by Ian Williams
The strap around her head still refused to let her see everything. She had to force her eyes to the side just to see the body. They ached and needed a rest. After blinking away the strain, she tried again and this time succeeded in seeing more. She was horrified by the sight of a small drill resting beside the body. The man had been using it to cut into his deceased patient’s skull. The sound was now unmistakable. She could not believe she had been unable to place it before. The holes in the body’s temple were made by a drill!
Slowly she thought her situation through in silence, trying desperately to keep her breathing steady and quiet as well. She had seen this before, or the end result at least. It was easy to work out what the building had been used for. This was not just the place Luke had been held prior to his escape, it was where his upload to Jack’s body had occurred too. She watched the same procedure. But why do it on someone already dead? She knew, from what she had seen of the human trapped behind the Sentient consciousness, that both should still be alive. It appeared a similar process then, but there were differences that confused her.
Her mind was becoming much clearer now, which only made her fear for her life even more. Sweat ran down her forehead and traced the edge of her right ear. It was dripping away each time she flicked her head to the side to see more. If she could only move a little bit, even just one arm, she was convinced she could work herself free. Unfortunately, the person who had tied her down to the table had done so far too well. The other straps were not coming loose anytime soon. She was trapped and forced to watch another person’s body being mutilated and cut into by a madman, all with a tool usually reserved for DIY.
He returned with a new drill-bit in hand, which he replaced with all the speed and accuracy to his blood stained hands as that of a drunk. The rest of him resided outside the beam of light above the table. He tested the instrument while holding it up for inspection. The drill then came to life with a rusty, grinding sound as it worked against a small amount of debris. Considering its unintended job she had a disturbing thought; the debris had to consist of bone fragments and skin, as well as the congealed blood from the already deceased patient.
Once happy, he went straight back to his work. He still had another two holes and two larger cut-outs to get through before installing one of the small black boxes. The drill sounded almost wet as the man began to push against it for better traction.
There has to be a way out of here, Phoenix thought.
Getting out before the man finished the operation, or installation, whatever it actually was, had become her only concern. With only the head-strap holding the top half of her body down, she had an idea. If she could slide her head down and to the side just far enough, she would be able to free herself to then sit up. The head restraint was not wrapped all the way around her head thankfully. It went over and around the bottom of the table. This was a weak point that only someone thinking clearly would ever have spotted. It told her something at least; the patients were normally sedated throughout the procedure.
So why had she woken up early?
The more she bent her neck, the more she could feel a loosening of the strap around her forehead. It was working, and only a severe neck pain resulted after each attempt. Another couple of pushes and she was certain she would be able to slip her head out.
This time the drilling did not last as long. So when the man stood up straight and switched off the drill, she froze in place. For the time being she was stuck staring directly in his direction. Every time he stepped away from the body, she was granted another devastatingly clear glimpse of his handy-work. Another of the holes had been completed, there remained only one more. She was running out of time.
“I’m ssorry if that hurt,” the man suddenly said, with a noticeable slur.
Was he talking to the body? Or her?
“Now if you could jusst try and sstay sstill for me.” He sounded as though he had a severe speech impediment. Not his only problem either, as he seemed to wait for a reply from his cadaver. He had to be crazy too.
Another slight movement in her head strap had almost released her enough now. To assist, she pulled against her arm and leg cuffs, pulling her a tiny bit further down the bed. Then she felt it come free. Seconds later she sat up and leaned on her elbows. Her small success only lasted a short while though; dashed the instant she realised there was absolutely nowhere for her to go from there. Both arms were unable to move further than an inch in any direction, the same went for her legs too. She needed something more to reach the cuffs and undo them.
Her attention turned to her feet. She was still wearing shoes. There was a possibility that by removing them she could allow each foot to simply shake the cuffs loose. This was now her plan and as long as the driller man continued his disgusting work, she would try. She was not about to become another human trapped inside their own body.
Working her right shoe off of her foot, she accidentally let it drop to the ground with a slap. It was loud enough to disturb the man from his last hole. He leaned his head to the side, then switched off the drill and waited. Could he see her? Even within a fully lit room, he did not appear to have and instead bent down once more and continued.
Relief swept over her like a drug hit. Feeling it so suddenly had left her aching for more. To try and find it again, she slowly pulled her foot up and soon felt her sock pulling away. The strap was sliding against the material, which began to bunch up around her ankle. Again, with enough working the strap back and forth, she felt sure she could get it loose. If that failed to work, she had nothing else to try, she would be trapped and left waiting for her turn.
She pulled again. The cuff moved down a little further. Yet again, the same. It had a chance of working.
“Ah, there we go,” the man said as something cracked. He had broken through with the drill for the fourth time. Next were the cut-outs, which required a much more disturbing looking drill bit, one more suited to routing. It was thicker and much more threatening looking. The man swapped them over with a cold casualness, despite his shaky hands and loose grip.
Still he had not seen her. By now Phoenix was certain he could not see too well out of his left eye. That and his speech problems suggested to her that he had sustained an injury at some point. In the darkness she still could not see enough to confirm it. But it gave her a small boost of hope that she could escape before he noticed.
This was now the final chance to free herself. Except with the last tug she managed to roll her sock over itself, creating a woollen barrier for the cuff to become stuck behind. It was no good, she had made it worse. In frustration she yanked at her foot again. There was no movement at all, only an unfortunate creaking noises from the bed.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, come on, come on!
Terror stricken and becoming desperate, she had no choice but to try again. The operation was about to end and her time to get out had almost run out. Still there was nothing, no loosening at all, just more noise. In fact lots of it, as a chain beneath the bed tapped against the metal leg. She became rigid while the sound called out to the driller man still drilling away. It continued for a second or two longer, like a ticking from a metronome, even though she did not move again.
He heard something this time. When he turned and switched off the drill, he stayed there for longer, listening out for more. He was not happy to carry on after this last disturbance. This was it, she had made too much of a nuisance of herself. With the drill in hand, he searched around himself with exaggerated swoops of his head from side to side.
Then he faced her.
“Fuck,” she said under her breath, as his face ventured into the light for the first time. Jesus!
It was almost all there. His left eye hung an inch or two lower than his right, with big puffy bulges where the blood had become trapped behind the hanging skin. He definitely could not see through that. It appeared to be unattached to anything within the cavernous hole just above the eye. From the looks of his contorted lump of a face
, he had been shot through the back of the head. The bullet and resulting shrapnel had taken a large fist-sized chunk out of the left side of his forehead, leaving a gaping crevice where a large part of his brain once lived.
The further he looked, the more his crooked lips leaned at an angle, a small dribble of drool escaping as he tried to breathe. His nose looked to be of little use, it was filled with thick and solid lumps of blood. His only good eye focused on her sitting up and staring back in fear.
A chill brushed past like someone invisible had unexpectedly entered the room. She could feel her body begin to react on her behalf, shivering as death began to hobble in her direction like a demonic surgeon, all while still holding a blood soaked implement of pain and torture, which gnashed at the air each time its button was pressed in error. The man had a noticeable lack of control over the right side of his body. He was dragging his leg and allowing his arm to swing as he moved.
He reached the next nearest bed, its light shining off of the small black box stuck to his head. It remained attached still to the raised part of his left side. The bullet had missed it somehow. She could see the burn marks on his skin where the gunshot had exited his forehead. Whatever was left inside the man’s skull had been broken and torn, separated into pieces that continued to work afterwards thanks to the consciousness lurking inside the box. The human had to be dead.
“Please, you don’t have to do this,” she said, yanking at the cuffs with all the strength she could muster. Her growing despair had made her into a shaking wreck of a person.
“I must have miscalculated your dosage. You should not be awake.” The man waved the drill at her with a look of disappointment to only one side of his face. His right side did not react at all, the lobe of his brain assigned control of it had said an unexpected farewell in the muzzle flash of a projectile weapon.
“Don’t, please… fuck, I’m begging you.”
“Subjects should not be conscious,” he struggled to say, with his tongue stuck between his teeth, “they cannot be awake while I work. Please lie back down and wait your turn.”
When he reached her, it was the smell that first hit her before anything her vision had to deal with. He smelt rotten, just like the ground floor tomb she explored earlier. He had at least put the drill on the table next to her. He did not want to operate on her just yet it appeared.
“Just let me go, please,” she said as the man began pushing her back onto the bed. With her arms and legs still tied up, she had no strength to fight back with. One small shove and she was right where she started. Only now the man knew she was awake. He leaned over her and forced her head back under the strap, then tightened it firmly into place. It dug into her forehead, squeezing her eyebrows against her skull.
She had to close her eyes and hold her mouth shut tight when a stringy drop of drool landed on her face. There was nothing more she could do, his face hovered a few inches above her in full view of the hot lamp. In the new light she looked up, her eyes half open, and could see directly inside his head to where an empty hole revealed the missing brain mass.
“You are much more ressponsive than my other patient. I fear he may not survive the procedure,” the man said. With his arms either side of her head, he looked over her face, studying her features with his one good eye – the other involuntarily glanced across the room. “You may be a better candidate anyway.”
“I’m not, it won’t work on me, please.”
“No, no, no. I think I sshould try at least. You may be surprised at jusst how good I am at this. My last few were highly successful. Oh the master will be pleased with my work this time.” His demented smile lifted one side of his mouth to form a long slant.
“Oh Christ, oh shit, shit, shit,” she said, her eyes darting around the room in desperation.
The man then began his preparations while she stared at the ceiling. Her struggling was for nothing now, as each attempt only tightened the straps. The ones around her feet were scraping at her ankles and threatening to break the skin.
When she saw the drill pass over her face she could not help it, she had to fight with whatever she had left inside. So, as the drill began to spin, she closed her eyes and forced her body up against the restraints. If what was coming was even half as traumatic as she had heard from Jack – the human behind Luke’s personality – then she wanted to see none of it. Feeling it would be bad enough.
The sound approached slowly as a target patch of skin was chosen. Her body was now shaking as much as the man’s had been while working on his other patient. She moved over in the bed as much as she could, but her head was unable to come along for the ride. The straps were far too tight to allow this now.
“No, please,” she said with a whimper. This was it for her, she knew. One inch more and the drill would make light work of boring into the side of her head. The closer it got, the louder it became, until the noise was running right through her skull and rattling her grey matter inside. She desperately did not want to be like Jack, trapped inside her own body while an enemy consciousness took over. Now it seemed she had no choice in the matter. It was about to happen whatever.
“You must hold sstill as I work, otherwise this could be a little messy,” the man said. “Humans are so very fragile, don’t you agree. Now, here we go.”
“Don’t do this, for the love of God, please don’t.”
“One… two… three…”
But nothing happened.
Her eyes were closed so tight she could feel the muscles beginning to weaken from the strain. She refused to open them while the drill continued to bark at the side of her head, even though she knew something had changed. The man should have begun already.
“Step away from her, right now,” someone else said. She recognised the voice immediately; it was Rhys. He had come for her.
“You cannot be here,” was the man’s reply.
The sight of him standing next to the driller man, his eyes welling up the moment he saw her staring back at him in fear, was one she had no clue how to deal with. She had been sure it had all come to an end for her, one last whimper before giving in. Of course she would be grateful, but for the time being only an explosive feeling of shock and confusion swept through her. How was he there?
“Let me out of this, please, let me out,” she ordered of her rescuer.
“Sure, don’t worry, I’ve got it.”
The driller man still went on. “This is wrong. You cannot leave this place, you are not ready.”
“Save it buddy,” Rhys said, nudging the man with his Taser pistol. “Move away so I can free my friend. I swear to God, if you don’t, I’ll remove the rest of your sorry looking face, understand? And leave the drill there.”
A loud clank sound by the side of her head was a relief to hear. The tool had been knocked to the floor as the man backed away. Rhys then released her right hand and moved on to the left. The second both had been removed, she snapped up into a sitting position and grabbed him for a tight and thankful embrace. They held each other while the gun aimed directly at the driller man.
“How did you know I was in trouble?” Phoenix asked.
“I’ve been monitoring you since you left my place. You really need to let people help you, Phoenix. I know you’re strong enough, but you don’t have to be. Not all the time,” Rhys said, his chin bashing against her shoulder with each word.
She tried her best not to cry, with only a couple of tears having made it out in the end. When she spoke, it was with a stutter as the emotions fought each other for freedom. “I know. It’s just hard to trust people.”
“You can trust me. You know that, right?” Rhys placed a hand on the back of her head and stroked her spiky hair with his thumb. When the driller man went to move, he held his gun up again. “Stay the fuck there, man, I’m warning you.”
“What do we do with him?” she asked.
Rhys laughed. “No idea. Does he know anything?”
The embrace ended as Phoenix thought over th
eir options. They had someone who had to know more about what was going on. Unfortunately, he looked barely able to answer their questions. They separated and looked at the driller man standing, cowering in the corner. The situation had calmed much quicker than it had escalated. The man was as unsure as the two of them. He gave up without a fight.
Phoenix looked down at her leg restraints and was about to ask for them to be removed, when she caught another shadow in the doorway. Before she could ask who, the man raced forward.
“Rhys, watch out!” she screamed.
It was not soon enough. The unknown – white haired – figure sent Rhys to the floor after swinging a metal tray into the side of his head. He fell away instantly.
“You must remember to sedate them all before starting,” the other man said, his voice dry sounding and underpowered. When he stepped into the light, she saw why; his throat had been cut and roughly bandaged up. A line of red seeped through the soft material.
She went for the man as soon as he got close enough. In a flash, her anger and desperation returned, after hope had been so ruthlessly ripped from her grasp. Her saviour was now nothing but an unconscious lump upon the cold ground, one getting in the way of the operation. She grabbed at the man’s clothing, slapped his face and body, even scratched at his skin like a hysterical street cat. Nothing stopped him, he was much more forceful than the other.
There was a single hole in the centre of his forehead. He had not been shot from behind, like the other, but from the front. Someone had done a poor job at silencing these two.
With a ferocious last swing, she caught the black box on the side of the man’s head. He flinched in reaction, then shook it off. In reply he caught her across the face with the back of his hand. Her struggle had been overpowered. The man held her wrists in place, locking her arms and preventing another attack.
While doing her best to fight back, she had forgotten to watch the driller man behind her. Between the two of them, they had her trapped again. This time he would make sure her dosage was high enough to keep her quiet for longer too. So when he jabbed her again with a sharp needle, she knew it was for the last time. The operation would proceed while she slept.