The System Can’t See Me

The hook cleared the red pipe.

Kai saw it at the edge of his vision: black, wet, and low to the concrete. It came around the pipe without a sound he could separate from the water. A line of dull red showed between two plates above it, then vanished as the limb moved.

Nia saw it a moment later.

Her hands stopped on Kai's back.

"Kai."

"I see it."

The hook crossed the mouth of the crawlspace. It scraped once against the floor and came on.

Kai's face was still pressed close to the concrete. He could not lift his head without driving the lunch box into his shoulder and the trapped wrist farther under him. His bad ankle lay in the shallow runoff behind him. His right hip had begun to turn again. The torn side of his jeans was open against the floor.

Nia was down on her right knee beside his good leg. Her bare left foot stayed in the runoff. The blood from her right calf had made a dark trail down the wall behind her. One scraped palm rested near Kai's ribs. The other hand hovered over the ruined seam at his hip, uselessly open.

Neither of them had room to get away from it. Kai could not get his arms beneath him. Nia could not stand without putting weight through the right calf or dragging her left foot farther through the runoff. The hook was still outside the narrow space where their bodies had settled, but it had already crossed the only open ground between them and the pipe.

"Can you move your knee?" she asked.

Kai tried.

The good knee tightened, then stopped. Pain ran through the scrape and up the side of his body. The bad ankle did not move at all.

"No."

Nia looked at the hook again.

"Don't watch it," Kai said.

"I need to know where it is."

The hook kept coming.

It passed Nia's left foot by the width of a hand. She pulled her toes in without lifting the foot from the water. The shift shook through her body. Her right knee scraped against the concrete. Kai felt her injured palm press harder near his ribs, then slide when the wet grit gave under it.

The hooked edge reached the torn side of his jeans.

For an instant, it rested there.

Kai felt cold metal against the open seam at his hip. He held still because there was no direction left in him that did not hurt somebody.

Nia's hand hovered above the hook. She did not touch it. The cut across her palm was still wet, and the fingers of that hand would not close all the way. Her other hand was planted near Kai's ribs, taking enough of her weight that the heel trembled against the concrete.

"Don't put your hand there," Kai said.

"I'm not."

Her voice was low. He could hear the effort it took to keep it that way.

The hook moved.

It caught.

The torn cloth tightened across his side. The hooked edge scored the exposed skin beneath it, and Kai's hip jerked toward the mouth before Nia could get both hands to him.

His right wrist dragged across the floor under his ribs. Skin tore somewhere along his palm. The shock ran white through his arm. His chest scraped concrete. The lunch box stayed wedged at the bend, but its lower corner ground harder beside his left shoulder.

The pull did not lift him. It twisted him against the floor. His face dragged through wet grit. The bad ankle bumped once against the concrete beneath the runoff, then slid again. His good knee bent tighter until the scrape along it burned through the torn denim.

Nia's shoulder struck the wall as she followed him. The impact made her lose a breath. She put it back quickly and reached for his waist with both hands before the hook could take another inch.

Nia caught his hip with both hands.

Her scraped palm hit the torn jeans first. The cut at its heel opened again. Her other hand found the back of his waist, but there was no seam left to hold. Both hands slipped over wet cloth and skin.

"It's got you," she said.

"I know."

The hook pulled a second time.

Kai moved three inches.

The distance was not enough to take him out of the crawlspace. It was enough to pull his good knee away from Nia's left shin and drag his bad ankle through the runoff. Water ran over the swollen joint and into the loose cuff. His right hip turned farther from the wall. The open side of his jeans tore up toward his waist.

Nia's hands slid with him. Her right knee lost its place beside his leg and knocked against the concrete. The bleeding calf behind her folded. She caught herself with her shoulder against the wall, but her left foot dragged through the water as she leaned after him.

Her scraped palm left a red print on the opened jeans, then slid to bare skin at his hip. She jerked her hand back before the hook could close against it. Kai felt her fingers shake above him.

"How bad?" he asked.

"Keep your head down."

That was all she gave him.

"Don't let it take your hand," Kai said.

"I'm trying not to let it take you."

The hook held the torn cloth tight.

Kai could feel the pull in every part of him that touched the floor. It traveled from the open seam at his hip, through his ribs, into the trapped wrist, then up to the shoulder under the box. There was no part of his body he could shift without making the line tighter.

Nia planted the heel of her scraped palm against his hip again. Blood streaked across the denim. Her fingers shook too hard to close. The other hand pressed at his lower back. When her balance shifted, both hands moved with it, and Kai moved under them.

The attempt pulled Nia farther forward. Her right knee slid in a small half-circle beside Kai's leg. The calf behind it tightened, then gave. She caught the wall with her shoulder again, leaving a wet smear against the paint.

The tremor traveled through Nia's hands into Kai. His body shifted under her palms, the torn seam tightening at the metal point.

The black plates behind the pipe moved.

Kai saw more of the low body now. It filled the mouth in broken sections: a ridge of wet armor, a dark joint, another hooked shape held farther back. He could not tell where one limb ended and the next began. He did not try to count them.

The hook at his hip went slack.

Nia's breath caught.

Kai did not move.

The torn seam stayed hooked.

The metal stayed against him. The thing behind the pipe filled the mouth with its wet black plates, close enough now that Kai could see water shaking between them. He kept his cheek against the concrete and watched the red pipe blur at the edge of his sight.

Nia did not ask a question. Her palms stayed where they were, too close to the hook and too weak to change anything.

Nia's left foot slipped in the runoff.

Her shoulder came off the wall. The right knee buckled beneath her. For a second, all of her weight went through the injured palm at Kai's hip.

Kai cried out before he could stop himself.

The hook tightened.

Nia hit the floor beside him.

Her right knee struck first. Her scraped palm slid under Kai's ribs. Her other hand caught at his torn shirt, then lost it. The movement pulled her left ankle across the wet concrete, reopening the old scrape.

For a moment, Nia lay on her side beside him. Her right calf was folded behind the knee that had hit the floor. Her left foot remained in the runoff, toes bent against the concrete. She tried to lift herself on the scraped palm and failed halfway. The hand shook, then collapsed back into the wet grit.

Kai heard her take one breath through her nose and another through her teeth. He wanted to turn toward her. His wrist was under his ribs, his shoulder was pinned under the box, and the hook was still tied to the torn side of his jeans. The most he managed was a small movement at his neck that drove his cheek harder into the floor.

The tightened hook dragged Kai toward the mouth, and Nia slid with him.

The hook held him by the jeans. Nia had nothing on him now except one shaking hand under his ribs and her shoulder pressed against his side.

"Nia," he said.

"I'm here."

She was close enough that he could hear the water dripping from her hair, but he could not turn to see her face.

Her shoulder stayed against his side for a moment, then trembled away and came back. It was not enough to hold him in place. It only kept her from sliding away from him.

The red pipe was closer now. Kai could see rust under the wet paint where it met the floor. Beyond it, the creature's plates filled the gap in uneven black sections. The hook at his hip was the only part of it he could feel, and that was enough.

Nia's hand under his ribs shifted. Her fingers pressed once against his side above the trapped wrist, then withdrew when he flinched.

Kai tried to keep his breath quiet. His ribs would not cooperate. Each shallow pull dragged at the hooked jeans and made the metal point shift against his hip. Nia heard it. He knew because her shoulder went still against his side.

The hook pulled again.

This time, the side of Kai's jeans tore all the way to the waistband.

The cloth came free from the hook.

Kai's hip dropped back to the floor.

For a heartbeat, the pull left him.

The hooked point slid lower than the torn denim.

Kai felt it press into the torn skin at his hip.

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