The Complete Makanza Series: Books 0-4

by Krista Street

  After I’d brushed my skirt off for what felt like the hundredth time, I tried to subtly sneak a glance at him. That didn’t go so well.

  A smirk covered his face.

  The heat bloomed hotter in my cheeks.

  “Are you okay, Meghan?” Amy handed me my folder.

  “That was quite the spill.” Charlie seemed trying to suppress a grin.

  I glared at him as I stuffed the folder under my arm.

  “Do you want to clean that up?” Mitch asked, looking at my knee.

  I shook my head tightly. “It’s fine. Really, I’m fine.”

  “Dr. Forester, watch where you’re going next time.” Dr. Roberts’ cold voice interrupted.

  Our boss stood just off to the side, a few feet behind everyone. The blood drained from my cheeks. “I will. Sorry.”

  Dr. Roberts wheeled around and marched toward the watch room. I didn’t dare look at Davin again. He was probably still smirking or maybe even laughing. I pushed through the group. Ignoring the sting in my knee, I tightened the folder under my arm.

  The same guard from my first day was in the watch room. He looked similar to the rest in his military attire, although I guessed him to be middle-aged. His name badge read Sergeant Rose.

  “I want to collect another sample today,” Dr. Roberts told the guard. “An intramuscular one. The last few have changed too rapidly for us to analyze.”

  “Of course, sir.” The guard swirled on his stool to the control panel. “Should I sedate him?”

  Dr. Roberts cocked his head. “No, I want him awake.”

  I glanced at Amy. “Why aren’t we sedating him?” I whispered.

  She frowned. “An IM sample is only slightly invasive. Maybe he wants to use a local anesthetic.”

  Dr. Roberts hit a button on the control panel and leaned over the microphone. “Davin, we want an intramuscular sample today. Are you going to comply?”

  I bit my lip and looked toward the window. My eyes widened.

  Davin stood only feet away. He must have materialized in one of his lightning-fast moves. He was directly on the other side of the glass, staring at all of us with such contempt, I could practically taste it.

  Our gazes connected again, but his amused smirk was gone. Even though hatred etched his face, I was still struck by his attractiveness. His hair was raven black and curled slightly above his ears. Deep set, sapphire blue eyes shot condemnation. Despite that, they were the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen.

  As hard as I tried, I couldn’t look away. There was something compelling about Davin that made me stare, similar to a beautiful piece of art that was intriguing and fascinating.

  Mitch brushed against me. “You okay?”

  My gaze fell to the floor, my cheeks heating again.

  Dr. Roberts tapped his foot. “Well, Davin? What will it be? Are you going to comply?”

  Davin shook his head. The movement made his dark hair fall across his forehead.

  Dr. Roberts hissed. He snapped his finger off the mike. “Get out the Chair!”

  The Chair?

  Amy, Mitch, and Charlie tensed, and as if Davin had heard, he took off. He turned into a blur within the cell. It was only then I noticed he had a new bed, desk, and mattress. Everything that he’d destroyed the previous week had all been replaced, like his outburst never happened.

  The guard’s voice shook. “Sir, are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure!” Dr. Roberts yelled.

  “Yes, sir.” The guard’s fingers flew across the controls while Davin dashed manically around his cell.

  I nudged Amy, hoping she’d explain, but she shook her head. Pulling my folder tightly across my chest, my fingers dug into it.

  Davin’s movements were still too quick for me to see him clearly, but something in the middle of the floor caught my attention.

  The floor cracked opened.

  Something began to emerge, rising from beneath. It was obviously housed in secret chambers below. My eyes widened with every passing second. It felt like I was caught in a bad horror movie, just at the climax when the dumb blonde was chain-sawed.

  A brief thought flittered through my mind. My dad works for the Compounds. He helped build them. Does he know about these cells? Did he help design them?

  I shook those thoughts off as the metal chair rose to its full height. It looked like something out of a deranged psychopath’s lab. Metal cuffs stood open on their hinges, draped across the metal slats that would hold down someone’s limbs. A metal bar waited to clasp someone around the head . . . and neck.

  Once it had risen to floor height, the floorboards sealed around it. Davin still flew around the room, barely stopping anywhere long enough for me to see him. Part of me waited for furniture to fly again.

  It didn’t.

  I glanced at Dr. Roberts. He watched everything with a satisfied smile.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked.

  Dr. Roberts’ smile vanished. “What do you think, Dr. Forester? What do you suggest is the best way to collect an intramuscular sample from an unwilling Kazzie?”

  I stood dumbstruck. Davin doesn’t have a choice? Dr. Roberts was really going to make him get in that . . . thing?

  Dr. Roberts pushed the button on the microphone again. “Davin, we can do this the hard way or the easy way, but you will get in that Chair.”

  Suddenly, Davin stopped. He stood just off to the right, almost out of view. Even though he’d been tearing around the room at breathtaking speeds, he didn’t appear winded.

  He balled his hands into tight fists. Sinewy muscle rippled in his forearms. “Make me.”

  It was the first time I’d heard him speak, or truly acknowledge us. The deep challenge echoed in the small room. My eyes darted to the ceiling where speakers hung in the corners.

  Dr. Roberts smirked. “If you insist.”

  A compendious, silent exchange took place between the two men. It was as if each was inviting the other to a duel, even though we all knew who the victor would be. Davin didn’t stand a chance against the Compound.

  My stomach twisted as I watched Davin ready himself for whatever was to come, yet something deep inside me clenched in admiration. Despite everything that had been taken from him—his freedom, his dignity, any semblance of a normal human life—he still fought. That sudden realization dawned on me like being doused with a thousand gallons of water. Davin still fought. Fought for the only thing he had left.

  His own free will.

  “Can’t we do this some other way?” I blurted.

  My boss eyed me coolly. “Dr. Forester, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and learn a thing or two today.”

  I pressed my lips together, but my fingers curled tightly around my papers.

  “Cuff him,” Dr. Roberts said to the guard. “Now.”

  Sergeant Rose tensed and seemed reluctant to do his job. Regardless, he complied.

  Panels opened from within the ceiling of Davin’s cell, and long, snakelike protrusions emerged. They looked like metal cords, but they moved and twisted as easily as organic rubber bands. Open cuffs waited at their ends.

  I could only guess their intent.

  Davin’s chest rose heavily before he took off, his movements once again a blur as the snakelike cuffs sprang into action. They followed his blurred movements but couldn’t catch him.

  “Damn, Kazzie!” Dr. Roberts hissed.

  I internally cheered Davin on. Minutes passed as he whizzed around the room. No matter how quickly the cuffs moved and grabbed, they couldn’t snare him.

  “Electrify the room!” Dr. Roberts barked.

  “Sir?” the guard replied.

  “No!” Amy whispered.

  Her barely audible exclamation dashed any hope I had for Davin’s escape. Amy hung her head, closed her eyes, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Alarm bells warned within me. If Amy reacted that way, it must be bad.

  I glanced at Mitch and Charlie. Charlie stood silently, staring in
to nothingness. I got the feeling he was in a world of his own, not really seeing what was going on around him. As for Mitch, he frowned and shook his head.

  The guard lifted a plastic cover over another button. There were several buttons covered in plastic. I guessed that meant they were the worst ones.

  “Are you sure, sir?” The guard’s tone was pleading. He obviously didn’t want to do what Dr. Roberts asked.

  “Just do it!”

  The guard’s finger shook as it hovered over the button. He hesitated another moment before pushing it down.

  What followed next happened too quickly for me to fully comprehend. Metal rods emerged from each side of the room. A millisecond of light flashed. A second after that, Davin stopped. The grim picture it revealed was not something I wanted to remember.

  The electricity contorted his limbs into unnatural angles as he barely maintained a standing position. His head was thrown back, his mouth open in a silent cry. My brain registered all of that in the split second before the cuffs descended. Each snakelike, twisting metal contraption wrapped around Davin’s wrists and ankles.

  He didn’t fight. He couldn’t.

  Forcing his limbs to bend, the cuffs lifted him off the ground. It must have been excruciatingly painful. Davin’s entire body was stiff and contorted from the electricity, but the cords bent him onto the Chair. Tears pricked my eyes. I imagined the muscle fibers in his body breaking and snapping at the cruel angles the cuffs demanded.

  Once Davin was in the Chair, the hinges closed over his legs, arms, head, and neck. I could barely watch as recognition filtered back into his face while the last clamp settled tightly against his throat. As soon as he was contained, the snakelike cuffs released him and pulled back into the ceiling. The panels in the corners closed over them, once again smooth.

  Fully restrained by the cuffs, Davin couldn’t move. A blank expression replaced the ferocious snarl that had been there only moments before.

  Dr. Roberts put his hands on his hips and nodded curtly. “That’s better. Now, about getting that sample . . .”

  I didn’t watch.

  I couldn’t.

  Closing my eyes, I ducked my chin just the way Amy had. I understood her reaction now. Once again, a deep growing shock settled inside me over the horrors that happened within these walls. Nothing had changed from my first day. Nothing. This wasn’t any better than what I’d seen before. It was worse. Much worse.

  A part of me felt betrayed. I’d believed Amy when she’d told me I’d see what a normal day was like, but from what I’d seen, there were no normal days. Not back here. Only days full of torture and cruelty.

  My fingers dug so tightly into my papers they crinkled and ripped. This wasn’t what I’d signed up for. This was not what I’d spent the last six years working toward. I hadn’t known what the Compounds did. If I had, I never would have dedicated my life to this.

  9 – SEAN’S PUB

  Just like he ordered the guard to remove intramuscular samples from Davin without anesthetic, Dr. Roberts ordered us to spend the rest of the day in the Inner Sanctum. Saying it was awful wouldn’t do it justice. Watching the drip-drip of Davin’s blood pool on the floor made my stomach roll. Davin, however, tightened his jaw and stared straight ahead. He didn’t flinch when the machines cut into him.

  Watching someone abused and subjected to blatantly barbaric practices ranked as one of the most disturbing and twisted things I’d ever witnessed. I could tell Amy, Charlie, and Mitch felt the same. They kept their eyes averted and stayed quiet. The guard seemed to feel similar. Sergeant Rose did as he was told, but the sideways, angered glances he gave my boss, portrayed feelings that went much deeper than one day’s work.

  When we finally, thankfully left the Sanctum, we bumped into a few researchers working with the Sisters on our way out. Normally, the introductions would have made me sweat like a glass of ice water on a hot summer day, but since I was still so sickened by what I’d seen, my usual response faded. I barely felt anything, much less nervousness, as I met a dozen others.

  Only one researcher penetrated the fog blanketing my mind. She was a woman close to Amy’s age. Her access badge stated her name was Geraldine Krause, but she introduced herself as Gerry. Her olive skin glowed in the bright hallway, accenting her dark hair and slanted eyes.

  Gerry stood with us outside of the Sisters’ cell, explaining the research currently being done on the twins. I stood by the windows, peering inside, wondering if Sara would approach me again.

  She didn’t.

  Instead, she acted very differently to how she’d been only a few hours before. She didn’t look at me or stand up. Instead, she sat on the bed with Sophie as each gripped the other’s hand tightly. They looked like they’d been crying. My stomach sank. Were they hurt too?

  It was late afternoon when we returned to our wing. My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything when we’d taken a short lunch break. But I couldn’t eat, not then and not now. For the past few hours, only one thought had steadily crossed my mind.

  I need to quit my job.

  As agonizing as that was, I did not want to be a part of the Compound. Not at this cost. It was a sobering, heartbreaking realization. I’d dedicated the last six years of my life to obtaining a job with the MRI, and now, it was about to end.

  When we reached our lab, Mitch and Charlie shuffled to their benches. I paused beside mine and let my long, brown hair cover the side of my face. It helped shield me as I bit my lip. I needed to send in my resignation. Now, it was just a matter of how.

  “I need a drink,” Amy exclaimed.

  My head snapped up. “What?”

  Amy twisted her hair into a ponytail. Her hands shook, and her skin looked paler than usual. “A drink, as in an alcoholic beverage.”

  “Oh, um . . .” I shook myself back to the present. “Won’t that be hard to find?” Since the Second Wave, alcohol was almost nonexistent in the South Dakota Food Distribution Centers, and most of Sioux Falls’ bars had closed. Those that stayed open weren’t always reliably open.

  “I know a place. It’s kind of a well-kept secret. Want to join me?”

  An image of Davin in the Chair flashed through my mind. His blood. His pain. Drip-drip. “Ah . . . sure,” I replied shakily. I had no intention of working anymore today anyway.

  “Great, let me grab my purse.”

  I glanced at the clock as Amy gathered her things. Dr. Roberts was still in the Sanctum, but I’d need to tell him my decision. I supposed I could always return after Amy and I finished our drinks. Or I could email tomorrow. It was the coward’s way out, but at the moment, I didn’t really care. I was about to dump six years of schooling and hard work down the drain. Does it really matter how I quit?

  Amy appeared at my side again. “Let’s go.”

  We didn’t say anything to Charlie or Mitch. It was easy to sneak out without them noticing. Heavy rock music blasted from Mitch’s CD player and muffled any sounds as we escaped out the door. Once we cleared security and exited the building, we both went to our individual cars.

  “Do you know about Sean’s Pub?” Amy called.

  “No.”

  “Didn’t think so. You better follow me.”

  I rolled down my window once on I-90. The windmills, our city’s main power source, whirled in the distance. Warm air flowed around me, and autumn sunshine streamed overhead. A dip in the jet stream brought warm air from the south, making the day unseasonably pleasant.

  It did little to warm me inside, however. I still felt like ice. Quitting would alleviate my guilt over being part of an institution that subjected people to torture, but it wouldn’t help the Kazzies.

  Their abuse would continue.

  More than ever, my feet itched to move. I really needed to go for a run.

  Amy exited on East Tenth Street and drove down to North Summit Avenue. She parked in front of a house in Sioux Falls’ historic neighborhood. It was a large two-story with a red brick ext
erior. Flower boxes hung from the windows, and hydrangeas dotted the landscape. It looked occupied. The grass was cut, the windows intact. All of the surrounding historic homes were crumbling and neglected, obviously abandoned. I parked on the street behind her, trying to figure out why we were here. Maybe this is Amy’s home and she needs to grab something.

  Amy stepped out of her car and waited on the sidewalk. She waved for me to join her. Grabbing my purse, I got out.

  “Deceiving, isn’t it?” Amy crossed her arms.

  “What is?” I slung my purse over my shoulder.

  “This!” She waved at the house. “This is Sean’s Pub.”

  “Seriously?”

  She merely nodded and pulled me up the cracked concrete walkway, nervously chatting the entire way. “When my dad first took me here, I thought it was a joke. I pictured some little, old lady opening the door, but this place is legit. It’s even legal. The guy who owns it is a family friend of ours. He bought this house a few years ago, fixed it up, and got a permit from the city to turn it into a pub. He’s originally from Ireland and brews everything himself in the basement.”

  “How come I’ve never heard of it?” We climbed creaky, sagging porch steps.

  “Sean doesn’t advertise. Those of us that know about it, tend to keep it to ourselves. The beer’s good and reasonably priced. If everyone knew that, this place would be busting at the seams.”

  There weren’t any signs or hours listed in the window. Amy opened the door without knocking and stepped inside.

  I followed her into an entryway and was greeted with the smell only found in old homes. It wasn’t bad, just old.

  Folk music played from further inside. I didn’t recognize the tune. A dozen hooks and two coat trees cluttered the entryway.

  I followed Amy into what was probably a living room and kitchen at one point but was now a large, quiet seating area and bar. The design was simple. Several stuffed chairs and couches circled a small, cold fireplace. Dining chairs and tables were scattered throughout. A long, mahogany bar ran the length of the back wall. Faded wallpaper was covered with a smattering of Irish décor. An old Irish flag hung next to us with a blackboard beside it. Chalked numbers on the board read, 183 days till St. Paddy’s Day.