Unleashed

by McClellan, Rachel

  Claire's eyes fluttered shut, but when she heard heels clicking against the tiled floor she looked up. Mrs. Summers was handing Mr. Gomez a note. He looked up at Claire. "Stop by the office before you go to lunch, okay, Claire?"

  Corey, who was finally allowed back in school, whispered. "Maybe your daddy escaped from jail."

  "And maybe your parents should’ve used birth control," she snapped back.

  Mr. Gomez yawned. "That's enough you two." But he didn't look up to see that she and Corey were locked in a death stare.

  Finally, Corey mouthed an obscenity at her and looked away.

  As soon as the bell rang Claire jumped up first. She walked by Corey and smacked the back of his head. He stood up and she remained where she was, facing him.

  Students began to leave, but some stayed to watch the scene unfolding before them.

  "You're going to get it one of these days," he said.

  "I'm not afraid of you."

  "Is there a problem?" Logan said, pushing his way through the exiting students.

  Claire wouldn't stand down. She was itching for a fight, and Corey was the perfect release.

  Corey glanced at Logan. "Yeah, your whore of a friend touched me. I think she gave me something."

  She pulled her fist back to deck him, but Logan beat her to it. Corey stumbled into a desk. This got Mr. Gomez’s attention.

  "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

  Logan grabbed Claire's hand and pulled her from the room. "Come on! Let's go."

  “Get back here!” Mr. Gomez called. He was coming after them.

  "You shouldn’t have done that," Claire said as they hurried down the hall dodging in and out of a steady stream of students.

  "Then be faster next time." Logan's jaw was set hard and she could practically feel his anger as hot as fire. She wasn't used to seeing him like this. She glanced over her shoulder. Mr. Gomez was still behind them, trying to catch up.

  “I have to go to the office,” she said. “You better keep going. I’ll catch up with you in the parking lot.”

  “Got it,” he said. “And hurry.”

  When they passed the office door, Claire quickly stepped inside and behind a wall. She waited until Mr. Gomez passed before she approached Mrs. Summer’s desk. "Hi, Mrs. Summers. You have something for me?"

  “I do, Claire. How are you doing? Better, I hope.”

  While Mrs. Summers ducked under the counter, Claire said, “I’m okay. Just trying to get through school.”

  A moment later Mrs. Summers straightened and handed her a package. A small, five-inch box was wrapped in black paper and a shiny black ribbon. "Who left it here?"

  "Some boy. I've never seen him before, but if I were you I'd stay away from him. There was something off about him."

  "Don’t worry. I’m keeping my distance as much as I can. Thanks, Mrs. Summers.” Claire took the box and walked out. Instead of meeting Logan and the others, she turned the opposite direction, toward the rear of the school where she could be alone.

  Outside the weather was unusually warm. Or she was just really hot. Claire shed her long sleeve shirt, grateful she'd decided to wear a tank top underneath. She headed toward the edge of the forest and sat down behind a thick tree. She stared at the box on her lap. It felt heavy, almost crushing.

  She touched it and jerked away as if she'd been burned. Part of her yearned to rip it open, but a smaller part spoke warnings. She dropped her head back and stared up into the tree branches. The limbs were all connected to each other, each one holding the other up.

  She looked down, paused, and then tore off the black paper. With a flick of her finger, the lid fell to the ground. She gasped, not because the contents surprised her, but more from relief. A syringe rested on a thin sheet of cotton. Waiting. A permanent Band-Aid.

  Claire picked it up and rubbed it with her thumb. Smelled it. Pressed it to her lips. Such a little thing to make such a big pain go away. She pressed the needle to a blue vein on her arm, and her thumb hesitated above the syringe. It's your choice, she thought and closed her eyes.

  FORTY

  Hidden in the forest between shadows and old trees, Gage watched Claire. He'd followed her, knew that she would want to be alone after receiving his gift, but seeing her handle the syringe as if it were gold made his blood burn hot. She had never looked sexier.

  Just then the faint smell of leather and chemicals tickled Gage’s nose. He cocked his head and listened closely. There were people, at least a dozen, closing on him fast. He resented the distraction from Claire, but he couldn’t have anyone interrupting her special moment. Gage turned away just as she was pressing the needle to her arm and ran deeper into the forest, toward his stalkers. He would never be anyone’s prey.

  It wasn’t long before Gage saw a man wearing a gray, double-breasted business suit with a pink tie standing in a small clearing. Gage slowed and glanced around. He couldn’t see the others, but sensed they were there.

  "Do you have what we want?" the man asked. Gage recognized his voice. It was the same man he’d spoken to on the phone.

  "Nice tie," Gage said. “And by the way, I hate being followed.”

  "Hand over Claire’s information.”

  Gage reached into his pocket and removed the drive. "Why don't you come over here and get it?"

  The man didn't flinch, not even the slightest facial twitch. "Toss it."

  "I have some questions for you first. Why do you want this information on Claire?"

  "We think it's only fair, seeing how she's our property now."

  "Your property?"

  "Yes, thanks to you. She's become part of our experiment, and we like to keep our eyes on our assets."

  Gage took a step forward, anger coursing through him.

  The man raised his hand and said, "Stop. If you come any closer, we’ll shoot you."

  Gage laughed and continued to chuckle even when several beams of red lights appeared on his chest. “You think bullets will stop me? I’ll spit them back in your face.”

  “Not bullets,” the man said. “The cure. A nice big dose that will make your existence become non existent.”

  Gage blew air through his nose and tightened his lips. He imagined breaking the nearest branch and throwing it between the eyes of the man in the pink tie. Blood would stain the tie red, a much better color in Gage’s opinion.

  But Gage didn’t move, not even bat an eye. The threat of a cure had stopped him cold. Instead he said, “Claire will have nothing to do with Bodian. Ever. She's mine."

  “She will never be yours.” The man reached into his right breast pocket and pulled out a vial containing a bluish liquid. "We want you to give Claire this, in addition to what she’s already taken.”

  "Why? What's wrong with what I have?"

  The man didn’t blink. "It's flawed."

  "How?"

  "Just give her the injection."

  "Or what?"

  "Do you really need to ask? Now be a good boy and toss the drive on three, and I’ll pass the vial. Don’t screw this up.” The pink-tied man paused briefly before counting. “One. Two. Three.”

  Every part of him wanted to rebel, but Gage found himself tossing the drive. A second later he caught the thrown vial in his hand.

  “We’ll be in touch. Stay close,” the man said. He turned around and walked back into the forest.

  "I'm not your call girl!" Gage called and cursed.

  Bodian thought they were going to control Claire. He cursed again. One thing he'd never allow to happen was for her to be controlled. He wanted her completely free from every emotion and everyone, just like he was until Bodian found him. Once he unleashed her, he just knew she would want to be with him. And if not...well, then he'd love the chase.

  Gage’s spine tinkled. He was still being watched. He focused all his senses on the surrounding area trying to determine how many men he was still up against. He detected five; three to his left and two to his right. He could hear them slow
ly creeping backwards away from him. They were at least twenty yards away. And just beyond them was the man heading north. Gage focused on his scent and memorized it.

  As soon as he was sure he was alone, Gage took off running. He pushed himself as fast as he could go, using the forest’s dark shadows to conceal him. He was closing in fast when he heard a car door close. Then another.

  Gage slowed when he saw three vehicles through the trees, their engines running. Two black cars and one blue truck were parked on the side of the road. The truck was last in line and its bed appeared empty except for a pair of metal boxes. The driver’s side door was open. A tall man dressed in some sort of black uniform stood next to it, speaking into his cell phone.

  When the man turned his back, Gage crouched low and darted through the trees until he was hunched over at the rear of the truck. He quietly crawled into its bed where he attempted to conceal himself between the two chests that, after sniffing them, smelled like guns and ammo. A moment later, the truck door closed and it began to move forward.

  Gage tried to remember the turns, thinking it would be important later. He counted out ten minutes before the truck turned left. At about twelve minutes it turned right, then at another ten it drove onto what Gage thought was a private lane based on how bumpy the ride had become.

  The truck slowed and Gage heard what sounded like a garage door opening. The truck pulled forward slowly. When a shadow passed overhead, he peered up expecting to see a typical garage, but instead it looked like a huge warehouse of some kind based on the height of the tall ceiling. Wide circle lights hung down from metal beams across the top.

  The men said few words to each other as they left the vehicles, their footsteps clicking against concrete. Gage took a chance and slowly rose from his cramped position just in time to see them disappearing through a wide door to his right. The rest of the massive space was crammed with crates stacked high into several aisles. Two forklifts, one of them full of boxes, had been abandoned in the middle of the aisles. This made Gage wonder if Bodian knew he had snuck along.

  To the left of him, high in the corner, a rotating camera turned in his direction. He jumped from the truck and scurried beneath it. A soon as it passed by, he crawled out and sprinted toward the door. Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked.

  He quickly slipped inside; a blast of air conditioning ruffled his hair and cooled his skin. A fluorescent light, sensing his presence, flickered on. The room was empty except for three AR-15's propped against the wall and a set of stairs leading down. And it smelled like rubbing alcohol and lemons, making him think of Bodian Dynamics.

  After a few minutes of nothing happening, like guards rushing up or an alarm sounding, he descended the darkened steps. He was careful not to be heard, knowing a surprise entrance would be best, if it wasn’t too late already. At the bottom, the room seemed to open up, but he couldn't tell how much because of a heavy darkness that felt almost alive. Somehow it reminded him of himself. He shook his head to dismiss the thought. Nothing was like him.

  He waited several seconds in the dark, hoping to hear any sounds, but the silence was deafening. Where had the men gone? Just then a light flipped on in the center of the room. It shined down from a high ceiling onto a glass enclosure. Inside was a well-built, blond-haired man in a gray t-shirt and black sweats, standing tall and staring right at Gage. Behind him was a glass desk and chair, and on the floor was a single blanket and pillow.

  Gage approached him, his steps echoing on the concrete floor in what could only be another massive warehouse built underground, but he couldn’t see any other parts of the inside of the building. Etched into a metal sign above the enclosure’s glass door read the word "Ares.”

  Gage stopped in front of the glass. "What's up, Ares?"

  The man, who looked no older than twenty, continued to stare. His stone expression revealed nothing, but the shadow in his blue eyes bled a cruelty Gage could relate to.

  Gage knocked on the glass. "How's the weather in there?"

  Ares blinked once, then asked, "Who are you?" His voice was monotone, yet held a threatening note.

  Gage shrugged. "Technically, I'm an employee of Bodian. Hell, I might even be your boss."

  Ares squared his feet beneath his shoulders. "You are not my boss."

  Gage tapped the glass wall. "What is this place?"

  "Home."

  "Sucks for you. How do you get out?"

  "Through a door."

  "You think?” Gage tried a different question. “Who lets you out?"

  "The men in charge."

  Gage sighed. "Someone screwed with your brain, didn't they? You sound like a dumb robot." He waited for a reaction, some kind of emotional response, but when he didn't get it, he asked, "Where are you from?"

  "L.A."

  "Why'd you come here?"

  "A chance for a better life."

  Gage looked around his cramped living quarters. "Your life must've been pretty bad."

  "Dr. Prescott helped me."

  "Dr. Prescott? Haven't heard that name before. Where can I find him?"

  "He comes to me."

  Just then the door to the glass enclosure clicked as if someone had opened it remotely.

  Gage glanced around. "Did you do that?"

  "Looks like you're supposed to come inside," Ares said, his tone dropping.

  Gage couldn't ignore the challenge. He opened the door, but before it closed, he broke off the handle to ensure he wouldn't be locked inside.

  "Kill him," a deep voice boomed from a speaker above.

  Ares took a step toward him.

  "Was that man talking to me or you?" Gage asked. "Because I'm pretty sure it was to me."

  Ares circled around him. Gage adjusted his feet accordingly, keeping his shoulders square and always facing Ares.

  "You're like me," Ares said, his fists clenched tight.

  Gage kept just out of reach. "Not even close."

  "I have to kill you now," Ares said.

  "I'd love to see you try."

  Ares lunged for him. Gage tried to move, but Ares caught him around the middle and slammed his back into the glass wall. Gage was surprised by Ares’s strength and speed; it mirrored his own. But Gage wasn't worried.

  He raised his arm and pressed it against Ares's throat until Ares was forced to let go. Gage pushed him away and kicked hard into his chest. Ares stumbled backwards, but recovered quickly and kicked high, connecting with Gage's jaw. Gage flew backwards into the glass table. It exploded under the pressure, spraying glass in all directions. The sound was deafening.

  Ares jumped at what would've been an impossible length for a normal human being across the room and onto him. His fists repeatedly pounded into Gage’s face, one hard blow after another. Gage felt and heard his bones break and grind against each other. It took all the strength he had to throw Ares to the side and squirm out from under him. He wiped at the blood pouring from his nose. Time to get creative.

  Ares was already on his feet and coming for him again. Gage crouched low and ducked when Ares swung. He rolled across the floor toward the broken glass. He took hold of a shard with his right hand but he wasn't fast enough to prevent Ares from slamming into his side, pinning his arm to the floor. Another rain of fists to the side of his head.

  Gage rolled over, knocking Ares off balance, but Ares barely stumbled before he was crawling back, reaching for his legs. Gage kicked at his face and scurried away. He stood up, concealing the shard of glass at his thigh. He smiled and silently thanked Claire for the idea.

  Ares unfolded himself until he was standing tall, muscles tight and body rigid. Like an uncoiled spring, he lunged at Gage, but Gage raised his hand and shouted, "Stop!"

  Ares stopped and for the first time a shadow of emotion crossed his face: confusion. Gage took advantage of the moment and swung his left fist toward Ares’ face. Ares easily caught it, but what Ares didn't know was that while Gage was swinging his left arm, his right arm was also swinging up until i
t stopped when the glass shard drove deep into his neck.

  Ares didn't cry out, but he did stop attacking him to try and remove the glass from his neck. Blood spurted from the wound, making it difficult for him to get a decent grip.

  While Ares was distracted, Gage ran and kicked him in the chest. Ares flew back against the glass wall, his head cracking against it. By the time he hit the ground, Ares was dead or unconscious; Gage didn't care which.

  "Is that all you got?" he shouted to the voice above. "I will always win, do you understand?" He breathed heavily, blood dripping down his face.

  A few seconds later, fluorescent lights turned on one at a time, slowly, deliberately, revealing the massive size of the room. On each side of him, in long rows and columns, were more glass cages. Each of them contained a lone man or woman, standing still and erect, fists clenched tight at their sides. And every single one was staring at Gage.

  FORTY-ONE

  After school, Claire didn't wait for Logan or Ethan. Instead she had Officer Johnson take her to the police station so she could visit with Smith. He was in the lobby talking to someone on his cell phone.

  She waved and forced a smile. Smith held his finger up, signaling in a minute. She dropped into a nearby swivel chair and waited. Even in a police station she didn't feel safe. Gage could come in and kill everyone at any point. And she'd almost chosen that life.

  In the end, that was what made her decide not to take the final injection. She didn't want to hurt anyone. Ever. She'd been the victim of a monster before and never wanted anyone to feel that pain, especially by her hand.

  No. As much as she wanted the ache in her heart to go away, it would never be at the expense of others.

  "Everything okay, Claire?" Smith said when he finished.

  She twirled the chair around. Smith looked worried. And tired. "I'm fine. Just wanted to visit you."

  "Come back to my office. We can talk there."

  Claire followed him back, wondering why she had come. She didn't have anything specific to talk about.