The dragons take to me instantly. I know I’m not just a dragon though. I’m also a vest, a blizzard, a blade and a desert. No one else talks about their shields. I feel like if I wanted to ask, they’d answer my questions. But I’m just absorbing right now. Watching and listening as men and women sit around their padded cell comfortably as if this is a normal existence.
What if Dr. Slone figures out a way to make me forget where I come from? I can’t turn into one of these pod people. I have to remember. And I have to make Dr. Slone, and everyone else believe that I don’t. I have to stay connected to reality and the outside world. I can’t fail to exact the vengeance Sorcha, Alannah and Bert deserve.
I will survive this.
I’ve endured two weeks of testing. I’ve been shot, stabbed, sliced, burned, crushed, packed in ice, poked, prodded, drowned, choked and anything else Dr. Slone can come up with. It turns out I have more shields than I knew. I’m a fish and a necktie too. My guess is I’m a few other things that I don’t have names for. My bones don’t break, and I don’t bleed internally. The other bearers are starting to begrudge me. I’m getting all of the attention since Dr. Slone stopped testing on everyone other than the vampire, Twenty-eight.
He’s difficult for her because no matter how big a gash she slices into him, no blood flows. All she can get from him are mouth swabs, and they aren’t telling her what she wants to know. I have no clue what it is she thinks she’s going to find with us.
From what she’s told me, our DNA is no different from a normal human. We’re not mutants. Somewhere in my child’s mind, I was disappointed by that. I’ll never join the X-Men.
She’s also getting annoyed with my epithelium, the lining of my cavities and surfaces of structures throughout my body. Apparently, she can’t get samples of them. She’s tried to hack away at the inside of my mouth, throat and my stomach lining. She can poke it with a needle, but that’s it. And when she pokes me with a needle, I have to pretend the injection has an effect.
It doesn’t.
I tried to inject my mouth when I was younger, experimenting on my body. I may have been trying to kill myself or maybe I was just trying to push my limits. I don’t know why I did it, but I shot enough heroin into my mouth to kill an elephant. I didn’t even get high. It’s as though my body encapsulates anything foreign and disposes of it as waste. I met Alannah the day after my heroin experiment. Sorcha would say that was a sign. Maybe it was.
I miss my woman. The match to my tortured, lonely soul. How could this world be so cruel to give me that gift for only a few hours? She slipped through my fingers before I ever had the chance to grasp a hold of her. My empty hands feel listless and cold without her.
Basically, Canyon Nine fucking sucks and robbed me of everything good in my life. I try not to think about it too much. I have a goal, and my focus needs to be on the task at hand. My emotions can be dealt with later.
Dr. Slone leaves me in the lab with Twenty-eight while she goes to look at some X-rays. I’m happy for the break.
“How’s it goin’?” I ask him, yanking the curtain back that separates us.
His arm is flayed open down to the bone. And yet, there’s not a single drop of blood to be seen.
“Same old, same old,” he answers through a shrug.
His deeply bronzed skin is heavily scarred from all the testing he’s put through. He can’t bleed, but he also can’t just magically heal. Every time they cut him open, they have to sew him back up. He has medium brown hair with caramel eyes. I imagine before Dr. Sadist (my nickname for Slone) got a hold of him, he was a good-looking guy.
“She’s gettin’ pissed,” I point out the obvious.
Dr. Sadist hasn’t been her usual cheery self since she started running into walls with me. I think she thought she hit the mother lode when they caught me, and I’m turning out to be a massive pain in the ass. Some things never change.
“Maybe we should cut her open and see how she likes it,” he suggests darkly.
Fuck yeah.
I chuckle instead of agreeing. I’m still playing it safe with the bearers. Twenty-eight seems like my best option for an escape partner. There’s something about him that’s different from the others. Something knowing and sinister.
I’ve figured out a few important things in the last two weeks. First, we’re in a basement. Not rocket science, but it’s still good information to have. I know we’re underground because I heard one of the attendants tell another one they were going “up top” for their break.
The attendants are guards sporting a weak title to make us feel comfortable. They’re all men. Large men at that. Not as big as I am but still. There’s a constant predatory gaze on their faces when they don’t know they’re being watched. When they interact with the bearers, they’re docile and kind. But when the bearers aren’t paying attention, the attendants watch them the way I used to watch my kill before I assaulted them. The attendants’ real purpose as guards is my second discovery here.
The third is a woman. She works in the lab as a researcher, and she looks at me like I’m her next meal. Bethany is going to be my ticket out of this joint. She’s cute in a girl next-door way with mousy brown hair and matching eyes. She’s not Alannah. And while I’m convinced Alannah’s dead, I can’t go there with Bethany. But I can use what she wants. I can dangle myself in front of her to get the secrets I need.
Then I’ll kill her.
She’s here doing Dr. Sadist’s bidding. No one that works here will survive once I’m done. That’s for damn sure.
“I’m sick of this shit,” Twenty-eight hisses under his breath without moving his mouth. Smart man. “You remember who you are, don’t you?”
I cut harsh eyes at him. We can’t have this conversation here. There are two attendants milling around and five researchers. Maybe he’s not so smart after all.
He scowls back at me and then down at his arm before returning a pained look at me. He’s desperate.
“We need to use the bathroom,” I announce.
“I can take you,” Bethany responds, hurrying toward me almost running into the attendant approaching us. “Twenty-eight, you’ll have to wait until you’re sutured.” She doesn’t even look at him as she speaks. Her eyes are trained on mine as her tongue darts out to moisten her dry lips. It does nothing for me, but I tip my mouth in a seductive grin. She quivers. Easy.
“You don’t want what I’ve got comin’ in a bedpan,” Twenty-eight informs her and that gets Bethany’s attention.
I snort. Threatening to shit in a bedpan is fucking funny.
“I…well…it’s just,” she stumbles over herself.
“Just put a few stitches in the man so he can take a dump,” the attendant instructs.
She nods and gets to work. It’s a crude job, but it’ll hold so we can talk in peace. Bethany stands along with us, offering to escort us, but the attendant says he’s got it covered.
I shoot her a wink as we walk away, and I swear she fucking fans herself. It makes me ache for Alannah. I didn’t get enough time with her. I didn’t get more than a taste, and I wanted a fucking lifelong meal. I do my best not to think about how she died. I pray to Sorcha’s gods that it was quick and painless. The idea of her being tortured rips my guts in two every time I imagine it.
I think about how Chann and Caelan must be mourning. Caelan losing his niece and me. He said I was like a son to him, and I believe him. I fucking hate that for him. He may be a crime boss responsible for some of the most depraved things in the world, but he was good to me. Always.
I miss my best friend more than I thought I would. He annoyed me so much. I wish his obnoxious ass would show up here and make me laugh.
“I’m shittin’ too. I wouldn’t wanna be responsible for givin’ you brain damage,” I joke with the attendant when he tries to follow us into the bathroom.
He smiles at me. A friendly fucking smile that makes me want to smash his teeth down his throat.
“I’ll be righ
t out here. Holler if you need anything or if your stitches come loose,” he responds through a snort.
We both enter stalls separately and pretend to shit. I don’t have to shit, and I hope Twenty-eight doesn’t. That’s not the type of bonding I’d like to do with anyone. After about ten minutes of sitting on the toilet, I stand up and flush, quickly followed by Twenty-eight. The attendant checked on us three minutes ago. My guess is we have two minutes before he’s checking again.
We both turn the taps on full flow and wash our hands, speaking as best we can without moving our mouths as we stare at each other in the mirror.
“I remember everything,” I admit and feel the tension seep from my bones with that release.
“Me too,” he says and I have to school my features from shock. “Alex.”
“Kane,” I introduce myself.
Instead of doing the smart thing and plotting, we both stand in silence absorbing the fact that we now have each other to rely on. It feels so good. I can’t describe the relief flowing through me. We’re not just numbers in a sick game. We’re still people. People with a chance.
“What did you do before?” Alex asks, bringing us out of our trance.
“Mob enforcer. You?”
“Chef.”
Not really the tactical help I was hoping for, but that doesn’t matter.
“How long have you been here?”
“Five and a half years.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“You know more about this place than I do. We’ll have to set up a way to talk. Code or somethin’,” I suggest, trying to figure out a simple communication process.
“Scrabble.”
I nod. That’s pretty fucking smart.
“They killed my entire family with a car bomb,” he explains sadly.
“They shot my mother five feet from me. I didn’t see what happened to my father or my woman. I know they’re dead though.”
We offer each other condolences as best we can with sympathetic gazes.
“How long did it take your memory to come back?” he asks.
“I never lost it. Did you lose yours?”
“Yeah. It’s been comin’ back little by little over the last few months. I think it’s something about my shield.”
We’re so fucking clueless with all this shit. I have to use Bethany to get some answers. The thought of touching her makes my stomach roll. There’s a tiny hope in the back of my mind that I’ll get out of here, and Alannah will be waiting for me. That she managed to get away from these fuckers, and Caelan has her safely tucked away.
Stupid, I know.
Hope is a mistake. Though, as I think that thought, I hear Sorcha’s whimsical voice telling me hope is where dreams become reality. I miss her so fucking much.
“It’ll take some time, but I promise we’ll get outta here,” I state confidently as the attendant sticks his head in the door with his fingers pinching his nose.
“Good plan, man. We wrecked this joint,” I say through a cocky smirk.
He laughs and holds the door open for Alex and me to pass by. I feel different walking through the stark corridors. My cocky swagger is returning to my strides. My posture has my shoulders held back with pride. My light green eyes are surely shimmering with deviousness. I’m hunting again. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, begging for an outlet as Alex and I retake our places in the lab.
“Anything new?” I ask Dr. Sadist as she closes the curtain around my bed.
“No,” she growls in irritation. “We’ve been conducting an extensive background search to try to locate a medical history on you. Oddly, you don’t seem to have one. There are no fingerprints on record. No DNA in any databases. It’s as though you didn’t exist before we found you.”
“Is that surprising? Do you think I was a criminal? That’s the only reason I would have that kind of information on record, right?”
Her frustration is making her sloppy. Good.
“What? No. I…uh…of course I don’t think you were a criminal.” She struggles with her bullshit. “I was just hopeful is all.”
She flops onto the rolling stool at my bedside and hunches forward with defeat on her face. I love that look. Weakness in the enemy is refreshing. Time to push.
“Maybe this is a good time to discuss leaving. You’re not having any success with me, so I don’t think Sage Development is a threat anymore. You should focus on the other bearers. I can start a new life.”
“Absolutely not,” she shouts. There it is. Her doctor façade is nowhere to be seen as she rises to her feet seething. “I will find a way to study you. There’s no way I finally get my hands on a pure shield, and it slips away. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Pure shield?” I ask, avoiding the other shit. I know I’m a prisoner. It feels good for her to admit it finally, but she just let something about my shield slip, and I want to know about it.
“I’m sorry,” she quickly apologizes, darting her eyes around the small curtained off area. It’s silent in the lab, so I know everyone heard her. She just fucked up. I absolutely love it.
Clearing her throat as she retakes her stool, she speaks in her softer voice, “You know by now you’re different from the other bearers.” I nod as she keeps going. “I believe shields can be stronger or weaker based on how they’re acquired. It may also have to do with the age at which your shield is bestowed on you. I’ve been able to study this somewhat with the dragons and the fish. It’s difficult, but the picture’s becoming clearer.”
“So you do know how we got our shields. Is that why you won’t let me leave?” I grumble, playing this shit for all it’s worth.
“I don’t know how shields are acquired. I’m sorry for my outburst. That wasn’t fair of me. While I’ve been looking into your background, it’s become apparent that it’s not safe for you to be in the world without our protection. There should be some record of you. Sage Development has wiped you off the map so they could make you disappear. They won’t be as understanding as I am with their testing, Forty-two. We’ve lost people before. People I wasn’t able to save. All of those people are now dead. Most washing up in rivers or worse.”
“But you have ideas about our shields. Why?”
“It’s all theoretical at this point. I was hoping to find someone like you to study. A pure shield that possesses multiple shields in one. I wasn’t sure it existed. Now that I’ve found you, I’m certain you’re the key to it all. I just can’t figure why or how to study you,” she huffs.
“You’ll figure it out,” I assure her.
She beams a smile at me. This is becoming too easy. Between her and Bethany, I’ll be out of here in no time. I want answers though. I need to know why I’m a bearer. Where the shields come from. I’m so close to finding out. I can’t just walk away without answers.
Dr. Sadist knows more than what she’s telling me. She’s a good liar, but she’s still a liar. She’d definitely die of cancer if I wasn’t here to kill her first. I smother a snort. I’ll always be Sorcha’s son. They can do whatever they want to me, but at the end of the day, I’ll always be the child of an Irish nymph who was stolen from this world.
I’m proud to be her son.
Scrabble sucks.
It’s the slowest form of communication. And what’s worse is when Alex and I “play”, other bearers always want to join in. Weeks have turned into months. And the longer I’m in this place, the angrier I’m becoming. I hide it well, but it won’t last. I’m going to snap at some point. Soon.
I spell ‘chef’ and Alex crosses my e with ‘veggie’. He was a vegetarian chef. I school my features. Sorcha is somewhere laughing her ass off right now. I cross his i with ‘knives’. He taps the table twice to answer yes. He knows how to use knives. We figured out pretty quickly how to answer simple yes and no questions. This is the first game we’ve played on our own in almost four months. We’re finally getting down to business.
He crosses another e with �
��hide’. I clear my throat, which means I don’t understand. I spell out ‘nerd’ just to get my turn over with so he can go again. He strokes a scar on his hand, looks at hide and then at knives before spelling out ‘three’.
Holy shit! He’s hidden scalpels in his incisions. That’s my man. I wonder how he got them out. I know he’s not leaving them inside of him. I spell ‘out’ and he quickly lays down ‘ouch’. I snort. I can only imagine how bad it hurt to get the first one out. Now that he has them, I’m sure he just cuts a few stiches away. He’s sacrificing more than I am in this. I can’t do much. Maybe I could swallow a scalpel and shit it out. Now that I know my insides are also impenetrable, I’ll try that one of these days.
“Forty-two,” J, the attendant from the bathroom day, calls out. The attendants go by letters. We’re a bunch of insignificant variables and integers in a bad math joke.
The attendants live here too. A floor above us from what I can gather. It’s bits and pieces of information from eaves dropping, Alex and Bethany.
I lift my chin at him, and he indicates with his that I come over to him. Alex shoots me a questioning look before I move away from the Scrabble game. Testing is over for the day. I shouldn’t be going anywhere. This is outside the norm and with all the communication Alex and I are doing, this makes me a little nervous.
“Yeah?” I ask J as I slide up to him.
“Need to take you down to the lab,” he answers blankly, avoiding my gaze.
Not good.
I follow him down the corridors until we arrive at the lab. I’ve figured out there’s some kind of chip beneath the skin of everyone who works here which opens doors. J’s the reason I know this. His chip wasn’t working one day, so he waved his arm around wildly until the door finally responded. He looked like a crazy person, but I pretended his behavior was completely normal.
He doesn’t follow me into the lab. That’s not protocol. Something’s going on.
I scan the massive space to find it empty. No one is in here but me. I turn to question J, when I hear the door lock. Fuck. What the hell is going on? I brace myself for a fight. Training here hasn’t been easy. I still work out a few hours a day, but nothing compared to what I did before this. I spend too much time in this godforsaken lab to train my body like I want to.
Misunderstood Miracles Page 8