Skin Trials

by S Y Humphrey

  Pike’s rap music blasted higher at a stop. She surmised he made it loud enough that no one would hear her if she screamed. Even amid the hard rap, Seren could hear happy voices, laughter and greetings, as if Pike and Aurora were greeting people suddenly. She heard Pike’s voice as he laughed.

  Bang! Bang! Seren jumped at knocking and beating against the outer walls of the truck. What sounded like celebration and cheering filtered through the music.

  The door of the truck rolled up once again. Though her chances of being freed were unlikely, her sore body was grateful to not be tossed around over hey and flat metal any longer.

  “All right, everybody, no cell phones. None at all. You know the rules,” Pike called. Then she heard his boots jump onto the bed and shake the truck as they stomped toward her. Then came a second set of boots. Checking the shackles first to see if they were still secure, they then patted her hands for any weapons. Next they lifted her from the truck. Music still blared. Stifling night heat still surrounded them. She could hear the shifting and murmuring of people, even over the music. Some of them were young, gasping and making small noises.

  The location cooled and she felt herself being carried up stairs. Finally, the blindfold was removed. Serena’s eyes adjusted, and she lay on a bed inside a bedroom. Spacious and wide, decorated with elaborate, heavy furniture.

  Three women entered, appearing to be Middle Eastern. One of them carried tiles and fresh clothing. The other carried food. The third seemed to be supervising. All of them seemed to be lovely and relatively young. The youngest ran a bath in the connecting bathroom. Long-haired and dressed in silk and satin wraps, they smelled of various essential oils.

  “The shower is ready for you, miss. Everything you need is here,” the youngest stated, her face long, perhaps even disgruntled. Seren noticed how she didn’t make eye contact. And the occasional eye roll indicated the girl, about Seren’s age, looked like she would rather be somewhere else.

  “And don’t try any funny business, sweetheart,” Aurora’s voice called from behind her. Seren turned to see her new nemesis leaning against the door frame, holding a knife. She pulled out an orange and began carving it.

  “Am I going to get any privacy at least? Seren asked.

  “When you’re dead, you can have all the privacy you want.”

  Seren entered a fairly simple and clean bathroom, with lots of space. Though it wasn’t new age sophistication of Tier One mountain life, these people certainly didn’t live in squalor. She undressed and stepped into the bath, making it fast. She had never appreciated the soapy water hitting her skin so much. Lathering shampoo on her hands, she began to dig into her hair. To her surprise, her roots felt even thicker and matted.

  Pulling her hands out in a panic, she hopped from the shower, toward the mirror. Not only were her blonde roots growing kinky, but at the base in the millimeters right above her skin, she saw pitch-black roots emerging. Terrified, she swiped her hand back and forth over the mirror, trying to remove whatever stain that ruined her reflection. But the black color didn’t wipe off, moving along with her head while she swayed it in the mirror. In the bedroom, standing only feet away, she saw Aurora marking a newspaper, as if doing a crossword puzzle. Stoic, she stepped back into the shower.

  Drying off, she noticed the birth mark. Her mind had not been playing tricks on her. It no longer sat as a tiny dot, smaller than a fresh-water pearl. It had stretched out to the size of a dime, brown and ugly. She stopped herself from shrieking, not wanting to draw Aurora’s mockery. Slipping on The rest of her clothes, she herself again. Her face, her skintone, remained largely the same. Except for that one flaw. How long would it take before her father rescued her?

  This time, she didn’t question the food. She didn’t know why she didn’t feel threatened by these women who didn’t seem imposing, or like they were part of any scheme. Aurora stood watch at the door while Seren sat on a bed and lifted the lid of a large silver tray.

  “Is this Iranian?” Seren asked.

  “Yes. Ghormeh sabzi. Greens beans and lamb. This okay?” the young Persian asked.

  They even brought her a little wine, which she ignored. She wasn’t sure if they were trying to relax her to make her talk. Seren noticed how mild-mannered the women were. Almost bowing as they came to fill her water glass, or offer more seasonings, or dessert, or elaborate cloth napkins. Once she had digested some of the spicy Iranian food, and gotten rid of her hunger, she observed her hosts a little more closely. Particularly the healing scratch marks on the youngest woman’s wrists. Seren had only heard about cutting. Because of her classified access level, she’d never crossed anyone with mental health issues capable of self-harm.

  “They are ready!” a male voice shouted from downstairs. It was Pike.

  Aurora turned to Seren and threw her newspaper to the side. “Let’s go.”

  Whipping out the long blade of the knife, Aurora grabbed Seren’s arm and shoved her forward, pushing the tip into Seren’s skin so she could feel it. They marched down the stairway of a relatively new and spacious home. The house had grown quiet, and she noticed lots of Buddhist vases and Arabic writings on bowls, sitting atop polished dark wood furniture. Pike came and led her into a dark room, furnished with one chair, one table and one computer. She saw several male bodies standing nearby who toted guns. They sat her in front of the computer.

  Her father! Upset and worried, he leaned closer in the screen.

  Seren brightened immediately, her old sarcasm coming back to her. “What’s the matter, old man? You look like you lost your best friend.”

  Her father laughed, and she could see his relief. “I don’t have any best friends. Only chess pieces.” He managed, even as he began to sob. He pulled himself together. “Are they treating you okay? They haven’t done anything, have they?”

  “No. I’m fine. Where are you? You’re free? How?” Seren asked, wondering how he had managed to escape all the men who had bombarded her school lab that night.

  Pike’s voice interrupted. “Mr. Jernigan. She is alive and well. Show us Lyle Terry in the next twenty-four hours, or she gets dumped in the CAGES. Where there are lots of Tier Fours and Fives who would like to see her.”

  “Dad, where’s mo-“ Seren began, before the computer shut off.

  She turned to see Pike wearing a black ski mask. He lifted her arm and with another person sent her back upstairs, closing the door shut in her face, separating her from the outside world. She heard the door lock from the other side. She moved to the window, to see how far she was from the ground for a jump. Parallel bars spread across the window frames. And a blackened paper covered the panes. She tried to scrape it up, but it was installed between the double panes. She lay down. But she could not rest, wondering what they demanded of her father. And what he had said.

  A few moments later she heard shuffling and loud voices downstairs as if they were arguing. She then heard the door click unlocked once again. Instead of seeing Pike or Aurora, she saw the youngest Middle Eastern girl from before.

  “I know you don’t know me. But if your father rescues you, would you please give him this? Or your mother?” The girl held up a small piece of paper. “Quickly, before they come.”

  Seren took it. She didn’t know why she did so, perhaps the urgency in the girl’s voice, the despair, or for now, that Seren simply didn’t want to get caught holding it.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Nasreen,” she said, picking up Seren’s dishes. “You want tea? Called khastegeet dar mireh.”

  “Sure. You don’t look happy to be here, Nasreen.”

  The girl didn’t reply, but her deep eyes did.

  Seren continued, “So why are you?”

  “Marriage. My parents sold me.”

  Aghast, and unable to believe what she’d heard, Seren drew back. Her mouth fell open, and her chest twisted into terrified knots. Were they planning to sell her into a sex trafficking trade, or as someone’s wife? She’d had no idea t
hat even happened in America. It certainly wasn’t sanctioned in Perfect Society.

  “Why? How? That’s illegal.” As she said it, she began scanning the room, already anticipating the ways she could fight off Aurora and Pike when they returned, even if she had to kill them.

  “My parents sold me to people in the Fottom, to get the Nautilus.”

  “What? Nautilus?”

  “Yes, the gene medicine. Helps with cancers. And these guys— the ones who have you— they trade us for money to make Nautilus. They don’t they have that where you live?”

  Still appalled, racking her brain for what was happening here, she breathed, “No. Are we in… the Fottom?”

  The girl quickly shook her head. “No, Illinois,” Nasreen whispered back. Her head whipped around, before turning back to Seren. “So what’s it like?”

  “What’s what like?” Seren asked, her eyes still darting about the room.

  “Free woman. In college.” The girl paused. “With money.”

  “What are you in there doing? Nasreen, get out here. You’re wanted,” one of the older servant girls called in an insistent tone. Nasreen tossed Seren one last look, before collecting all the dishes on the platter and rushing off. Once the young servant exited, a loud slap of skin, on the other side of the door, made Seren jump.

  Then she heard the sounds of feet being dragged, before a door opened down the hallway. Followed by rushed steps as if someone were tossed into a room, and the door slammed shut.

  Seren continued to wait at the edge of the bed for the next few hours, jumping at every squeak in the hallway, wondering if she would endure a similar fate. But around four in the morning, the door unlocked again. Hard as she tried not to, she had been dozing off. Pike entered and switched on the light.

  She noticed he was agitated. “Come on,” he said, as if he was distracted.

  “Where are you taking me? Who will you try to sell me to?” Seren demanded, her hand on another table leg she’d hidden underneath the pillow.

  “Look, I don’t need this right now,” he snapped.

  Aurora entered to help him tie and gag her. But before Aurora covered her eyes, Seren saw Nasreen appear in the hallway, standing in the doorway of another bedroom. She peered wistfully at Pike, who turned around and stared at her with longing. Their eyes met, and Seren half-expected him to bolt across the way and get her. Seren realized they were in love.

  “Pike!” Aurora snapped, placing her arms around Seren to tie the blindfold.

  After they led her to the truck, and it rumbled to life, the mood changed. Loud rap music had been replaced by a strained quiet. She also didn’t hear any animal noises. No feathered wings flapped this time, and no long cow tails swished in her face. The trailer was empty. Seren wondered what they had gotten in exchange for the livestock. She questioned why livestock was necessary in the suburbs.

  “You can’t do that anymore! You’re going to screw this whole operation with your silly puppy love!” Aurora hissed.

  “It’s not puppy love. That’s my girl in there!” Pike whispered back.

  “She’s somebody’s wife now. You’re going to ruin a good thing we got here. We need this connection. We need more materials to keep making the stuff in case we don’t get it out of Princess. Check your feelings and don’t screw this up!” Aurora replied.

  The truck rumbled on, making a few stops, turning at corners and Seren could tell from the sounds of morning they must have been in the inner city. Large old buses and trucks whined to a stop, and there was the occasional movement on the sidewalk. She heard the trudge of hard-bottomed shoes. Only their pace didn’t sound as hurried or purposed as it did in the mountains, but more begrudging.

  Mere minutes later, the truck stopped again. The engine did not shut off, and she heard the driver door open and shut. Seren also heard other engines approach before Auroras voice broke the morning quiet as she greeted others.

  Other happy male voices returned the greeting, male and upbeat. “When are you coming through here with that good stuff again? You came with it last time.”

  Immediately, the music turned on again, blaring from the front of the truck, as if Pike remembered to drown out their voices as an afterthought. Seren couldn’t make out the continuing chatter through the music. Within minutes, the door lid listed, and Pike and Aurora entered. Seren felt a cloth draped over her head before she was lifted.

  They switched her to a different vehicle, with leather seats and the smell of car incense and cleaning product. She was laid on a carpeted floor.

  So they rolled for several hours before being pulled over to the side. Seren could have sworn she heard a siren go off, short in yet invigorating. Shuffling and murmurs a few seats away. And then, the sound of shoes walking from behind them, and approaching the front of the car.

  “Can I see your license and registration please?” She heard the authoritative voice of a cop.

  Seren screamed as loud as she could through the gag, praying he would hear her. With her feet, she began to kick the window.

  “Officer, can we just go please? We have a real big delivery to make,” Pike replied. She heard Pike hand the officer something, one single slap into his hand. A pause, and her heart could have stood still.

  “You got any more of that?” she heard the officer’s voice ask.

  “No! Please, no!” Seren cried. “Help me! I’m Seren Jernigan! I’ve got more money! Whatever he gives you, I can pay you ten times more than that! Hey!” she yelled, beating her feet against the window for her life.

  The boots left the front of the car. She heard the truck’s gears shift, and the tires rolled forward. Seren broke into silent tears, not understanding how this could happen. They had to be approaching the outer rim of the American borders. Many small-scale law enforcement such as traffic officers had been computerized, hence the Guardians. She wondered what single thing he’d handed the officer. It couldn’t have been cash. All forms of payment were now digitized in Perfect Society, so it wouldn’t have helped him.

  “You’re in this for the long-haul, Tier One. You comfy back there in the VIP section?” Aurora taunted.

  Later that night, they pulled her from the car and towed her into some place stuffy with murmuring. The blindfold removed from her face and the gag from her mouth, they unwrapped the cloth in which she had been draped.

  “No cell phones! Aurora! Check,” Pike called out. Moments later, Seren felt the cloth snatched from over her.

  Focusing her eyes, they stared into a warehouse, filled with business people, wearing suits, ties and high-end casual wear — expensive jeans, blunt haircuts and finely threaded button-down shirts. They all stared back at her, with what seemed to be disbelief.

  Screams and cheers erupted.

  Thunderous applause drowned out Pike’s calls for quiet. Confused and taking in their joy, Seren scanned their faces several times. All of them were people of varying races and ethnicities, more people of color than she had ever seen in her life. None of them were white. They all gazed at Seren with glee, as would children who had won a coveted prize.

  Their fists pumped in the air triumphantly, and she watched their smiles and hugs of joy.

  They shouted, “We got ‘em! We got those jerks! The Nautilus is coming home!”

  Several people stepped from among the crowd. Seren now faced her two primary captors— the sleek white Tier One and the black man who called himself NG. Alongside them stood, several others.

  “Well, well, finally. My ultimate lab specimen,” a Latino man in a white jacket proclaimed. He held up a needle, his jaw tightening. He reached over Seren and pricked a hair from her head, his eyes studying her as if she were meat. “I wonder if you could survive all the things Stephen Jernigan did to me.”

  The Tier One whom Seren had seen days before walked to face her, stopping only inches away, eying Seren. Refusing to be intimidated or to back down, Seren squared her shoulders and faced off with the older woman.

  The older Ti
er One’s eyes were steely, but slightly red, as if she had not slept. Through pursed lips, she muttered, “Time to learn the truth. Let’s see if she stays loyal to Jernigan then.”

  9

  The Skin Trials

  Seren’s insides seemed to fall out of her.

  Time to learn the truth.

  Since her capture she’d refused to let any of them see her vulnerable. Even in her confusion for what was happening, and not yet understanding why they’d taken her, she would not show fear. There could be no emotion or signs of weakness for them to leverage and use against her father.

  But now, this Tier One woman, tired and red-eyed, seemed every bit as unyielding as Seren. Walking about the warehouse, her finger tracing 3-D maps and her back curving over to review logs and numbers, she boasted strength even in her fatigue. She reminded Seren of a younger version of her mother.

  The woman’s words— Let’s see if she stays loyal to Jernigan then— had sent Seren’s thoughts into a tailspin. What could that mean? What truth?

  Surely, this wouldn’t explain her father’s tortured, contradicting explanations of skin cancer. He had said that would place her in Tier Three when the reporter and the hackers had said she belonged in Tier Two. She had dismissed the logical holes in his assertions, because he had always been right. He’d always won. No harm had ever touched Seren and her mother, no matter how hard their enemies had tried. So Seren had never needed to worry about anybody else’s truth. Only the one he’d given her.