by J. L. Mac
“Ms. Tierney, what’s something you’d say you enjoy?”
“Something I enjoy?”
“Yes. You know, like a hobby, a past time.”
“I used to like gardening. Planting things.”
“Why would you say you enjoy gardening?”
“I don’t know. I guess I haven’t given it much thought. I just like knowing that I’ve grown something. I cultivated something. The way dirt feels in my hands…”
“But, you’ll never be able to see the fruits of your labor.”
“I don’t see anything, Chief Williams.”
“True. The knowledge that you had the power and skill to take something raw and redefine its existence is reward enough, I suppose.”
“Makes no difference to me. I don’t know what I’m missing.”
“Yes. I suppose so.”
“And what do you enjoy, Chief Williams?”
“The same thing as you—using power and skill to take something raw and redefine its existence.”
“You have an interesting take on things. If I said I like long walks in the evening sun would that mean I’m a blind daredevil?”
“Perhaps. Do you truly enjoy taking walks?”
“Doesn’t everyone? I suppose I enjoy it about as much as the next person.”
“Good. You’ve given me an idea. What do you say to a nice walk this evening? Outside the wall.”
“You’re joking right?”
“I’m not. What’s more reassuring than our resident blind girl taking a comfortable stroll outside our walls and returning safe and sound?”
“Should I just walk until I trip and break my neck or…”
“I understand that you’re close to Hattie Brighton. Surely she’d accompany you?”
“Ha! Fat chance of that. Hattie and I aren’t getting along much these days.”
“Do you have any other friends?”
“Not really. I can do it. I count my steps. If I don’t show up I guess it means I broke my neck.”
“So you’re a blind daredevil after all.”
Lost time is never found again. - Benjamin Franklin
I’M MOVED FROM THE ROOM with a camera to a cell off of Ingram’s old escape route. No cameras, not a lot of foot traffic. If I’d been released from the restraints I could have been out of the building in a matter of minutes. Unfortunately, Chief Williams’ concern that I might try to hang myself has the guards on edge. Rather than watch me constantly, they opt to leave me strapped to the bed. An attendant comes in every few hours to check on me, give me some water or a scrap of food, and help me attend to the call of nature.
It galls me to admit it, but I am truly stuck. Time is not on my side and it is only a matter of days if not hours before security clears the town and then the woods beyond. Eventually, Chief Williams will call in a professional interrogator and then the game would be done. I am not foolish enough to think that I can withstand the chemicals a professional uses. There is even talk that The Corp has some sort of brain scanner that can delve even deeper than the chems do. They will know everything that I know about The Resistance. And more importantly everything I know about Iris.
Part of me rails at the unfairness of the situation. If I had died a year ago, even after Anna had died, I wouldn’t have felt this kind of pain. The universe allowed me to discover Iris, to find a happiness I have never thought possible, just so it could reveal to me an undiscovered depth of agony. Visions of her face, her body, the smell of her hair, torment me as I ineffectively strain to break out of my bonds. Had I died ignorant of her existence, I would not be so sorry to leave this world behind. Now, I mourn for what might have been and the excruciating sensation makes my chest ache.
My cell is cold concrete with a single bulb hung from the ceiling. The only door is solid steel and securely fastened. The only other feature of the room is a small, three inch wide, metal pipe. From the fresh air and sounds coming from it, the pipe winds its way outside. I close my eyes and listen to the distant melody of what passes for civilization. The symphony of Corp life, in D minor.
“Sic? Can you hear me?” Iris’s voice issues not from my head, but from the pipe in the wall. It is faint, as if she is some distance from the other end and whispering.
“Iris,” I say quietly. Reverently. “Is that you? You shouldn’t be doing this! It is incredibly dangerous for you. What if someone sees you?” I hear her give a cynical little laugh.
“No one pays any attention to the little blind girl. Besides, I’m a big Corp celebrity now. The blind PR girl that will be setting everything right by showing the average citizen how safe the world is. Why just last night they had me go for a nice little walk out in the dark and scary woods, all by my lonesome.” I don’t like the thought of Iris out in the woods alone, but I see the appeal to some people.
“Williams got you to take the job? She’s smart. I can see how that would work. Take the perceived weakest member, the one that the old security chief caused harm to and put her on display. You show how safe things are while showing how even you are on board with her new regime. Quite the masterful stroke.”
“How are you Sic? I know they are keeping you in one of the old cells and I saw footage on Chief Williams’ monitors of your interrogation. They had the sound down and didn’t think to turn off the video feed. Why would you bother with the blind girl, right? Did they hurt you?” I ache to be able to take her in my arms, to soothe the worry that I hear in her voice.
“No, love. They asked me questions; I gave them made up answers. They do still have me strapped to the damn table; otherwise I would have been long gone. It sounds like they plan to keep me like this for the foreseeable future. But I’m hopeful they will relax a bit and free up a hand at least. If they do I might be able to get out, but if not…” I hesitate to say anything more, but Iris seems to sense what I am leaving unsaid.
“What are you planning, Sicarius?” It is the first time she has used my full name and I find it almost amusing how the echoes of matronly disapproval accompany the full timber of a formally spoken name.
“Only what I must, Iris. How’s your father?” I hear the catch in her voice before she can speak. “Oh, Iris. I’m so sorry.”
“He’s not dead.” She says it harshly, angrily. Then she sighs and I feel the despair she has been holding back spill out from her. “He had a stroke. He’s alive but it’s like he isn’t there anymore. Chief Williams told me if I took this job then I would have enough time to take care of myself and pay for his care.”
“That bitch.” I feel a cold sense of calm course through me. If I had the chance I would tear out Williams’ throat before killing her myself.
“How can we get you out?” The subtle inflection of how she says ‘we’ has me on instant alert.
“Who is we?”
The small intake of breath lets me know she understands exactly what I am asking.
“During my walk…I saw Cade…and he has some new friends. His old friends were whisked away by some of his new friends. They want to get you out but I don’t think they want you answering Corp questions regardless.” I close my eyes and sigh. The last thing I need is The Resistance getting themselves killed trying to assassinate me. Or worse, getting themselves captured and interrogated.
“It’s unlikely that anyone can get me out, Iris. Williams has extra security parked at either end of the building. Getting in and out of this room is easy, but they check on me regularly. Even if someone got in and let me loose, there would not be time for them to get out. Then there is the little problem of me getting out past locked security doors. From the conversations I have overheard here, Williams has plugged up all the holes I used to get into this place quietly and reinforced the doors with maglocks. In the event of a security emergency they slam shut and lock. I would be stuck here even if I could get out of these restraints. How about you take another walk? Go back out and enjoy the woods. If you see Cade and his friends, tell them I have everything handled. Tell them they
should show you where Cade’s old friends went.” I can feel her irritation at my suggestion. It pulses between us, with no regard for the distance, like a living thing.
“I’m not leaving you here. I’m not leaving my father here. We need to find a way to get you out. I’m not losing everyone I love…” I hear the break in her voice and the quiet sobs of her crying.
“Iris. Listen to me. I’ve been in situations like this before. I can tell you that it is not an option to break me out. Williams thinks I have conspirators out there already. She expects someone to come for me. Don’t you get it? I’m already dead. The only question is if they manage to get information out of me about The Resistance…about you. I will not let that happen. I’m sorry about your father. In his absence I will tell you what he probably would. You need to escape. Go to The Resistance. Get the hell out of here and don’t look back. Tell them to stay away. I will find a way to end my own life. I don’t need the help.”
“You can’t kill yourself! How would you even do it?” She sounds so scandalized by the notion.
“It’s one of the first things they teach us, how to kill someone with our bare hands. Later, we’re instructed that if we are ever captured, we should eliminate ourselves as a last resort option to protect The Corp.”
“What about me?” She sniffles, and it makes my chest ache. “Is it so easy to leave me behind?”
“I may not agree with the original doctrine, but I can sure as hell get the job done when it means protecting the people I love. I see no difference between this and dying in a firefight to protect you. Now I need you to get away from here. I need to know that you’re safe.”
“I don’t care Sicarius. I will find a way to save you!”
“You already did, Iris. For the longest time all I did was court death. When I met you, I felt alive for the first time. Loving you is the single greatest thing I’ve experienced in this sorry world. Those stories I read all came alive, and I regret having to go. I need to protect you. I will protect you, even if it means leaving you. It’s what I was designed to do. It is written in my DNA. You’re written in my DNA.”
“And you’re written in mine,” she counters stubbornly.
“You cannot get me out, Iris. If there were a chance, I’d try. But Williams is just too well prepared and eventually she will tire of our game and send for a real interrogator. When she does that, I will not be able to keep them from coming for you.”
She’s silent for so long that I wonder if she has already gone. When she speaks, my heart leaps in my chest in a whirling dance of joy. No matter the words, hearing her voice is a cool breeze on my fevered brow.
“I’m not giving up, Sic. I will find a way to get to you.”
I hear the sound of her moving away and worry swells in my breast. She is going to do something stupid, dangerous and get herself in trouble. It’s Iris; she was bad enough when she was blind. Now that she can see she is as blind as everyone else to her own limitations. When the attendant comes in a few minutes later, I pretend to startle awake.
“Hey! You…I’m sorry I don’t know your name. Can you let me off of this thing? Please? I swear I’ll be good.” I can tell by the slight curl of his lip that the whiny edge of my voice is convincingly contrite. “I can’t feel my arms and my left leg has gone all twitchy.” The technician seems to consider it for a moment then shakes his head.
“Sorry, kid. The orders are that you stay strapped down until further notice. Believe me, I would rather you use the toilet in the corner than to have to keep coming in here for the assist. Now, do you need to go?”
I don’t really need to go that badly but I decide it is just one more card to play in convincing them to free my hands. Nodding, I suffer though his clumsy ministrations in helping me relieve myself. As he turns to go I make a pitiful sound that makes him pause.
“Can you at least ask someone? If I’m going to die, I would like to have some dignity left when they pull the trigger. For God’s sake, all I wanted was some food!” He leaves without looking back, making me wonder if my performance has been convincing.
Several hours later, I am rewarded with the confident strides of Chief Williams coming down the hall toward my cell. Two guards step inside, training their rifles on me, and then she steps in behind them. Two more guards stay outside the door.
Say what you will about this woman, she is careful. And efficient. No wasted labor, but all sight lines and contingencies covered. She would be a very difficult target to assassinate. I would probably have to resort to poison, or maybe a nerve agent.
While my mind entertains all the lovely ways I could put an end to Chief Williams’s life I keep my body limp, my face fearful. Giving me a contemptuous look, she waves her guards back to the wall.
“So, Bakes. My guards tell me that you have been whining about being released from your restraints. I think we might be able to accommodate that, but what can you give me for it?” I pretend to be confused by the question.
“What? I don’t have anything…you even took my clothes.” Her eyes flick down my naked body with just an instant of casual interest before she speaks again.
“Yes, but this is a business. You wish to be free from your restraints; I wish to find your collaborators. They have been extremely competent at avoiding capture. I find myself wondering if they have not already escaped into the Dark Lands.”
It is unsettling that she has already jumped so far ahead. I had hoped to have a few more days before she called an interrogator. I can now see what little time I have slipping away from me. Plastering the most pathetic look on my face I can muster, I make a horrible mewling sound that I had heard one of my louder victims make. The effect it has is instantaneous; Williams recoils then slaps me hard across the face. I see a micro expression of lust and glee cross her face, which is quickly replaced by her normal sedate glowering.
Turning to her guards, she motions for them to join her at the door. I hear her give instructions to each pair to go to the far ends of the hallway, effectively blocking this area off from all personnel. I notice with interest they will also be out of listening distance. When Williams returns, she wheels in a small cart then closes the door behind her. Taking a plastic bag from the cart, she removes all of her clothing, folding each piece neatly and placing it within the cart. Then she puts on a disposable jump suit with a hood, which she pulls up over her hair. Finally, she takes a face shield from the cart and draws it over the only exposed skin she has left.
As she faces me, I feel a strange sense of recognition. This is a true predator. Not some fancy, spoiled child like Ingram, this is one of nature’s perfect machines.
Plucking a heavy set of gloves from the cart she pulls them on as she walks in my direction.
“Bakes…poor, little bakes. You must realize by now that your friends are never coming for you? Even if they did, I have quite a few nasty surprises waiting for them. No, you are going to end up in the furnace I’m afraid. Powering the lights for a few hours, maybe a day. The question is, how do you want to spend the last hours of your life. Tied to a table? Or would you like a good meal, more food than you could eat? A nice soft bed to sleep in? A shower? All of that could be yours…if you tell me what I want to know.”
It is probably true. She will give poor Bakes his shower. His food. His nice warm bed. Then the next day she will trot him out in front of the cameras, well rested and fed. To be shot in the head. No altruism there, just more agenda to serve her needs.
You have to admire the single minded ruthlessness of this woman.
“Please,” I whimper out. “I don’t want to die.” I quiver my lip for effect. She replies by punching me with her right fist, mashing my lips into my teeth.
“Please,” she mocked. “A big strong lad like you, already reduced to a quivering mass of jelly? Where is the fire? Where is the anger?” Her left fist smashes into my ribs, smarting, but doing no real damage. It is hard enough that on an out of shape opponent she might have broken a bone. The look
of lustful glee she has on her face is undisguised now.
“I’ll do anything you want. Please, stop hitting me.” I can see where this is going. A woman in her position probably doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to have sex. There would be too many people trying to use a relationship against her. Based on her physical response to hurting me, I can see that situation had festered in her. She seems to get sexual pleasure from inflicting pain, heightened by me being completely at her mercy. I am not sure if she’s going to want to copulate, but if she does she might loosen one of my hands. If she does, she will find out quite quickly how fast the tables can turn.
Sneering at me, she back hands me across the face. For the next ten minutes she works me over, avoiding my genitals. Professionally, I have to admire her work. The average man would be somewhat broken by this treatment from a woman. The same thing had been done to me when I was four. I’ve since worked through any issues it caused; mostly it just makes it easier to kill women if the need arises.
I continue to give what I feel are the appropriate responses. A cry of pain at a heavy blow, a whimper during a pause in punches, continued pleads for mercy. In the end, she waits until I offer to do whatever she wants then she stops.
“Yes, Bakes. I think you will. I will be coming back here tomorrow. You will be released from the table and allowed to shower. You will be given a good meal. You will be allowed to use the bathroom. Then, you will be placed back upon your cleaned table. When I come to you tomorrow you had best be ready to answer my questions and comply with my every command. Is that clear?”
The undisguised lust on her face makes it crystal clear what she has in mind for the following day. None of that matters. Once they free me from the table this will all be over. The only question is whether or not I can kill the attendant and get to Williams before being forced to kill myself. Keeping my face appropriately terrified, I nod vigorously.
Williams returns to the cart and removes her facemask and jumpsuit, placing them in a black trash bag. Pulling a packet out, she tears it open and removes a large, moist towelette, which she uses to wipe her face. Retrieving her garments she dresses, then turns and opens the door. She leaves the room with the cart, not even giving a backward glance.