by Aaron Hodges
“What about me?” Liz croaked. “My parents are dead. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Halt’s scowl deepened. “Elizabeth Flores.” He paused, looking her up and down with a sneer. “Vagrant, beggar, fugitive. You have escaped justice for long enough. After what your parents did, did you really think we would not come for you? That we would not hunt you to the ends of the earth?”
White-hot fire lit in Liz’s chest, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and swallow the scream building in her throat. She wanted to deny the accusations, to curse him and the others, but she knew there was no point. She had tried that once before, when they had first come for her. But one look at her ragged clothes, at the curly black hair and olive skin, and they had dismissed her words as lies.
Her shoulders slumped as Halt looked away. Wrapping her arms around herself, she staggered to the back of the cage and sank to the floor. She wasn’t giving up, not yet, but she knew when silence was the better course of action.
Unlike her fellow prisoner.
“What is this place?” Christopher’s voice was soft, as though if he whispered, Halt’s answer might offer some sort of mercy.
Liz glanced at him, watching as he lost the battle with his tears. Despite herself, sympathy swelled in her chest. She knew what it was like, to lose one’s parents. She would not wish it on anyone.
“This is your redemption.” Halt spread his arms, including them both in the gesture. “This is your chance to redress the crimes of your parents, to contribute to the betterment of our nation. The government has seen fit to offer you both a reprieve.”
“How generous of them,” Liz muttered from the floor.
She shivered as Halt’s eyes found hers. They flashed with anger, offering a silent warning against further interruptions. Pursing her lips, she gripped the wire tighter. It cut into her fingers as she willed herself to remain silent.
“My mother was not a traitor,” came Christopher’s response. “How dare you—”
Halt waved a hand and the guards who still waited at the back of the room came to life. They marched past the silent group of doctors and approached Chris’s cage. One produced a key, and a second later they had the door open. They moved inside, and a brief scuffle followed as they tried to get their hands on the boy. One staggered back from a blow to the face before the other managed to use his bulk to pin Christopher to the wire.
When both guards had a firm grip on him, they hauled Christopher out and forced him to his knees in front of Halt. The doctor loomed over the boy, arms folded. He contemplated Chris with empty eyes, like a spider studying a fly trapped in its web. Liz watched on in silence, hardly daring to breathe as Halt nodded to the guards.
The one on the left drew back his boot and slammed it into Christopher’s stomach. He collapsed without a sound, mouth wide, gasping like a fish out of water. A low wheeze came from his throat as he rolled onto his back and strained for breath. It came with a sudden groan, before another boot crashed into his side, almost lifting him off the ground.
A scream tore from the young man’s throat as he tried to roll into a ball. But the other guard only grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hauled him back to his knees. The two of them looked at Halt then, waiting for further instruction.
Halt approached, one finger tapping idly against his elbow. Softly, he continued as though nothing had happened. “As I was saying, you have been given a reprieve. But the crimes of your parents still stand, as does the sentence on your lives. You no longer exist in the eyes of the state. You are no one, nothing but what we permit you to be. If you’re lucky, we might find you worthy of our work here.” Liz shivered. She had no idea what work Halt was talking about, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t like it. “More likely though,” Halt continued, “you will die. But know at least that your deaths will have advanced the interests of our fine nation.”
Chris was still kneeling on the ground between the guards, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Halt eyed him, as though weighing whether his words had sunk in.
“In the meantime, you will respect and obey your betters,” Halt murmured. “Soon, you will be shown to your new accommodation, but first, I want to be sure you understand the gravity of your situation. Christopher Sanders, why are you here?”
On the ground, Chris looked up at the doctor. His eyes shone, but no tears fell. Turning his head, he spat on the concrete. “She’s a terrible cook.” He coughed, then continued, “but that hardly makes her a traitor—”
The guard’s fist caught him in the side of the head and sent him crashing to the floor. A kick followed, and for the next thirty seconds the thud of hard leather boots on flesh echoed through the room. When the guards finally retreated, the young man lay still, his soft moans the only sign of life.
“Get him up,” Halt commanded.
Together, the guards hauled the boy back to his knees. This time Halt leaned down, until the two of them were face-to-face. “Well?”
Christopher’s shoulders sagged. A sob came from him, and for a second Liz thought he would not speak. Then he nodded, a whisper following. “Okay,” he croaked, “okay…my mother…is a traitor.” He looked up as he finished, a spark of flame still burning in his eyes. “Are you happy?”
The doctor studied him for a long while, as though weighing up the admission alongside his show of defiance. Finally he nodded, and the guards grabbed Christopher by the shoulders and muscled him back into the cage.
The clang as the door closed sent a sliver of ice down Liz’s spine. She stared at the floor, sensing the eyes of the room on her, and waited for Halt’s words.
“Elizabeth Flores.” His voice snaked its way around her, raising the hackles on her neck. “You have been on the run for a long time. Surely you, at least, must admit to your parents’ crimes?”
Looking up, Liz found the cold grey eyes of the doctor watching her. She suppressed a shudder and quickly looked away. Taking slow, measured breaths, she beat down the rage burning in her chest. She took one step, then another, until she reached the front of her cage. Leaning against the wire, she looked at the doctor and raised an eyebrow.
“What would you like me to admit to?” she whispered.
Halt took a step back from the cage, but she did not miss the way his eyes lingered on her. She gave a little smirk as he growled. “Disgusting girl,” he spat. “Admit that your parents were monsters—that you aided them, that for years you have run from the law, hiding from justice.”
A tremor shook Liz and she bit her lip to keep from screaming at him. Closing her eyes, she sent out a silent prayer for the souls of her parents. Their faces drifted through her mind—smiling, happy, at peace. They had been kind and sweet, only ever wanting her to be happy, to have a better life than the one they’d lived. For years they had scraped and saved to send her to boarding school in the city. The day Liz had been accepted, she’d never seen them so happy. And for three years, she had suffered the taunts of her peers in that school to keep them that way.
But they were long gone; they didn’t care what she said about them. There was no need for Liz to suffer, to bleed for their memory. Not now, when there was no hope of escape. But silently she made a vow: to bide her time and conserve her strength, until an opportunity showed itself.
When she opened her eyes again, she found the cold grey eyes of Halt looking back, and smirked.
“Fine, I admit it. My parents were monsters. What of it?”
She almost laughed as the doctor’s face darkened, an angry red flushing his cheeks. He clenched his fists and made to approach the cage before stopping himself. Flashing a glance over his shoulder at their audience, he shook his head and smiled.
“Very good,” he said, eyeing the two of them. “So, we understand one another.”
7
Chris gripped the wire of his cage as Doctor Halt eyed his two prisoners. Clamping his mouth shut, he ignored the voice in his head that was screaming for answers. His whole body ached where the
guards had struck him, and he was not eager to repeat the experience. The ugly thugs were grinning at him now, as though daring him to give them another chance. Instead, he bit his tongue and waited to see what came next.
His mind was still reeling, struggling to put together the pieces of his scattered memories. Images from the night flashed through his mind—the Chead on the television, the men in his house, his mother falling.
His throat contracted as Halt’s words twisted in his mind.
Traitor.
A tremor shook him and he suppressed a sob. The sentence for treason was death. Often just an accusation was enough to doom someone. Now his mother had been taken, stolen away by the woman in the white coat.
Holding his breath, Chris struggled with his fear, his terror that she might already be gone. That he might now be alone, an orphan in a harsh, unforgiving world.
He took a great, shuddering breath. That was the least of his problems now. Whatever his mother’s fate, Chris could do nothing for her, not so long as he remained trapped in this cage.
Halt’s voice drew Chris’s attention back to him. “Now that we have an understanding, it is time to prepare you for your time here.” A thin smile spread across his lips. “Take off your clothes.”
An icy hand gripped Chris’s chest as Halt folded his arms. Behind the doctor, the guards edged closer, broad grins splitting their faces. A sharp intake of breath came from the other cage, but otherwise the young woman did not move.
Chris shrank away from the wire. “Why?”
Halt took a step forward. “Now, Christopher, I thought we’d moved past this. The dog does not question his master.”
Clenching his fists, Chris shook his head. His eyes travelled past Halt, to the audience of doctors, lingering on the face of the woman, the doctor called Fallow. “This isn’t right,” he breathed.
Halt let out a long sigh and waved the guards forward. They moved towards Chris’s cage with a cold proficiency. Chris hesitated, but they were already reaching the door and fumbling with the latch. Quickly, he began to unbutton his shirt, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Outside, the guards paused, looking back at Halt in question. The doctor nodded curtly, and they retreated a step.
In the cage, Chris stripped off his clothing piece by piece, shivering as the icy breath of the air conditioner brushed his skin. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as he pulled off his underwear and tossed them to the floor. Turning sideways, he bowed his head, struggling to cover himself.
Then he reached up and unclipped the chain hanging around his neck. It came away easily, the little pocket watch falling into his hand. Trembling, he flicked open the metal catch and looked at the faces of his mother and father, at their kind smiles, the life in their eyes.
Struggling to hold back tears, he closed the watch again and placed it gently, reverently, on his pile of clothes.
Standing, he felt the eyes of the gathered doctors roaming over his naked flesh, examining him, seeking out his every secret. A deep sense of helplessness rose in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. Cheeks flushed, he stared hard at the ground, fighting to ignore the world.
“Very good, Christopher.” Halt’s voice was patronizing, and Chris almost choked on the shame that rose in his throat. “And you, Elizabeth?”
From the corner of his eyes, Chris caught movement in the other cage. He watched as Elizabeth approached the front of her cage. She wore a smirk on her lips, but her blue eyes flashed with unconcealed rage. She pressed herself against the wire and stared at Halt.
“Come and get me,” she hissed.
Chris’s eyes widened. After her earlier acquiescence, he had not expected her to resist.
Halt only gave a slow shake of his head. “Bring her,” he said, gesturing to the guards.
The guards marched past him and yanked open the door to Elizabeth’s cage. She retreated quickly, waiting as the first guard pushed his way inside. Then with a wild shriek, she attacked. At maybe one hundred and twenty-five pounds, she was dwarfed by the guard. But her sudden violence caught him by surprise, and he stumbled backwards into his comrade.
As the two of them went down in a heap, Elizabeth leapt for the door. She made it across the threshold before the first guard managed to stagger upright. His arm swung out, catching her by the foot, and she slammed into the concrete outside the cage. With a screech, she kicked out with her free leg, slamming her heel into the guard’s face. He gave a muffled curse, but held on.
In seconds, the other guard was on his feet. He strode across to where Elizabeth still fought to free herself, reached down, and grabbed her hair in one meaty hand. The girl let out a pained cry as he lifted her up and held her off the ground. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she kicked feebly at empty air, her hands batting at his chest.
With a contemptuous flick of his arm, the guard tossed her aside. Elizabeth crashed hard into the concrete. She struggled to her knees, but a heavy boot drove down onto her back, sending her face first into the floor.
Halt walked across and knelt beside the girl, a cold smile on his snakelike lips.
“Elizabeth.” Halt’s voice was laced now with honey. “Be a good girl, now. You cannot begin your time here with those reminders of your old life. Remove your clothes.”
Chris shuddered as Halt stood and watched the girl lift herself to her hands and knees. One trembling hand reached for the buttons of her shirt and began to pluck them open. Chris looked away, unwilling to participate in her shaming.
He glanced up a minute later as the sound of metal striking concrete rang through the room. His eyes were drawn to the object now lying on the ground between Halt and the shivering girl. The thick steel links of a chain lay between them like a snake, the silver metal shining in the fluorescent lights. For an instant, Chris wondered where it had come from, but his thoughts quickly turned to what it was.
A collar.
8
“Put it on.” Halt’s voice slivered through the room, cold, commanding.
Elizabeth flinched away from him, but the guard’s hand flashed out and caught the girl by the hair again. He shoved her back to her knees in front of the collar. A growl came from her throat as she glared up at Halt. For a second, Chris thought she would fight, but she only reached out with one trembling hand and picked up the collar.
The young woman’s mouth twisted into a grimace as she held the steel linked chain in front of her. She closed her eyes, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in a breath. Chris waited, his own breath held, aware his turn would soon come.
“This is what you want, you disgusting—” Elizabeth broke off as a guard’s fist sent her reeling across the floor.
Naked, she straightened on the ground, the collar still in hand. She looked at Halt, and then away again. With trembling hands, she lifted the collar to her throat. The click it made as it locked around her neck echoed loudly in the concrete room.
Halt smiled and clapped his hands. The guards grabbed Elizabeth by each arm and hauled her up. With a few shoves, they had her back in the cage. A pile of orange clothes was tossed in with her before the steel door swung shut. Then Halt turned on Chris, waiting naked inside his own cage.
“I suppose it’s my turn then?” he asked with false bravado.
Halt stared Chris down, the grey eyes piercing him. Horror curled its way up Chris’s throat as he felt his cheeks warming. His eyes drifted towards the other doctors, who still stood in silence. The guards approached his cage, one carrying a bundle of orange clothing, the other a steel linked collar identical to the one Elizabeth now wore.
“Move to the back of the cage,” one of the guards ordered.
Clenching his fists, Chris stumbled back from the door as the guard flicked the latch and pushed it open. His body ached from his beating, and in the narrow space he didn’t like his chances of besting the two men. He had already watched the girl attempt that approach, and fail. He would have to wait, bide his time until an opportunity
arose.
Inside the cage, one guard collected his clothes, replacing them with the orange bundle. The collar was placed on top of the pile, and then the two men retreated, swinging the door shut behind them.
Chris looked at Halt, waiting for an order. When none was forthcoming, he crossed to the pile and picked up the collar. Raising an eyebrow, he tried and failed to suppress his sarcasm. “What are we, your pets?”
Halt smirked. “Would you like another lesson, Christopher?”
Letting out a long breath, Chris shook his head. He squeezed his fist, letting the cold metal of the collar dig into his flesh. His heart pounded hard in his chest, screaming a warning. Somehow, he knew if he obeyed, if he put on this collar, there would be no going back.
Dimly, he remembered a story his father had told him when he was younger. It had been almost ten years since the cancer had taken him, but he could still recall his father’s voice with crystal clarity. His rough baritone drifted up from Chris’s memories, as he described how the Mahouts in Thailand had once tamed their elephants.
The Mahouts placed chains around the legs of young elephants and attached them to heavy pegs in the ground. Whenever the young elephants tried to escape, the chain would contract, cutting into the elephant’s leg, making it bleed. Eventually, the captive elephant would realize the futility of trying to escape.
As adults, the same chain and peg were used to restrain the giant creatures. And though by then they possessed the strength to escape the peg and chain, they never made the attempt again.
Silently, Chris wondered if that was to be his fate, if the collar in his hands would become the chain that bound him to a lifetime of servitude.
But looking at Halt, Chris knew he had no choice but to obey.
He raised the collar to his neck with deliberate slowness, as though he were approaching some great precipice. A tingle ran through him as the metal touched his skin, and a terrifying dread closed around his throat. A voice screamed for him to run, to hurl the collar away from him.
