Jamison and Steel.
Hunter had never been formally introduced to Steel the way she had with Jamison, but she had passed him many times in the halls. The two guards were the most powerful, and Dr. Wolfe let them have free reign within the Institution, handing out punishment where they saw fit. Though she shared no connection with the buff army man whose entire upper body pulsed with veins and chest hair, Chantal knew him all too well.
After the way she reacted to Hunter’s attack in the bathroom, she knew on some level that Chantal had been through the exact same thing. Zac eventually caved and told her that it was Steel, and no one was there to stop him.
“Well well,” said Steel as he strolled into the room, crossing his arms under his pecks. Jamison’s sticky gaze didn’t leave Hunter’s as he closed the door and locked it tight. “What have we here? A little fight club, eh?”
No one said a word.
“Come on,” said Steel cheerfully. “Please continue, we’re just here to observe.”
“Maybe even instruct a little,” Jamison added. His voice made Hunter’s skin crawl.
“We’re not doing anything,” said Chantal. Hunter noticed how completely stiff and guarded her exterior had become. Her eyes were blazing blue hate at the both of them.
“Miss Leférve,” said Steel. The name seemed to roll off his tongue and Chantal shrank back. “We’re not stupid, okay? And we’re not going to tell Wolfe. We’re just… interested in what goes on in here all the time. So please-” He cocked his head at Mosi and Marcus. “Continue.”
He and Jamison stood against the wall. Nervously, Mosi and Marcus shifted their feet and prepared for a fight. Hunter thanked God she wasn’t in their position, nor Sammy or Fearne or even Will. She ran her hands over the material of her jumpsuit and watched the fight.
Mosi’s face never gave anything away – no strain, no stress, no fear. He made swift movements and neat, harmless punches. Marcus, however, was much sloppier after the pressure of their guests. Sweat dripped from his forehead into his eyes, and his movements were jerky and hesitant. Hunter drew blood from biting her lip so much. Instinctively, she moved a step closer to Will, only to find him nearer than he had been moments ago.
Halfway through the fight, Steel waved for them to cease.
“Stop, please, this fight is so predictable.”
Marcus and Mosi broke apart, heaving as Steel stepped onto the mat.
“You need more competition,” he said to Mosi. “But I can see that the only person who would have any chance of defeating you would be myself or my colleague.” Jamison snorted in agreement. “So let’s see someone else take a turn, eh?”
Mosi stepped back, his arms clenched so tightly that the veins protruded from his black skin. Nervous butterflies took flight in Hunter’s stomach as she looked around the room, following Jamison’s gaze. Who would he choose?
“You,” he pointed a stubby finger a Sammy, whose face paled in shock. “Your turn, Sparkles.”
Sammy sucked in a breath and stumbled backwards against Hunter.
“No.” Hunter gripped the boy’s shoulders tightly. “He can’t fight Marcus, how is that any more fair? In fact, how is any of this fair?”
Steel frowned in mock confusion. “I’m sorry, isn’t this what you were doing before we came in?”
Hunter didn’t answer. If she told him they were training to fight the Men in White when it came time for their escape, she’d be in a far more trouble than she had been a few days ago. Dr. Wolfe couldn’t know of their plans.
“It was just for fitness purposes,” she murmured. “This is different. Making Sammy fight Marcus is ridiculous and pointless.”
“I think you’re missing the fun part,” said Steel. “We get to watch.”
“Don’t you get enough of that in the Orb?” asked Chantal.
“Not nearly,” he sneered. Chantal shrank back again.
“Alright Steel,” said Jamison as he pushed himself away from the wall. “I think that’s enough.”
Steel turned to him, his eyes glinting with malicious anger. “What?”
“Miss Harrison is right. There’s no fun in watching a scrawny little kid fight this punk.”
Marcus pretended not to hear that.
“Oh isn’t there?” Steel sneered.
“No,” he said, “what’s fair is watching a fight where the weaker wants to win far more desperately than the stronger opponent. Where there is true determination in each player. No fear, just anger. Just a thirst for a fight.” His eyes swept the room and found Hunter’s. She knew he was talking about her. Everyone knew. “Am I right, Harrison?”
Very slowly, Hunter got to her feet. Will tensed beside her. Sammy made a whimpering sound. She ignored them all. She ignored her body too, and how much it begged her not to move. Jamison’s words were like a magnet to the fire inside her, and it raged from the tips of her toes through every fiber of her being, controlling her limbs and moving her onto the mat. Jamison glared at her greedily as everyone else stepped back.
“A clean fight,” he murmured. “No one but us will know.”
“You won’t tell Dr. Wolfe if I beat you?”
He laughed, the sound tickling her nerves and making her already start to sweat. “What makes you think you’re going to beat me?”
She wasn’t. She knew that even before she left the bench. Even at full strength, she could never beat a man of his size and stamina. Her head throbbed just standing up straight with nothing to lean on. After a few punches, she would be out regardless of whether he’d hit her or not.
But if it saved Sammy from being forced to fight, she’d take it. She’d make it interesting, maybe even extract a little revenge of her own.
There was no doubt, however, that she would lose. She ignored that fact.
“Just get on with it.”
Before Jamison made his attack, out of the corner of Hunter’s eye she saw Will. She saw the way his hands curled into fists and remembered the bathroom. Would he step in again and save her from Jamison? This was a different situation – voluntary, to say the least – but he seemed to be straining to hold himself back. She gave him just the slightest nod, telling him she was fine, that she could fight for herself, that she wanted to.
Then Jamison attacked.
Hunter knew that Jamison only wanted some sort of heated connection to her again, therefore she knew what was coming before it happened. He didn’t want to knock her out, he wanted to make contact. He wanted what he couldn’t have all those weeks ago, and this was the only way he could take it. His huge upper body wrapped itself around her and the two of them went crashing to the floor. Déjà vu hit her almost just as hard as the impact of the floor and she momentarily lost her vision. She smelled metal again and felt bile rise in her throat. All she wanted was to run, to get as far away from this man as possible. His weight pressed down on her. He seemed to linger, as if his intentions were purely to be on top of her again.
But Hunter knew what to do this time. Her hands were free; he hadn’t thought that far ahead. She pulled her right arm back, summoned all her energy and threw her fist across Jamison’s nose, going for a clean break.
They all heard the crack. Blood sprayed down on her. Jamison rolled off Hunter’s body and moaned, clutching his nose with one hand and pushing himself up. Despite being afraid, they all wore grins on their faces, all except Jamison. Even Steel looked somewhat amused.
“That all you got?” Hunter heaved, pretending she was stronger than she felt, when really her wrist was throbbing and her vision blurred. “Or are you going to run and cry to Dr. Wolfe about how a girl made you bleed?”
Jamison chuckled, unfazed by her trash talk and his broken nose.
“Make your move,” she growled.
“Ladies first,” he smiled. There was blood in his teeth.
Mosi had told Hunter never to rush into a fight. To see her opponents moves planned ahead in his eyes was not something she’d mastered yet, but she knew more abo
ut Jamison than he did about her. So she faked a kick to Jamison’s head and when he reached out to grab her foot she stomped it back down, spun her waist and threw her other foot into his jaw. He roared with frustration and took two steps towards her, snatching her raised arm before she could punch again and twisting it, hard. Hunter squealed in pain and ignored everyone around her, focusing on making the fight last as long as possible. Maybe then, they would leave the others alone.
Jamison grabbed her other wrist and pulled her close.
“You’re a slippery one, I’ll give you that,” he said in her ear.
Hunter breathed hard through her teeth and tried to wriggle away. She stepped on his foot by accident and Jamison lost his balance. The both of them went toppling to the floor.
Hunter lay on her stomach, the world bending and twirling. She could feel Jamison beside her. As she rolled over on her back, he crawled over her. He seemed sick of the fight as well, for his fist was beside his head and she saw it coming. The fight was over, and the last thing she would see was Jamison’s hungry, blood-stained face. She didn’t want that. She turned her head and found Will with his hand wrapped in Fearne’s, his eyes glued to hers, but they weren’t afraid. They were pleased.
You did well, they said.
Pain came, and then nothing.
THIRTY-ONE
After passing out, Hunter woke up in her cell under her rug, afraid to move. She knew there would be more pain, so she wanted to avoid it as long as possible. She turned her head to the glass door and saw that the lights were all on. It was still day.
She stared at the corridor for minutes, thinking about the fight. When would the cruelty end? When would they stop being victims? Would she ever be able to walk the halls without fearing the presence of the man who was so addicted to her, to her body? A cold shiver passed through her. She felt dirty and wanted a shower. She wanted ten showers.
As she watched the lights flicker in the corridor, nothing happened. No one passed. Where is everyone?
Hunter told herself to get up. She had a lot to do. She wanted to find the others, to make sure they were all okay and that the fight had ended with her unconsciousness.
When Hunter finally willed herself to stand, she felt as though someone had jabbed her with a stick in random spots all over her body, and they were all aching like giant bruises. Her head swam. She caught her reflection in the glass and cringed. Why, why do I always look like a beat-up ghost? She told herself it was just the lighting and stumbled out of her cell.
An empty corridor stretched before her. She glanced behind her, but no one was around. This is just too weird, she thought. Hunter started towards the stairs when a cell door opened up ahead and little Sammy hurried out. He caught sight of Hunter and his face immediately lit up.
“Hunter!” He sprinted towards her and, for the second time that day, he nearly bowled her over with a hug. She would likely never get used to the contact of the small boy, but she dared not refuse.
“So things must have calmed down after what happened with Jamison,” she smiled down at him. “This place is dead.”
“Not exactly,” he murmured, his pale face devoid of color. “Everyone’s in the Orb.”
Hunter’s heart dropped. “What? Who’s in the Orb?”
“It’s not a fight,” he replied. His eyes swam with fear, fear of the unknown. “They told us to go there now. Something’s happening, I don’t know what. We have to go or the guards will get us into trouble.”
He tugged at her hand and Hunter followed him to the stairs, instead going up. Hunter’s stomach was slowly twisting around and every step they took was a step closer to whatever horror lay inside. She kept thinking please don’t let it be Will in there again, or Fearne. Hell, don’t let it be anyone who doesn’t deserve it. Which, come to think of it, was none of them. But Sammy said it wasn’t a fight. Then what fresh hell did Dr. Wolfe have in store?
Sammy dragged her to the next floor, and they ran down a corridor longer than the cell block to a double gray door. It opened into a dark room with two doors on the left and right that read ‘Seating 1’ and ‘Seating 2’. She had no time to stop the nausea from creeping up into her throat before Sammy pulled her through door number one and she found herself in an enclosed room much like a theatre, with rows of metal benches on a slope, all looking down upon a giant glass screen. Through that screen, they had a clear view of the inside of the Orb.
It was strange seeing hell from the outside. It appeared much smaller from their view. But the people down below looked like little dolls walking around in the blank space where she had unleashed her flames. Hunter was shocked to see that they weren’t kids. They were scientists.
“Hunter!” Sammy scampered to a seat down the front with the others. About five Men in White sat up the back with arms folded over tasers, ready to fire. Jet and Mikayla sat close together a few rows down near the other wall. Hunter sidestepped through the isle and squeezed in beside Will and Marcus near the front.
“What’s going on?”
“Don’t know,” said Marcus. “About five minutes ago we were all ushered down here. The guards said nothing, and there was an announcement over the speakers that we had a special screening in the Orb. But no one’s in trouble.”
“Benji is missing,” said Will.
“What?” Hunter looked around and counted faces. He was right; only Benji was missing. Something was wrong, and her stomach didn’t agree with it. She hated being there, watching the horror down below.
“He wasn’t at dinner.” Marcus leant forward and tapped Ryo on the shoulder. “Hey, when did you last see Benji?”
When she turned, Hunter saw that her usually mischievous and glowing expression had fallen completely. Tears streaked her face. “The guards took him from his cell. They didn’t say anything. He never did anything wrong!”
Hunter leaned over and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Zac. He was pointing to the glass window, his voice empty. “Look.”
Inside the Orb where the scientists were gathering in the center, they could see some sort of machine being rolled out. It was a long black platform rather like a conveyor belt, with two sturdy poles on either side. Behind it was a more lethal device; a wall with silver spikes decked out all over it. Anyone who ran into that would be staked in over twenty parts of their body.
“What the hell-” Zac whispered.
“I don’t like the look of this,” said Chantal uneasily.
Hunter was literally on the edge of her seat, straining to see who was being dragged out behind the machine, even though she already knew. Two Men in White carried a boy with blond spikey hair, skinny as a runt. He was struggling madly between them. The scientists – about four of them – set up the machine and stepped away. Benji was placed on top of the conveyor belt, his wrists attached to long chains that snaked around the poles. He was heaving, and she wondered if he might faint. He kept twisting his head around and looking at the wall of spikes directly behind him. It was all starting to click together, in his mind and in Hunter’s. She turned and glanced at Will, whose face was a mask of hatred, his hands clenched together, his jaw jerking from side to side. He knew as well.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of The Advanced Genetics and Human Exploration Institution, to our first demonstration.” Dr. Wolfe’s voice rang loud and clear over an intercom. All of them turned to each other with the exact same panicked expressions.
“The Advanced Genetics and Human Exploration Institution? Who the hell are they?” asked Marcus.
“They must be some sort of science company,” said Mosi. “Like this one, only they probably don’t imprison kids against their will. They must be watching.”
“What does he mean by demonstration?” asked Zac.
“I think we’re about to find out.” Hunter wrapped her arms around herself and wished she could take her eyes off the sight down below.
“Today, we�
��ll be starting with subject number 0895,” Dr. Wolfe continued. “Benjamin Given, age twelve. Subject has the ability to run at outstanding speeds. Our research thus far has driven this subject to a speed of ten times the speed of sound, or up to 1,000,000 miles per hour. We’re attempting today to test the subject’s limits using a specially designed treadmill. This will determine exactly how fast the subject can run when faced with certain peril.”
“Certain peril?” Zac shouted suddenly. “There’s a goddamn porcupine up his ass!”
“Shut up!” one of the guards yelled.
Benji was looking around at the scientists who were getting ready their clipboards, their cameras and the controls for the machine. He was shouting something at them, something that they couldn’t hear over the sound of a buzzer. On the glass, they could see the reflection of a timer counting down from ten in large red numbers.
Hunter wasn’t sure why she did it, but she needed some sort of support before she slipped into panic. She reached beside her and gripped Will’s strong, warm hand in hers, lacing her fingers between his. As the buzzer reached its final count and everyone held their breath, Will wrapped his fingers tighter in hers.
And then, Benji began to run.
THRITY-TWO
“Welcome to Livingston,” said Joshua aloud and both Jenny and Eli jumped upright in their seats and stared at their surroundings.
Day five into their travels, and things were starting to get a little chilly. Normally, Jenny would have happily sat in a car and driven across the country. It felt unreal that she was suddenly there, halfway across America, with two complete strangers on a mission to find a crazy scientist smart enough to return someone’s memory, a memory lost while frozen at minus 180ºC.
Hey, it beats being dead.
Jenny stared at the raging winds, hoping Joshua was as good a driver as he boasted and could get them to the hotel quick. There was a queasy feeling in her stomach.
“I’m starving, can we stop somewhere?” Eli moaned from the back. “I hear there’s a really good rib and chop house?”
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