by J. L. Murray
And then all the shadows were gone and there was only the red. But it wasn’t the red of hunger and rage. It was part of her now. It was just her and nothing else. She was the red.
Jenny opened her eyes, blinking in the dim light. She smelled iodine again and heard voices murmuring. Someone was in the too-warm room with her. She tried to shove blankets away, feeling the fabric clinging to her skin, wet with sweat. Something stopped her hand and a chain jingled. She was cuffed again, only now the cuffs were padded. Restraints. Just as she had been restrained as a girl. The smell of iodine and the beeping of machines and the murmuring of voices. And restraints.
“I know this place,” she rasped, her lips cracked and her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.
She blinked again, clearing the sand from her eyes. She was alone, but she had the sense that someone was watching. She looked up and found the camera, just like the one in the Academy. Green light blinking lazily, clean lens shining in the dim light. She looked at the ceiling and saw the lights were working. Raising her hands as much as the chains allowed, she flipped off the camera.
“You shouldn’t be here,” said a voice. It echoed in her head like someone was projecting right into her mind. She looked to see a shadow that gathered form and looked at her disapproving.
“Casey.”
“You shouldn’t be here. He told you to run.”
“I have to save them,” she said. “It’s my fault, all of it. Trix and Sarah and Rafi. And Declan.”
“Declan’s dead.”
“Stop it,” she said. “He’s not really dead. He can’t be. That’s not real.”
“You don’t even know what’s real anymore,” he said. Jenny shook her head to get rid of the echo. She looked up and Casey was gone.
“Who are you talking to?” said a voice that didn’t echo.
A man was standing in the doorway. Fat and pudgy with small eyes and a wide mouth. He wore a white lab coat and was holding a clipboard.
“No one,” she said. “Who the fuck are you?”
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
“I’m here to help,” he said, smiling. It didn’t touch his eyes.
“I fucking doubt that,” said Jenny. “Take these things off of my hands.”
“I’m afraid that’s for your own safety as well as the safety of the staff,” he said. His voice was calm and it pissed her off.
“Nothing about this is about my safety, you fat, smug bastard.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Jenny.”
“Where’s my sister? Where’s Trix?”
“Your friends are safe,” he said. “We aren’t going to harm them.”
“What is this fucking place? A hospital?”
The man sat in a chair, sighing as he settled in next to the bedrail.
“Uncuff me,” Jenny said, panic creeping into her voice. “Please. I won’t hurt anyone.”
“Yes, you will,” he said. “You’ve tied our hands, Jenny. The death of Anna Hawkins was a tragedy.”
“I didn’t do that.”
“No, you didn’t,” he said. “But you let it happen. You’ve greatly inconvenienced us.”
“So sorry for the inconvenience, ” said Jenny.
“Tell me about the hallucinations.”
“What the fuck is this place?” said Jenny. “I’ve been here before.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“My name is Doctor Klein.”
“Did you know? Did you know what they did to us?”
He sighed. “I was very young back then. I knew of it, whispers of something big. I just didn’t know how big.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You,” he said. “Your sister. Your mother’s experiments. You are all very small cogs in something much larger than you can possibly imagine.” He smiled his false smile again. “But I’ve said too much. Now. Tell me about your hallucinations.”
“I’m not having hallucinations,” said Jenny. “What is this shit you’re talking about? Is this about Sully? Releasing the virus?”
“It’s not a virus, exactly,” he said. “I don't know exactly how to explain it to you – how far along did you get in school? ”
“Kind of hard to get a fucking education when I was locked in a basement with people cutting me open.”
“Point taken,” he said. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me.”
“Fuck you.”
“You say that word a lot,” he said.
“I want to see my sister, asshole.”
Klein sat back, looking pleased.
“Are you sure your sister is real?”
Jenny narrowed her eyes.
“You’re not a doctor. You’re a fucking psychiatrist, aren’t you?”
“Psychologist, actually.”
“Even worse.”
“When did the hallucinations start, Jenny?”
“I don’t have hallucinations.”
“When you arrived, you asked the Attending if your sister was real.”
“So? I was in shock.”
“We’ve been watching you.”
“I know. It’s fucking creepy.”
“You wander off. You talk to people who aren’t there. You have whole conversations.”
“Fuck you. Uncuff me.”
“You’re not a prisoner, Jenny. We brought you here to help you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Your equipment is malfunctioning, I’m afraid. We can fix it.”
“You’re not touching me,” said Jenny. “No one is operating on me. I will die before I let you cut me.”
“Well, that’s not much of a threat, is it? Dying?”
Jenny spat at him. It landed on his clean white coat. Klein sighed.
“Mr. Sullivan caused some kind of reaction when he…explored your machinery.”
“Sully? You mean when he fucking tortured me?”
“Yes, I suppose it could be viewed as such. Mr. Sullivan was a very troubled man.”
“Is that why you hired him?”
“We didn’t hire him, he volunteered.”
“To end the world.”
“The world didn’t end. Just modern civilization as we knew it. It was very predictable.”
Jenny stopped and stared at him. He smiled.
“You did this on purpose?”
“Enough talking,” he said. “What if I brought you to the man you want to see the most?”
“And who would that be?”
“We have Mr. Faron locked up. Would you like to see him?”
Jenny felt her heart in her throat. She swallowed hard.
“I’d like to kill him.”
“That can be arranged.”
TWENTY-NINE
Klein summoned four men to accompany Jenny in her wheelchair. Two kept their guns trained on her head while the other two cuffed her hands and feet. She smiled at the man cuffing her right hand and his hands began to shake. The gunmen stayed with them as Klein pushed her out of the room and down a hall bright with fluorescent lights. Jenny blinked in the bright light as nurses and doctors moved out of the way. She felt their eyes on them as they passed. As her eyes became accustomed to the bright lights, she noticed people inside the rooms. Most were unconscious. Jenny distinctly saw some chained to their beds. As she passed, she saw a very small female patient try to sit up in bed. In another room, a small boy shouted.
“You’re still doing it,” she said.
“What’s that?” Klein said, putting his ear closer to her behind her.
“They’re all children,” said Jenny. “Just like before. You’re experimenting on them.”
“Not experimenting,” said Klein. “Perfecting. You were the recipient of an imperfect system. We are perfecting it.”
“On children,” said Jenny.
“The young seem to be the only ones who can tolerate the procedure.”
Jenny reached do
wn, the chain pulling at her wrist, and pulled on the handbrake. Klein ran into her as the wheels stopped. The two gunmen turned, their weapons held toward the floor. Jenny saw that a few soldiers in black stopped when they saw her.
“I would advise against this,” said Klein. “Don’t you want to see Faron?”
Jenny looked over at the room on her right. A little girl, lost in the pile of blankets, lay on her side, facing the door. She mouthed two words and a tear slid down her perfect cheek.
Help me, she had said.
Jenny looked to her left and a boy was lying with his exposed back to her. The stitches were still fresh where they had cut him open. Klein was suddenly in her face, adjusting his tiny glasses.
“Jenny. Please don’t make these men hurt you. If you want to see Faron, you’re going to have to stop this nonsense.”
“Kill Faron,” Jenny said.
“What?”
“You said I could kill him, right?”
“I said it could be arranged. You’ll have to cooperate a little more before you can start making demands.”
“Cooperate how?”
“We can discuss it soon. For now I’m just going to let you see that we have Mr. Faron, do you understand?”
“More than you know,” said Jenny. She felt a flare of anger as she clenched her teeth and smiled at the same time. She released the brake.
The wheelchair started moving again. Down hall after hall, each room containing a child.
“Where’s Rafi?” said Jenny.
“Not here,” said Klein. “Upstairs. We have him secured. Your friends are safe.”
“I want to see them.”
“Later, perhaps. I don’t have the authorization to approve that.”
“Where is Sarah?”
“She is receiving medical treatment. She was injured in the extraction.”
“Kidnapping,” said Jenny. “Where’s Trix?”
“Who?”
“The zombie girl. Asian. Scary. Where is she?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“She’s being questioned.”
“Tortured.”
“You do not seem very cooperative, Jenny,” said Klein. “These words you’re using, they’re aggressive. We’re trying to help you, but if you keep fighting us, you’re going to make it hard on everyone. Especially Ezekiel.”
Jenny caught her breath.
“Zeke,” she said.
“He has suffered so much,” said Klein, sounding satisfied with himself. They came to a large double door. Klein walked around her and passed a card over a reader set next to the door. They walked into a distinctly different ward, one with no doctors and nurses. There was no buzz of activity here. The lights were dimmer and the air was closer. Set into each wall was a row of windows through which, Jenny saw, was a person. Some were terribly scarred, others sleeping on a bare mattress, a few pacing. Adults. People Jenny’s age or older. A woman with flaming red hair slammed two bloody hands against the glass as they went by, her eyes crazed. Jenny saw that she chewed at her wrists. She saw her blood was black.
“What the fuck is this?” she said.
Klein answered by stopping in front of one of the windows. A small figure was hunched over himself in the bare white room, his hands grasped over his mop of blond hair.
“Faron?” Jenny said.
Klein held up a key and nodded to the gunmen. In the blink of an eye she had a muzzle against each temple as Klein unlocked first her hands, then her feet. Jenny stood and the guns pressed harder into the sides of her head.
“One wrong move and they shoot,” said Klein.
Jenny ignored him and peered through the window. Faron rocked back and forth on his heels.
“What the fuck did you do to him?” she said, her voice low.
“Does it not please you?” said Klein. “I was sure you would like it.”
Faron stopped rocking and slowly turned, his hands still cradling his head.
“Faron?” Jenny said.
Slowly, so slowly, he stood on shaky legs. He was in nothing but boxers and was so pale he looked like a ghost. Jenny put her hand to the glass.
“Jenny?” he said, his voice hoarse. “Is that you, Jenny?” He smiled and looked more manic than Jenny had ever seen him. He lowered his arms and walked like a drunk man over to the glass. He stared through the glass for a moment. He put his hand up to hers.
“You’re late,” he said, still smiling. “I’ve been waiting for ages.”
“Why? So you can kill me?”
The smile was replaced by a frown. “No. So we can fight. Together. They put something…something in my head.” He twitched, as if something caused him pain, his head twisting violently. He banged on his skull with the heel of his hand before being still again. “It’s in my brain.”
“Declan’s dead,” Jenny said, meeting his eyes. She felt cold as she said it. “He's dead, Faron. Because of you.”
“Declan?” he said. “The big guy?”
“Yes.”
“How did he die?”
Jenny swallowed. She felt hot tears running down her cold face. She took her hand from the glass. “He rotted from the inside out. Remember? You shot his insides out. You did this, Faron. He shoved a knife through his brain because he couldn’t walk, he couldn’t run, he couldn’t fight. Because of you.”
Faron wrinkled his forehead as he listened.
“He died? From that?”
“He wasn’t like us, you stupid asshole!” Jenny hit the glass and Faron jumped. The guns pressed harder against her head.
“Careful, Miss Hawkins,” said Klein.
“Why didn’t you heal him?” said Faron.
“What?” said Jenny. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“But why didn’t you fix him?” said Faron, looking confused.
“I COULDN’T GODDAMN FIX HIM!” Jenny said, her face now cold and wet from crying. “Why couldn’t you just kill me, Faron? Burn me, blow me up, cut my fucking head off. Why him?”
“I don’t want to kill you,” he said. “I wanted you to come with me.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I wanted to get you here. To help me. They didn’t want me to bring you back. Because they know. They know, Jenny.”
“Know what?”
He smiled again. “That we can take them down. We’re the strongest, Jenny. You and me.”
“You killed him, Faron.”
“Why didn’t you fix him?”
“Stop saying that.”
“Did you feed him? Why didn’t you feed him?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“That’s enough,” said Klein. “No more talking.”
“You feed him and he gets better,” said Faron. “Not for good, just for a little while.”
“Feed him what?”
“Put her back in the chair,” said Klein. “Now.”
The guns pressed into Jenny, but she ignored them.
“Meat,” said Faron. “Meat from you. Tainted with teeny creepy crawly things. Metal things with a metal spine. And then he gets better.”
Jenny felt herself being shoved back down into the chair.
Faron pressed his face against the glass, staring at her madly.
“I didn’t know he would die, Jenny! I thought you knew!”
Jenny stared at him, her mouth open in a sob that wouldn’t come, her eyes trying to bulge and her lungs locking up.
“I’m sorry, Jenny!” Faron screamed as they pushed her away.
She could have saved him.
Declan didn’t have to die.
“Jenny, I’m sorry!”
She put on the brake, barely knowing what she was doing.
She pulled on her left hand, the cuff looser than the right. Her gunman had been afraid of hurting her. She pulled hard on her thumb feeling the bone snap. She felt it then, but it was a comfort to feel something other than a cold hollowness. Her eyes felt dead as she pulled her h
and out of the cuff, her right hand holding tight to the handbrake.
“Jenny, I’m not going to warn you again,” said Klein. The guns were at her temples again.
“If you kill me,” said Jenny, easing her hand the rest of the way out of the cuff, “I’m going to come back.”
“I’m aware of that,” said Klein.
“But you won’t,” said Jenny.
“What?”
With her broken hand she grasped the left gunman’s weapon, muzzle-first. He tried to shoot, but his finger slid off the trigger as she twisted. The gun was in her hand and she flipped it towards Klein and pulled the trigger.
Her head exploded a split second after his.
THIRTY
In the darkness, Jenny felt herself surrounded. She took a step in one direction and a man came into view, crucified on a wall. Grayson, black blood running from the knife that secured him there, opened his pale eyes and looked at Jenny.
“You could have stopped it.”
Jenny backed away and felt something with her foot. Lucy was lying there, where Declan had shot her. Blood dripped from Lucy’s long, thick dreadlocks.
“You could have stopped it,” she said.
“I didn’t want to. You deserved what you got.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Jenny turned and walked into the darkness, away from Lucy. She tripped over something soft and landed hard on her hands and knees. She looked behind her to see Fisher, staring straight at her, goat blood still on his chin, a small chunk of raw meat still in his teeth. He blinked.
“Jenny.” He reached for her.