E52

by Lowther, Shawna Stewart

  “What are they doing to him?” I ask.

  Phil ignores my question and continues to walk.

  “I asked you a question,” I snap.

  “They aren't hurting him,” He answers in a calm voice. “He is just throwing a fit, He will be fine.”

  Jonathan continues to beg for his release as we continue to walk toward the pit.

  “Why are we going toward the pit?” I ask.

  Once again my question is ignored.

  “Look, if I did something wrong just let me go and I will never bother you again,” I beg. “I will take my son and leave. You will never hear from us again.”

  “I can't do that,” He states.

  We come to the edge of the pit. Phil stands between me and the hole.

  “We found something that we believe is yours,” He snarls.” If it is, then you have lied to us.”

  I can hear movement coming from the pit. In my heart I knew why he was bringing me here but I hoped that I was wrong.

  “If we are right, what you have done or were trying to do is beyond trust,” He states between gritted teeth. “You would have put us in danger. My family could have been hurt. Hurting my family is something I will not tolerate. I am sure you had a plan but I am certain that you would have tried taking Johnathon with you. Like I told you before, Johnathon is my family.”

  Nervous, I pick at my fingernails.

  “I would never hurt my son!” I snarl. “I have been looking for him for many years. I would never hurt him!”

  Phil takes a step to the side of me, grabs my hair and pulls my forward.

  “Then that “thing” isn't yours?” He screams. “Because he sure resembles you.”

  Phil forces my head so that I am looking into the pit. The area is darkened but bright enough for me to see Tommy. He is digging at the walls as I once did. He is trying to escape.

  Trying to keep my emotions under control I fight back my tears. He is dirty and looks cold. He is helpless.

  “We found him last night during a routine check of the compound,” He states. “He is not bitten, therefore we know he is not a child that had become victim to one of the infected. He is the one that so many of us have heard about. He is your child. You brought him with you.”

  A lump gathers in my throat. I try to swallow but my throat feels as if it is closing. My worst nightmare is coming true.

  “He is just child!” I cry out.

  “That is not a child,” He snaps. “He is a monster.”

  Phil glares at me.

  “How many people has he bitten?” He snaps.”How many people has he killed?”

  I gather my spit in my mouth and swallow.

  “None,” I lie. “I have only fed him animal flesh.”

  Phil continues to shake his head. He does not believe a word I am saying.

  “You see it is people like you that irritate the shit out of me,” He snaps. “You think what you do does not affect the others, but it does. People like you will cause the extinction of the human race and you are to ignorant to see it.”

  He glances down at Tommy.

  “What is his name?” He asks. “Or does he even have one?”

  I sniffle.

  “His name is Tommy,” I answer.

  “Tommy,” Phil states beneath his breath.

  Tommy growls as he hears his name being said.

  “He is one of the babies born on the compound, wasn't he?” Phil asks.

  “Yes,” I state, staring at the ground.

  Silence.

  “You said he don't eat human flesh,” He states.

  “No,” I answer, defying him.

  “Hum,” he states.

  The area around us becomes quiet. The people that were so nice to me the night before are now whispering among one another. It is evident that they too are not happy with me.

  “Well,” He states. “I tell you what. If he doesn't bite you then he can come out of there and we will welcome both of you into our clan.”

  It has been a day since the last time Tommy ate. Knowing that he has progressively gotten worse over the years, I fear chancing that he will not attack me.

  Phil grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me toward the edge.

  “Wait!” I scream. “There a vile of medicine at the compound. It will cure him.”

  Phil releases me.

  “That is why I went there,” I explain. “My husband gave it to me the day that the infected escaped. I dropped it, but I know where it is. Please just let me go get it so that my son can have a chance.”

  As if to ignore my plea Phil glances over at the crowd of people and instructs one of them to bring him something. A man emerges from the crowd. He is holding something in his hand. He hands it to Phil

  “Is this what you are talking about?” He asks.

  Phil is holding in his hand, a vile that resembles the one that my husband tried to give me.

  “Is this what you are looking for?” He asks.

  He hands me the vile.

  “ Yes, It looks like it,” I state.

  I inspect the vile in hopes to find something indicating to me that this is the cure.

  “E52” is etched on the bottom of the glass vile.

  A memory comes to mind. I have heard something about “E52” many times and everytime they were talking about me.

  “I think that is it,” I state.

  Holding tightly onto the top, I turn the bottom of the vile toward Phil.

  “The night that I escaped two men stated I was “E52”. That must have meant that I was the one patient to receive the cure.

  “This medicine will cure my son.” I state. “I know it will.”

  Closing my hand, I keep the vile tightly gripped in my fist..

  “Give me a syringe and I will prove it,” I demand. “We can give something to my son that will put him to sleep and then I will go down there and give him the medicine. You will see that it will cure him.”

  Phil chuckles as he hands me a syringe and needle and instructs me to fill it with the medicine.

  My hands shake in such force that I fear that the needle will slip and break. I take in a deep breath. I am uncertain how much medicine it will take to cure him and I want to make sure we have enough left over that if it does work we can find someone who can analyze the medicine and make more.

  “Do you have anything I can give him to put him to sleep?” I ask.

  “You said he doesn't eat Humans,” Phil sternly states. “If he doesn't eat human flesh you shouldn't need anything to put him to sleep.”

  Phil grabs me by the shoulder and pushes me toward the pit. I am caught off guard and fall to the ground. The needle from the syringe pierces my skin. Some medicine is injected into my hand. I want to take the needle out of my hand but the only thing preventing me from falling in the hole is the grip I have on the muddy edge with my free hand.

  “Not this way,” I cry. “Please help me up and lets does this the right way.”

  My fingers slip.

  “Please, if he bites me I will turn as he and all everything I worked so hard for will be for nothing,” I beg.

  I can hear a child crying in the crowd. It is Jonathan. He begging them to help me.

  “Please, for Johnathon,” I cry. “Don't make him lose him Mother twice.”

  Phil looks down at me and for an instant I think he expresses to me his compassion.

  “I told you!” He snaps. “We don't deal with liars!”

  He kicks my fingers.

  “No!” Johnathon screams as he breaks free from the person holding him. He runs toward the pit. Phil tries to stop him. Jonathan trips and falls in with me; landing on top of my chest. Before I can protect Jonathan from Tommy. Tommy is on top of him; his teeth sunk deeply into his arm. Jonathan screams.

  “It shouldn't have been this way,” I think in my mind. “Johnathon should never have been a part of this. I must protect him.”

  I leap from the ground; holding Johnathon in my arms. Tommy
continues to attack the both of us. Trying to keep Johnathon safe I push Jonathan away from me and hold Tommy tight against me.

  “Someone save Johnathon,” I scream.

  Tommy bites into my arm. Starved, he shakes his head like a ravish dog. Skin rips from my arm.

  “Help him!” I scream.

  The crowd that is now circled above the hole of the pit are in a frenzy.

  They argue among one another. Some are begging to save Johnathon whereas others are stating it is to late and refuse to let anyone help.

  Desperate, I pin Tommy down and inject part of the serum into his arm.

  “Johnathon, you need to come over here,” I yell. “I need to inject you with this medicine.”

  Johnathon is scared and in pain. He has suffered bites from Tommy on his arms, back and legs. He crawls over.

  “I don't want to die,” He cries, looking up at me. “I don't want you to die.”

  Tear stream down his cheeks and mixes with the blood and dirt on his face.

  “This will help,” I state.

  I try to smile, but I too am scared and unsure what is going to happen.

  .I inject most of what is left in the syringe into Jonathan's arm and then inject the rest into mine.

  The area around me becomes quiet as first Tommy becomes silent and then Johnathon. My heart drops as I watch Jonathan's eyes roll back and he passes out.

  “Johnathon!” I scream as I desperately feel his wrist for a pulse.

  I fear that I had injected to much medicine in them and have killed them.

  “Please don't die......

  My mind becomes fogged and I find it hard to concentrate. I shake my head. I must stay conscious.

  “Don't pass out,” I think in my head.

  My arms fail me and fall to my side. My body becomes limp; I can no longer hold my sitting potion. I slam my head on the unforgiving ground. A pain shoots through my head.

  “If this is it and we are all dying, I refuse to let my children die without being in my arms,” I think in my mind.

  Fighting the urge to pass-out I force myself back to a sitting potions. I lean forward and pick up Tommy and hold his limp body in my right arm, I then pick up Johnathon in my left arm and with both boys in my arms I hold them tightly.

  Tears well in my eyes as they breathe shallow beneath arms.

  “I am so sorry,” I sniffle, kissing Johnathon on the head. “You were never meant to be harmed. I love you,”

  My heart skips a beat as it slows. My time to die nears. I lean my head against Tommy's and think back to everything he has been through.

  “Your Father should never have done what he did; not to you and not to anyone else,” I take in a deep breath. “I am so sorry that you never got to know how it was to be a normal child.”

  I glance up as the crowd of people above us become silent.

  “I am sorry,” I state and close my eyes.

  My head falls forward, resting on top of both of my sons.

  “E52” was never a cure, nor were my sons and I any different than the other lives the government and my husband destroyed.

  “I hope they all burn in Hell,” I whisper.

  My heart stops and then begins beating at a rapid pace. My body feels as if it has been electrocuted. My eyes open. My sons are still arms, both of them now staring at me. We are alive!

  “What in the hell?” Phil screams. “I think she was right.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask Johnathan.

  “I think so,” He states. “I don’t feel any different.”

  I look over at Tommy. He is still greyish in color but yet something is different about him.

  “Mommy,” He says.

  “Yes,” I answer

  “I’m hungry.” He states.

  Tommy smiles.

  “I’m just kidding,” He laughs.

  Here is a sneak peak of the “Wretched” series.

  A Psychological thriller written by,

  Shawna Stewart Lowther

  CHAPTER 1

  The Unknown

  As I rise from my afternoon nap, I peek out the window that overlooks the yard. It’s a small window, but it’s the only window in this dreadful place and I am happy to have it. At one time, the window was not blocked. However, now the entrance to the window is surrounded by sharp shards of glass cemented into the concrete around it. A dim light seeps through the grime and filth that layers the glass. I guess this is to make sure I never try to escape again.

  With my body weakened, I slowly crawl on top of an old, broken table so that I can get a better look outside. I am just tall enough to see over the barricade in front of the window. It looks like a nice day.

  There are a few orange flowers spread among the grass so I try to guess the season.

  “Spring,” I think to myself.

  The sun peeks through the glass just enough to allow a pin-size ray of light to dance on my palm. I move my bruised hand around as I watch the light dance around, causing the multiple colors of blue, red, and purple to stand out from the milky white flesh that remains untouched by his abuse. Oh, how I crave the sunshine and wind on my face and await the day I can feel it once again!

  Just as my thoughts wander to a better place, I hear his footsteps above.

  He is back!

  The feeling of peace and contentment comes to an abrupt end. I turn with the intent to jump off the table. The weakened wooden legs buckle beneath it. I plummet to the floor. Caught off guard, my body slams on the hard surface beneath me with such force that a sharp pain instantly shoots through my body.

  In a frenzy I rise as fast as my wounded legs will allow me and run to the middle of the floor, preparing for the wrath he is about to put upon me!

  I hear his voice. My skin crawls and my mind frenzy, making it difficult for me to think. Feeling as if it has just been jump-started, my heart beats faster and faster, until it feels like it is going to explode out of my chest. I wonder what will happen to me this time, what sort of punishment I will endure.

  As I hear his footsteps coming closer to the door, my muscles tense. I want to scream, but I dare not.

  He is at the door!

  I scream only within myself as I hear the handle of the door rattle beneath his hand.

  I yell within myself.

  Ignoring the pain of the bruises on my legs, I get in the sitting position that he deems right.

  I am to sit in the middle of the floor, on my knees, head down, and hands tucked within my lap. Most importantly, I must never raise my head until spoken to. This is the norm, and if I am not in said place when he walks in, I will be severely punished.

  The door opens just enough that the rays from the sun sneak past the crack. Assuring that he does not see me do so, I raise my head slightly and let the beam of light rest on my pallid cheeks. The bit of warmth coming from the ray of light feels nice against my chilled skin.

  For a moment, memories of another time, another place flood my mind. A brief spell of happiness escapes the sadness I feel. Afraid that he may catch me with my head raised, I close my blue eyes and lower my head slowly, letting my dirty blonde hair shield my face. I hear the door slam behind him. Tears of dread instantly stream down my cheeks.

  I must get my emotions under control. I want to wipe my eyes, but I do not dare move my arms from their present position. Cautiously, I slowly lift my shoulders to my face so that I can rub my eyes on my old, battered, white gown.

  Knowing that I am not allowed to move unless told to, I stop and let my shoulders rest, praying with all my heart that my actions are unseen.

  It is then when I realize that I no longer hear his footsteps. Paranoia overtakes my emotions. I have to know where he is so that I will be ready.

  Never moving my head from its present position, I open my eyes and quickly scan the area.

  Through my tear-filled eyes, I see his old, dirty tennis shoes. He is standing in front of me. It is eerily silent as he stands merely inches of me. Afraid of his
intentions, sweat beads upon my forehead, my heart skips a beat, and my muscles tense.

  I want to listen to the voice in my head but I do not dare. Escape is not an option. There is nothing I can do but sit and await the punishment that he is about to put upon me.

  Time slowly passes by as he continues to stand in front of me without movement. My eyes burn but I am afraid to close them, afraid that the moment I do he will disappear, leaving me with the question about where he has gone. The silence is unnerving. I try not to move, but my body becomes sore and tired in its present position. I fidget. My hand slips from my lap. Quickly, I try to shift my hand in hopes that he has not seen it move. Unfortunately, I am not that lucky. He grabs my hand and squeezes it with such intensity that a bruise instantly takes over my flesh. Pain shoots through my wrist and up my arm. My eyes fill with fresh tears.

  I do not dare scream. I bite my lip as the pain becomes overwhelming. An unwelcome taste now fresh in my mouth, I slowly feel my bottom lip with my tongue. My lip is wet and slimy. I peek down and see that I have bitten through my lip to the point that blood is dripping to the floor.

  I try to keep my emotions under control, but the pain that he is inflicting is more than I can take. A slight whimper escapes from within me.

  Afraid of what he may do next, I sit as still as I possibly can. I breathe in hesitance, ensuring that I do not make another sound nor move again, not even in the slightest. As the silence remains and the torture continues, my fear heightens; I have to know what he has in mind for me.

  Through squinted eyes, I look over to where he is standing. I get a glimpse of his hand wrapped around my wrist. His knuckles are as white as snow, indicating the amount of pressure he is inflicting on my fragile bones. I want to look up at him and apologize for moving in such a way that I have broken his rules.

  “If he will just look into my blue eyes and see the pain he is causing me, maybe he will

  spare me from any further pain,” a little voice inside me insists.

  “No, he won’t!” I argue within myself. “He loves to see you in pain. He will never release you if you show him your agony! You know that. You’re twenty-nine years old. Now quit acting like a baby and do what you know you have to do.”