by R. J. Wolf
“What…what happened?” He gasped.
V
“Crying won’t make the pain go away,” a dry, crackling voice resonated in Anthony’s ears.
He slowly sat up and wiped at his face. “Hello…Hello,” he stuttered.
He was certain he’d heard a man’s voice. It sounded like they were speaking through the wall. The voice had a harshness that could only come with time in confinement. A type of calm reserve tone, but bold like royalty.
“Have pride boy, for we do not bend so easily. The will of men weighs little upon the scales of time.” The man spoke again.
Anthony scooted his feet in and leaned his back against the wall. “Where are you?” Anthony whispered.
“Quiet in there!” A guard yelled.
Anthony cringed and waited for a reply, but he didn’t hear another word just the eerie silence that the darkness brought. He rolled back over into the corner and tucked his knees to his chest. His head swarmed and he felt a death breathing weakness all the way down to his bones.
He must’ve have imagined the man talking. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time. Days upon days of isolation had put him on the brink of insanity.
He didn’t know the time or the day, but it no longer mattered to him. All he could do was wish for death, but even that was asking for too much. He closed his eyes and thought of far off places. He tried to think of home, but could no longer form the image in his head.
“We do not bend so easily,” the man’s words replayed themselves in Anthony’s head. If he was real, what could he know, what could he be talking about? He sounded so close, like he was in the cell with Anthony. But Anthony hadn’t seen or heard another prisoner since he’d been there.
His stomach groaned and the aching pains of hunger pulled at his ribs. He winced and rubbed his face, his fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. He’d lost more than thirty pounds in the two years he’d been there, all while growing half a foot. His sunken eyes no longer held the promise of youth, but were overfilled with despair.
A rat scurried across the floor in front of him. He dove at it barely gripping it by the tail. He licked his lips longing for some form of meat. It’d been days since he’d had a meal.
It squealed as he dragged it across the floor, scratching its nails into the metal. Suddenly it whipped around and buried its incisors into his hand.
Anthony yelped and let it go. The rat hopped away and quickly disappeared into a crack in the wall. Anthony fell back against the floor and huffed.
Water slowly ran down the moss covered stones and dripped onto his face. He shivered and pulled his legs in tighter. With a sigh of exhaustion he closed his eyes and plummeted into a deep sleep.
He tossed and turned rolling back and forth on the hard floor. As he slept, Anthony dreamt he was floating in eternal darkness. He was trapped in the middle of nothing, like a lost soul between heaven and hell.
Every breath he took was shallow, like a weight had been pressed against his chest. He felt crowded, the emptiness squeezing him tighter and tighter. The darkness swarmed him, crashing over him like giant waves in the ocean.
“Wake up!” A booming voice echoed in Anthony’s head like a drum.
Anthony slowly opened his eyes. His nose was pressed against the brick wall, his face marked with the imprint of the jagged rocks. He was drenched in sweat, but shivered uncontrollably.
He rolled onto his back and tried to focus his eyes. Everything was eerily silent, but he was certain he’d heard something. He held his breath straining his ears and then he heard it again, amplified inside his head.
“Wake up!”
It was hard to tell where the voice was coming from. It was almost like someone had screamed into his ear. Anthony scratched his head and then slowly spoke.
“He...hello?” Anthony stuttered.
“You are still alive…that is good.” The scratchy voice responded.
Anthony sat up and leaned back against the wall. He rubbed his face and yawned.
“Who are you?”
“Titles are unimportant boy.” The man snapped back.
“Why are we here, what do they want with us?”
Anthony waited for a response, but there was only silence. He was eager to find out something. For two years the only contact he’d had was with the people holding him.
“Hello.” Anthony mumbled.
“They want what we all want, power. It is curious however, that you’ve survived this long. If they haven’t killed you yet, it’s because they can’t figure out how.”
“If they haven’t killed me yet?” Anthony repeated.
“You’re still alive are you not? Most don’t make it more than a few months.”
“How long have you been here?” Anthony whispered back.
The man laughed. “I lost count a long time ago, but we do what we must.”
Anthony cringed. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there either, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of a dingy cell being the rest of his life. He thought death would certainly be more pleasant.
“What’s your name?” The man said.
“Anthony…Anthony Dimair.”
“Well Anthony, my name is.” The man paused for a minute. “There was a time when I was known as Daviathan.”
“Daviathan.” Anthony whispered.
Rubbing his fingers across the wall he sighed and closed his eyes.
“How did you survive being here so long?” Anthony asked.
Daviathan sighed. “They tried poking me with everything they could. Understand that it’s not only their intent to end our lives, but to gather as much information as possible. Their attempts on me were futile in both regards, as I knew they would be. Eventually they moved on.”
“Why are we here? What’s wrong with us?” Anthony pleaded.
“There’s nothing wrong with you and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Daviathan said angrily. “You sound young. How many cycles have passed for you?”
“Cycles? What are cycles?”
“Counts of a human life child, certainly you know this. How many? There are only so few of us around, surely we’ve met before.”
“Counts of a human life? I am human…I only have one life.” Anthony said poignantly.
“No, you are definitely not human.” Daviathan said it with such certainty that it angered Anthony.
“I am! You don’t know me.”
“That is true I don’t know you Anthony. But I do know humans can’t use amorphos. Only the elementals harbor such power.”
Suddenly there was a loud bang and Anthony’s door swung open. Hanson lumbered in the doorway grinning.
“It’s about that time wonder kid. Good luck!” Hanson snickered.
Anthony scampered into the corner and tucked into a ball.
“Please…please no more.” He begged.
Hanson laughed and unhooked one end of the chain from the floor. He gripped it tightly in his massive hands and started to pull. Anthony clawed at the ground, but to no avail.
This was the first time Anthony had ever been taken out of his cell without first being sedated. As Hanson dragged him across the floor, he looked around in awe.
They were heading down a narrow hallway that seemed to stretch forever. Stone walls that were only a foot thick ran the length of the hallway in columns. Every thirty or so feet was a red door embedded in the wall, but nothing behind it.
Anthony looked back at the room he’d just come out of. The thin stone wall rose up to the ceiling, but was free standing. There were no other walls, no cell, and no room. There was no way he’d just walked out of there.
Hanson tugged harder and Anthony slid down the cold metal floor. He wasn’t even resisting anymore, he didn’t have the strength.
They stopped in front of another red door and Hanson fumbled with the lock. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. After trying several he huffed and pounded his fist against the door. Grunting his raised his massive foot and k
icked the door open.
He yanked Anthony into the cold bright room. Dropping the chain he grabbed him around the wrist. Like a rag doll he tossed Anthony onto a table and began to strap him down. Anthony didn’t even fight back.
The door opened again and Dr. Vorcick entered followed by a smaller, red headed woman carrying a clipboard. She walked with her nose in the air and seemed to be rather annoyed that her presence was necessary.
“Vorcick if we could get this going; I do have other appointments.” She sighed
“Why Certainly Cynthia, your time is greatly appreciated. Hanson, stand guard.” Vorcick demanded.
Grinning, Dr. Vorcick walked to the counter and pulled out a silver cylinder. He sat it down and twisted the cap. A thick mist slowly bellowed from the metallic thermos as he removed the top.
The door swung back open and a tall man with glasses walked in. He sneered at Vorcick and then extended his spider leg like fingers and shook Cynthia’s hand.
“Dr. Shields, nice of you to join us. I hear your work has had metered success.” He said without expression.
Cynthia smiled. “It means volumes that any work I’ve done has traveled to within earshot of you Dr. Norton. The pleasure is certainly all mine.”
Vorcick rolled his eyes. “Masks.” He mumbled as he shoved two in their direction.
Dr. Vorcick took the cylinder and poured the contents into a silver case at the end of the table. The thick, yellowish sludge oozed out filling the case to the top.
“Are we certain we have the levels right this time?” Dr. Norton asked.
“Yes, yes we are doctor. Compound AB5 will succeed where the others have failed.”
“For your sake I hope you are right.”
Dr. Vorcick slowly unrolled twelve plastic tubes with needles attached to the end. He grabbed Anthony’s wrist and grinned.
“Steady now boy. You don’t want me making any mistakes.”
He plunged a needle into Anthony’s arm. Anthony cringed, but the straps kept him from moving. Vorcick continued, needle after needle until they were all embedded in Anthony like a pin cushion.
Looking back at the other doctors he nodded and rubbed his hands together. He took a deep breath and glanced at the wall where a tiny camera was hidden in the glass.
“This is Dr. Vorcick. We are now delivering compound AB5 to subject 977.” He turned back to table and pressed a small button on the bottom of the silver case.
With a gurgling noise, yellowish fluid started to flow through the tubes towards Anthony’s arms. He squirmed and tried to slip out of the straps, but they were pulled too tight. He screamed, pleading with the doctor to release him.
“Stay calm boy!” Dr. Norton said.
The yellow fluid inched closer and closer. Anthony stared as the fluid spiraled down the winding tubes. It slowed as it neared the needles buried into his arm.
Dr. Vorcick watched with eager eyes. He smiled happily, pleased with what he had done. Dr. Norton seemed much more skeptical. He tapped his shoe impatiently and kept glancing at his watch.
Anthony’s chest rose up and down. Then the fluid rushed through the needles and into his veins. The sensation was instantaneous. It was as if someone had poured fire into his arm.
He screamed and began to shake uncontrollably. He wanted to rip the straps off his arms and yank the needles out, but they held firm. His breaths became quick and shallow, his chest snapping up and down. The monitors on the wall began to spike and Vorcick moved closer.
“This is it! I know it this time.”
The tubes gurgled as the last bit of liquid oozed out of them and into Anthony. Dr. Vorcick shut off the machine and continued to watch.
“No! No! Argh! Ah!” Anthony yelled as he shook back and forth.
“Please, please just make it stop!” His voice amplified through the room.
Suddenly Hanson burst through the door with his gun drawn.
“Is everything okay boss? I heard him screaming. Dr. Norton, I…I didn’t know you were in.” Hanson began to backtrack as his eyes met the taller man standing next to Vorcick.
“Yes Hanson, everything is fine.” Dr. Norton dismissed the hefty guard, flicking his hand.
Hanson spun around and walked towards the door. He paused for a moment then stumbled into the hallway closing the door behind him.
Gasping, Dr. Vorcick clapped his hands in front of his face.
“This is it! Look at the monitors, he’s stable.” Vorcick pointed across the room.
Cynthia seemed mildly impressed. She jotted notes onto her clipboard as she whispered something to Dr. Norton.
Anthony’s chest jolted upward as his back arched in a manner unnatural, even for a jellyfish. His arms shook uncontrollably and his feet crinkled and cramped. He tried to relax, but his muscled tensed and spasmed. Each movement was so intense he felt like his spine was going to snap in half.
Suddenly, Anthony’s body went limp and his head fell back against the table. The monitors flat lined and a loud beep echoed in the room.
“What is going on Vorcick? You promised this specimen would make it!”
“I…I don’t know. The levels were adjusted, everything was fine.” Vorcick stuttered as he began to check over the instruments.
Confused, he grabbed Anthony’s wrist and felt for a pulse. He frantically squeezed his arm then dropped it back on the table and sighed.
“You promised me this one would be different Vorcick. You promised you’d figured it out. The Holders won’t be happy about this.”
Dr. Norton shook his head. He eyed Vorcick for a moment longer and then turned towards the door.
“No, no. I don’t know. He should’ve been fine.” Vorcick whimpered as he grabbed at Dr. Norton’s sleeve.
“Get your damn hands…”
There was a loud hiss and a bang behind them. Simultaneously, they both turned as Anthony’s body jerked and snapped upward like a fish in the sand. A white light poured from his eyes flooding every corner of the room.
Hanson burst through the door as Anthony’s mouth fell open and he screamed. The sound that came out was ear stabbing. It was like a howl mixed with the shriek of a banshee and as quickly as it started it ended.
Vorcick stepped closer, watching as Anthony began to rattle and spasm on the table. His hands jittered and flicked rapidly. Then with a crackling sound his body contorted and started to grow. His nails stretched like talons, his skin hardened and spiked as it morphed to a blue black hue. His entire physique changed, muscles ripping through his clothing obliterating the straps that held him down.
The table buckled under his weight, the metal whining as it crumbled. Anthony rolled over as his wings exploded from his back and flapped in the air.
“Yes! I knew it!” Vorcick screamed.
Dr. Norton eyed Anthony closely, the doubt vanishing from his face. He grinned slightly before returning to his stoic expression.
Cynthia had slowly begun to walk backwards towards the door. Vorcick looked back at her with a look of triumph. She sneered at him and her face narrowed and elongated, almost to the shape of a hyena. Vorcick gasped and looked away in fear. When he looked again she was back to normal.
Anthony suddenly screamed out and clenched his fist. His eyes tapered like a cat, the beams of light flickering rapidly. The room started to shake and the monitors exploded sending shards of glass spraying into the air.
Hanson was still standing at the door, his mouth wide open, his hand un-holstering his gun.
“Put that away you fool. As if it would do you any good.” Dr. Norton said as he spun around. “Vorcick end it now, I’ve seen enough.”
Vorcick smiled, still glaring at Anthony overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment. He reveled in the fact that Dr. Norton and the holders would be compelled to keep him alive now.
Ceiling tiles fell to the ground. Sparks shot in all directions. The room was growing hotter and hotter like a microwave.
“Vorcick now!” Dr. Norton yelled.<
br />
Spinning in place Dr. Vorcick ran to the silver canister and pressed a blinking red button. There was a loud hiss and a dense fog filled the room. When it cleared Anthony’s lifeless body lay stretched across the table. His clothes were shredded and the straps were broken and twisted, but he was back to normal.
“Vorcick you’ve done well. I will tell the holders of your success.” Dr. Norton spoke in a monotone voice.
Vorcick smiled and shot a snide look in Cynthia’s direction.
“However,” Dr. Norton went on. “I can’t say for certain this will make up for past offenses.”
At that Cynthia let out a little chuckle and walked into the hallway scribbling onto her clipboard.
“Hanson, make the required preparations. We are leaving this retched facility and moving onto phase two.”
VI
Groaning Steve sat up and leaned against the wall. He moved a little too fast and he could feel a sharp stabbing pain that reminded him his ribs weren’t as strong as they felt. He grabbed his side and winced. With a sigh, he slung his legs off the bed and stood up.
The sun was still sleeping and a light fog rolled over the lawn outside. It’d been two weeks since a van had hit him and sped off. And aside from a few bruised ribs, Steve wasn’t any worse for the wear.
Still gripping his side, Steve walked to the window and stared into the fog. A slow moving figure darted across the lawn then disappeared into the shadows.
Steve jumped and immediately regretted it, as a searing pain jolted up his side and he let out a yelp. He stumbled backwards and fell over his gym bag. Sighing, he pushed himself back to his feet and took a deep breath.
Hesitantly, Steve walked back to the window, but there was nothing. Only patches of fog swaying across the lawn like lost souls. The painkiller, Steve thought, worked a bit too well.
He sat back on the edge of his bed and rubbed his eyes. The loud squawking of birds flooded his ears and he reached across the nightstand and grabbed his phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, we’re meeting at Clark’s in an hour.” Mit’s enthusiastic voiced announced.