by Abi Ketner
“Your words are nothing but lies,” I say, peeling myself away from my dad, who stubbornly hangs on. Wilson holds up an electric razor, and my stomach sinks. “What are you going to do with that?”
“I’m curious what you’d look like,” Wilson says, “bald.”
So this is how it begins.
I glower at Wilson in a standoff that lasts several tense seconds. He’s trying to intimidate me, but this is what I’ve expected. I won’t be his. He’ll never break my family. Finally, he looks away and spins toward his guards.
Small victory on my end.
“Strap her down,” he instructs, spit flying from his mouth. His guards don’t flinch.
They come at me, and I refuse to struggle against them. Their hands grasp my arms as they lift me onto the gurney, securing me on both sides. The leather restraints cut into my arms, and my wound burns as if they’ve ripped it back open. I grimace, but I won’t let Wilson think he’s got the best of me. He can take my hair. He can take my dignity. But all he’s doing is pouring gas on the fire already brewing inside me.
Now I must decide if I’ll be fearful or dig deep into my soul and latch on to the strength I’ve regained from my father ...
I will be strong.
“Wilson!” Dad wails desperately. “Leave my daughter alone! She doesn’t deserve this.”
Wilson throws his head back, laughing. “Precisely. She’s your daughter,” he sneers. “And I disagree. She deserves everything that’s coming her way.” He turns to one of the guards. “Shut him up.”
I’m not sure what happens, but the door to my father’s cell opens, and the sounds of a scuffle ensue. Next thing I know, my father’s groaning and Wilson’s smirking as he hovers over me.
“Stop!” I cry. “It’s me you’re here for, not him. Hurt me. Do whatever you want to me … He’s suffered enough.”
“You’re clueless, child,” Wilson hisses as he grabs a handful of my hair. “I’m going to enjoy this immensely.”
“Hair’s dead, did you know that?” I say, giving him a knowing grin. “And it grows back. I’m not sure what you think you’ll gain from this.”
“Enough,” he demands, “before I cut out your tongue instead.” He pulls his arm back and strikes my cheek. My head swings to the right. I ignore the sting, and now I’m booming with laughter.
“Go right ahead,” I say.
“Silence,” he growls.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Get on with it.”
He clicks on the razor and focuses as he brings it toward my forehead. His hands are sweaty but sure. Excitement glitters in his maniacal eyes. He’s like a little child receiving his most coveted present at Christmas.
Probably a book on torture.
The razor buzzes against my forehead, and I curl my toes as he drags it across the top of my head. Long, curly strands coat his hands, his forearms, and the gurney.
“Your hair’s making quite a mess,” Wilson says with annoyance.
I close my eyes and relax my facial muscles.
“It’s a shame Cole’s dead,” he says, and my fists clench. “I wonder if he’d still find you attractive looking like a boy?” He chuckles. “I guess we’ll never know.”
In my mind, I whip out my knife and slide the blade through his stone-cold heart.
Pretty soon, the cool, damp temperature of the prison settles upon my bare head. Chills run through me, but I keep my body frozen in place. He doesn’t speak as he continues to run the razor over my head, quickly, like he’s giving a military cut. By the time he finishes, the razor’s hot on my skin, and I wince when he gets the last few stray hairs from around my ears.
“Oops. I nicked your ear.” He flicks off the hair that must be sticking to the blood and stands staring at me, a slow smile spreading across his devilish face as he admires his work. “Finished,” he says. I stare over his shoulder, avoiding eye contact at all costs. “Shall we begin the next round?” I remain mute. “Good answer.” He holds out the razor, and a guard takes it before scurrying away like a rat. “Bring her father here.”
It takes a few moments for the other guard to drag my father into my cell. Wilson wastes no time. “Hold him in place,” he commands. He hovers over me and brushes some of the hair off the gurney. My arms remain strapped at my sides, rendering me helpless. For the first time, a spark of fear creeps up my spine.
Remain calm, Lexi. Remember you’re a survivor. Just like your father.
“Your daughter turning herself in was a wonderful stroke of luck,” Wilson tells my father. “All this time, I’ve been searching for answers, and now it’s here. And what a great one it is.” His voice comes out mechanical, devoid of emotion. He places a black piece of cloth over my face, blinding me, and secures it. Panic begins bubbling in my stomach. “There’s nothing stronger than a father’s love for his children. So, for a father, there’s nothing more painful than watching his children suffer. He will stop at nothing to protect them. And it’s because of this that his children are his greatest weakness. Isn’t that correct, Hamilton?”
“You bet your ass it is,” my father growls. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her, especially from you.” The rage in my father’s voice is something I’ve never heard before, and I’m convinced he truly doesn’t know what Wilson wants. “I told you years ago I’m hiding nothing, and yet your twisted mind refuses to believe me. So what could you possibly gain by this? I’ve passed every single lie detector test.” He pauses. “You tortured me to the point where I begged for death, and yet here you stand, ready to go after my little girl, as a last-ditch effort to break my silence. News flash, Wilson. The answers you’re digging for aren’t here! They aren’t with my family; they aren’t with my friends. If I could come up with a lie to get you off our backs, I would, but I can’t. It’s not who I am. I’m an honorable man. I never lie.”
Wilson grunts at him. “But, you see, an honorable man would keep a secret, and a man who never lies wouldn’t break a promise he made. It’s your choice, Hamilton. It’s up to you how far this has to go.”
I can’t breathe, my breath short and hot beneath the cloth. I begin squirming uncomfortably, but the straps holding me down remain tight. Nothing, not even the pain from my surgery, can dull the terror creeping its way into my mind.
“Now, let’s try again,” Wilson says. “Did you work on a cure for the virus?”
“I’ve already told you,” my father says in a broken voice.
“Did you or didn’t you?” Wilson demands.
“Yes.”
“Did you succeed?”
“No,” my father replies. “There. Is. No. Cure. Because there is no vaccine. Your impatience blew up in your face. How brilliant, Wilson. Injecting Sinners before a vaccine was produced. Not only are your men at risk, the coward himself is too.”
“Not going to—”
“People are dying at lightning speed, which gives you absolutely no chance of getting antibodies to make a vaccine. They die before their immune system even has a chance of fighting it. Your greediness and stupidity has left every human being, including yourself, no chance of survival. We’re all going to die from it at some point, and no one’s to blame here but you.”
“Liar.” Wilson’s emotionless voice pricks my nerves more than his raving one. I can’t help wondering what he’s planning, but from the fear in my father’s voice, I can tell this is going to be bad.
“You arrested me before it was developed,” Dad goes on. His voice sounds tired, like they’ve been over this before. “The part I worked on is at our house, in the study. I’ll show you everything. I’ll give you the records, the studies, all the failed attempts. Nothing worked. It doesn’t exist.” He’s begging by the end, his voice raising.
“Same old song and dance, Hamilton.” The pressure of Wilson’s hand on the gurney startles me. “If you won’t spill your guts,” he tells my father, “then this should help you change your mind.”
“Wilson!” Dad sh
outs. “Don’t!”
But a liquid is pouring through the cloth over my face, into my nose and mouth, and I’m gagging and sputtering and desperate for air. I’m gasping, unable to pull in any oxygen. Darkness closes in. Is this how I’ll finally die? By drowning? I can’t even think straight. I just want …
Air. I need air. Suffocation isn’t the way I want to go.
Then it stops, and I’m breathing again. I cough and wretch. God, I love oxygen. Instant relief. My lungs burn, and my eyes water, but Wilson doesn’t remove the cloth from my face. Somewhere beyond it, my father’s crying.
“Now, let me ask you again, Hamilton. Did you or didn’t you finish the cure?”
“NO!” my father screams. “I swear to you!”
“Swear on what?”
“On my son’s grave,” Dad says, broken and quiet.
“Grave,” Wilson sneers. “Did Lexi tell you about his death then? It was extremely gruesome, really. I hung his rotting corpse on display in the Hole for everyone to see. Except for you, which I now regret. It would’ve been nice of me to let you see him one last time. Might’ve sped up this process.”
His words fall on my ears like shards of glass. My father never knew Keegan’s body was displayed in public. It was a detail I didn’t think necessary. But Wilson wants to take away my dad’s memories of Keegan and replace them with a body hanging in the wind. Anger ripples through me. Everything in me wants to hold Dad, tell him that Keegan served honorably and someday we’ll give him the burial he deserved. I want to scream that Keegan loved Dad until his last breath. But Wilson is already speaking again.
“All right then, now that we’ve cleared that up.” He exhales. “If you didn’t finish it, where did it go?”
“You mean the cure that doesn’t exist?” Dad grinds out. “Every single one of my experiments was kept locked up in my study, along with my documents on each one. You know all this.”
“But see, here’s the problem: My men searched that house and found nothing. Which leads me to believe you’re bullshitting me, Hamilton.”
“M-maybe the Commander got to it before you,” Dad suggested. “Maybe he hid that information from you. You know he never truly trusted you. Did you ever take that into consideration, or are you too naive to think someone would betray you? The Commander wanted the power. Search his belongings. After all, he gave Lexi a guard for some reason or another.”
“Of course the idea crossed my mind, imbecile!” Wilson screams. “But when we searched his place, again—nothing!” His desperation cuts through my skin, unnerving me.
“I-I’m sorry,” Dad sputters. I hate listening to him grovel. He shouldn’t have to bend the knee to anyone. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“Who else could’ve taken it?” Wilson demands.
“You’re serious?” my father replies slowly. “Since the day I was arrested, I’ve had no contact with anyone from the outside. So you tell me.”
“Not an acceptable answer.” The scent of Wilson’s heavy cologne mixed with cognac reaches my nose as he approaches. All of my muscles tense in anticipation.
“Maybe Sutton?” Wilson says beside me. “He’s a likely culprit. After all, he did assist Lexi in the revolt that killed our dear Commander.”
“Sutton knew nothing about it,” my father says. He sounds completely broken. “And besides, he was working in the Hole during that time.”
“Dig deeper,” Wilson demands. “Your daughter’s counting on you.” Again, he pours water through my covering, and it flows up my nose and into my mouth. I try spitting it out, but it’s too fast. My body jerks around, sending waves of pain through every limb.
Make it stop. Make it stop. I’m slowly suffocating.
“Wilson, hurting my daughter won’t change anything!” Dad yells.
The water slows to a trickle, and I cough over and over. I heave into the fabric, and then choke on my own bile. It sticks to my face like plaster, and the stench makes me throw up one more time.
I don’t think I’ll survive this. But somehow, I’m still here. My basic survival instinct forces every other thought to shut down, giving me the strength only to focus on the here and now.
“Hold him,” Wilson commands a guard. I hear the sound of a slap and my father’s cries. “Give me what I want, and I’ll stop.”
“I worked on the cure, I kept all the documents, I locked them in my study, and now they’re missing. For God’s sake, I know nothing more!” His voice turns into sobs. “Please. Please leave Lexi alone.”
A pause fills the room with silence. And then I hear boots stomping in the direction of my cell. “Sir,” a voice says stiffly.
“What the hell do you want?” Wilson demands. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of an interrogation?”
“But, sir, the results are back,” the guard replies. There’s the sound of ripping paper, and no one speaks for a few beats. “Sir, it’s negative.”
“Impossible,” Wilson says through gritted teeth. “Bring Sutton’s sorry ass to me immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard replies.
“Along with a large sheet of plastic, an industrial fan, and buckets of ice water.”
“Yes, sir.” He stomps away at a quick pace. Once more, my father’s weeping is the only sound I hear.
“We’re not finished yet,” Wilson hisses in my ear. He pulls the cloth off my head. He wears a smug face. He directs another guard to move my dad back to his adjoining cell. I watch as the guard tosses my dad to the ground like he’s dirt. The other guard returns with a bewildered Sutton at his side. He pales when he sees me and my dad.
“What are you doing?” Sutton asks, his voice alarmed.
“Nothing that concerns you,” Wilson says. He punches Sutton in the stomach, and Sutton doubles over. He gasps and tries to stand up straight.
“You screwed something up,” Wilson tells him in a bitter voice. “Rerun the test. And for your sake … do it right this time.”
What test? What in the world is he up to now?
Sutton swallows hard. His eyes dart from me to my dad, assessing us. “These tests take time. It’s not something that happens overnight.”
“Then I suggest you find some way to speed it up. Or you’re next.” Wilson smiles as a guard pushes a cart with all of his supplies through the doorway to my cell. “Tomorrow, at five o’clock sharp, I’m going to publicly execute these two for treason. You will attend, looking happy as a lark, and with no incidents. Do you understand?”
Tomorrow! No, that’s too soon. Someone has to alert Bruno.
I want to scream, but I stay silent. Sutton nods, speechless. His face is ghostly white, body trembling.
“Better get on it,” Wilson says easily. Sutton can’t even reply as he’s escorted away. Wilson turns back to me. “Now we continue.”
He lays a plastic sheet in the middle of the floor, making sure the edges don’t touch the floor by propping them up on containers. Then he douses the middle of it with ice water, creating a bowl. His guards unstrap and lift me from the gurney and lay me in the middle of the ice water, securing my arms to the metal bars of the cell to keep me in place. Wilson turns on a huge fan and points it at me. The freezing air and water slice through me like knives.
Wilson smiles. “Sleep well. See you in the morning.”
“What did you do with his body?” I ask.
Wilson knows exactly who I’m talking about. He grins at me. “Whoever do you mean?”
He’s going to make me say his name, make me relive his death all over.
“Cole’s.” I grit my teeth, trying to keep myself strong.
“Oh, him,” Wilson says, mocking me. “He was dragged to the pile of dead corpses, you remember it, right? And just this morning, they burned it until there was nothing left … but ash.”
“You sick bastard!” I growl. “I can’t wait ‘til your time is up. God won’t have mercy on your soul.”
“I’m shaking in my boots.” He slams th
e cell door closed and walks away, leaving me trembling and broken.
Convulsions take over my body, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. The feeling of not being able to control what’s happening is a feeling I know all too well. And I despise it. The frigid air blowing from the fan coupled with the freezing water makes me realize I’m definitely about to die from hypothermia. My skin’s being stabbed by pins and needles, and I lost the feeling in my fingers and toes hours ago. In the dim lighting, they appear blue. I try to wiggle my toes, but they’re stiff. At this rate, frostbite’s going to win, and I’ll lose my digits. But what does it matter if I’m going to be dead soon anyway?
Nothing makes sense to me. All this time Wilson wanted me alive, and now, with a flip of a switch, he’s ordered my death. Seems like a waste of time and effort if his plan was to use me to try and break my dad. I just don’t understand—he tortured my father, and if that didn’t break him, why would he think watching me suffer would? If my father knew more, he would’ve come clean when they arrested him. Instead, he’s been caged up like some wild beast because they think he’s a liar. What am I missing?
“Da … ad,” I say, my voice shaking uncontrollably.
“Right here,” he says. He’s pressed against the bars between our cells, watching me with hopelessness written on his face. “Oh, Lexi, I’m worthless. I can’t … I don’t … How am I supposed to help you?”
“Well … if you … possess superpowers,” I say, “use them.”
“I’ll give it a shot.” He starts banging on the bars, as if Superman just took over his body. I can’t help but laugh at him.
“Dad. I can … barely stay awake.”
“How about a story?” he says. “As a little girl, you would stay up for hours listening to me read to you.”
“Sure. Let’s try.”
“Is there any story in particular you’d like to hear?”
“Yours.” My teeth chatter louder, but if I give in to the chills and darkness, I won’t wake up again. And I refuse to leave my father.
“I’ll be honest,” he says, “it’s not very upbeat.”