The Adjusters

by Taylor, Andrew

  Henry held his gaze. “Don’t ask many questions? You don’t know my mom very well, do you?”

  Mallory snorted. “Face it, Henry! She’s sick of you! You’re just like the rest of your generation. All we hear about is how bored you all are with your easy lives and violent games and lectures about the environment we messed up. How we all ought to shape up and understand you better.” Mallory sat forward and pointed an accusing finger at Henry. “Well I’ve got news for you, son. We’re the ones who are sick of you. And you’re the ones who are going to shape up.”

  “I’m guessing you weren’t a hippy when you were young,” Henry said.

  “Hippies!” Mallory exclaimed. “God, I hated the hippies! Then the punks…metal-heads…goths…new romantics…nerds…emos… They make me want to goddamn puke!”

  “You’re a psychopath.”

  Mallory looked at him sadly. “Can’t you see I’m trying to do what’s best for everyone? I’m trying to give hope to desperate parents. All I’m asking you to do is give adjustment a try. What’s your answer, son?”

  “Go shove it.” Henry grabbed the edge of the coffee table and lifted it, throwing the entire thing towards Mallory. The glass top shattered and he had to shield his eyes against the flying glass shards.

  “Stop!” Mallory yelled, but Henry was already up and running for the stairs leading down to the basement…

  “Blake!”

  Mallory’s grandson stepped from the shadows, too fast for Henry to avoid – he’d obviously been waiting there all along. A fist like an iron girder slammed into his gut and Henry doubled over, gasping for breath. Blake grabbed him round the neck with one hand and pinned his arms behind his back with the other. Henry struggled, but the other kid was superhuman, restraining him effortlessly. Wilson the butler appeared with a syringe in his gloved hand…

  “Let me go!” Henry said, fighting for breath as Blake’s hand tightened around his neck.

  “It’s too bad you didn’t buy into the programme, Henry,” Mallory said as he approached from the sofa. “You could have been a pioneer, our shining star. But we can always use one more soldier – and one less troublemaker.”

  Wilson jabbed the syringe into Henry’s arm and depressed the plunger. Henry felt the liquid enter his bloodstream and a second later his vision began to swim. Blake released his grip and Henry staggered forward, his legs no longer able to support him. Now he was on his hands and knees at Mallory’s feet, struggling to stay conscious.

  “Please…” was all he could manage to say.

  “Don’t fight it,” Mallory said. “When you wake up you’re going to love Malcorp and all this will seem like a bad dream. We’re going to fix you.”

  “No…”

  The floor rushed up and slammed Henry in the face.

  In the beginning, there was pain… And then there was light… And then the feeling of being strapped to a table…

  Henry sensed someone moving around him so he kept his eyes closed, even though he’d been slowly coming round for a few minutes. He flexed his wrists carefully; they were bound tightly to the table. The air around him was cold. There was only one place he could be – the medical centre.

  “I know you’re awake,” a vaguely familiar voice said. “You can open your eyes.”

  Henry did just that and tried to look round, but his head was held in place by some kind of strap. From the tiled walls and equipment in his peripheral vision he could tell he was in one of the operating theatres. Adrenaline began surging through him and he strained against the bonds that held his arms and legs. No use.

  “Easy,” the man said, stepping towards the table so Henry could see him. “Remember me?”

  Henry stopped struggling and focused on a bald-headed man, who was dressed in surgeon’s scrubs. He held up his left hand, which was heavily bandaged, and wiggled his fingers in a kind of wave. Henry remembered him now: the doctor who had confronted him in that very theatre just a few days before. He’d slipped on a scalpel and cut his hand.

  “That’s right,” the bald doctor said, seeing the recognition in Henry’s eyes. “Looks like I might have a little nerve damage from the cut. Not good news for a surgeon, is it? I mean, we kinda need our hands to be in full working order.”

  Henry licked his lips, which were incredibly dry. He wondered how long he’d been out. “I’m sorry,” he began. “I didn’t mean to…”

  “Oh, you’ll be sorry alright,” the doctor said, leaning close so his round, doughy face filled Henry’s vision. “Why do you think you’re awake right now? Huh? I brought you out of sedation so you can be fully conscious for your operation.”

  “Operation?” Henry tensed the muscles in his right arm… If he could just pull free somehow…

  “We’re going to cut open your skull,” the doctor leered down at him. “And you’re going to be fully aware, right up to the moment we start cutting into your brain. Your own front-row seat. How does that sound to you?”

  Henry twisted his head back as far as it would go and yelled, “Help! Somebody help me!”

  The doctor smiled and patted Henry on the shoulder. “Don’t waste your breath, kid. There’s no one round here who gives a damn.” He grabbed a trolley loaded with surgical equipment and wheeled it closer to the table so Henry could see: drills, scalpels, and weird-shaped extraction tongs.

  “Please don’t do this,” Henry said, aware of the pleading, desperate tone in his voice. “I’ll be good from now on.”

  The doctor chuckled. “That’s what they all say. Right up to the moment we open up their craniums. I’m going to go prep your brain implant, Henry, which should give you some time to think about the horrible fate that awaits you when I come back. You might want to spend the time rehearsing some new ways to beg me not to do it.”

  Henry’s face twisted in rage. “Screw you.”

  The doctor waggled a finger on his injured hand at him. “Potty mouth. We’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

  With that, he walked from the theatre. Henry lay still for a moment, stunned by the unforgiving silence that had returned to the room. They were really going to do it. When the theatre door opened again, the surgeons would come in and cut him open…

  Henry thrashed madly against his bonds and screamed for help again and again. In the back of his mind he knew it was no use…that he was just playing the sadistic doctor’s game by showing how desperate, how terrified he was…

  After a minute or so he stopped struggling, though he was still breathing heavily and covered with sweat. Come on, think! he told himself. There has to be a way out.

  He looked at the trolley to the left of the table, trying to view the surgical equipment with fresh eyes. Rather than instruments of torture, maybe they could help him to get the hell off the table. The scalpels…cut through the bonds… With all his strength, Henry arched his body up and slammed it to the side. The table moved a couple of centimetres towards the trolley. He did it again. The table moved a little more.

  “Come on!” Henry hissed through gritted teeth. He rocked the table a third time. It moved far enough to hit the edge of the instrument trolley…sending it rolling half a metre away. Henry slumped. “No…”

  The double doors to the theatre opened and someone approached the table. Henry clenched his fists and fought against the restraints once more, even though he knew all hope was lost…

  But suddenly there was a blonde-haired girl beside him, in ordinary jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Henry!”

  Gabrielle leaned over him and reached round the side of his head to release the strap holding it in place.

  “Are you okay?”

  He almost cried with relief. “Jesus, I thought you were one of them coming back… Untie my arms!”

  Gabrielle reached over and undid the straps around his head and wrists. With his upper body free, Henry sat up as she freed his ankles.

  “How did you find me?” he asked.

  Gabrielle looked at him. “I did as you s
aid. I opened my eyes. And I stole a key card from a nurse.”

  Henry frowned, trying to make sense of what she was telling him. “But how did you know I was down here?”

  “There was a big commotion about an hour ago, so I snuck out of my room. I saw them wheeling you in here on a stretcher. You were all trussed up, so I guessed you weren’t coming of your own free will.”

  “You got that right,” Henry said. “But the last time we spoke, you didn’t believe anything was wrong.”

  She blushed a little. “I know. But then I got to looking at that photo you left, the one of me and Blake, and I started remembering. They’ve done something to me…and I want to know what it is.”

  “Let’s get out of here before that doctor gets back,” Henry said, swinging his legs off the table. He tried to stand up and his knees buckled. It felt as if he’d been in bed for a week. “I can barely walk,” he said, wondering just how long he’d been out. “What time is it?”

  “It’s about nine,” Gabrielle replied.

  “Nine?” Henry repeated in confusion. Had he really only been here an hour? “What day?”

  “Tuesday evening,” she said.

  Henry shook his head. He’d been sedated for almost twenty-four hours – no doubt while the doctors made the final preparations for the adjustment process. He took a breath and flexed his legs, feeling the strength coming back to them. “He could be back at any moment.”

  “Yeah,” Gabrielle said. “But we should find you some clothes first.”

  Henry looked at what he was wearing – a green hospital smock. “Good point,” he said.

  Voices sounded in the corridor outside. The surgeons were coming back.

  “What do we do?” Gabrielle whispered.

  Henry looked at the instrument trolley. Scalpels…saws…an injection gun… He snatched up this last item and a vial of clear liquid that was lying next to it. Fumbling a little, he slotted the vial into the gun. It hissed as the seal broke. A tiny needle appeared near the muzzle.

  “What’s in that?” Gabrielle asked.

  Henry looked at her. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we? Hide over there. We mustn’t let them raise the alarm.”

  Gabrielle ran across the theatre and ducked down behind a metal workbench near some lockers. Henry jumped back on the table and lay down with the injection gun in his right hand, concealed at his side.

  As the theatre doors opened once more, he heard a murmuring of voices and footsteps approaching. There were at least two people entering the room. Wheels screeched on the tiles, as if they were pushing a heavy piece of equipment along. Henry lay very still on the table, hoping they wouldn’t notice the loosened bonds before they got close enough for him to jab them with the gun. He needn’t have worried. The surgeons, bald and grey-haired, were more interested in the machine they’d brought into the room. It looked like a large water tank on wheels. As the grey-haired surgeon continued to fuss over the tank, bald-head walked back towards the table… No doubt planning to give me another friendly talk, Henry thought, flexing his grip on the handle of the gun…

  The bald surgeon leaned over Henry once again. “Well, how are we feeling about…?”

  His voice trailed away as his eyes registered the loosened wrist restraints. Henry moved lightning-fast, twisting round and pressing the muzzle of the gun into the man’s throat. He pulled the trigger and with a barely audible hiss a dose of the liquid was delivered.

  “Help…” bald-head managed to whisper, before his face went slack, his eyes closed and he crashed to the floor, unconscious.

  Henry looked round at the other surgeon, who had turned from the tank and was staring in shock at his fallen colleague. Then he noticed that Henry was rising from the table, ready for a fight.

  With a little cry, the surgeon turned and ran.

  He almost made it to the door, before Gabrielle threw herself from her hiding place at his legs. The surgeon went down with a cry, hitting the floor with his face. He tried to get up, but Henry leaped from the table and jumped on his back.

  “No, please, don’t,” grey-hair pleaded as Henry jabbed the syringe gun into his side and pressed the trigger twice. The surgeon yelped in pain, struggled a little, and then lay still. Not wasting a moment, Henry grabbed his ankles and dragged him over to the other doctor. Second by second he felt the strength returning to his arms and legs.

  “Is he dead?” Gabrielle asked.

  “Just stunned,” Henry said, tossing the gun back on the trolley. “Nice tackle. You play football?”

  “I have older brothers,” she replied and produced a pile of clothes from a locker, which she held out to him. “I think I found your stuff.”

  “Thanks,” Henry said. Gabrielle turned her back while he got out of his hospital smock and dressed quickly. Then they turned their attention to the unconscious doctors.

  “How long will they be out?” Gabrielle asked.

  “I don’t know.” Henry had been wondering the same thing. “We need to tie them up.”

  Gabrielle started looking around the room. “How about this?” she said, going to another locker containing shelves of surgical gear. She grabbed rolls of rubber tubing and held them up for Henry to see. “I think they use these for making tourniquets. They’re really strong.”

  “Great!” Henry said, taking one roll from her and using it to bind grey-hair’s wrists behind his back. Gabrielle was right – the tubing was like a giant, unbreakable rubber band. He tied the man’s ankles too, before securing the other doctor. Gabrielle handed him a thick roll of surgical tape to cover the men’s mouths. If they did come round any time soon, they wouldn’t be calling for help.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Gabrielle said.

  Henry made to follow her, but then the glass tank the doctors had wheeled into the theatre caught his eye. The liquid inside was a yellowy colour, but there was something floating inside the murk. At first he thought it was a squid, but then he saw that it was more spider-like, with a round, flat centrepiece from which eight thread-like legs extended.

  “What is it?” Gabrielle asked.

  “I don’t know,” Henry said. He stepped forward and pressed his face to the glass. On closer inspection he saw the thing floating inside wasn’t an insect, but some kind of machine. The “body” was no bigger than a dime, while the “legs” were each as long as his little finger. Was this an implant of some kind? The thing that allowed Mallory to control all the kids in Newton? And were they going to put it inside his brain? He reached out and tapped the glass. The thing twitched…its legs moving… A wave of nausea rose in him…

  “Are you okay, Henry?” Gabrielle asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Henry?”

  Gabrielle’s voice brought him back to the moment. He reached up and, flipping a latch, opened the lid on the top of the tank. A thick, musty smell assaulted his nose.

  “What are you doing?” Gabrielle asked anxiously. “Don’t touch it.”

  Henry looked at her and then back at the spider-like thing floating in the tank. He knew one thing. “It has to be destroyed,” he told her. But how?

  The answer was sitting on the instrument trolley: a handheld electric saw. Henry snatched it up and pressed the button on the side. The circular blade began to whir as he hurried back to the tank. He tossed it, still whirring, into the liquid. There was a crackle and a flash as the drill sent a burst of electricity through the tank. The legs of the spider-like implant jerked and then went still. It floated to the bottom of the tank and lay there, followed moments later by the saw.

  “That should do it,” he said quietly.

  Gabrielle’s hand slipped into his as one of the doctors moaned in his sleep. “Can we go now, Henry? Please?”

  “Yeah. Let’s get the hell out of here.” He grabbed her hand and they ran from the theatre along corridors, Gabrielle leading the way.

  “There’s an elevator up ahead,” she said. “We’re two floors down.”

  Gabrielle used her sto
len key card to get them inside the elevator, pressing the button for the ground level. The car rose swiftly and the doors opened a second later onto another unfamiliar corridor. She led Henry to the left, where a set of double doors blocked the way. Henry tried the doors, but they wouldn’t open. Instead of a card reader, there was a fingerprint scanner on the wall.

  Gabrielle pushed the doors uselessly. “These were open before!” she cried.

  The sound of heavy footsteps along the corridor made Henry wheel round. Someone was coming. They were trapped!

  “Guards!” Gabrielle said, panic in her voice. Henry looked round for a way out, or at least something to fight with. His gaze fell upon a ventilation grille set into the wall at floor level. It was big enough for them to fit through.

  “Quickly!” Henry said, pulling the grille away from the wall with some effort. “In here!”

  Gabrielle slid into the ventilation shaft and Henry followed, pulling the grille back into place behind them. The footsteps of two security guards approached the locked doors. In the shaft, they held their breath as one of them touched a finger to the scanner and they passed on through.

  “We can go through these vents to avoid the door,” Henry said, looking at the shaft stretching ahead. It was wide enough for them to wriggle through on their stomachs. The going wouldn’t be easy – but at least they wouldn’t run into more guards. He looked round at Gabrielle, who was lying behind him. “We can make it.”

  She smiled at him bravely. Henry started crawling along the shaft, looking for a way out. Through the next vent he heard the sound of two male voices.

  Henry pressed his face to the vent and peered into a room filled with equipment that looked like it belonged in a recording studio. Two technicians were seated at a deck filled with control dials and sliders. Monitors in front of them showed audio data arranged in blocks of sound.

  “What is it?” Gabrielle whispered.

  “Some kind of recording facility,” Henry whispered back.

  One of the technicians placed a pair of headphones on his head and nodded to the other. “Let’s get the Friday broadcast finished,” he said. “Mallory wants the theta wave pattern increased.”