But why is it that I don’t have a good feeling with this? He would never give me that much power and risk to be overthrown.
I need to be careful.
Day 19
I’m doing all my exercises on my own and the nurse told me that my blood results are great, but I still must stay here for two days and just wait.
I honestly don’t want to repeat my worries, concerns, or feelings of guilt repeatedly. It doesn’t help anyone. I must focus on what lies ahead.
From what Peter told me he will try to locate her and then drag her here, too. If he managed to do that, all of what I have done, all the guilt I burdened myself with was for nothing. As much as I want to be with her, as much as I want to be a father for my child, I can’t let that happen. I hope Wheeler keeps her safe.
Day 20
Another day has passed, another entry I must make. I still don’t see the benefit of it. At least not when I am confined to a room with nothing to talk about.
I wonder why I must sit here and wait. Does Peter want to remind me of the position I am in? I know I am his prisoner.
Or does he think that me sitting here, basically in solitary, I will remember more of what happened on our last day at the compound? Does he count on my sense of guilt to gnaw on me?
I made my peace with my decision when I made it and that Meghan is pregnant doesn’t change it, because I can’t change it. This is something she has taught me. Yes, I can feel guilty and beat myself up, but that doesn’t help anyone. Yes, I am worried how my subordinates will react to me showing up after three weeks of absence.
Did he tell them that it was all Meghan and me?
Are they going to confront me?
Or avoid me?
I wouldn’t blame them.
I’m not sure how to act towards Price if she is there, too, which she probably is.
Yes, I start worrying again. Old habits die hard. I don’t know what else to do, to be honest. I only have this diary and this pen to keep me company. Most of the time I simply exercise and work out, to keep myself busy.
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or the days that lie beyond that. I have an idea, thanks to Peter, but apart from that…. I don’t have anything to look forward to, and that’s a fact.
Meghan’s gone, out of my reach. It’s the thought of her being free and safe that must keep me going and that my child will be born and raised in freedom.
That’s something to live for.
Day 21
It’s three weeks since the explosion, and I am being moved. I will see the others today and find out if Peter lied or not. This will change everything; I know that.
X X X
I’ve settled in. I’ve got my bed and a small metal closet. It’s as if we’re abroad again, serving our country, just that some of my men and women are missing, but the rest are all there. Torres, Price, Johnson, and Sawyer… soldiers that assisted me with breaking out and those I left behind wishing them an honorable death and revenge before that.
When I entered the large room that was arranged and furnished like a barrack, I expected something different. I honestly believed that they would give me judgmental glares or confront me, maybe both, especially Torres. And I expected Price to give me a disappointed look, showing me that she believed that I didn’t kill her in the first place, that she would be suffering, but none of that.
It was as if time had been turned back. As if those who were missing weren’t dead but simply on a special mission, without the commanding officers.
It felt like a dream.
I expected for Peter to roll in with his wheelchair and tell me that it all was fake. I expected to wake up. I didn’t. Instead my men and women gave me an acknowledging nod as they passed me by, because you don’t salute anyone during combat, and that was it
So, I just sat down and watched them, cleaning their gear, making their beds, playing cards, as if nothing had ever happened.
As if their memory has been wiped clean from the last months. But that can’t be, can it? I’ve heard about drugs that can do that, just erase everything, but that’s what they do: take everything away, their entire memories, and that can’t be. If that were the case they wouldn’t recognize me, would they?
And then there’s the problem with dealing to be a beast, with a wild, instinctive creature slumbering inside you just waiting to break free on any impulse possible. They can’t fix this just like that.
I used my enhanced senses to check on them, and they all are still beasts. Just, in control, and I don’t know why or how.
Maybe Peter was right, maybe they put the wrong person in charge right from the start, but as much as I want to believe that our problems can be fixed that easily, I can’t. I know something is wrong, something is off, and I need to find out what it is.
X X X
It’s late, and I feel incredibly tired, I don’t know why. Well, I do know why because we were outside, exercising just as if we were back home preparing for battle, with the only difference that our drill sergeants are special forces, some black ops. We’ve learned new tricks.
Lunch break was brief, just as dinner, the entire day we were running through survival course, doing hand-to-hand combat, and basically everything without weapons or more importantly without shifting into beast form.
I don’t know what they have told our drill sergeants, but I guess they are getting a lot of money to keep their mouth shut.
I must admit that I really enjoyed today because it felt so normal and I could exploit myself for the first time in what seemed to be an eternity.
As for the place I am now in, it looks harmless, just like any pathfinder camping base with the only difference that we are living underground and use lifts to get us to our training ground. The camp is fake and hides everything that lies below. It has fortified fences, that seem to be electrified but appear – yes – harmless, and normal, if you don’t look at the height of them.
Yes, something tells me that they have something to keep us in line should we try to make a run for it. But no one really does. They all are focusing on their job; not one single soldier gave their surroundings close attention as if they had made their peace with what they have become.
I don’t buy it.
Below the surface the interior, everything resembles the old compound, and I have a hard time navigating through the hallways because they all look alike and the numbers and letters don’t seem to make any sense. They can’t be identical; that would be too easy, or stupid.
I can’t shake the feeling that something is way off, but I haven’t found anything that might help me find out what it is. Maybe tomorrow, maybe when no one gives me too much attention. Right now, I’m the ‘new guy’ even though everyone knows who I am.
Torres has her bed next to me as she always did and she talked to me how she always did, not a word about the old compound, Severin, or Meghan. It’s almost as if she can’t remember anything about that time, as I already said, or they just don’t talk about it.
But it’s not about what I’d rather believe, but what is the truth. And I need to find out.
Day 22
Something is absolutely wrong here. Torres asked me the exact same questions as yesterday when we geared up to get outside. I am sure that they were the same questions, but she didn’t seem to realize, as if – yes – she just forgot about them.
I have a minor headache, and my neck hurts, but that can be the result of this poor excuse of a bed I am sleeping on. It’s the usual metal frame bed with a thin mattress on top of it and Torres actually teased me that the hospital bed has made me soft. That’ probably the reason.
Yet, I can’t share off this instinctive feeling that something is wrong. I must be very observant to find out what it is. Good thing that I have this diary to document my findings, if there are any.
X X X
I tried to talk to Torres about the injections and the anti-virus, but she acted stupid. Or maybe it wasn’t an act, and she really sa
id what she meant. I think I must be more careful, because – of course – they are monitoring every step we take.
But the way Torres reacted to my question, if she could remember a Dr. Severin talking to us about being able to cure us of the contamination she just frowned and then looked at me as if I head two heads.
“Regular injections and vaccinations are part of the deal, don’t you remember?” She asked me. “We signed an agreement to allow whatever injections they want to give us, but we still can refuse. We just don’t because that stuff makes us faster and stronger. Do you really not remember signing it? Or the long and boring lecture we had to sit through before signing the damn thing?”
Of course, I didn’t I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. And I told her that.
“Well, maybe the explosion you were in really messed with your memory,” she slapped my back. “You should get that checked out; maybe they allowed you out of bed after all, and your headache is not because you’ve become a wuss, Cap.”
Torres always called me Cap, even though I didn’t have that rank and I wasn’t really aiming for a promotion either. Soon after she started to call me that everyone did. And do you want to know why she calls me that? Because I remind her of Captain America. Well, it that’s not a compliment.
However, when she brought up my headache it seemed to become stronger again, just as the pain in my neck, but I was too proud to ask for pain meds so I simply drank half a bottle of water on the spot, and that seemed to help.
Maybe I’m just too used to danger and betrayal after every corner that I can’t trust peace and happiness when it is right in front of me, but still. I can’t shake it off.
And I couldn’t shake it after my conversation with Torres either; it was as if my beast was trying to tell me something and I simply didn’t understand the language it was speaking.
So, I went over to Price, even though I was worried how she might react to me. After all, just a few weeks ago, I snapped her neck because I promised to set her free from her suffering. I didn’t know that her body would heal the fracture and revive her.
“Price,” I addressed her, and she jumped up from her bed and saluted me, barking a “Sir,” as she did so.
“It’s fine, no need for this,” I told her with a dismissing gesture, and she relaxed.
“How are you feeling?” I asked her and for a moment confusion rolled across her face.
“I’m fine, Cap,” she gave back, a hint of a smirk in the corners of her mouth as she used my nickname.
“How’s your neck?” I inquired, watching her reaction to my question closely.
“I guess it’s just some strange virus going around,” she shrugged. “We all have some neck pain, maybe it’s because the beds are brand new, but it’s way better. They gave me some meds because the itching wouldn’t stop, but I’m really okay.”
It hadn’t been the answer I wanted to hear, but it still alerted me. So, everyone was having neck pains.
“How about the headache?” I asked her.
“Like I said, Cap,” she shrugged her shoulders again. “We all are having headaches. I guess someone must have carried a cold and now we are all fighting it off.”
“Yes, that might be the reason,” I nodded since I didn’t want to confuse her more.
My feeling had been right. This was indeed suspicious. When we all had the same cold, why were there no red noses, no sniffling, no Kleenex going around?
There had to be another reason for this.
I must find out the reason for this. Maybe they have infected us with another virus, but how? I can’t remember getting another injection. But the neck pain doesn’t make any sense either.
Day 23
Today Peter returned, and that’s the only interesting thing I can write down right now. I haven’t found any hints to where the headache and neck pain comes from. Maybe I was over reacting because today Torres didn’t ask me the same questions again, she wanted to know how I settled in, and that was it. Price wanted to know if I had spoken to a doctor regarding my headaches, so… maybe I was seeing ghosts yesterday; I don’t know.
Peter entered our barracks on foot. No wheelchair and… everyone cheered, apart from me. Here I write that I might make things up when I have one strong piece of evidence that something is wrong. My guys cheering for Peter? That’s… wrong?
I don’t know what happened in the three weeks I wasn’t with them, maybe I am overreacting again?
Peter was on foot but using crutches. I must admit that I feel sorry for him. Being not enough beast to heal a spinal cord injury must be hard.
“Did you know that they had to break his back again because it healed together crookedly?” Torres asked me, whispering. “Can you imagine what that must feel like? Losing the feeling your legs, regaining it, losing it again?”
Did I see something like admiration in her expression?
I guess his resolve was something one could up to, but they don’t know Peter Severin as I do.
They don’t know that he is not only literally a broken man, but also figuratively. But I do, and he knows that I know.
“Thank you, guys, I appreciate it,” Peter said, smiling, and somehow, I was happy for him.
All these years he yearned for attention and approval, and now he got it in full, just not from the people he wanted it from. Those people were dead. Most of them.
“You should cheer for your fearless leader,” suddenly he pointed at me. “Who came back from the dead, just like Torres. Welcome home, Lieutenant!”
The cheers I received were even louder than Peter’s, but I didn’t feel comfortable with that kind of attention.
“Move along guys!” I told everyone, and they all obeyed instantly.
Peter made his way towards me. Still a smile on his face and I didn’t know what to expect, once he arrived, so I met him halfway.
“How’s this, Jay?” He asked me as we met in the middle of the room and I furrowed my brow. “Your men and women happy and content, not suffering with what my brother turned them into. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Yes, the yesterday I might have overreacted, but today? No, not today and I have proof. His words. Not mine. Real proof and I will find out if I am making things up or if I am right about everything.
“Yes, it’s actually just what I wanted for them,” I said.
“Then why do you have this constipated look on your face?” Peter asked me, still looking as if he was enjoying himself.
I didn’t know what to say.
“Is it because you can’t shake off this feeling that there might be something wrong?” He added, and I felt as if I had been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
How did he know?
Maybe, because he expected it.
“Do you want to know?” He leaned in, again as if he was sharing some very important or very naughty secret with me. “I’ll tell you if you promise not to share it with everyone.”
I had no idea what to say to that.
“Stop drinking the bottled water, right now,” he spoke lowly, “drink tap water and then… stay awake!”
I wanted to ask him what all of this was really about, but he just turned away and made his way out. Of course, I would have caught up with him easily, but I didn’t want to anger him. If his temper had come even close to that of his late half-brother, I really didn’t want to get on his bad side, and so, I will do what he told me and see what happens.
Day 24
I don’t know if I should have listened to him or not when Peter told me to stop drinking the bottled water and try to stay awake through the night. Ignorance is bliss, certainly when it comes to what I have learned because I can’t do anything about it.
For the rest of the evening, I filled my water bottle with tap water instead of just exchanging it for a new one. I didn’t taste any difference between the bottled water and the one from the tap, but I noticed that I wasn’t getting as tired as the days before. I dismissed it as coinc
idence, but then, when everyone got ready to go to bed exceptionally early, like nine pm, I was still wide awake. But what was even more unsettling, was the fact that no one noticed that I wasn’t getting ready like the rest. They seemed as if they were sleepwalking. They just got changed, and then they just sat down on their beds, drunken with sleepiness and some even laid down.
I did my best to catch up, got myself bed ready and then just sat down and stared at the wall opposite of me and waited. It took about five minutes as I head the door open and seconds later half a dozen people in hospital gowns entered, rolling medical tables into the room.
On top of them and on every level of their tables were strange headsets with lenses on the one side end syringes on the other side. I did my best to stay still and not react to what I saw, but it was close to impossible.
I saw how they but that strange construction on Price’s head and then hit some keys on their tablet PC and suddenly that thing on her head moved, eight legs spread from it and placed themselves against her scalp. As if to make sure that it wouldn’t lose its position, with both of them entering her ears, and then the two syringes at the back of her head moved, stung into her neck, and injected whatever was in them into her body.
That’s where the neck pain comes from.
After that, the lenses covering her eyes started glowing, no flickering as if they were showing some movie in fast forward mode
I guess that’s where the headache comes from.
They are being brainwashed. That’s why they are acting like everything is okay because they believe that everything is okay.
It took all my composure just to stare at the wall when those people arrived in my row, and even more when they were placing that thing on Torres’ head. I have no idea how I managed to stay still when it was my turn. I didn’t flinch when those eight legs descended on my head, two sticking into my ears, or when the needles shot into the back of my neck, or when the flickering of those two lenses over my eyes started.
The BeAst Of Me (The Beast And Me Book 5) Page 10