by Jade Powers
“Yes, sir,” Hannah said. Some of the military lingo had certainly rubbed off on her. She had never said ‘sir’ before her capture. Never in a million years.
“When do you want to schedule the DNC?” His question was so matter-of-fact. As if she wouldn’t consider another alternative.
“You mean an abortion?” Hannah asked.
“Of course. You’re in the middle of two studies, neither of which have been tested on pregnant women,” Doctor Smith said, his finger tapping the desk as if he was impatient for her to come to an agreement.
She would not. She did not. Hannah said, “I want to keep the baby. No matter what else happens, something good should come from this.”
“You realize that the immune system cocktail you’re taking for your cancer is absolutely necessary for your life. It is estimated you’ll need to take another two months of treatment before you’ll test clear for cancer. We have no idea what that will do. I doubt our tests will do much to an unborn child, but I wouldn’t recommend carrying to term.”
“Well, I’m keeping it. I’ll continue with the research. Were you able to ask anyone about the possible risks of the treatment or am I going into this completely blind? If the estimated treatment is only two more months, the baby will still be in the first or early second trimester. Don’t you think I should be able to keep up the treatment for that long without injury to the baby?” Hannah asked. She unconsciously touched her belly, thinking about the life inside.
Doctor Smith stood up and held out his hand to Hannah as if he was a real doctor. His expression was grim, but he also regarded Hannah with more trust than he had at the beginning. Most of the other captives acted out. Hannah had been a model prisoner. He said, “I respect your decision. We are moving into phase two of the testing. It is more demanding than what you’ve dealt with so far. I’m sure it won’t be a problem. I just want you to be aware.”
“Thank you, Doctor Smith,” Hannah said.
They shook hands and he said, “This will be an interesting few months. We’ve never had a pregnancy here before.”
Hannah didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just shook his hand and said, “Thank you for understanding.”
She wasn’t sure he did—understand that is. Her great fear was that one night she would be accosted by a few of the lab technicians and forcibly strapped down while they robbed her of the one good thing that happened during this whole mess. Hannah was under no illusion. She was a prisoner...and right now, Doctor Smith and his team would do whatever the hell he wanted. She only hoped that if she was condemned to death, that baby Noel Hope could come through unscathed.
Chapter 5
DURING BREAKFAST THE next day, Hannah’s food was spiked or something. She felt really good, as if she were floating along the ceiling. Flynn talked about inane things as they walked down a corridor Hannah had never seen before. She encouraged Hannah to sit, relax, and close her eyes. Hannah hardly even knew what was happening when the orderly took her arm.
Hannah’s blood pressure spiked when she realized she was strapped tight to a table. They put a mask over her face. She screamed, “I want to keep my baby. Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare take her from me!”
Not that she knew for sure her baby was a girl, but she had been talking every night to the little one and somehow she had imagined a girl. Wouldn’t she be surprised if the baby was a boy? Nonetheless, Hannah panicked as the medical team surrounding her offered assurances. A man Hannah had never met said, “This is part of phase two. You’re completely safe. We won’t hurt the baby.”
She couldn’t keep her eyes open. Hannah fought as long as she could, but it was impossible to stay awake.
When Hannah opened her eyes, her head hurt like it was on fire. Her chest also hurt. She was still strapped down and woozy. She thought she knew what had been done to her until Flynn stepped into her room.
Flynn didn’t make small talk. It wasn’t in her nature. She just said, “The baby came through fine. You have implants in your brain, chest, arms, and legs. It’ll take a few days until you’re feeling back to normal.”
It took Hannah a minute to figure out what Flynn was saying. She repeated Flynn, her words slurring, “Implants? Like inside me? The contract I signed said non-invasive. Nothing about this.”
“I don’t know anything about contracts. Doctor Smith handles the paperwork and gives the orders,” Flynn said, then added, “Get some rest.”
Hannah hated the straps that locked her in, hated them with a passion, as much as someone drugged up could hate anything. She tried to move her fingers, to wriggle out, but she couldn’t. When she couldn’t fight any more, Hannah slept.
It had been two weeks since the surgeries. Technically Hannah had only been strapped down and placed unconscious once, but while she was under she had been implanted in multiple areas. Today she was in the gymnasium under a basketball hoop. Two men sat at a table with computer equipment at the side of the court. Hannah had never met either one before.
“Have you ever shot baskets?” Flynn asked.
“When I was ten,” Hannah’s eyes flickered to the green exit light at the end of the gym. No doubt the exit led to another fenced enclosure with razor wire. Hannah wasn’t even sure if she would be shot on sight if she tried to slip out. She returned her attention to Flynn.
“Shoot a few,” Flynn said, throwing a ball to Hannah. She didn’t even catch it. That was how bad of a player she was. She tried a few shots, but missed every time.
“Okay. We’re going to test the implants. Try to stay calm,” Flynn said, waving across the floor to the men.
One of the men stood up. He walked across the gym to stand next to Hannah. He wore a crew cut and a tight shirt that showed off thick arms. His neck bulged as if he were a muscle builder. He didn’t introduce himself, just stared at Flynn. She gave a slight nod.
That must have been a cue because all of a sudden, Hannah felt as if her body was electrified. It was a strange feeling. Her arms seemed to short circuit, and she dropped the ball unable to pick it up again. The man standing next to her reached down. Unable to help herself, Hannah reached out toward the ball. It took the puppet master a few minutes to get his bearings, but soon Hannah had picked up the basketball and turned.
This was the first time since the surgeries that Hannah realized exactly what had been done to her. The implants were controlling her. She no longer could tell her body what to do. As the man mimed shooting a basketball, Hannah actually shot the ball. She missed the first few, but soon his ability had transferred to her body.
Hannah could think clearly while all of this was happening. She could close her eyes. That was completely within her control. The weird thing was that she could feel herself making the movements, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had no way to affect the movement. She had become a marionette.
Flynn moved to throw Hannah the ball. So far, the puppet master had accurately forced her to catch the ball twice. She said, “Stop.”
“What’s wrong?” Flynn’s monotone question showed Hannah exactly how much Flynn cared.
It didn’t matter. Hannah said, “I’m done with this. I want these taken out.”
Flynn grabbed Hannah’s hand and said, “Walk with me.”
As soon as they were out of ear-shot of the puppet master basketball shooter, Flynn said, “You have one chance here. The only way Smith is going to let you out of here is if you cooperate. Just do what you’re told. It will go a lot easier on you, especially if you want that baby to live.”
Hannah stared at the ceiling. That was a new low, bringing the baby into it. She said, “I’ll do what you say, but I don’t want any more surprises.”
“You’re not in a position to negotiate,” Flynn said as they approached the corner of the gym. She turned sharply, and Hannah followed a half-step behind.
That was probably true. Although as a prisoner, Hannah had never been in a condition to negotiate. These people were breaking tons of laws. H
annah wondered how many of the workers here felt guilt over what they did...or if they even knew. For all they knew, Hannah had signed on for everything. After all, Doctor Smith had the documents to prove it.
Hannah watched as the two men whispered back and forth at the table, probably talking about her. She said, “How many of your test subjects have you returned to society?”
Flynn hesitated. It was just for the tiniest increment of time, barely noticeable, but Hannah caught the small blip that told her Flynn’s answer was a lie, “Most of them. Everyone who signed the contract and cooperated.”
Yeah, Hannah thought, What will happen to you when you become dispensable? Will you be so callous then?
Hannah nodded. She couldn’t let Flynn hear disbelief in her voice, nor the all-consuming fear that she was going to end up in a mass grave like those poor people in the compound.
She said, “I can do a bit more today. Tell them I was worried about the baby or whatever you need to say to make my interruption okay.”
They started again.
Catch the ball from Flynn, shoot the ball, dribble dribble dribble. Dribbling was the worst. She would feel her hand push the ball down, and then slap the ball again, but somehow her motion was off just a little too much and the dribble failed, the guy controlling her would swear angrily. She wouldn’t mind so much if it didn’t feel as if he blamed her for the problem.
Thinking he might have a point, she started to actively try to wrest control from him, attempting to jerk her hand away. Hannah didn’t really notice a difference, but it got her thinking. The mind and body were just like anything else. Sure, there were circumstances like a severed spinal cord where it was impossible to correct an injury, but stroke patients sometimes regained the use of limbs in the months that followed. Maybe if she fought it enough, she could force her brain to create new pathways to take control.
As a puppet Hannah suffered the indignity of getting smacked in the face twice. The last time it happened, the guy laughed. Hannah scowled at him, unable even to rub her face where the ball had stung.
Flynn said, “Okay, I think that’s enough for today. We’ve got a good baseline. Tomorrow we’ll try finer dexterity.”
Normally Hannah wouldn’t engage in further conversation with Flynn, but she had an idea. Maybe if she could see the way it all worked as an outside observer, she could get an idea of how to overcome the implant programming. She said, “Do you have anyone else with implants? Maybe I could watch how they work together.”
“We may be able to sit in on a few sessions. I’ll check.” Flynn said.
Hannah didn’t bother to watch the men take apart the equipment. She was starving and being in close proximity to the man who had in essence overpowered her alternatively pissed her off and scared the crap out of her.
She stopped by the café and grabbed a burger and chips, then went to her room for a nap.
Chapter 6
ANOTHER MONTH OF TESTING passed, and Hannah was getting use to the routine. She’d managed to overwhelm the puppet master twice and take back control. Direct opposition in her thoughts didn’t work at all, but she found a strange sideways connection. For example, if she thought about typing numbers, her mind allowed her the movement, and once broken, the disconnect lasted as long as Hannah could trick the lab technicians.
This was something Hannah kept close to her heart. She didn’t allow herself the slightest expression of triumph or emotion when she felt the control break. Sometimes when she had been free for a while, she would tell the technicians, “You should check the computer. I think you lost connection.”
She did this for two reasons. One, Hannah didn’t want her handlers to discover that she was actively breaking their controls. As long as they thought she was cooperating, they wouldn’t look past the computer systems. The second reason was that she needed the practice in breaking the implant. It was a carefully planned dance and step, because she couldn’t afford for them to think her implant was breakable by the subject either. Sometimes she played along for hours, just to keep up the pretense.
Most of the training was bearable, except for shooting at the gun range. They forced her to shoot weapons again and again. Sometimes hand guns, sometimes rifles. One time they fought over whether to try a grenade. Hannah reminded them that at the rate of failure for the experiments, she’d probably blow them all up.
It gave her a queasy feeling to think of an army of people going to war against their will. What if a soldier couldn’t drop to the ground during a fire fight? What if a person had to take what came without the chance to react? The implications were frightening.
Hannah spent long nights day-dreaming about a life with Drake and her new child. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe that they would ever come true. Not in her wildest dreams did she ever expect to see Drake again.
She did see him again. In chains. They brought him in with the same chains around his legs and arms that prisoners had to wear when they went before a judge. He also wore the ugly orange outfit. He had been badly beaten. His lip was cut. Both eyes were bruised black, and his nose was broken.
Hannah’s heart pounded when she realized it was Drake. Even in defeat, he was a fine man, stoic and brave, refusing everything. That day she tried everything she could to get near him, but he was under close guard.
She was so obsessed with Drake that Hannah didn’t struggle once for control in the sessions. The sessions went three times as long if they had to figure out the glitches. It was late in the evening when a military man Hannah had never met interrupted her sleep. “Ms. McKay, I am to take you for the final training session.”
A cold feeling snaked its way down her spine and the hair on her arms stood up. “Flynn is the only person authorized to train with me.”
“You can move on your own or be moved forcibly. Your choice,” said the man. It didn’t sound like much of a choice to her.
He walked with the ramrod straight spine of a soldier in drill. Hannah followed. The two men she called her handler and the puppet master were waiting in a van. Hannah asked, “What’s happening?”
“We’ll be training in the woods at night. I want to see how well you do in an uncontrolled situation.” It surprised Hannah that the old man would be the one to tell her. Usually the handler was absolutely silent, focused on his machines or the signals between test subjects. “Get into the van.”
Hannah did as she was told. She didn’t have Stockholm Syndrome. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t choosing this. She didn’t see that there was much of a choice, not if she wanted to live. Pulling herself into the back, Hannah took the second seat and buckled in. It was one of those vans with rows of seats behind the driver. With one driver, one guard, Hannah, the puppet master, and the handler, the van only about half full.
No one was more surprised than Hannah when two more guards stepped to the van with Drake between them. He was still handcuffed and shackled. She caught the slightest flicker of acknowledgement and surprise when he first stepped into the van, but he quickly shifted his gaze and took his seat in the back between the two guards. This wasn’t at all the way Hannah imagined a prisoner transfer would go.
The whole thing felt wrong.
Now that Drake was in the van, he started talking, “So when did the military start kidnapping civilians?”
His guard laughed, “Oh, are we pretending you’re a civilian now?”
Drake nodded toward Hannah, “I’m not talking about myself.”
Hannah was facing forward, so she didn’t see what happened, but there was a loud smacking sound and a grunt. When she looked over her shoulder, Drake had lifted his handcuffed hands to wipe the blood from a split lip.
If looks could kill, that guard would be dead. Unfortunately, instead of the cool laser eyeball implant, Hannah got the marionette. There would be no super-heated pile of human ash for the man who hit Drake. She hated that guy for hurting her lover, hated him with a passion. Part of it was her own helplessness and the feeli
ng that she was about to be executed and turned into a permanent ‘missing person’.
Drake shook his head slightly. It was just a slight warning, but Hannah got it. She had to pretend that they didn’t know each other, even though she had been taken from the compound that Drake worked from.
Turning around, Hannah swallowed her anger and buried her fear. The van was full of people perfectly willing to look the other way. As they did now. Every single one of them was staring forward, composed as if this was a perfectly normal occurrence. Maybe for them it was.
They drove off-base and into the mountains in the dead of night. Hannah leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. This might be her last night on Earth. She could feel the difference in the road when it changed from asphalt to gravel. Hannah wondered how many people were buried in the hills where no one could see.
The van came to a stop in the middle of the dark. Switching on search lights, the dark forest became flooded in blinding brightness. Hannah squinted and turned her face. The military men were already scouting ahead. Hannah followed the handler out of the van. He handed her a flashlight and said, “We’re going to set up over there.”
She could swear she heard a hint of apology. Was it because he was working with sociopaths or because he dragged her out of bed in the middle of the night? It really depended on what happened in the next few hours.
“Yes, Sir,” Hannah said meekly. She wished she were stronger, wished she were tough. They were already carrying a mobile version of the set up they had at the base and strode quickly into the night. Hannah flipped on the flashlight, which in the van’s circle of light really didn’t do much, but once she stepped outside, it came in handy.
“This is going to be the greatest test yet,” said the puppet master. “Do you think we’ll pull it off?”
“This morning was flawless. But that is why we test,” said the old man. He carried the control panel, which looked like a large laptop in a hard case. It was light compared to the other equipment. Hannah could tell from the comparison of the two men as they walked. The puppet master was actually leaning to one side as he hauled his part. That confirmed who called the shots.