“Hello?” she spoke gently, as if waking a sleeping child.
His head came up with a start, eyes wide and fearful.
“Please?” a desperate plea forced into that one word. He looked at her before she could answer, his eyes first narrowing and then growing wide in shock. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m Mackenzie, I’m trying to get out. Will you help me?”
He shook his head violently. “No, I can’t get out.”
“I could let you out. I can undo the restraints.”
“No!” His response was a pitiful wail as he shook his head. “No, I can’t. You can’t let me out of here.”
“I…” Mackenzie broke off, frowning. This was the one thing she hadn’t expected.
“Please?”
“Fine,” she grimaced and glanced behind her at the open door. This was already taking too long. He was making too much noise.
“Please?”
“Please, what?” Mackenzie snapped. “I already said I’d leave you.”
“Please, kill me? Won’t you, please kill me?”
She gaped. She’d thought about suicide in her lowest moments, but this man was literally begging for death.
“I can’t do that.” The words spilled out on their own.
His face fractured, reforming into a picture of agony. “Please kill me, I’m begging you.”
She backed away as his voice rose, but her eyes were on the exposed flesh of his torso. Dark lines ran along his veins, and they bulged and throbbed in time with his pulse.
“Please!”
Her back hit the wall and she turned to look for the door as he began to scream. The skin on his chest and at his shoulders seemed to split as black
tendrils pushed their way out through his flesh, lashing at the air around him.
She edged along the glass wall. His scream choked off as a thick rope of the black substance burst from his mouth, slamming into the glass beside her hard enough to crack it. She found the door, slamming a hand down on the switch inside to close it. She didn’t look back, though she could hear the black tendrils thrashing at the ground around him.
She ran.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Her feet slapped on the cold, tiled floor, making more noise than she would have liked; but it was a choice of either fast and loud, or quiet and slow right now. Fast was never going to lose that fight in this place.
Doorways flashed past her as she ran, marked with meaningless combinations of numbers, or signs written in Pashto that she didn’t have the time to stop and translate. Some would be cells, she knew. Doors that led through to observation rooms, and maybe more people like her. After the last attempt she wasn’t in any hurry to try again.
He had begged her to kill him. He had pleaded with her. Just how many people had this place broken?
The corridor ended abruptly at a plain doorway and she stared at it stupidly for a moment before pressing her ear to it. A distant sound from behind her somewhere pulled her ear away and she tapped the card to the reader, pulling the door open. The hallway turned to the right but, other than that, it was identical to the one she’d just left. She pushed at the door until it clicked shut, and set off.
Already she was tired. Her muscles had been wasted, rehabilitated, and then starved for days. They were unused to this treatment, and her legs were swearing at her as loudly as possible.
The pain in her thighs and calves was nothing compared to the bone-deep fatigue that clawed at her. Using the fire had weakened her more than she wanted to admit, and already she had to fight to keep going. More than once she’d caught herself dropping back from her jog into a walk, and each time she had to force herself to start running again, it grew harder.
She had no idea where she was going. The thought began as a quiet whisper and her panic grew, until the notion of being lost and running in circles claimed her utterly. She hadn’t been paying attention when Janan had led her out of her cell. She’d been overwhelmed at the sudden taste of freedom and her hazy memory of it was of no help to her now.
Where was the lift? There should be a set of stairs beside it. At least, there had been in the hallway leading from Elias’ office. All she had to do now was find it.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she muttered as she ran.
The door was less than twenty feet away when it opened. Mackenzie skidded to a halt, almost falling over herself as she scrambled to a stop. She looked around frantically for somewhere to hide, but knew what she’d see before she even turned her head—the corridor was empty aside from the doors. There was no chance of concealment.
She pressed herself to the wall, knowing it was futile, as a man emerged. The technician froze as he looked up from the small trolley he was pushing. They looked at each other for a long moment before either moved. His hand broke the stillness, reaching for the radio at his belt, and then she ran.
She charged at the cart, shoving it back into him as she burst past. The fatigue, and the aching in her legs, were less than a memory as she sprinted along the hallway.
She stopped as she rounded a corner, chest heaving, her throat burning as she sucked in air. He wasn’t following her. She held her breath for a moment to listen.
No, he wasn’t following her. Help would be on its way to him though, and whatever time she might have had was done. She ran to the first door and tapped the key-card to the reader, pulling it open. Another observation room lay inside and she moved on quickly, rushing along the hallway to the next door. Time was her enemy now, and the fact that guards with tasers would be coming for her far outweighed her fear of encountering more lab techs.
She made her way along the corridor quickly, moving from door to door as her panic rose. Distant voices had her moving faster, until she was tripping over herself and dropping the key-card.
A flash of movement turned her head and she glared at the lone guard staring at her in shock. He was young, barely in his twenties if she was any judge.
“Stop,” she called out as his hand reached for the radio clipped to his shoulder. He paused for a second, clearly not understanding, and she tried again in Pashto. “Don’t do it.”
He wasn’t stopping and she reached for the break, for the disconnect inside her mind. The tendrils of her thoughts wormed their way into the narrow crack, forcing it wider as she reached for the power that lurked within it. Her vision shifted as the hallway slipped out of focus for a moment and then the fire surged.
“Stop!” she cried out again in Pashto, as the flames rose from her hands. She wasn’t even sure he understood, but fear was clear on his face as he backed away from her. “Don’t make me do this!” Her voice fell to a whisper, almost lost in the tears that ran unchecked down her cheeks. “Don’t make me do this…”
His eyes were wide with fear or horror, she couldn’t tell which, but his hand never left the radio. His finger depressed the button and he managed a single word before she turned his speech to screams.
The fire raged, a beast uncaged that ran amok as the young man staggered and flailed within the column of flame that engulfed him, embracing him within its fury, and holding him close.
Mackenzie wept, sinking down into herself and pressing her face to one knee, even as a single hand still reached out towards the fire. She wouldn’t stop, it didn’t matter that this thing was turning her into a monster.
She had no choice. They were giving her no choice.
The smoke had set off an alarm, and sirens blared, an endless cycling whoop-whoop noise that was just high enough to be piercing. The man’s screaming had stopped, and the only other sound was the crackle of the flames as they ate away at the corpse. Mackenzie shifted on the floor, bare feet crunching into the frost that encrusted the tiles surrounding them.
“Enough,” she whispered, a barely audible command as she strained at the break in her mind. The wound had grown, tearing at the fabric of her sanity until it had become a fissure. She could feel the power in it, but beyond it there was something mo
re, something she shrank back from.
She forced the break, pushing the edges together, her mind recoiling from the alien sensation of the disconnect. She had to get moving, she knew that, but on a deeper level she found herself questioning.
Should she even be fleeing? She was becoming another version of the man in the cell, that twisted wreckage of a person with the black tendrils bursting from his arms. As much as she wanted to be free of this place, what right did she have to inflict the horror she was becoming upon the world?
Her hand pressed down against the ground, slipping on the melting frost as she pushed her way up. She moved like a drunk; staggering past the charred ruin of the young guard. She was so tired. All she wanted to do was sink back down, sleep, and let the darkness take her.
“Mackenzie.” The voice came over speakers set in the ceiling as the sirens drifted into silence. “Mackenzie, there is nowhere for you to run to. Please do not force us to hurt you.”
“Fuck you!” she muttered. There was no way for Janan to hear her, but that didn’t matter—it felt good to say it anyway.
She carried on along the hallway, checking the doors as she passed. Voices that had once been a distant murmur were closer now, more distinct. She tapped the key-card to the reader as she looked back over her shoulder.
Christ, they were close.
The observation room was dark and she eased the door closed behind her, wincing at the noise the locks made as they engaged. There was nowhere to hide in here, either. The long desk that ran in front of the camera on its tripod was facing the door. If she hid there, she’d be spotted in seconds.
A door slammed shut out in the hall and she tapped the reader.
“Come on, come on!” she hissed at the pneumatic door as it slowly pivoted open on its struts. She eased her way through the gap before it was even half-way open, tapping the card on the reader inside in the hopes that it wouldn’t have to finish opening before she could close it.
“Well, it’s an interesting outfit, but then, who am I to criticise?”
She spun around to the amused grin of the man strapped to the frame. He was tall, though growing lean enough that he might be called thin. His dark hair looked like it needed a trim, and he had the beginnings of a beard—all signs that he had been here too long. Other than that, he was completely naked.
“Just be quiet,” she hissed, and ran around behind him, ducking down behind what meagre cover the frame provided, trying to ignore the fact that she was less than a foot from his bare arse.
“Not the greatest hiding spot,” the man noted in a low voice.
“Shut up,” Mackenzie hissed. “They’ll hear you.”
The man snorted. “There’s a camera in the next room, love. There are mics in the ceiling. Somebody somewhere is seeing and hearing every word of this.”
He was getting on her nerves.
“I know that, you fucking peanut. I’m talking about the guards out—” She broke off at the muffled sound of the door opening inside the observation room.
“Have you come with that steak I ordered?” the man on the frame called out to towards the glass wall. “It’s going to be a bit of a bastard cutting it, what with me being all tied up like this, but I’ll give it a good go.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Mackenzie hissed.
“You know,” the man whispered. “Normally I’d say no, but it’s getting to be hard to tell lately.”
She shook her head, crouching deeper into a ball as she tried to make herself as small as possible. She couldn’t be caught now. She wouldn’t let them take her. Could she summon the flame again? Would it be enough to make a difference? Enough to end it all if it came to it?
“They’re gone,” the man in the frame muttered. “Now, how about you tell me what the fuck is going on?”
She made her way out from behind him and crossed the room to stand in the corner, against the glass wall and out of shot of the camera. Whoever he was, he was a mess. A mass of purple and blue bruises covered his chest, with the skin at the centre split and scabbed. A bandage was bound tight around one leg, and an empty IV bag hung on a stand beside him. She peered at the bag for a moment and turned to examine the wreckage in the corner. Was that some kind of hopper?
“Hello? If you’re quite done inspecting the place, do you mind telling me what’s happening here?”
“I’d have thought that was obvious,” she told him. “I’m trying to escape.”
He nodded, running his tongue around inside his lip. “Sounds like a bloody good idea. Fancy some company?”
She ran a critical eye over him, pausing at the fresh dressing on his thigh. “I don’t know. Can you walk?”
“I can give it a damned good try. Just let me out of this thing. We’re on borrowed time as it is.”
She nodded and went behind the frame, working the bolts loose on the torso restraint. Thankfully they were the same type of wingnut used on her wrist cuffs. It was easier than having keys for each prisoner, she supposed. “What’s your name?”
“Carver,” he told her. “You?”
“Mackenzie,” she said as the first of the bolts came free. “How long have you been here?”
“Look, love, do you think we could leave the chat for later? I really don’t know how long we have here.”
Mackenzie sniffed. He was probably right, but she didn’t need to admit it. Besides, there was something about him she found incredibly irritating.
“What happened to your leg?” she asked, straining on a stubborn bolt.
“They shot me,” Carver told her, letting out a low groan of relief as one side of the torso restraint came free.
“You were trying to escape? They tasered me.”
“No, they thought I could stop bullets.”
Mackenzie snorted a laugh until she realised he was serious, and nodded at his leg. “It doesn’t look like you’re very good at it.”
Carver turned his head to give her a grin. “You might be right. Listen, we’re going to need to find me some clothes too. I don’t fancy escaping from here in the buff, and this is already the least fun I’ve ever had naked with a woman.”
PART
III
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I couldn’t tell you how good it felt to be out of the frame. I’ve never been very eloquent and this sensation deserved more than the heartfelt groan I let out as I clambered free of the thing. If you’ve ever spent a full day and night in a car, or a plane, without being able to get up, that first stretch—the back-popping, grinding one that you simply don’t want to end-that comes close to brushing near to how good this felt.
The Aussie woman, Mackenzie, watched me with a wry grin and I glanced away, fighting down the embarrassed look on my face.
She was shorter than me, but not by much, and her dark hair had been pulled back into some sort of bird’s nest pony tail. The bones in her face stuck out a little more than they ought to, and the muscles in her calves were barely even there. She’d been starved at some point in the not-too-distant past, and I wondered how she had the energy to stand up, let alone move as quickly as she did.
“Looks like you’ve pulled, mate,” Johnson whispered as he leant in close to my ear. I gave him a puzzled look until I caught myself. It was bad enough to be breaking Rule Three without actually being seen talking to the visitors. The look said enough on its own.
“Well, she’s in just a shirt, you’re in the buff. Have I interrupted something?”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered.
“What now?” Mackenzie demanded, glaring at me whilst somehow completely ignoring my naked state. “Let’s just get going, yeah?”
I followed as she tapped the card to the reader, and then eased past her into the dark room beyond.
“It’s an observation room,” Mackenzie muttered, nodding me onward to the other door. “There’s a corridor beyond that one. I was making my way along it from the right, when I had to duck in here because of the guards.”
“How many were there?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I never saw them, but at least two or three. Enough to hold a conversation.”
I grunted, leaning in to listen at the door. This wasn’t going to be much fun. Escape and evasion, I can do. You don’t get far in the forces, and certainly not into any of the special units, if you can’t master it. Escape and evasion whilst half crippled and stark-bollock naked—that’s a new one on me, and doing it with a bloody civvy wasn’t going to make it any easier.
The handle turned smoothly, and I cracked the door just wide enough to let through any faint sounds it might have muffled. The hallway was silent, and a wider crack didn’t reveal much more. I eased my way out, motioning for the woman to follow me.
Mackenzie. Her name was Mackenzie. I needed to remember that.
I made my way ahead of her, motioning for her to wait a moment while I listened for any sign of the guards. She seemed quiet enough, padding along on bare feet, but I needed to be sure.
She glared at me again as I waved her on and she caught up, clearly not happy about being ordered about. “What are you doing?”
“What?” I frowned at the question.
“Are you some kind of soldier? You look like you’re playing commandos.”
I snorted at that. “Yeah, something like that. What about you?”
She winced. “I was a nurse. Before, you know…” she waved an arm about her.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Before.”
The hallways were plain and floored with white tiles. The kind that would turn to a gore-spattered ice-rink when the blood started flowing. I spotted three cameras before we made it to the end of the hallway and passed through another windowless door. Either they weren’t being monitored at all, or someone was playing silly games here.
The first set of guards looked almost as surprised to see us as we were to see them, and they froze as we came through the doors. There tends to be three types of people in a fight; the freezers, the runners, and those that just pile in. Piling in, given that I was still completely naked, was probably a bad idea. So I did it anyway.
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