by Erin Rickman
I pushed the feeling down, trying not to let it overrule me. If I started to vomit, I wouldn’t stop. Eventually, I opened my eyes, the wave of nausea passed. I got up, grabbed the chair and dragged it across the tiled floor of my pod to the glass. I sat, watching Atlas. I saw Atlas situated on the floor against the wall, next to the sink, his eyes closed and breathing slow. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw the door which led outside of the pod room fly open. In walked a large, muscled bald guy with someone unconscious draped over his shoulder. I watched as the man descended the stairs. Whoever he carried, he did it with ease. I slowly stood, Atlas looking at me confused as he crawled to the front of his pod—he couldn't see the stairs. The man walked down the walkway, as he walked past I realised who he had, the small frame was unmistakable.
“Kenji,” I whispered. They had got him too, I could only assume it was because of his close connection to Atlas and me.
His limp body dangled; I caught a glimpse of his inner arm, matching both mine and Atlas’. As I gazed across the pod, I saw that Atlas was on his feet, his hands pressed against the glass. I could see the defeat on his features; it was not hard to recognise that he was far too tired to bang; the bags under his eyes were a clear indicator. He looked down, leaning his head on the glass. That was when I saw his calm demeanour shatter, and the situation got the better of him, his body shook. I couldn’t hear his cries of pain, but I felt it. I had done no different just hours ago. I knew Atlas well enough to gather that right now he was blaming himself for mine and Kenji’s capture. I ached, I wanted to tell him it was a burden he couldn’t carry.
I watched as the door to the pod on the other side of the walk way, on the right side of Atlas, opened. The large man flopped Kenji onto the bed, before swiftly turning around and locking the cell behind him. The guy walked around the side of the pod and continued before disappearing. I wasn’t sure where he had gone as the pod next to me on the right, was blocking the view.
I sat on the chair staring at Kenji for what felt like hours, waiting for him to move. In that time, Atlas had fallen asleep, probably to subside his constant vomiting. My eyes never left Kenji despite the overwhelming need to sleep one minute and vomit the next. Then his finger twitched, which caused me to lean forward, allowing me to get a better view and concentrate on him.
Slowly his head moved, he rubbed his eyes. I watched as Kenji got up, looking around to take in his surroundings. Like I had done, he walked over to the door, rattling it. I couldn’t see his face or hear his voice, but his posture told me he was shouting. In one swift movement, his foot drew back and hit the door with force; this happened again and again. He stormed over to his bed, picking up his pillow and launching it across the pod, hitting the glass. I wasn’t surprised, I thought Kenji was bad-tempered usually. At that, he stood staring at the pillow, his shoulders rapidly moving up and down, then he screamed. Once he had finished his tantrum, he walked over to the pillow, picked it up and dusted it off as if it was delicate. Finally, he looked out the pod window. I watched as his eyes jumped from Hector’s pod, to mine (I gave a slight wave of my hand), to Maze’s and finally back to mine again.
He looked at me, his eyes blank. Finally he gave a small wave back, the look of confusion laced across his features. I pointed to the pod next to him, opposite me and mouthed ‘Atlas’. At that, he nodded and turned away, going back to his bed. Before he reached the bed, he paused mid-step and glanced at his arm like it had caught his eye by surprise. He started to examine it before turning back to me. He held his arm up, his forearm facing me, and I repeated the action to tell him I had the modification too.
Suddenly a crackle sounded out in my pod, like static, making me jump. Kenji jumped and glanced around; then my eyes wandered to Atlas, who was rubbing his head and appeared to be coming too, sitting up. It was evident they could also hear the noise. Then, a voice sounded out.
“Oh look, the gang’s back together.” I recognised the voice instantly, Van Wick, he was on an intercom. “Now, Hector and Maze already know the rules but for our three newcomers: you will get a toilet break twice a day—and Lawrence will provide handcuffs and a gag, if you don’t wear them, you don’t come out. If you try to run, he has instructions to ensure it is the last thing you do. Finally, you will get a meal twice a day. Are there any questions? No? Good.” The intercom clicked off.
At that, I let out an obnoxious scream knowing no one could hear me. There was no chance for us to get out of here. We were smart and could out-whit Van Wick but only if we worked together, and that was not an option. I felt as if this would be the place I died; it very well could be if my body didn’t take to the concoction coursing through my veins. Slowly I lent against the wall sliding down as all hope left my body.
Chapter Fourteen
October 11th 2024
I knew it was a few days later, but how much later I wasn’t sure. I had just woken from my deep sleep. The twice a day toilet breaks were something I looked forward to; it was a chance to get out of the pod. In my current state I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or cry at the fact I cherished the bathroom visits, of all things. . They collected us from the cell door, which opened behind the row of cells. Lawrence led us behind the pods on our side, and into the centre of the room. We walked past all six cells down the middle aisle before proceeding up the stairs, out of the pod room door. I had managed to catch a glimpse of both Maze and Hector over my last few visits.
Each time, Hector looked worse and worse—he had large bags under his eyes and was continually shivering with a cold sweat. It was only once I had seen him awake and not vomiting; that time, he had given me a weak smile. Maze, on the other hand, was more often than not sitting at the front of the pod, staring blankly into space with handcuffs securing her wrists. Though the cuffs she wore were unlike anything I had ever seen before, they were large, clunky and illuminated an electric blue. I often wondered what she had done to receive them but realised I did not know enough about her personally to make a final call. Regardless, pondering over Maze helped to pass the time.
I rubbed my eyes, preparing myself to get up and have a sweet day of doing nothing. I was starting to adjust to being in the pod, but it was boring, all I could do was get lost in my thoughts. I had been tearing myself apart over how my family must be worried about me missing, Jai’s broken heart and the aching absence of Atlas’ touch.
I wasn’t sure what my parents thought, but it was apparent that after this period of time, they would have noticed I hadn’t been home. Did they even know I was missing? I knew they would be worried if they did, but if Van Wick pulled a quick one as he had with Hector’s mother the chances were they didn’t even know, after all, he has my phone. Has Jai tried to contact me? Knowing his stubbornness, he probably hadn’t, but I knew he would still be hurting as it takes more than a week to heal. I comprehended the hurt was inevitable, but it doesn’t ease the grief from damaging someone so bad, especially those who I held near and dear.
Today was the first day I had woken up and not felt the need to projectile vomit. My headache was gone. As my eyes focused and I stretched, I had to double-take as I saw my forearm. I quickly examined it; I no longer had the blue veins on show. I walked over to the glass of my pod. Atlas was sitting on his chair, staring at me. If anyone else had watched me sleep, I would have felt highly uncomfortable, but with him, it was the opposite. I missed him, his touch, his smell, his voice, his ridiculous flirtation techniques, everything.
I held my arm up to the glass and pointed. He cocked his head and looked down at his arm, then shook his head, holding it up, the veins still a deep blue. My eyes glanced to Kenji, who had just re-entered his cell, he looked like he was barely awake, exhausted. He walked forward to the glass, his eyes fixated on Hector’s cell. Eventually, his eyes left the ginger (who I could not see) and glanced at me. As I had done to Atlas, I held up my arm. Kenji repeated the action back—unlike Atlas, his veins had also disappeared. I wasn’t sure what this meant—were we going to r
eject the substance administered and die? Or had our bodies accepted it, which would mean Atlas was at risk? After all, we got injected around the same sort of time, so surely it should clear around the same kind of time?
Atlas’ blue veins left me with a gut-wrenching feeling—what if his body didn’t accept it? If I had to watch Atlas die, knowing there was nothing I could do about it, I would fall into an endless pit of grief, never being able to get out again. It would feel worse than knowing my parents could be sitting at home, terrified for their missing kid, worrying that I would never return. It would feel much worse than knowing I hurt Jai. As a lump formed in my throat, I quickly pushed it away, not being able to comprehend the idea of Atlas succumbing to his death.
After a while, I snapped out of my thoughts, realising just how much time had passed. I looked over to Kenji, who wiped away the light sweat on his forehead. His cheeks shone with redness; he looked hot. Not attractive hot but temperature hot. I then realised, since being in the pod I hadn’t felt hot nor cold, although I had the physical symptoms of temperature changes, I hadn’t actually felt it. Could this be the next stage of whatever was happening to us?
A swift movement caught my eye—Atlas’ pod door shutter had opened. Lawrence had thrown the handcuffs and gag inside before promptly closing the shutter. I watched as the equipment slid with force across Atlas’ floor. It was toilet time. He grabbed them, placing the cuffs on and the gag in his mouth. He walked to the door, giving it a light kick, seconds later it flung open. Van Wick’s henchman reached in, grabbing Atlas harshly, who just took it without fighting back. We were all exhausted despite the amount of sleep we were getting; there was nothing else to do after all. Baldy held Atlas in a tight grip as he walked down the centre, up the stairs and out the door.
With nothing else to look at, I watched Kenji. A light condensation had formed at the glass where he sat. I observed him, drawing shapes. I felt it was odd; it was like the heat was radiating from him. I braced myself, aware that may be the next terrifying stage. I assumed that the lack of blue veins was a good sign, but I couldn’t have been sure, especially watching him overheat. Kenji didn’t seem affected by it; I assumed he knew as the condensation only centred around him. It appeared he didn’t feel the heat or maybe he just didn’t care.
I walked over to my bed, laying down. With nothing else to do I counted the ceiling tiles; I was determined to find out how many there were. Earlier, I had got to three-hundred and fifty-four, but previously I had calculated three-hundred and sixty-two, so I needed to try again. I got to two-hundred and eighty-nine when Atlas walked back past my cell and caught my eye. I got up, walked over and noticed he had a slight limp. I stared at his cell door, intensely waiting for him to reappear. An eternity later (or at least that is what it felt like) he appeared, and a small whimper left my lips. His eye was swollen shut, a large cut across the top of his eyebrow. His cheekbone held a light lump, and one side of his lower lip was swollen, bruised and bloody.
I needed to know what was happening. Kenji, in a world of his own, was still drawing shapes from his sweaty condensation and I took inspiration. As Atlas limped over to the glass and flopped on his chair, I pulled in a deep breath and exhaled on my glass. When the condensation was thick enough, I wrote ‘U OK?’ backwards. At that, he pointed to himself, held up his hand and gestured a running motion with his finger.
The idiot had tried to run—did he not hear the announcement just a few days ago? The one that clearly stated Lawrence would bring death upon us if we tried to escape. The anger bubbled inside me; I wasn’t sure if it was due to the fact the boy received such a severe beating, or if it was due to his stupidity for trying to run. I panicked as I thought about what I would do if Lawrence killed him. Atlas was selfish—did he not think of how we would have felt? It was understandable that the young man was going stir crazy, we all were. I sighed; he could be so damn stupid sometimes. I did not doubt that if he had managed to escape, he would return but that was beside the point, I was not willing to gamble his life for our freedom.
On the bright side, I was thankful that the threat wasn’t followed through. Maybe Atlas was given the benefit of the doubt and beaten enough that he wouldn’t try again. However, there must have been more to it. There were only five of us. It was apparent Maze had made the trials of experimentation so far, so she was robust. Hell, there was months worth of work invested into her, and if each one of us survived, it could very well be the same. That’s when I realised we were valuable to Van Wick; he didn’t want us dead. He wanted us to behave like well-trained dogs, responding to every command. We were valuable property. He couldn’t see us as humans because no one with good enough morals would put another human through what we are going through. We were now his property, his dirty little experiments.
I was disturbed from my thoughts when my pod shutter opened. Lawrence threw the same equipment to me. I felt sick, the same man escorting me to the toilet was the one who had beat Atlas half to death. I banged on my door once the gag and cuffs were in place. After a few seconds, the pod door opened and I stepped out, the man grabbed me roughly and led me around the pods. As I walked past I glanced over to Hector—he looked awful. Hector was on the floor on the side that backed onto my pod, curled into a fetal position. His body was shaking rapidly, the veins on both arms blue, his hair a mess. I wasn’t sure what was happening to him, but I had an unwelcome feeling of dread. As I walked past Maze’s pod, she sat in the chair staring at the wall, like always. She was a zombie, the cuffs glowing, I wondered if that’s what did it to her. Her blonde hair was a long and wild mess; it could be a home for birds.
I was dragged up the stairs and through the door, I went to turn right, towards the toilet, but the bald man left out a gruff laugh.
“Not today; Van Wick wants to see you.”
It felt like the blood had drained from my being; I went cold. I was terrified; the last time I had seen satan himself, I’d had unwanted chemicals forced into my body. What if this time it was something worse? I was waiting for my fight or flight response to kick in and although the adrenaline pumped, I was too scared to try to brawl or flee—both would result in a beating. Eventually, we reached the lab. The brute threw me in, pulled a walkie talkie from his belt and handed it to me. He pulled off my gag, turned around and walked out, closing the door behind him. I was confused; there was no sign of Van Wick. As if on cue, the second half of the lab lit up, and the devil stood, separated by the glass wall. However, it wasn’t him that grabbed my attention; it was my mother.
She was strapped to a chair, gag in her mouth and the look of pure fear plastered across her face. I noticed a deep cut on the side of her head; she had been hit at some point. When my mother saw me she looked shocked, then she cried, her body heaving. Beside her was a tray of metallic silver instruments atop of a metal trolly. I couldn’t hear her; much like the pods, the lab was soundproofed. I stalked towards the glass, screaming for her.
I felt sick, scared and infuriated. What had my mother got to do with this? Why was she here? Had she come looking for me and been caught? Through her tears of horror, I saw the look of relief to see me on her face. Though, her expression quickly contorted to one of consternation and terror. I knew I must have looked dreadful, but I needed her to know I was okay, that I would somehow get us out of here.
The static sounded on the walkie talkie, and Van Wick spoke. “Hello, Blaire. I didn’t realise how alike you and your mother look.” He walked over to her, stroking her face; through the device I could hear her whimpers. She tried to pull away from his touch but didn't get very far.
“Let her go,” I seethed, clicking the walkie talkie button. “You don’t need her, you have me. I’ll behave, I promise just please,” I begged, choking out a sob. I could feel the snot dripping out of my nose. “Let her go.”
A deep laugh sounded through the talkie. “I can’t do that now, Blaire, what if she tells on us? Plus, you’re quite wrong, we do need her.”
“No,” I yelled, “you don’t! Please, don’t hurt her.”
“Blaire, this is going to trigger something for you and by god it will be remarkable. It takes different people different stresses and you’re quite resilient, so I have to hit you where it hurts.”
“You’re fucking psychotic,” I raged. “You’re all kinds of fucked up. What are you even talking about?”
“You’ll see. Lawrence, take off a finger.”
I watched as Lawrence took a step forward towards my mother. I was in shock. His hands ran along the metal tray, picking out his instruments. I watched as he settled on a large butchers cleaver, the blade shining under the dim lab lights. At that I screamed, begging them to stop, pounding on the glass. My mother tried to push herself away, unable to do so, the look of fear and trepidation on her face. The blade came down and with a swipe off went her index finger. I watched as it fell to the floor and a chilling scream escaped my lips, tears flowing down my cheeks.
“Stop!” I screamed. “Please.”
At that Van Wick held the walkie talkie near her, clicking it on. My ears were filled with the sounds of her pained muffled screams, her face bright red.
“I will end you,” I said, so stressed I was calm. “I am going to make you suffer in unimaginable ways.”
Again, he laughed. “Blaire, this is a means to an end, you will see. Nothing triggered, I was right about the resilience,” he mused. “Lawrence, this time, take off two.”
At that my mother’s screams became chilling through the device, as if the sounds were tearing her vocal chords. I watched as the blade rose, about to come down on a second finger. Suddenly, it was like a pulse of energy burst from my head, the word ‘stop’ echoing throughout the lab. I flew back, the energy knocking me off my feet. I fell, hitting lots of expensive equipment and smashing another beaker full of blue; the walkie talkie dropping from my grasp. I looked up from the floor. Van Wick was now at the glass, his crazy eyes wide. Lawrence stood, staring, the knife inches away from my mothers finger.