The Prisoner of Cell 25

by Richard Paul Evans

  “What’s with all the security cameras?” Ostin asked.

  “Dallstrom would be in heaven,” I said. “We better hurry,” I said.

  “I doubt the food service guys come down here.” We crept down the hall to the first door. The doors were thick metal with dark, mirrored glass in horizontal slits about four inches wide and a foot high.

  I looked through the window on the first door. It was dark inside and I couldn’t see anything or anyone. I went to the next door and looked inside. It was also dark but I thought I could see a faint glow.

  “I think there’s someone in this one.”

  “Is it your mom?”

  “No. Whoever it is, they’re glowing.”

  “It could be Taylor,” Ostin said, “Try your keys.”

  I swiped both of them over the keypad but nothing happened.

  “It’s not opening.” I looked up and down the hall, feeling more nervous by the second.

  “I bet it’s a magnetic lock,” Ostin said, looking it over. “You might be able to counter it with your electricity.” He crouched down to examine it, then nodded. “The secondary magnetic coil should be about here. Let me see your hand. Don’t shock me.”

  I held it out. He guided it to one side of the lock and backed away. “Okay, now.”

  I pulsed. There was a slight crackle of electricity but nothing happened.

  “Give it more,” he said.

  “Okay.” This time I pulsed with everything. The light in the hallway flickered and there was the clicking sound of movement. “Are you done?” Ostin asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Ostin grabbed the door and pulled it open. “It worked.”

  “All right,” I said. I stepped into the room. It was dark except for the dim light coming from the hallway. I looked around, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

  “Michael,” a voice said, “It’s me.”

  There was a girl lying on the floor in the corner of the room. Even in the darkness I knew who she was.

  “Taylor,” I said. “We found you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Michael’s Induction

  Taylor was barely able to move. I knelt down on the floor next to her. “What have they done to you?”

  She started crying. “I’m so sorry I led them to you.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Taylor.

  We’re going to get you out of here. Have you seen my mother?”

  “No. But they told me they have her.”

  “Did they say where?” Ostin asked.

  “No.”

  “Taylor, what kind of school is this?”

  “It’s not a school. It’s a laboratory.”

  “A laboratory? For what?”

  Another voice came from the darkness. “To learn how to make more of us.”

  I spun around to see a young man standing on the other side of the cell. He looked about my age but was a full six inches taller. He was African-American and glowing. Standing behind him were two teenage girls, one Chinese, the other a tall blonde, who were both glowing as well. I’m not surprised that I hadn’t seen them, as they were in the opposite corner of the cell and I was only focused on Taylor. “I’m Ian,” the boy said. “I’ve been watching you and your friends since you arrived this morning.”

  “From down here?”

  “I see through electrolocation. I can see through the walls.”

  “Like electric eels,” Ostin said. “That’s cool.”

  “Why are you down here?” I asked.

  “Around here you either do what Hatch says or you end up in the dungeon.”

  “What’s a Hatch?” I asked.

  “Hopefully you’ll never find out,” the Chinese girl said, walking toward us. “I’m McKenna.”

  The other said, “And I’m Abigail.”

  “I’m Michael,” I said. “Do you also have powers?”

  McKenna nodded. “I can make light and heat. Abigail can take away pain.”

  “Electric nerve stimulation,” Ostin said. “Very interesting.”

  I turned back to Ian. “Do you know who else is down here?”

  “I can see everyone in the building,” he said.

  “Do you know if my mother is here? They kidnapped her.”

  “How long ago did they take her?”

  “Just a week or so.”

  Ian shook his head. “The only female prisoners are on the next floor up and they’ve all been here for more than a year.”

  My heart fell.

  Ian suddenly looked up toward the corner of the room. “Oh no,”

  he said. “The two guys you came here with are being taken away by the guards.” He turned back toward me. “How did you get in here? In this room?”

  “Michael demagnetized the door,” Ostin said. “With his electricity.”

  Ian shook his head. “That’s impossible. The locks aren’t magnetic.

  The sliding bolts are made of resin and work pneumatically. Everyone here has electrical gifts, so they prepared for that.” Ian looked back up. “They’re coming.”

  “Who’s coming?” I said.

  Ian didn’t answer. He grabbed the girls and stepped away from the door, back to the corner of the room.

  “If I didn’t open the door,” I asked, “then who did?”

  A voice boomed from an unseen speaker. “That would be me, Michael. We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to Elgen Academy.”

  There was suddenly a loud screech in my head and I felt dizzy, just as I had in the parking lot when my mother was taken. I fell against the wall, covering my ears. Everyone in the room groaned except Ostin, who looked around curiously at us. “What’s happening?”

  “It’s Nichelle,” Ian said.

  “What’s a Nichelle?” Ostin asked.

  The cell door opened. The man I had seen outside the pizza par-lor was standing there next to the creepy girl.

  “Hello, Michael,” the man said. “I see the group has been reunited.” He stepped inside the room.

  “Shock him,” Ostin said.

  I took a step forward, then the screeching dropped me to my knees. Everyone else screamed.

  Hatch turned to Ostin. “Ostin, isn’t it? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” He looked down at me. “What do you call yourself? The Electrokids? The Electroclub?”

  “The Electroclan,” Ostin said.

  “Right.” Hatch smiled darkly. “You don’t belong here, Ostin. But here you are.”

  “I belong wherever Michael is,” Ostin said.

  Hatch smirked. “Loyalty. I like that. Even when it’s misplaced, there’s something endearing about it. Unfortunately, this is where your relationship ends. Michael, if you’ll follow me, we’ll let Ostin stay here with the others.”

  Ostin looked at me.

  “I’m not leaving them,” I said.

  An even higher-pitched screeching poured through my head, followed by an increasing tightness, as if a metal band had been put around my head and slowly cinched up. It was the same thing I had felt when my mother was taken—as if life itself were being drawn out of me through a straw. “Aargh.” I fell to the ground, grabbing my temples.

  “Stop it!” Taylor shouted. “Leave him alone.”

  “Mike knows how to stop it,” Hatch said.

  “Okay,” I shouted. “I’ll go.”

  Hatch nodded at Nichelle and the sound and pain stopped.

  “Come along, Mike. I’m a busy man.”

  I staggered to my feet. “My name is Michael.”

  “A Glow by any other name is just as electric, but as you wish.”

  I looked over at Ostin and Taylor. They both had fear in their eyes. “I’ll be back,” I said. I staggered out and the door automatically closed behind me. Halfway down the hall Hatch turned to me and said, “I sincerely hope you won’t be back to that place.”

  “I belong with my friends.”

  “Then the question is, will your friends still be there? A
nd that is completely up to you.” The elevator door opened. “After you.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Hatch pushed a button on the elevator. “I want to talk. But first, there are tests to be run.”

  PART FOUR

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Initial Findings

  Later that afternoon, Hatch was in his office talking to Quentin when Dr. Parker knocked on his door.

  “Come in,” he said gruffly.

  She opened the door. “Good evening, Dr. Hatch. Quentin.”

  “Quentin was just leaving,” Hatch said.

  Quentin immediately stood. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  He walked out of the office and Hatch motioned to the same chair Quentin had occupied. “Take a seat.” Before she could speak Hatch asked, “How’s our boy?”

  “I’ve never seen anyone like him.”

  “Explain.”

  “I’ve confirmed your initial findings. His el-waves are extremely high. Except they’ve grown since your first encounter.”

  “So he is becoming more powerful,” Hatch said.

  “So it would appear. But even more curious is that he seems to handle electricity differently than the others.”

  Hatch slightly leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

  “His electricity seems to be circulating within his body, either through his bone marrow or central nervous system, which may account for some rather surprising phenomena. I administered a mild shock to him to see how he’d respond and his el-waves actually increased by one percent. I was so intrigued by this result that I upped the power to nearly five hundred joules. At that level I thought he’d probably jump out of his seat, but instead he just sat there. His body told a different story, however. His el-waves spiked fifty percent, then dropped and maintained at an increased seventeen percent and held there until the end of our examination. He still might be elevated.”

  Hatch leaned forward in his chair. “You’re saying he can absorb electricity from other sources?”

  “It would appear so.”

  “Like Nichelle?”

  “Except that Nichelle doesn’t retain power; she’s simply a con-duit to its dissemination. Vey seems to capture it.”

  Hatch rubbed his chin in fascination. “How is hoarding all that electricity affecting his health?”

  “If it’s hurting him, it’s not manifesting. He’s perfectly healthy.

  With the exception of his Tourette’s syndrome.”

  “He has Tourette’s?”

  “Yes. That’s why he has the facial tics.”

  “I thought he was just anxious.” Hatch rubbed his palms together the way he always did when he was excited. “Could his Tourette’s have something to do with why he’s different than the other children?”

  “I don’t know. We don’t even know enough about Tourette’s to know what causes it. We know it’s a neurological disorder, but not a whole lot more than that.”

  “But it’s possible?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “I want this information kept in strictest confidentiality.”

  “Of course. All research is confidential.”

  “I don’t even want your assistants to know. This is between you and me.”

  “Very well.”

  “If he’ll cooperate, Mr. Vey could be the model of the Glows 2.0.”

  “And if he won’t?”

  “Then we’ll have to fix that. How was his attitude?”

  “He was quite defiant.”

  “Of that I’m sure. But there’s one thing I’m equally certain of.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The boy loves his mother.”

  Chapter Forty

  A Talk

  The guards all looked the same to me. They were all nearly the same height and build and wore the same uniform: a black beret, dark glasses, and black jumpsuits that appeared to have been made from a rubberized material. They all had communication radios hanging from their ears and jaws and they carried an array of weapons on a utility belt—a knife, a canister of Mace, two different types of revolvers, resin handcuffs, a smoke grenade, a concussion grenade, and a long wooden truncheon.

  I was sitting on the floor looking through a shelf of books when I heard the lock slide, then the door open. I was ticking but I didn’t care.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Vey,” a guard said politely. “But Dr. Hatch is ready to meet with you.”

  I thought he sounded unusually polite for a prison guard. Of course prisoners aren’t usually given rooms with a plasma TV with surround sound audio, and Monet prints on the wall. At first glance, someone might think it’s more of a luxury suite than a prison, but if there’s no doorknob on the inside, you’re still a prisoner.

  “All right.” I stood as the door opened fully. There was a second guard standing a few feet behind him in the hall. The second guard didn’t say a word. I noticed that they both had their hands on their Mace. I guessed they had been ordered to be pleasant.

  “This way, sir,” the guard said. It was odd being called “sir” by someone who was easily twice my age. We took the elevator down one level to the second floor.

  They led me down a marble-floored corridor to the end of the hall and into a large reception area, where a secretary sat at a large wooden desk with several monitors. Directly behind her was a glass wall, partially obstructing another door. In front of the receptionist desk was another guard sitting behind a tall, circular podium with a Plexiglas shield.

  The receptionist, a thin woman about my mother’s age and wearing narrow reading glasses, looked up as we entered.

  “We have Michael Vey,” the first guard said, though it was evident she was expecting us.

  “I’ll inform Dr. Hatch,” she said. She pushed a button, then spoke into her phone. She nodded, then hung up the phone and pushed a button beneath her desk. There was a loud buzz and the door slid open. “Dr. Hatch would like you to go on in.”

  The second guard motioned for me to go first so I walked ahead of them through the open door. I stepped inside while they stopped at the door’s threshold. I was ticking like crazy.

  Hatch’s office reminded me of the ones I had seen on the TV

  lawyer shows, with bronze statues and busts and cases of books I wondered if anyone ever read. Television screens took up an entire wall. Hatch was sitting at his desk. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses.

  Nichelle sat in a chair at the side of the room. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t stand her.

  Hatch motioned to a leather chair in front of his desk. “Hello, Michael,” he said. “Please, take a seat.”

  I walked up to the chair and sat down, looking around the office.

  On the wall behind Hatch was a picture of Dr. Hatch shaking hands with the president of the United States. He noticed that I was looking at the picture.

  “It’s not hard to get to the President,” Hatch said. “If you have money.”

  “Where’s my mother?” I asked.

  His eyes narrowed into thin slits. “To the point. I like that. After all, that’s why you made this futile little trip, isn’t it?”

  “Where are you keeping my mother?”

  “We’ll get to that. But first, there’s something you need to understand. More important than where she is, is where you are. And who you are.” His voice dropped. “Do you even know?”

  “Of course I know who I am.”

  “Yes, I know you think you do. But you don’t really know.” His gaze softened. “Who are you? You’re a victim, Michael. A victim of your environment. You have been brainwashed, your thoughts con-taminated by the human Petri dish your mind has been cultured in.

  “For instance, you’ve been told that all men are created equal, but anyone who isn’t blind or ignorant can see that that just isn’t true.

  Some are rich, some are poor. Some are smart and some are fools. No, no one is born equal. Especially you.

  “You’re not even equal to the o
ther electric children. You handle electricity in a different way. And you seem to be getting more powerful. I compared your el-waves from now to when I first met you in Idaho. They’ve risen. It’s very impressive.” He leaned forward. “Do you know what we do here, Michael?”

  “Kill babies and kidnap teenagers?”

  He leaned back with a dark grin. “We’ll get to that,” Hatch said.

  “But let me first explain to you what it is that we’re really doing.”

  “I know what you’re really doing,” I said. “You’re trying to cover your tracks because your machine failed.”

  Hatch chuckled. “What an interesting take you have on this. That’s the one think I’ve learned about working with youth—if you think you know what they’re thinking, you’re mistaken.” He straightened his tie. “You’re right, you know, at least partially. It is about the machine. The MEI we call it. The MEI may have been a failure as an imaging device, but it led to the discovery of something more important. Much more important.

  “If you think about it, Michael, there’s a marvelous fate to all this.

  Many of the world’s greatest discoveries are results of accidents. The MEI was one of those happy accidents. We set out to take pictures of the human body and instead we improved the human body. We invented superhumans. We invented the electric children.

  “We’ve spent the last dozen years tracking them down. There were seventeen of you who survived. Seventeen very special children. Sadly, there are only thirteen of you left—four of you died before the age of seven.”

  “Died of what?”

  “Cancer. No doubt attributable to the excessive electricity cours-ing through your cells. We can’t be certain, of course, but there’s a chance that unless we find a cure for your condition, that may be all of your fates.”

  I sat back in my chair. I had never considered that what I had was a disease.

  “But I digress. I was saying that we had found all of the survivors except two: you and Miss Ridley. Miss Ridley was adopted out-of-state and you know how inefficient government bureaucracy is. Her records got lost in the process. And you, well, we tracked you for a while, all throughout California.