couldn't even hear the wind anymore. "Well, that's great. You mind turnin' it on before I break my neck?"

"I am working on it." The rhythmic thud of feet on metal let him know she was walking around. She stopped. A couple clicks echoed. He closed his eyes, not that it mattered, but he could hear something start up. The low hum of motor somewhere, followed by a different pitched hum traveling through the building as the power kicked on. He opened his eyes to light.

"Come." She didn't wait for a response before starting down the stairs leading from the platform they were standing on.

Ash walked to the edge. Damn, that looked like a long staircase. "Couldn't we rest up here a few minutes first?"

She turned and stared at him silently, blank eyes managing to convey a surprising amount of judgment.

Ash leaned heavily against the railing. Nope, he was going to stay right here until his legs felt stronger.

If androids could sigh, he was positive she would've, but she turned around and came back.

Ash smiled. He knew she had a soft spot for him in whatever she had instead of a heart.

Then she tossed him over her shoulder and he realized he might've jumped the gun there. Well, at least he didn't have to walk.

And it gave him a really great view of her ass.

 ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Some part of Ash was aware that he should be paying attention to the path they were taking. Whatever this place was, it was huge. The staircase had gone on what felt like hours before they entered plain white hallways, broken first by what looked like normal doors then solid steel ones. And P.T. still wasn't slowing down.

He'd managed to push himself up slightly by bracing himself on her back, it helped with the lightheadedness he'd started to feel on the stairs, but it was still getting uncomfortable. He'd ask her to put him down but, for all he knew, they might be walking for another mile of underground corridors and that sounded worse.

It was boring. Ash considered trying to start a conversation, but P.T. wasn't exactly good at small talk, and he'd gotten a little rusty at it himself. Instead, he busied himself with trying to get the insulating glove off his right hand. Having it on made it harder to use the prosthetic but reduced the amount of sand it'd be exposed to. And getting sand out of the joints was a pain in the ass. And if got passed that, into the internal gears and springs, then he had to disassemble half of it to clean it out.

The other problem with the glove was that it was damn hard to get on and off. It stuck the metal and wanted to catch on every uneven spot on the gauntlet.

It made him miss his hand. Until he remembered why he cut it off in the first place. He should've made sure it was destroyed. Then, maybe, Annie wouldn't have died. Maybe he wouldn't have gotten sucked into the past and ended up here. Maybe he'd be home right now doing...

Doing...

He yanked a little harder at the glove. He had no idea what he'd be doing if he was home. Would he be at work? He'd been here months, if he'd been home, would the next term have started yet? Would be he in class? Did he even want to go back to college after everything? As much as he wanted to go home, the idea of just picking up his life where he left off with Cheryl or Linda, or even Scotty and Shelly around... Maybe he would've run off to Jacksonville like he and Linda had talked about.

He didn't know. He didn't know what he might've done and it didn't matter now, did it? He'd fucked up, again, and there was going back. He'd burned the Book. There must've been enough of the loose pages and the Professor's notes left to summon the deadites back but he didn't think there was anything in there that could help him, even if he could find them.

The glove finally came off, and he almost dropped it.

He never should've gone to that Goddamned cabin in the first place.

"Your heart rate is increased," P.T. intoned.

"Don't worry about it." Ash rubbed at his eyes. "How much farther?"

"We are nearing our destination."

They couldn't get there soon enough.

Ash had zoned out when P.T. suddenly stopped. There was a low beep and a scraping as a door opened. Then P.T. was finally lowering him off her shoulder.

His legs immediately started to give as they hit the floor, pins and needles setting in. "Shit." Ash bent slightly and rubbed at them--hadn't even realized they'd fallen asleep on him--even as he looked around.

The room was as white as everything else. Its only defining feature being the futuristic coffin-looking thing in the middle of the room. Also white. Ash, unsteady, made his way over to it. The top was open and the inside was padded, almost bedlike. Somehow, he didn't think it was a bed. "What's this for?"

"You are not functioning at peak efficiency."

"I'm tired."

P.T. blinked, just a hair too slow to look natural. "You are damaged."

Ash stared back at her silently a second before his lips pulled into a grin, a soft laugh shaking his shoulders that built until he was doubling over the not-a-coffin with barking laughter. He was damaged. Dear God, had it taken this long for her processors to put that together? It wasn't even funny, but he couldn't stop. For a moment, he felt like he was back in that cabin, laughing along with possessed furniture that he still wasn't sure had been real or just a hallucination.

"Ash."

He squeezed his eyes shut, the laughter leaving him breathless and drifting into unstable giggles.

"You are damaged. You must be repaired to function at peak efficiency."

"Sure," he managed. He was damaged. This might be a hundred years into his future but he didn't technology had come far enough to fix what was wrong with him. It felt too deep. Buried into his soul and burned in place by the fires of Hell, however briefly he might've actually seen 'em. "And, what? This thing's supposed to do that?" Maybe it was a coffin, that'd take care of his issues in a very final way.

"Yes."

He reached out, pressing his good hand against the padding. It was soft. The idea of laying on it actually sounded really fucking amazing right now. "Alright. Do I just get in it or what?"

"Strip first."

Ash glanced over at her. "You just wanna see me naked."

"You have nothing that is not programmed into my databases."

"Ouch." He unwrapped the cloth from around his neck, shook the sand from it, and folded it with more care than the tattered piece of fabric seemed to deserve. Jacket, shirt, undershirt, boots, and pants were tossed off with less grace. He took his time with his socks. When P.T. just kept staring, he hesitated, playing with the band of his underwear. He knew she was just a robot, as far as he could tell, he wasn't programmed for any sort of sexual uses, but it still felt weird. "Can I keep the boxers?"

Her head cocked to the side, piercing, inhumanly bright eyes scanning him. "Yes."

"Great."

He grabbed the edge of the coffin, ready to hoist himself into it when she spoke again: "Wait."

"What?" He had an idea. The chain around his neck felt heavy, its pendant swinging freely below, no longer hindered and hidden under clothing. He hadn't taken it off since that one time it fell out of his pocket in the middle of a fight. He couldn't lose it. He just couldn't. It was the only thing he had left of Linda.

"The prosthetic. Remove it."

"Oh." The tightness in his chest eased as he took off the gauntlet and wrist connector, setting them on top of his pile of clothes.

The padding inside was as soft as it had felt to his hand. He sunk down into it. Even if this did jack shit on the 'repairing' him front, whatever that meant, it was more comfortable than the military-issue mattress he'd been sleeping on in that bunker. Ash tensed when it started to close, a clear glass panel sliding across the opening. God, he hoped this thing wasn't airtight.

As if set off by the thought, there was a small hiss from both sides of him, barely visible clouds of air filtering in through slotted vents.

"Oh, I don't like that looks of that." Ash pressed his hand against the plexiglass, trying to move it, his fingers just slid. This must've been why she told him to take off the gauntlet, he could've punched right through this shit. "You didn't say anything about gas!"

"It will be over soon."

"Somehow, that doesn't make me feel better!" But it was obviously true, his hits against the cover were quickly losing strength.

He knew it was fucking coffin.

 ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

"Ash."

Ash buried his face against the pillow. It didn't feel right, but he was still too close to sleep to think about it.

"Ash, wake up."

"Five more minutes, Cher." He didn't know what she wanted, but he was comfortable and it could wait.

"I am not 'Cher'."

That got his attention, one eye opening slightly to look up at the female face above him that was definitely not his sister. He stared for a moment at the pretty but almost too symmetrically perfect features framed by black hair. He knew her. He knew he knew her, but his head felt fuzzy, not just in the waking from a deep sleep way. Had Chet brought over ketamine again? That thought, more than anything, knocked reality back in, almost knocking the air from his lungs in the process.

Cheryl was dead. How could he have forgotten? How could he have forgotten that?

He'd rolled onto his stomach at some point, and he pushed himself up with his hands. Maybe this repairing thing had some merit. Other than the confusion, he felt pretty good. Rested. But maybe that could be chalked up to it being a dreamless sleep. He grabbed the side of the repairing... bed and awkwardly climbed out of it. It could use some stairs or something to make that easier. Seemed like a massive oversight on the designer's part. He'd ask P.T. if there was a user's manual for it later, find out if there was a reason for that or not, and add them himself. Worse case, he'd find a step stool next time.

His bare feet hit the titled floor, and he winced. "Shit. That's cold."

"You are now functioning at peak efficiency."

"Told ya I was just tired."

"No. You have been repaired."

"Uh huh." Ash rolled his eyes as he made his way over the pile of clothing. As much as he didn't want to walk around near naked, he was kind of dreading putting them back on. Whatever that thing had done, he felt clean, and his clothes were not. "There somewhere I can get new clothes around here?"

"Yes."

"Good, show me where once I get my--" He froze in the process of reaching for them, eyes locked onto the gauntlet sitting innocently on top, hands almost touching it.

Hands. His hands. His gaze slowly moved to his right arms, to the wrist, to the hand connected to it. He curled the fingers, half expecting them not to move, half expecting all but the middle to as it flipped him off before attacking. But it seemed as normal as a hand should be. "I got a hand."

"You have been repaired to function at peak efficiency."

"Holy fucking hand." He looked at both sides of it, wiggled the fingers, flexed it at the wrist. Before turning to P.T. "Is it... real?"

Her own hands reached out for it. "May I?"

"Yeah."

He jumped slightly at the feel of her touch, but smiled. He could feel with it. That was something he never thought he'd have again. Her fingers gripped his wrist, there was an increase of pressure, and the skin there changed, revealing a clear slice of something in-between where he'd severed his original hand and this new one.

"It is cybernetic, synthetic skin layered over endoskeleton and includes a neuroprosthetic system to control movement and feeling."

Ash nodded like he understood completely. He did not.

"Is it satisfactory?"

"It's magnificent."