Warden opens the door into the monitor room, and we are forced to trail in behind her. Seiger follows, but his guards stay outside. In the room, there are no seats except for one the monitor man is sitting in, but he doesn’t offer it to anyone. He doesn’t even acknowledge we are there. He just continues staring at the screens around him and the bluish glow they emit glazes his sallow face. He looks sort of thin, gangly, pale, and bespectacled, almost like a zombie.
“Senior, bring up the file on these two,” Warden says to the man. “Walker and Cliff.”
The man, Senior, nods and begins clicking his computer mouse and tapping his keyboard at a rapid speed. “Walker: Eighteen years old lamb farmer’s daughter; tested for D, but lied in test results. Proper group was A, but was placed in B for savaging a lieutenant; passed survival test; unbranded.
“Cliff: Twenty-one years old Dairy farmer’s son; tested for A, but exhibited hostility to protect his mother and was placed in B; passed survival test; unbranded.”
I don’t like the word unbranded. What exactly does that mean? It couldn’t possibly mean what I think it does.
Of course it could, my mind snaps at me. These lunatics are throwing you in a facility to be raped. Do you think they won’t press a hot iron against your body to keep tabs on you?
“Branding first then. We can’t lose them again. Take them out, Seiger,” Warden says. Her voice echoes loud in my ears.
She opens the door, and Seiger pushes us out. My knees cramp up again, and my stomach heaves dangerously. I can hardly step out the door without falling over and it’s all I can do not to vomit up my last meal. I turn my gaze to one horn of the intersection and then the other. Both go for ten metres or so and then turn and vanish around a corner. I wonder which way will lead out or if the mechanical steel doors are the only exit.
“Oh, Senior. Note Walker will be in Facility One and Cliff in Two,” Warden tells the monitor man.
The monitor man nods distractedly. I jerk to a halt, knowing whatever Warden just said means Whil and I will be separated.
“What?” Seiger barks, stopping in the door and turning back to look at Warden. “They won’t be together?”
“Of course not,” Warden snaps. “Nothing would ever happen if we left them together. It’s obvious to me that Cliff isn’t going to pin this girl down to get the job done. We can’t have their affection for one another getting in the way.”
Oh Gods. The handcuffs around my wrists begin to rattle as a new wave of tremors shake my body. Whil moves to stand directly beside me, pressing his shoulder against my own and making a low, dangerous rumbling in the back of his throat like a growl. Being here is bad enough, but being away from Whil… it’s unthinkable. We protect one another. I look at Seiger desperately, unable to believe that even he could approve of such a vile operation. Seiger seems stunned by Warden’s information. Then, his face hardens and a darkness I haven’t seen before creeps over it, shadowing his icy blue eyes as he stares at Warden.
“You didn’t tell me what was really going on here,” Seiger says in a low, threatening tone.
“You wouldn’t have agreed if you’d known.”
“Success will be much easier and faster if you keep them together. Just leave them together. It’s bound to happen anyway. They’ll both fight every minute of the way if you separate them.”
Is he talking about me? The conversation is so repulsive I can’t stand listening to it.
“Yes. Yes,” Warden says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “So did our other girls at first but look at them now. Already waning and giving into their primitive urges after just a few days,” Warden says airily. “Know your place, Seiger. They can’t remain together. We’ve tried it. It takes too long. You’ve seen Madison and Jacob. We gave them a chance and they’re still dawdling about.”
“It’s only been a week,” Seiger argues. My heart goes out to the people Madison and Jacob, but at the same time at least they stayed together.
“Lieutenant Seiger!” Warden snarls, throwing her hair over her shoulder impatiently. “No more. Take Cliff to Facility Two now and have him branded!”
Although Seiger gives a grumble of anger, he doesn’t retort. I can tell that Seiger has no authority here. Perhaps Warden respects him somewhat, but she has more authority, more power than he does. That worries me a lot since I feel even Seiger has more morality than this snake of a woman.
The lieutenant withdraws a length of silver chain from his pocket and clips it to the back of Whil’s handcuffs: as if Whil is a dog that needs to be taken out for a restrained stroll. Whil casts Seiger a glance over his shoulder, unsure how to react, and Seiger gestures for the handcuffed boy to follow him up the passageway to the right. Then, I feel a clink on the back of my own handcuffs and see Warden standing with my own chain leash in her hands.
“Come on, Walker,” she says.
Whil is staring at me with horror. Horror not directed at me, but what awaits me at the end of the left corridor. When Whil doesn’t budge, Seiger gives his chain a sharp yank and mutters, “Whil, come on. Don’t play up here.”
Fear has robbed me of my voice. Whil pulls away from Seiger, but he can’t get close to me again. The guards have their guns trained on us but, like Seiger, they do not look at all happy about how the situation is unfolding. Warden holds me back by my chain and Seiger holds Whil.
With a curse, Warden tugs on my chain as if I’m her pet and my stomach gives a convulsive twist, as if the cable is tugging at my gut rather than the handcuffs around my wrists. My fear and fury explodes.
“Whil!” I shriek, lunging towards him.
Pain shoots through my arms as they bend backwards, held firmly by the chain. It’s so intense that I fall to the floor, but I scramble up again and this time, turn towards Warden. I want to kill her. She isn’t smiling at my ferocity like Seiger did at the rally. She looks stern and unforgiving and when I spring at her, teeth bared, she suddenly withdraws a whip from her high boot and strikes out with it. The leather cuts me across the cheek like a lash of fire. I feel hot blood instantly seep from the gash but my teeth clamp down onto Warden’s outstretched arm before she can get out of my way. My jaws crush down hard, my teeth break skin, and dig deep into the sensitive skin of her forearm.
“You little cow!” Warden snarls. Apparently her tolerance for pain isn’t as good as Seiger’s for she raises the whip again, her whip-wielding arm thrusting high to get aim, her face turning a bright shade of red.
I see the whip as a blur of black before it slashes across the left side of my head, slicing into my left ear also. I cringe; tempted to release my hold, but instead just tighten my jaws so they lock into place around her flesh like a vice. I can hear her ragged breaths, see how she purses her lips to stop from screaming and watch the bulge of her eyes. In a flash, I see something mad and wild in her that reminds me of myself. For one split second, I see her reflexes tell her to drop the whip and attack with tooth and claw, but she doesn’t release her weapon.
Warden begins slashing the whip across my back, where my parka has lifted just high enough to expose a strip of soft, pale flesh. She cracks the whip down on the bare area once, twice, thrice, numerous times and all I hear is the cracking echo of the whip ringing throughout the corridors. Every hit feels like a tongue of burning hot fire. The agonising sting of each whip stroke is almost unbearable but every strike makes me clench my jaw tighter. But as the whip slashes time after time, each lash becoming more furious on Warden’s part, I feel my flesh finally begin to swell and suddenly a horrible, searing pain blisters over the small of my back. I realise Warden’s whip has broken the skin. Soon, the whip hits nothing but raw, broken flesh and each time she wrenches it back to hit me again, I see flecks of blood fly into the air. My own blood.
“Stop it!” Whil shouts. “Stop hurting her!”
I realise he must have been screaming for some time, judging by the hoarseness of his voice.
“Warden! Stop!” Seiger yells. I hear his
voice crack, as if he is disgusted or petrified by this woman’s aggression.
The pain is too much. I cry out, releasing my hold, tears streaking down my face and mingling with the blood that pours from my cheek. Warden jerks her arm away and delivers me one last horrible blow over forehead and blood trickles into my eyes, making me see red both mentally and physically. I crumple on the ground, gasping in shuddering breaths through my sobs, feeling my entire body scream with agony.
“Enough!” roars Seiger. He drops Whil’s chain and seizes the whip from Warden. He snaps the horrible thing over his knee and throws the halves against the wall violently. “I told you they wouldn’t be separated! You can’t treat people like this. You wouldn’t even treat an animal like this. This isn’t treating all things equally at all!”
For several moments, Warden clasps her bitten arm and I see her struggling for words. Her face is contorted with anger and pain. I watch several thick, fat drops of blood drip onto the white tiles at her feet, but a woman who is dressed like a nurse suddenly walks by with a trolley loaded with medical equipment. She stops, glancing between Warden and me with an expression of pure shock and then offers some bandages to Warden. Warden takes them, wraps her arm quickly, as if ashamed I managed to injure her, and then somehow manages to resume her calm demeanour.
The nurse looks at me trembling on the cold floor and starts rummaging through her medical supplies to help me but Warden stops her. “No treatment for her. She attacked first. Let her suffer and learn her lesson.” She gives me a glare full of daggers, and then swaps her gaze to Seiger. “As for you, Seiger, you should learn that humans aren’t the same as animals. Humans are too smart to make the same mistake twice. She won’t dare fight against me now!” Warden spits.
I hate her! I hate her so much. I hate her more because she is right. She picks up my chain, which she discarded to assault me, gives it a hard yank and I struggle to my feet, sobbing in agony, and follow after her, too exhausted and in too much pain to fight back. Blood is trickling from my face, down my neck, and into my shirt, making my clothes sticky and hot. My lower back feels like someone has just ripped it open with a chainsaw. I look back at Whil and Seiger but all they can do is stand and watch with pitiful expressions as I am led away. Whil is poised to come after me, but Seiger just places a heavy hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. Warden tugs me around the bend in the corridor and they are lost. Seiger is a murderer, but he never harmed me and I never saw him attack anyone out of anger. Even when I attacked him at the rally, he only grabbed me to stop me from mauling his arm.
“Freya!” I hear Whil’s shout echoing on every wall.
I want to shout back for him but I don’t. Gritting my teeth and pursing my lips is all I can do to stop from screaming for him again. The pain over my body is crippling but the thought of what lies ahead is what renders me silent.
“I warned you about the rules,” Warden says above Whil’s echoing hollers.
I don’t respond. How can I respond to someone with such twisted ideals? There isn’t a way to talk them out of such a demented state of mind.
“Don’t be sulky,” she says, stopping in front of another door. “Here we are,” she says as she opens the door and enters.
15.
I smell it immediately—the scent of burning flesh—the same as when you run over some week-old road-kill on a hot, bitumen road. The smell is sweet, sickly, and overpowering. My feet stop on their own accord and refuse to go forward. My instincts scream at me to run. How can I? If I run, she will just yank me backwards again.
The scent of it burns my nostrils and makes my throat tighten. The room is small and very clean looking with its spotless white tiles, and there is a big, metal dish towards the back of the room that resembles a fire pit. I can’t see its contents but white vapour streams from it in hazy wisps. Smoke maybe? A steel-restraining table with leather bindings sits in the centre of the chamber and I sense instantly that bad things have happened on the table. My entire body balks in the doorway, and Warden stops here to address an overweight man with small, beady eyes who standing over the fire pit instrument at the back, holding a rod of metal, which has a very defined ‘B’ stamp at the end.
“Ah, Warden. Managed to get the new ones here?” he says, clapping his gloved hands together with a horrible grin directed at me.
No! My mind goes blank with disbelief and terror. My body won’t move. I don’t know what to do. I feel the world drop from beneath my feet as I realise this room’s purpose—the purpose of the table and the steaming fire pit. I sway on the spot, gut churning with nausea.
“We did. She’s mad. Tie her tight,” Warden says. “Good luck.”
“I will,” the man says. He walks towards me, one hand outstretched to take my chain from Warden. I see every brown hair of his handlebar moustache and the curl of his lip as he attempts to smile.
I finally turn to run. I don’t care where. Anywhere is better than this room. I don’t even think it’s the thought of having the searing hot stamp pressed against my skin that terrifies me. It’s the vile presence that surrounds this man. The way he claps his hands together like a show is about to begin, the sickening twist of his smile and the perverse glint in his eyes.
I only get two steps out the door when the chain is jerked and the man’s massive, hairy arms wrap around my body. I scream for someone to help me. My blood-curdling voice echoes off every wall, bounding back to me, magnifying my terror. No answer comes. Whil is probably in this exact situation too. The man lifts me clear off the ground like I weigh nothing and carries me back into the room. He slams me down onto the metal table. The back of my head hits it hard and a metallic thrum pierces my ears. My lower back feels as though it has been set on fire and then slowly, the cold metal of the table eases the pain. Despite my dizziness, I try to sit up but a broad hand pushes me back down and wrestles off the handcuffs.
For one instant, hope surges within me. I strike out, screeching in wild anger. My fist collides with the man’s face, but he hardly flinches. He seizes my wrist as I yank my arm back to strike again, leans across the table so his entire torso pins my struggling body down, and wraps new bindings around each wrist. When he straightens, I see leather bindings attached to the edges of the table are now wrapped around my wrists so each arm is pinned by my sides. For good measure, the man gives each leather strap a hard tug, and the straps are pulled so tight that I cry out in pain. Writhing against the straps, I bawl so loudly my throat is left hoarse.
Warden is gone. I can see her standing outside through the little frosted viewing window, but the door is closed, and she can’t hear my screams. I doubt she would care anyway.
“Aren’t we a pretty one!” the man says, reaching towards the top of my parka and clasping the zip in his fingers.
“Don’t you dare touch me!” I snarl.
My arms move to strike, but my wrists are firmly tied. I try to tear away from the bindings, but pain shoots through my shoulders and arms, and I fall back with a clamour, panting. The man opens my jacket, eases it off my shoulders and then lifts up the collar of my t-shirt and peers down the front. A sickening grin sweeps across his flat face and suddenly Seiger seems angelic in comparison. I gnash my teeth towards the man, but the brute jerks away before I can close my teeth on his hand. My teeth are certainly becoming my most frequently used weapon.
“It’s alright,” the man says silkily. He moves towards the bottom of the table, watching me like a predator does its prey. I kick wildly at him, but he easily catches both of my ankles and ties them down too.
Never have I felt such a terrible fear. I imagine what it feels to be an animal in an abattoir or pound; smelling the stink of your own kind’s flesh around you, seeing their blood on the walls, and feeling the very manifestation of dread lingering in the air like an odour. I am the defenceless animal. I am the prisoner.
I would prefer to die from fear than continue down this path. I batter my body against the steel table, screaming agai
nst the metallic rattle I create, and try with every fibre in my body to somehow frighten or injure my enemy as he surveys my body. I cry. I can’t help it. My chest feels like it is going to collapse because my heart is thundering so fast. The man looms over the top of me, his gaze ravenous. After surveying me from my face to my feet, he presses a hand onto my stomach and it begins to slide up my shirt. I scrunch my eyes closed and bite the inside of my mouth as the man’s hand slides further and further up.
Suddenly, I hear the door swing open.
“Cut it out, would you!” Warden’s sharp voice suddenly comes. “You’re not paid to sexually abuse our Bs!”
The man’s repulsive touch is gone instantly. I open my eyes and see Warden standing beside the table, looking livid. Terrified and consumed by rage, I start swearing at the top of my lungs and writhing against the fastenings: infuriated with both Warden and the sick man. Warden looks at me as I cuss and fight, and her face shows a skerrick of pity.
“Sorry ma’am. The young ones are hard to resist,” the brute says.
“Well, resist it!” Warden snaps.
Surely even this devil woman understands how I feel right now. Surely she can imagine herself strapped to this table, shivering so horribly that the entire table shakes with her? The metal bench top feels like a slab of ice and cold sweat breaks out on my brow. Tears continue streaming down my cheeks, and I crunch my eyes closed again, unable to believe that twenty-four hours ago I was in a place of total peace and security.
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