“Hello, Maya. Please change into the outfit on the bed and place your biohazard suit by the door," a friendly male voice spoke over the speakers.
“Okay…”
I moved towards the bed and picked up the pale blue tracksuit. It might not have been to my taste but at least it would give my eyes a break from all the white. I glanced up at the cameras again and moved into the wash area for a bit of privacy to change.
Taking off the clingy fabric was a relief after so long. My hair stuck to my back and I felt like I'd run a marathon. I switched the shower on and held my hand out to check the temperature. The very thought of washing myself clean loosened some of the tension that had been growing in my muscles and I stepped into the hot water, letting out a deep breath.
Everything’s going to be okay. This is just protocol. Before I know it I’ll be back in my tiny apartment and attending class with the douchebags.
Once I was clean, I felt much better, like I’d washed off anything which might have been clinging to my skin from outside.
I stepped out of the shower, drying myself on a soft towel and pulling on the blue tracksuit with a sigh of relief.
I reached out to wipe the steam from the mirror and studied myself carefully. After a close inspection, I was pleased to see I still hadn't turned orange or anything and I released a slow breath.
It’s going to be fine.
I headed back into the main room of my cell, placed the biohazard suit by the door and lay down on the bed. It was hard and the sheets were starchy but I could cope with that.
My mind spun and I wondered whether Artie and Taylor had been locked up in cells like mine. I hoped Taylor was alright, he was probably blaming himself for everything and worrying himself sick but I just had to focus on the long term. One day we’d look back and laugh about this. Our great adventure gone wrong. I just hoped that day would come sooner rather than later.
I spread my wet hair out behind me and tried not to overanalyse the workings of my body. It must have been getting late but the lights weren't getting any dimmer. My stomach rumbled, just a normal rumble for someone who hadn't eaten all day... I took a deep breath and pulled the blanket over my eyes. My lungs did not feel scratchy.
I gritted my teeth and fought back the desire to cry. I couldn’t let my imagination get carried away. Everything would be alright. I had to believe that.
I just hoped I was right.
When I woke, I could tell that I’d been asleep for some time. My biohazard suit was gone and a table had been placed next to the chair with a glass of milk and a bowl of porridge on it.
I tried not to think about how creepy it was that someone had come in here while I was asleep and got up to inspect the food.
I moved to the chair and tasted the breakfast. Cold. Great.
"Thanks for waking me up," I muttered to no one in particular, though I hoped they were listening in and I wasn't just starting to talk to myself.
After draining the milk I paced the room for several minutes. I glanced into the washroom and noticed a small bag of toiletries that hadn't been there yesterday.
I brushed my hair, then brushed it again. When I finished, I examined the large amount of hair left in the brush and felt a cold sweat prickle along my spine. I pulled some of it from the brush and let it run through my fingers and drift to the floor.
I looked at myself in the mirror and turned my head to get a look at my scalp. I trailed my fingers through my brunette curls and let them fall flat again. A single hair came loose and landed in the sink. I stared at it for several seconds before turning my attention back to my reflection. I reached up and took hold of a lock of my hair. Steeling myself, I tugged on it. It didn't fall out, not a single strand. I laughed shakily, sank down onto the bed and crawled back under the covers.
***
The table had another glass of milk and a cold soup on it this time. I drained the milk again but I wasn't going to lower myself to eating cold soup. My stomach growled in protest but I held firm.
"Can I have something hot?" I looked directly at one of the camera lenses. No response.
My mouth felt dry, chalky. I moved to the washroom and peered into the mirror. I caught hold of my tongue and pulled it out for inspection. It looked bumpy and a little white.
Is that normal?
I couldn't remember how it had looked before and my pulse raced as I wondered if it was some kind of sign of something being wrong with me. Or maybe I was just being paranoid.
I paced back into the main room and ran my tongue back and forth along the roof of my mouth. I was probably just a little dehydrated. Fatigue hit me again and I lay back down on the bed as a frown pulled at my brow.
Why am I so tired all the time?
***
I was fairly sure it was the desperate pleas of my stomach that roused me the next time I woke. The table now held a glass of milk and a large sandwich. At least it didn't matter that it was cold. Maybe someone had been listening to my request.
I shoved myself out of bed and practically inhaled the sandwich, groaning as the food slid down into my belly. My stomach was placated but I could have eaten twice as much and I was half tempted to lick the plate clean.
“Can I have any more?" I asked the same camera hopefully.
I paced the room again for a while, waiting for a response, but none came.
I wandered into the wash room to have another shower and saw a nice new tracksuit waiting for me. Things were looking up.
I let the shower go on until the water ran cold then brushed my hair until it was practically dry. I examined the brush again but this time there was nothing abnormal about the amount of hair I found there. I glared at it as if it might contradict me and finally placed it down when I was confident it wouldn’t.
The new tracksuit felt soft against my skin as I wandered back to the main room and I tried to focus on that. Every little positive had to be a good sign.
Unfortunately I was wide awake and out of things to do. On the plus side, a new sandwich awaited me so maybe someone really was listening to me.
“Thank you,” I said to my mystery sandwich source, tucking in eagerly with the slightly uneasy feeling of knowing someone had been in the room whilst I was naked next door. I downed the milk and started up my pacing again.
The hairbrush taunted me from the washroom and I threw scowls at it intermittently.
“Would it be too much bother to get some entertainment? Something to read, or a TV, or a crossword puzzle even?" I was starting to build up a picture of a friendly helper sitting and watching me somewhere and decided it wouldn't hurt to be polite.
"Please?" I added. I was going to ignore the fact that my tongue felt chalky again.
A wave of dizziness swept over me and I sat down on the bed, in moments I felt myself falling unconscious and I fought against the feeling uselessly as I sagged back against the pillows.
"The milk..." I realised, a moment before the blackness took over.
***
There was an itch inside my right elbow. I sat in my bed as I ran my fingers over the tender skin and on inspection I found a small puncture hole.
My lips parted in surprise and I pulled my arm up as close to my face as I could get it. It was a little hole, the blood had congealed to fill it, but how did it get there? My mind instantly filled with images of bugs crawling out of it like in some gross horror movie.
I shuddered as I fought my overactive imagination aside and tried to think logically. Not some bug hole. It looked like the mark left by a needle.
“So you're drugging me and stealing my blood?” I asked the camera tersely. “You know I'm happy to cooperate, you don't need to do that."
I looked around. There were three sandwiches on the plate this time and a book next to it.
The hairbrush mocked me from its perch on the sink but I wasn’t going to acknowledge it.
I took my time with the sandwiches, pushed the milk aside, and spent the rest of the day reading
. The book was a soppy romance novel with a dreadfully pathetic leading lady who seemed willing to undergo any humiliation for a chance with a guy who didn't seem to care about her one bit.
Eventually, I couldn't stand it any longer.
“Not to be fussy, but this," I waved the offending book towards the camera, "is trash. Could we try for something a bit more interesting next time? Please?" I grinned up at the camera hopefully.
Not feeling like pushing on with the book, I took another shower and drank the water from it rather than the tainted milk. I didn't brush my hair.
I finished the book with a scowl and tossed it down on the table. With nothing else to do, I lay back and slept.
***
I strode across the room and knocked the hairbrush off of the sink. It clattered noisily and a few hairs were knocked loose. They challenged me from the tiled floor. I turned on my heel and returned to the main room to inspect the new deliveries, ignoring the damn brush and it’s accusatory tone.
This time there was a new book on the table with the sandwiches and a small chocolate muffin. I devoured the sandwiches but kept the muffin for later, repeated my shower-drink to avoid the milk and had a look at the book. It was the follow-up to the book I'd read yesterday. Awful, awful, awful.
“Karen was miserable," I read aloud. "She had given up all of her friends, fallen out with her family and changed her job just to keep Eunice happy, but he still hadn't stayed with her. She reached for the phone. Begging hadn't worked yet but she had only tried a few times-" The suction noise from the door seal being released made me stop mid terrible sentence.
A woman walked in, she had long yellow-blonde hair pulled back tightly behind her head in a harsh ponytail and wore a figure-hugging, powder blue power suit. She was followed by a young man with round glasses who was carrying two chairs. I didn't recognise him but she was familiar somehow.
“Hello, Maya. Please make yourself comfortable at the table, we just have a few questions for you." Her voice was clipped and business-like.
I moved to my seat and waited while they arranged themselves opposite me. I couldn't decide how old the woman was. She looked as though she wasn't adverse to a few youth prolonging injections which was confusing my read on her.
The man looked like he was just trying to blend into the background. He kept his head down, not looking at me while arranging papers and a tablet on the table in front of him.
"My name is Lucretia Scorin. We are sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Summers, we had to be careful about possible contaminants. Fortunately, all of our tests have come back negative, both from the testing zone and from yourself," the woman began.
“So, can I go home now?" I asked hopefully.
“I'm afraid that that's not currently an option we can offer you," she said, smiling tightly and I was fairly sure her facial muscles were having trouble remembering what shape a smile should be.
"Why?"
“You broke the law, Miss Summers, that can't simply go unaddressed." She fixed me with a hard stare. "You put the needs of yourself above the needs of the population, and we have to account for that somehow."
The silence stretched on for long enough that I was sure they could hear the pounding of my heart. I slowly caught onto the fact that it was my turn to talk again.
“I didn't even know what was happening. My helmet malfunctioned. I couldn't breathe."
"We have been given a full account of the event by Mr Jackson. He told us it seemed likely you would die and he was acting in the interest of preserving your life. He also mentioned that your helmet did not simply malfunction, but was damaged when you engaged in dangerous activities which were not necessary for the work you were sent to do." She rapped her nails, which were painted powder blue to match her suit, against the table.
I silently cursed Taylor's trusting nature. He should have held his tongue on the details but now I didn’t have much choice aside from admitting to everything so say
"It didn't specify that we weren't allowed to sit in hanging seats either," I said finally, not that I expected to get away without punishment based on a technicality.
"A smart mouth won't help your case here, Miss Summers." Lucretia gave me a thin smile, or maybe it was a grimace. "The directions did specify that you should do your utmost to take care of yourselves and your equipment at all times. And, in the case of an emergency or injury the first response should always be to radio back for direction on how to proceed." She rapped her nails on the table again. I wasn't sure if it was meant to be irritating or intimidating. It was a bit of both.
"I wasn't really in any state to be radioing people. I was blacking out from lack of oxygen at the time." I scowled at the wooden table top.
"Mr Jackson mentioned that the damage to your helmet was noticed long before you began to have trouble breathing. At which point, if you had followed protocol, a unit could have been dispatched to aid you and none of this would be happening." Again with the nails. Maybe she was using the noise in place of fullstops.
"But it wasn't causing any trouble at that point," I protested weakly.
"It says clearly here-" she held out a copy of the directions we had received before setting out into the inspection zone, "-if the integrity of your biohazard suit is compromised you must radio it in without delay." She looked at me expectantly, her nails poised above the table ready to strike.
"I just didn't think."
"And that is obviously the problem. Neither of you stopped to think. And like I have said, if that were the extent of it, maybe this wouldn't be a problem but we have to consider the possible implications for the population." And the fingernails made it to the table once again.
“But you said I was clear of contamination."
"Irrelevant I'm afraid. The lack of an actual risk after the fact does not negate the risk you posed when we couldn't have known that contamination wasn't a threat." And again with the nails. I found myself wishing her polish would chip.
“So what now then?"
“Do you accept that you took the wrong course of action and placed the lives of everyone within the city of Harbour at risk due to negligence on the part of yourself and that of Mr Jackson?"
"I didn't mean to." I bit my lip.
"That is why we are calling it negligence as opposed to deliberate sabotage." Lucretia fixed me with a piercing stare. She placed her palms flat on the table and leaned forward as if she was preparing to pounce.
“I suppose so then." I couldn't help feeling that I had been backed into a corner without knowing at what point I could have changed the course of the conversation.
"Sign here to that effect then please." She snatched the tablet from the silent man, turned it around and handed it to me. He’d been filling out a form with everything we’d discussed written down word for word.
At the bottom of the page were the words 'I, Miss Maya Summers, agree that this is a true representation of the facts as I understand them.' And underneath that was a box for my signature. I used my finger to trace my name onto the tablet and it was instantly pulled back across the table.
“Thank you, Maya, you have been most cooperative." She smiled predatorily at me.
They both stood, wooden chair legs scraping across the tiles. The man gathered everything, including the two additional chairs and headed back out through the sealed door. Lucretia paused to look down at me where I still sat in front of the empty table.
"So, when will I get to leave?" I asked, hoping my ordeal was finally all over.
"Someone will come to escort you to a hearing where we will come to a conclusion about your punishment in due course. Please try to remain calm and relaxed in the meantime." She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
“Punishment?" I asked in a small voice. She hesitated by the door, one blue-taloned hand clutching the frame.
"You broke the law, Miss Summers, and we have your signed confession to that fact. There must be a punishment for endangering all of our lives would
n't you agree?"
The door swung shut without her waiting for my response and I listened to the clicking of her high heels as she disappeared down the hallway.
She was gone, and I was all alone again.
I sat staring at the white walls for a long time after Lucretia left. Eventually I decided to eat the muffin and realised they’d found a new place to hide the sedative.
***
I kept up a monotonous routine for eight more sleeps which I presumed equated to days. The only thing to make it more bearable were the new books I'd been given which were much more to my usual tastes.
Occasionally, I would hear shuffling footsteps outside my door but no one ever responded to me calling out.
I stopped trying to avoid the sedative when they put it in all of my food. There was no point in me starving and at least it helped to pass the time.
***
On the twelfth day, or night, or whatever, I woke with Lucretia standing over my bed.
A group of six Wardens were positioned behind her and I spied Unibrow and Hook-nose amongst them. I sat up, blinking away my weariness and scowled back at her.
"Is there a reason you're here while I'm in bed asleep?" I challenged. My patience was wearing well beyond thin after days locked up alone in here and I wanted some damn answers.
She was wearing a beige power suit with matching nails. The colour washed her out, making her look even colder than usual.
"It's time for your sentencing." Lucretia smiled. "We’ve gone over your statement and that of your co-conspirator and have deliberated on many things from the intent behind your actions to the threat you posed to the population with them. We’ve come to our decisions accordingly. Follow me."
She turned and left without waiting to see if I was following. The Wardens looked down at me menacingly. I glared back and darted into the washroom to throw on a fresh tracksuit without asking permission. I wasn't going to find out my fate in yesterday's clothes.
Rebel Rising: A Dystopian Romance (Cage of Lies Book 1) Page 6