by J. L. Mac
It’s several hours later, about the time that my stomach starts to complain about being empty, that I hear company coming. The confident step of hard shoes on tile, followed by the shuffle of several pairs of heavy boots and the squeaky cadence of the technician that visited me before.
Without opening my eyes I’m able to track the four troopers. Two stopped outside the door, two took up posts inside the door. The technician crosses over to me and begins taking vitals while the confident walk stops near the troopers. I hear her giving last-minute instructions, mostly things about shooting to wound unless absolutely necessary. Their response told me what I already suspected, the woman was Chief Williams.
She strides across the room, stopping well out of reach, and addresses the technician. “Cardin, how long will the antidote take to bring him around?” I hear the technician slotting a nodule into a spray syringe.
“Not long. The antidote for the sleep gas is mostly inert. It just encapsulates the sleep agent and the body passes it out later. The average person wakes within a few seconds of it being administered.”
I feel him push the cold metal against my chest and a cool mist settled on my skin. Flickering my eyes in what I know was a passable imitation of someone waking from the gas I look around in confusion.
“What’s going on? Where am I?” The technician scurries away from me and the two guards near the door trained their weapons on me. Chief Williams steps around to where I can see her but stays out of the line of fire. I make a token effort to break out of my bonds before widening my eyes and simulating the terrified expression I’ve seen on so many faces. “Why are you doing this to me?”
I see satisfaction spread across Williams’ face and a grunt of disgust comes from one of the guards near the door. There were thousands of souls that had been at my mercy just as I’m at theirs now. I’m amused to see that my acting skills had completely fooled them into thinking they’ve got me frightened.
“We will ask the questions here, young man,” Chief Williams replies. Her stern expression and level, matronly voice likely command respect from those she speaks to. I play along, turning my eyes toward her in what I hoped looked like a silent plea for help. “Who are you and what were you doing in The Corp compound when we found you?”
“I was hungry,” I say. I try to keep the tremor of fear in my voice believable. Most sheep were scared of wolves and this was the biggest, baddest wolf of all. A corporate security chief. “I saw a few of the guards take a break and I scaled the wall. I thought I could get into a house and find some food. I’m sorry.” I let my voice rise to a panicky whine at the last words. The grimace that flashes across Williams face tells me I nailed the performance.
“I’m supposed to believe that you climbed a wall, barehanded, while our compound was on lockdown?” Her sneer is good. I can barely tell how furious she is at the apparent breach I’m telling her existed in her perimeter. “Do you have wings that let you fly?” I try to shake my head, but the strap holding it in place barely let me wiggle it at all. The end result I hope was somewhat pitiful.
“There was a rope, I climbed it.” Her eyes narrow and she takes a step forward.
“Now you are just being ridiculous. A rope? Left hanging from our walls. First you want me to believe my men left a gap you just strolled through, now you want me to believe they put a rope out for you? We’re done.” She turns to go and I shake as hard as I can in my restraints, all the while screaming at her to wait. I see the micro expression of satisfaction on her face before she replaces it with a look of rage. “What do you want, you little rodent?”
“I followed them. I didn’t think anyone would see me and I could get something to eat.” I clamp my lips shut and let a look of horror play out on my face. Williams steps forward and puts her hand on my arm. Giving me what I assumed passed for a comforting look of sorrow she shakes her head at me.
“No, don’t stop, little rodent. You are firmly caught in a trap. The only way out is through me.” I keep my face suitably frightened while another part of my mind visualizes the enjoyable task of ripping her in half to escape. “Now, if you are truly repentant, and are completely truthful, I can see if we have a place for you. It might be at a work camp, but at least you will be fed. If not, the other option is a bullet to the brain and your corpse ends up powering our lights for a day. What will it be?” I pretend to think about it. To have the attack of conscience a protagonist would have in one of the novels I loved to read. If I give in too quickly she’ll suspect me immediately, but if I wait too long she might lose interest. Just as I see the body language indications that she’s wavering, I let her think I’ve cracked.
Slumping my shoulders, I let my body relax on the table. I decide to use what little intelligence I’ve managed to gather to my advantage. Pretending to be exhausted emotionally I spew out my tale with such convincing emotion that I’d have had Anna practically believing it.
“They came through the forest where I lived. My parents, they were farmers, but they got sick while I was away delivering vegetables. They had some medicine that they gave me. It cured me of being sick, but by the time I got back to my parents they were dead. I tried to farm the land, but I’ve never been very good with plants. After a few weeks I was starving, so I went looking for the men that gave me the medicine. They told me that if I joined them they would feed me. I didn’t know they were Resistance. I just was hungry.”
Chief Williams looks over at the guards near the door. At that moment my stomach gives a huge gargling growl, announcing to the room at large that I am in fact hungry. I’ve always found that couching a lie in a truth makes it far easier to remember, and for others to swallow.
“How long have you been with them,” Chief Williams asks.
“Only a short time, they used me for grunt work at first. This was the first big thing that they included me in. And they abandoned me the second I fell behind.”
After that the interrogation began in earnest. I give them names, descriptions, travel paths and safe houses. All of the information I give them was useless. The people were amalgamations of real folks I’ve met in my travels. The paths were old game trails that most people avoided. They were too open for most travelers’ tastes. The safe houses I give them were thickets that I’ve used to hide from time to time. I hope by the time they had a chance to verify any of my information it would be too late. Besides, they seem more interested in where my companions are now. I told Williams that my name was Bakes, something my mother called me because of my love for being out in the sun. It’s the name of a kid I knew once. He died of a fever in some no name hamlet. His parents had hated The Corp for not providing the meds that would have saved his life. I figure he wouldn’t mind if I borrowed his identity.
“Bakes,” Williams says gently. She’s holding a plate of delicious smelling meat and potatoes that she’s slowly eating from. “The sooner we know everything about your friends, the sooner you can eat.” I let some drool spill down my lips, something I didn’t have to fake, that food smelled good.
“When I last saw them they were going to try and get into the storage rooms. They said they had some guys from the wall guards that they paid off. I don’t know what they paid them with or who they were. If we got what we wanted we were supposed to wait outside the walls in a hiding place for a few days. They never told me where that was. Please. Can I have some of that food? I’m starving? Please? I’ve told you all I know! I swear!”
Chief Williams keeps up the food torture for another hour. She’s thorough, re-asking questions, reframing them to check my answers and trying to poke holes in my stories. When she finally calls an end to it she leaves the nearly empty plate on my chest. Motioning the technician forward she instructs him to feed me. The man tilts the plate, scraping the food off into my mouth. When they left the room I pretend to collapse into an exhausted slumber. I hear them step down the hall into another room and close the door. Though their conversation was faint I was still able to make it out.<
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“If he’s telling the truth we may have a use for him. Our PR is in the toilet lately. Between the death of Benson and then Ingram getting himself killed, the citizens need to see that we are taking positive action to protect them. The last thing we need right now is an armed group of insurgents operating inside our walls. I want the entire compound searched. Then I want the surrounding area cleared. If we find his friends then we eliminate them. As for him, hold him in a cell, provide him food and water, treat any wounds he has. I want him on suicide watch. Young people sometimes get over emotional about things like this. He may decide that betraying his friends is something he can’t live with. I don’t want him to have the option. I want a full report…”
A fan kicks on in the room, some sort of air handling device and it drowns out the rest of what they’re saying. I allow myself to really relax onto the table. At least for now, I’m in no danger and neither was Iris. It’ll be some time before they come to move me to a cell and I need rest before that happens. Allowing myself to slip down into sleep I leave my cell behind.
GOING TO SEE MY DAD seems the best way to start the day. Sleep remained elusive throughout the night in spite of great effort on my part. I think the combination of anger and helplessness made an unbeatable insomnia cocktail. Shutting off my emotions has proven to be difficult, more so after nearly blowing a fuse trying to concentrate on Sic yesterday.
Like stretching a muscle beyond its limits, my head throbbed, my skin burned, the veins in my neck seemed to snake atop my skin. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I did it. I focused my thoughts on Sic and there he was in my mind’s eye. Real enough to touch…
The doors to the room my father is in slide open just to reveal the one person I have no interest in seeing at the moment—at all. From behind the tinted lenses of my glasses I watch as she surveys me head to toe. Her dark hair is so smooth, every strand in place. Her security uniform is crisp. The toes of her black boots glisten under the hospital’s fluorescent lighting.
“Maintain him and keep me abreast of his status,” Chief Williams orders with a nod of her head in the direction of my father’s sleeping form.
“Yes, Chief,” the nurse returns her nod obligingly and scurries for the door, undoubtedly wanting to escape the bubble of Chief Williams’ authoritative personality.
“Ms. Tierney, I’m glad you’re here. I was just about to dispatch agents to your unit to escort you here.”
“Chief? What’s going on?”
I tap my way across the hospital room to where she’s standing. It takes great effort for me to not look at my father. I can tell something is wrong and my first instinct is to run to him.
“Please sit,” she commands, escorting me to a small couch against the wall. “Unfortunately, your father has had a stroke and the doctors say that he is in a coma.”
Before thinking of anything else, I leap to my feet and stumble forward to his bedside. “Dad,” I rasp, feeling desperate and helpless to make him better. His hands are warm and his outward appearance gives away nothing about a stroke. His injuries haven’t changed much. He has an ugly bruise ringing one eye. The gashes on his head are still there, securely closed with some sort of tape. His features are relaxed, every wrinkle subdued by the deepest of sleep. I lean forward and rest my ear against his chest and listen to the steady beat of his heart. My fingers instinctively go to the pendant he has always worn.
“Will he wake up?” I ask tentatively, fearing the answer.
“His brain was without adequate oxygen for some measure of time. The machines you hear are supporting him entirely. I’m so sorry, Ms. Tierney.”
“But he can still wake up, right? He can get better?”
Chief Williams’ contrite sigh is the only answer she supplies. It’s a spear through my heart.
“Isn’t there anything they can do? Medicine? What about consciousness serum?”
“I wish it were that simple. Doctor Tierney is such an asset to The Corporation. They will continue his care until his time runs out, your time runs out or you wish to cease life support efforts.”
“Time? He’s the lead genetics researcher!” The disbelief in my voice is difficult to conceal.
“You know the rules of this compound, Ms. Tierney and unfortunately we cannot show favoritism for one employee over all the rest.”
“They’re going to charge him time? After all he’s done for Fenra? All his research?”
“Until it’s gone and then you may use your time.”
I absently rub the Fenra cuff around my wrist thinking that the metal isn’t worth its weight because I don’t earn any of my own time. I live off what my father has supplied for the both of us.
“I have no time. You know that.” The defeat I feel is a leaden weight. If only I could work.
“Sure you do. If you want it…” I feel as though I’m a specimen in the lab the way the Chief is watching me with curiosity, waiting to see how I’ll react to her stimulus.
“I’ll have enough to keep him here? And our unit?” Hope in spite of circumstances germinates within my heart compelling me to do all I can to help it flourish and bloom. I want to believe that I have options. I want to believe that I can do something to help my father and maybe even help Sic too. Denying the Chief of Security doesn’t exactly seem like an option anyway. The tell tale sense of being preyed upon is my proof of that. This woman isn’t one that accepts no for an answer on a regular basis. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.
“You’ll have everything you need. Both of you.”
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Good. I’ll pay you a visit this afternoon. We need to begin putting the residents at ease right away.”
“I don’t really know how you expect me to do that, but I’ll try.”
“Don’t worry, dear. I didn’t get to where I am because I have a shortage of inventive ideas.” The self-confident smirk on her face sends a chill through my veins. My experience with Ingram is still so fresh and somehow the intimidating aura he radiated seems like child’s play compared to the woman I just agreed to work with.
I hadn’t wanted to revisit my father’s box in the floorboards again for fear of what else I might find. With frayed emotions and my mind whirling in a thousand different directions, one more unexpected detail about my life is the last thing I need to stumble upon, but the fact remains; I need information if I have any hopes whatsoever of helping Sic or myself out of the mess we’re in and with my father’s condition being what it is, the bookmark is my only source of information at this point. I had hoped—had counted on having time to ask my father questions once he had recovered enough to come home. The thought that he may never come home terrifies me.
I turn the dull metal bookmark over in my hands once before a low frequency buzz seems to emanate from the metal itself, followed by a voice.
“Bio-verified. Iris. Tierney.”
“Iris. What you’re about to hear, you’ll only hear once, so listen closely. If you’re listening to this, it means you already know at least part of the truth, part of your history and that puts you in even more danger than you already are. There are people who, if they found out you existed, they would hunt you down until they possessed you. There is nothing they will not do to get you because of what you are. I’m sorry I can’t tell you in person, but if you are hearing this I’m likely already gone. You need to understand and there is very little time, so I must be blunt. You are the one and only Oculus, a corporate designed genetically altered person. The program paired a male and female unit, one as a protector, one as an information gatherer. I temporarily took away your sight to impede the development of your gift. With this bookmark there is a device that will restore your sight. Once you have done so it is imperative that you let no one know that you can see. They will keep their guard down if they think you are blind and the sudden return of your vision would raise too many undesirable questions. Know this though, once you restore your sight you will have no choice
but to make your escape. Your restored vision will allow your other abilities to develop and it will be impossible for you to hide among the masses. Then you will have to try and make your way to safety. Your best bet is to get to The Resistance out in the Dark Lands. You may hear the word arbitrium spoken. It’s from an old language, a forgotten language. It means decide. Make your decisions clearly and don’t waver in them. In the event that you are going to be taken, or if you choose to remain blind and hide here, I can only offer you one solution. My pendant is not just a necklace. Contained within is a serum, a bioweapon that will completely wipe your mind. Inject it directly into the neck and you’ll forget everything. Permanently. If you know nothing, if you remember nothing, there is a chance that you’ll be safe. If they discover who you truly are, the best that you can hope for is a life of imprisonment. I’ve tried to keep you safe all your life. In doing so, I kept you in the dark and for that I am both sorry and grateful. Sorry that I have done what I’ve done and grateful that at least I succeeded for as long as I did. Be safe, my girl. I love you.”
The bookmark is unassuming enough for something concealing so much explosive information. Explosive is the only word that comes to mind and even that feels like a terrible understatement.
My father’s words swirl through my mind leaving me dizzy and frustrated that yet again I’m left with more questions than answers. I look down at the pendant hanging around my neck and find it fitting that it reminds me of the pendulum on a great clock… or the blade of a guillotine.
“Arbitrium,” I whisper to myself remembering that I’ve heard this word once before when I was arrested. A man said the word to my father and he had gasped.
Is my dad involved with The Resistance?
I’ve never felt so confused and scared. All I can think of is my dad and Sic, but at the moment they are both lost to me.