by White, Megan
I knew I had my brother to thank for the instant, almost tangible bond I had with the young girl. It made no real sense, I hardly knew her, but in the same light, I knew it all. She was so much like him. I needed to protect her. Out of everyone in that cell, I knew then that I would do everything in my power to see her get out of there alive. I had to. I failed John, but I had to save Faith.
I grabbed my stomach when it began to roll. I had not eaten at all that day, hardly drank anything either. I knew my nerves would not have allowed me to keep any food down. I regretted that decision. How long could someone survive with no food and no water? It could not be long, a few days at best.
It seemed the more I thought about the dryness in my throat, the worse it became. The minutes turned agonizing as my throat dried, like the scraping of sandpaper with every swallow. I was hoping someone was watching us. They had to be, how would they be able to control a group as large as us without some sort of monitoring system.
I looked up, not really looking at anything, just up at the ceiling. I hoped that someone could see us, but a part of me hoped that they could not. I doubted a prisoner that demanded anything sat well with them, but if they were going to leave us to wither and die, I would have rather known my fate upfront.
“Water.” I mouthed at the ceiling above me. A ration of food was the least of my concern. Food would have made the dryness in my throat even more unbearable. Again, I mouthed at the ceiling, “Water.” But no one came. It was dumb for me to even suspect that a Keeper would care if one of their animals were in need of something, even if that something was as trivial as a sip of water.
I tried my best to rest. The rhythmic lull of Faith’s breathing rocked my tired body to sleep, but every time I was close, I was jarred awake by the fear of not knowing, of not being able to see when they came for me.
Faith came to a few times during the night, or what I could have only assumed was night, but she never fully awakened. Luckily, they were just restless stirs. Every so often, she would jerk and cry out. And with every cry, my heart tightened a little more. We were all scared for our lives but none of us was as young as Faith.
We were told that we were the first batch, the beginning of the Testers. We were the oldest in the Zones. The young girl resting on my shoulder could not have been the oldest in her Zone. It was impossible. I found it strange that The Supremacy would have lied about their testing criteria. There didn’t seem to be a point. It was not as if any of us had the choice to refuse their orders.
The only reasoning I could imagine was to keep the population in the dark about their plans, but even that couldn’t be kept a secret for too long. How would they be able to explain why none of us came home for our scheduled holiday? Were they planning on something even bigger for the outside world?
Sleep did not come to me. It did not give me a reprieve from my mind’s continuous onslaught of terrifying images. Flashes of Keepers prodding the innocent with their electrodes, the ones not burning from their rods were shackled to the walls. The inhumanity that they could bestow upon us was endless. All it took was one psychotic Keeper and they could think of a hundred more ways to torture us. They were demons.
Faith cried out again, a shriek much louder than the others, causing most of the cell to jump to attention. A voice I hoped to not hear again broke the uneasy silence of the night, “Christ!” He bellowed in the silence, “Can’t you shut that brat up!” His voice echoed off the cement walls as he quickly rose to his feet.
I did not want to wake Faith. I could not have her see what I was about to do. I laid her as gently as I could manage on the bare floor, and then stood to meet the one that was challenging me head on.
“Shut her up?” I asked, my voice seething in challenge, “Is that what you would like me to do? Shut someone up?”
He stepped closer to me, an arrogant smile playing on his lips, a silent challenge of his own, “You think you can actually come against me?” He let out a lone laugh before my fist found its mark around his neck. My fingers clinched tightly, squeezing the air from his lungs as he scratched fruitlessly at my hand. Something that I was not shy about was defending myself. Not only had my father taught me well, but so did John. I might not have been able to stop a Keeper with a weapon, but I could certainly choke off the words of a cowardly prick.
He scratched viciously at my arm as he tried in vain to rip my hand free from his throat. I was too skilled to allow him the advantage of getting close to me. Pushing him against the wall with my knee, I tightened my grip. His choking breath told me he only had a few more seconds of consciousness.
“Stop!” A female voice came from behind, “You are going to kill him!” Too bad for the guy within my grasp that the voice begging me to stop was not Faith’s.
“Isn’t that the point?” I asked the disembodied voice with a smile of my own playing on my face, mocking the one the boy gave me in a challenge.
I watched with a grin as he slumped to the ground, but he wasn’t out just yet. I followed him, allowing my legs to bend so that we were at eye level. I had the irrevocable urge to end him. I knew, even in my uncontrollable rage that it was not him that I was angry with; it was not him that I wanted to kill, but even with that knowledge, I could not stop myself.
The same voice that begged for me to stop let out a blood-curling scream the same moment that our cell door flew open, banging vociferously against the rigid wall.
Two Keepers rushed through the door, tackling me upon notice. I knew one of those Keepers well. It was Declan. He had me pinned beneath him, my head forced to the ground, but my hand was still cleverly clasped over the boy’s throat.
“Let go, Erin.” Declan demanded in my ear, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”
I giggled as I tightened my grip, “Go right ahead, Declan.”
I saw the syringe he pulled out of his cloak. I knew what he was going to do, but still-- I did not care.
“Let go.” He warned me one more time before he jabbed the needle into my arm.
I could feel the cold numbing of the drugs as soon as they entered my body. It was a feeling of weightlessness. I could feel myself losing control, losing consciousness. My fight against it was hopeless. I could not help but wonder if the majority of my time there would be spent drugged or knocked out. In the state I was in, I did not care. I could not feel enough to care.
And soon, I was gone again.
Chapter Seven
I woke to cold hands covering me, over my arms, legs, pressing up the line of my spine. I struggled only to find that I was strapped to a table, unable to move my limbs. Fluttering my eyes open, my senses were bombarded by the most unexplainable sight. I was in an industrial room, stark, cold, sterile. I was in a surgical chamber. My breathing spiked, threatening to choke off my airway. I struggled again to free my arms but doing so shot pain through my straining limbs,
“No!” I cried out for them to stop, but was soon cut-off by a harsh voice booming through the otherwise quiet room, “Wait!” Declan demanded of someone, “She is at full consciousness; we need to sedate her before we begin.”
I tried to move. I pulled at the leather restraints with everything I had, screaming out when I was unable to free myself. “god, please, stop!”
“Why?” A vulgar male voice asked Declan, almost mockingly. “The pain will soon sedate her. Saves us the sedative and would teach this defiant brat a much need lesson in respect and compliance.”
Ringing began to cloud my hearing as my head started to swim. Not even in my nightmares did I ever dream any of that would be possible.
I screamed out in terror when the start of chilling hands crawled up my spine again. Every hair follicle on my body peaked as those fingers explored my back. Cold liquid spread over the center of my spine, my violent thrashing slowed as I tried to absorb what was happening to me.
My sight was hindered by the inability to move my head, but I could see enough. I could see the numerous operating tables,
giant spotlights that hung just over-head, tables filled with surgical tools. Out of everything my eyes landed on, the two dark cloaks swaying in my peripheral were by far the most frightening. My muscles bunched and my stomach tightened by the fear that took over my senses.
Unable to move, uncontrollable tremors rocked through me. As the nerves started to build inside of me, my teeth began to chatter so fiercely that I feared they would soon shatter. Soon, pressure reverberated through my spine and my vision waned.
“The sedative!” Declan ordered.
More than pressure. Much more than pressure.
Spots clouded my vision. Pain. Excruciating, unexplainable, overwhelming, pain.
I screamed out a blood-curling cry as I felt something pierce by back, descending rapidly into my flesh. Liquid began to pool in my mouth, thick and metallic, choking off my screams until they were mere gargles.
Pinching pain climbed up my arms and soon, my spine was bombarded by dozens of needles.
Vision fading.
“Marrow is almost harvested.” I heard one speak.
My limbs were starting to weigh and my mind began to swim. My vision was gone before my hearing.
“The sedative is taking affect.” The voice was unmistakable, it was Declan speaking.
“S-s-stop.” It was a gargled plea, and the last word I managed to utter before I was lost to the drugs that were pumping through my veins.
***
I woke on my back, staring up at the stark white ceiling of the surgical room. Blinding light beamed down on me through the surgical lamp that hung right over my head. My arms, still bound at my sides, ached from my previous fruitless struggles. Burning cold burst through my veins. Turning my head, I noticed a long clear needle nestled into the crook of my arm.
Groaning, I tried to shift my weight but was flooded by the excruciating torrent of pain radiating from my back.
“Stay still.” A heavy chilling hand rested on my right arm, holding me in place.
A shock wave rushed through my body, the adrenaline and fear roaring back into my system. It was Declan. An unwanted sob left my lips. It was the last thing I wanted, to outwardly show my fear and weakness. It was exactly what a Keeper wanted. Fear and pain were emotions they lived for; they bathed in it, fed on it.
“You psycho!” I spat, “What did you do to me?”
His grip tightened around my arm almost painfully, but that pain was a mere feather light touch compared to the throbbing agony radiating from my back.
“This will happen a lot, Erin. However, this is far better than the alternative.”
“And what would that be,” I asked through clenched teeth, “death?”
“Yes.” He answered bluntly
But was he right? Would death have been any worse than that surmounting pain that was promised to reoccur. I was not sure. In fact, at the time, I would have preferred it.
I pulled at my restraints, my head thrashing from side to side, all fruitless movement with the only outcome being more discomfort. A small mewl left my pursed lips before I could scream, “Get your hands off me!”
“When will you learn that your mouth will cause you more trouble than it is worth?”
My teeth clench as fury boiled through my veins, “Why don’t you just cut out my tongue?” I spat at him and then immediately regretted that challenge as soon as it left my lips. I wasn’t sure if he would have taken me up on that offer.
“It would save your life.” His voice was contemplative which caused a rush of adrenalin to spike through my core. I pulled at the bonds that held me, “Untie me!”
“Not until you are calm. I don’t want to harm you.”
“You already have!” I screamed.
A fist came down beside my head, vibrating the table I was strapped to. Declan rose to his feet, anger taking over his once docile appearance. Rage flooded his eyes and his face darted to mine. With his nose resting on mine, I could feel his fury as it shook my form, “I have saved you!”
The door swung open the moment Declan straightened, “Get her back to her cell.” He ordered the entering Keeper, “Permanently harm her and you will hear from Tarant directly.” He warned him.
The new Keeper rushed me. I cringed deeper into the table as he neared, pressing my weight to my already injured back. The pain blurred my vision, threatening to send me over the edge of my control.
His hands were rough against my tender, battered flesh, and without care, he ripped the needle from my flesh, adding to my already unbearable suffering.
The restraints were next. His eyes flashed to mine before he released the last of my bonds. It was a challenging look, as if he were goading me. He wanted me to fight against him. He wished for the opportunity to hurt me. I was strong-willed and probably a little pig-headed but I was not stupid. I knew my physical breaking point, and that breaking point was closer than I could have possibly imagined.
Without a care in the world for my battered back, my wobbly limbs, or the fact that I was still groggy from anesthesia, the Keeper ripped me from the table, and threw me into the adjacent wall. I cried out as I crashed into the unforgiving cement barrier.
The Keeper smiled down at me and slowly creeped closer to my shaking body. Bending, so I could see the laughter playing across his wicked eyes, he chuckled, “He said no permanent injuries, nothing about having a little fun.”
I wanted to plead for him to have mercy but that word did not exist in a Keeper’s vocabulary. They fed on fear, frolicked in our tortured screams and pleas for relief. Stiffening my spine, I pulled to my feet, using the surgical table as my support. With my limbs feeling the consistency of rubber, I did not know how long I could support my weight.
He stepped nearer, brows raised, eyes a tempting flicker of delight, “How did it feel, watching us take down your friend?” He smiled as he watched the shock of his words hit me like the force of a wrecking-ball into my chest. Gripping the metal table for support, my knuckles cracking and straining a brilliant white, I sucked in a deep breath. I knew I had to stay calm, that I had to stay in control. I couldn’t play into his hand. He wanted me to react. To him, I was a fun new toy,
“His screams of agony, his pleas, they rang in our ears like music.”
John would have never pleaded with a Keeper. He would have suffocated on his own spit and blood before he begged a Keeper for anything.
With one iced cold hand resting atop mine, he pulled my chin up with the other so that I would be looking directly into his empty pale eyes, and he smiled. “His death was not a quick one.”
I collapsed under the weight of emotion that crushed me. Whether his words rang with truth or not, my best friend was still gone and there was no one to blame but me.
I lied on the cold floor of the operating room, anticipating the Keeper’s next move, praying for a physical blow because my mind could no longer handle any more afflictions.
An unyielding foot landed to the center of my ribs, my held breath rushed out accompanied by a tortured wail. “Ahhhh! god, why?”
“What did I tell you!” A harsh voice boomed furiously through the room, echoing off the barren walls.
The Keeper that once stood over me, waiting for the next opening to rain down another blow quickly backed away, his hands up in surrender watching Declan reentered the room. “Touch her again and die.” Declan threatened as he grabbed my shoulders, lifting me to my feet, “Are you hurt?” He asked once the Keeper was out of earshot.
My ribs felt bruised, not broken, thankfully. Breathing was difficult due to the aching, but not impossible. I would heal quickly, “Not permanently.” I repeated his words back to him, mocking his impetuous tone.
“Walk slowly.” He ordered, leading the way down the darkened hall, supporting my tired form with a rigid arm, “This will happen again, Erin.” He admitted once more, “But, please trust me when I say that this is far better than anything else.”
“You killed the only person I had left in this world.” I said to him
through clenched teeth, “Nothing you say will I ever believe.”
Drawing in a harsh breath, he swung the steel cell door open, and pushed me inside.
“I am saving you.” He murmured. His voice barely above a whisper before he slammed the door shut behind me.
The collective shrieks from the scared occupants rang through the small cell.
“Erin!” I heard Faith’s relieved voice before I felt her crash into me.
“Wooah.” I warned her as I shrunk back to the wall and held my throbbing side, “I’m here. I’m okay.” I crooned.
“We thought,” She shook her head slowly from side to side and wrapped her slender arms around me. “I mean, I thought.”
“Shh,” I smoothed her tattered hair down her back in reassurance, “I’m fine.”
She stood back, watching the door, “Where did they take him?”
“Take who?”
“Th-th-” Faith’s words came clipped, fear beginning to shake her tiny form once more, “the guy they took out with you.”
I had no idea what might have happened to him, the same that happened to me, whatever that was, but I couldn’t tell her. Knowing would have done nothing but cause her to panic. She didn’t need those visions running wild through her head. Not even her nightmares could dream up more terrifying images.
“I don’t know.” I lied and turned my head to stare at the black wall in front of me, to look anywhere but at her.
“His name is Dustin,” The same female voice that begged me to stop earlier spoke through the silence of the cell, “And,” her voice cracked, revealing the fear she was trying so hard to hide, “he’s not usually a bad guy.”
“I’m sure he’s not a bad guy.” I agreed, nodding at the girl to come closer. Faith cringed deeper into my side, “We are all reacting ways we never would have before.”
“I don’t know what got in to him. He would never have hurt her,” She waved her hand at Faith, “Or” She corrected, “I would never have thought he would be able to.”