by Josiah Upton
“Genny, get up,” Dalton says, pulling me to my feet. “Get up, we have to go. You’re bleeding.”
Everything is getting dark. The last thing I see as I’m pulled through the door are the eyes of a Hybrid, which seem to glow like soft lightbulbs. They look like Zaul’s.
Chapter 21
Zaul
Over one thousand bleached eyes look at me, staring curiously. It’s just like the first time I encountered all the containees in the Common, except it isn’t. In fact, it’s so violently different. Because this multitude of eyes are female.
“What are you doing here, Tran?” the female containment officer asks. Her name tag reads H. Venton. But the tag is on her chest, and she catches me staring at it. She sneers, and casually grabs her remote, before looking back to Tran. “That fancy tablet of yours doesn’t come with a watch? It isn’t time for the Brains pow-wow yet. Right now it’s Female Rec Hour… like it’s been everyday for the last twelve years I’ve worked here.”
The females begin sniffing the air, smelling the male scents of Ezra, Walt, Rich and myself. Many smile, and mindlessly congregate towards the Rec Room door. It’s clear they have one thing on their mind, and my Prisoner fills my head with the same thoughts and desires. And there’s only a few yards separating us, blocking the path between our Lusts…
But there’s so many of them. Their greedy hands would likely tear the four of us apart. And none of them are Genny. I feel ashamed, only considering my safety when confronted with the thought of feeding my Lust. I look away and breathe through my mouth, but it doesn’t help much. Their collective scent is so powerful that I can almost taste it. A small relief comes when Venton shouts at them to back up, and she closes the door behind her.
Now that my Lust is taken care of, my Hunger appears, smelling Tran’s skin as he stands only a few feet away. Not a digital picture, but real and in the flesh. I now finally have a scent to match his face. He arrived to the Common in person today, saying the Brains Club was going on a special “field trip”. The other members groaned. And though I didn’t know where we were going, I groaned as well. The last field trip I took part in was to see my own kind locked and mocked in the zoo, right before Genny discovered I was a monster just like them.
“This tablet does have a clock,” Tran retorts, holding up the thin device. It’s very similar to the one Robert Ortega has. “And it also has a calendar. It’s the third Tuesday of the month.”
“Shit,” Venton says. “Test day.”
“That’s right,” Tran says with a smile. It invokes a different feeling in me, now that he’s here in person. I feel more compelled to remove it from his face and devour it.
I need some Mortetine. I also need to find out what “test day” means.
Venton opens the Rec door, and calls the female Brains members to her. Other women officers form a wall to stop the swarm of containees that sense us anew, holding up remotes and shouting threats and insults. One of them doesn’t obey, and pays the price with an electric shock. This ensures compliance from the others. But even as the door closes, their dead-white eyes are still fixated on us. Like mine, their desires will never be quenched.
Once the female members are out in the hallway, Opha trots over, waves at Tran, then come straight to me. “That was pretty scary, eh Zaul?”
“What do you mean?” I ask. I’m already wishing she were much farther away.
“All those poor, desperate Uggettes, chomping at the bit to finally feel the touch of a man.”
“The only desperate one,” Quinn interjects, “is you.”
“You needn’t worry, Zaul,” Opha says, ignoring her senior. “I’d keep you safe. Maybe I could even talk one of the officers into opening up Door Number 2 for us.”
“What’s Door Number 2?” I ask, my curiosity about those three abandoned doors in the Rec Room breaking me out of my Lust’s snare. Their existence mystifies me, especially after Caesar stood on the edge of my execution behind Door Number 1. Aside from providing a private room to torture, interrogate and possibly kill containees, I still can’t figure the purpose of a room filled with broken junk.
“Perhaps another day,” Tran says, leading us down the hall. “There’s much to do today, and time is of the essence.”
As we walk, I find myself beside Alice. At least, I think it’s Alice. I can’t see the female’s face as it’s hidden behind a book. It’s quite impressive that she can read and walk without tripping or running into someone else. I wasn’t aware members were allowed to take books out of the library, either. A special privilege, perhaps, and one I might look forward to in the future. A story to occupy myself would be a welcome reprieve from the droning of the Common.
“‘White Oleander’,” I say, reading the title. That one wasn’t in my basement. “What’s it about?”
Alice lowers the spine briefly to eye me. “A girl,” she says, almost as quickly as she does quietly, before raising the book again and advancing a few paces ahead.
Usually it’s me trying to get away from other people. In this case, I realize that I am the Ezra. This frustrates me, and my eyes search yet again for a Mortetine dispenser that doesn’t exist in these halls.
We arrive at the Lock, where Officer Krecker stands. “Why are we here?” I ask, concerned.
“You didn’t hear?” Krecker asks. “All containees are getting Perma-Locked, starting with the Brains. Get ready to enjoy an extended vacation away from everything and everyone.”
“He’s joking, of course,” Tran says with a nervous laugh, and shooting Krecker a disapproving look. “This is the way we get to the tunnel, which leads to the APA Headquarters.”
I start to panic, finally learning of our destination. Even though the APA knows what I am, and I am securely within the clutches of the containment machine, the mention of the Headquarters causes an alarm to go off inside me. Years of Gibbs’s lesson APA = BAD is hard to dissociate from.
“It’s testing day,” Ezra says from behind. “We do it every month, and always make it back here, safe and sound.” He leans away, then adds, “I hope you like needles and exercise.”
“I don’t,” I say, but follow Tran and Krecker into the Lock anyway.
At the back of the large pillared room, hidden behind the officer station at the center, is a large metal door that I didn’t notice during Robert’s tour. It’s split down the middle into two panels, and when they open, only a tiny room with walls of metal is revealed. First Tran goes in, then the members, and finally Krecker, until we are all squeezed in tightly. I’ve never been in one of these before, but I believe this is an elevator. Krecker presses a button on the metal wall. The tiny room jerks, then starts to sink down into the ground.
This is when I realize Opha is right behind me. She leans forward, and exhales hot breath up my neck. My fists clench. Her hand grasps my rear end, then moves slowly down towards my thighs. My eyes clamp shut, and the Prisoner within laughs. “Stop it,” I say. “Stop it now!”
“1731!” Krecker barks, grasping his remote. “Hands off 1822!”
“What?” she says, pretending innocence. “Can’t a girl ever have any fun?”
“Hands in the air, or you’ll be on the floor!”
Her grip recedes, fingertips slowly and intentionally sliding up my back as she raises her hands in the air. She leans closer, pressing her chest into my back, her mouth only an inch from my neck. My skin seems to dance on the surface of my body, begging me to turn around and give in. “You can always join me on the floor…” she whispers.
The elevator stops, and the doors open. I won’t last another second in this box. Once Tran exits, I burst out and put several feet between me and Opha. I’m still reeling from her actions in the elevator, still waiting for my Prisoner’s Lust to die down. I dare to look back, and she’s smiling. Laughing. It’s all just a joke to her. This time my Rage flares. “Don’t ever touch me again,” I snarl through clenched teeth.
“Or what, Zaul?” she asks. “You might r
ealize you actually like it, and decide to touch me back?”
Ezra gets in between me and her. The stare they lock into is intense, and the suspicions Ezra told me, about her feelings for him, gives more insight into the unspoken parts of their exchange. It’s true, she looks at him differently. But love? That’s a difficult thing to discern. Especially when there’s so much hostility in the moment. “What’s wrong with you?” he demands.
“What’s wrong with me?” she asks, laughing bitterly. “It’s the same thing that’s wrong with all of us! The only difference is I’ve chosen to accept my Lust, instead of trying hopelessly to suppress it. I have no illusions of what I am. Walt and Rich, they know what I mean. They know what they need, how to get it. And how to enjoy it. Right, boys?”
“Don’t bring me into this,” Walt says.
“Me neither,” Rich adds. “I don’t care.”
“Whatever,” Opha says. “You guys are morons anyway.”
“That’s it,” Krecker sneers, shaking his head as he punches numbers into his remote.
But Tran stops him. “No, this is good. One area of Hybrid Behavioral Studies which is lacking is verbal resolution of conflict. They need to work this out. Ophelia, is there anything else you want to say?”
“The only thing I want, Dr. Tran, is what’s hiding in your pants.” Her eyebrows raise, and she runs the tip of her tongue along her gray lip.
“You’re pathetic,” Ezra says, getting in her view again. “You’re pathetic, and this is all just an exaggerated act. You only do this to yourself to forget the one thing you’ll never get in here.”
“Oh, yeah?” Opha says, arms crossed. “And what exactly do you think that is? You?”
Ezra stares back at her, eyes firm and unblinking. A crack of a smile forms at the corners of his mouth. “No. Parents that actually care about their child.”
Something flickers on Opha’s face, something deep and powerful. Something I have felt more than once myself. The pain of abandonment by the only people in the world required to care for you. The expression is there for a second, before it gives way to Rage. She bares her teeth, and lets out an inhuman howl before jumping on top of Ezra.
The two begin wrestling on the floor, exchanging fists and scratches and half-articulated insults in the form of growl. Quinn shakes her head in disbelief, the brothers Walt and Rich start laughing and cheering. And Alice shifts her gaze down the long hallway, only occasionally glancing at the brawl with wide eyes.
Krecker turns to Tran. “Is this still considered ‘verbal’ resolution?” he asks loudly.
“No,” Tran says, clearly disappointed that things escalated to this, halting his Hybrid Behavioral observation. “Let them have it.”
Krecker presses the shock button on his remote. Opha and Ezra screech, no longer tussling with each other on the ground, but writhing in pain, their bodies constricted into strange postures. The punishment lasts for a few seconds longer, before their limbs fall limp and motionless. Walt and Rich help Ezra up, and Quinn helps Opha.
“Rule Number Five,” Tran says sternly. “No fighting! Now, apologize to each other.”
“Sh-sh-she…” Ezra attempts to say in between heavy breaths. “She attacked me!”
“Apologize,” Tran repeats.
“Sorry,” Ezra mutters bitterly.
“Yeah,” croaks Opha. “Me too. You know, there’s much better ways to roll around on the floor, Ez. I could show you some time.”
Ezra chuckles dryly. “You’re unbelievable...”
“Ophelia,” Tran interrupts. “Apologize to Zaul for the way you behaved.”
“Okay, okay,” she says, looking to me. “Sorry for what I did. I got it – from now on, hands off.”
That isn’t enough. I want eyes off too, and mouth shut. I want all attempts at Lust-baiting to cease. How long can I last in here before I give in? How long will I pretend to be that good person Gibbs and Genny believe me to be, before reality sets in? I have too much time left in this facility. I can’t keep it up forever…
And I can’t think about the years ahead right now. It will crush me. Just one day at a time. I nod to Opha, then bring my attention to where the elevator has brought us: a hallway, so short and wide that it could be mistaken for a room. But rooms have things in them, and there’s nothing here except for the blinking light of a surveillance camera hanging in the corner, and a set of double doors opposite the elevator. Doors as large and sturdy as the ones I passed through on my first day here.
When I swallow, it feels like my throat is trying to pull my entire head down into it. Is the APA Headquarters on the other side of these doors? The tension between Opha and I briefly distracted me from the reality of our destination. But when Krecker opens them, all I see is a long, dimly-lit passage with a rounded ceiling. It looks like a tunnel, the entire length encapsulated in concrete, stretching so far that I can barely see the other side.
“Where are we?”
Chapter 22
Zaul
Tran begins walking into the tunnel, and we follow. Krecker is at the rear, stoically insisting with his remote and rifle that we continue moving. It’s nearly silent down here, the only sounds the shuffling of our feet. Tran speaks over his shoulder. “Right now we’re under the Facility, but in about ten yards we’ll be under Highway 50, and then a little further we’ll be under…”
“The Headquarters,” I finish for him. My heart starts pumping. I have no idea what I will see once I am inside the den of the APA, and the uncertainty is unnerving. “Ezra said there will be needles and exercise?”
“Actually, the exercise has already begun,” Tran says. “I’ll bet this is the longest you’ve walked in weeks. How do you feel, Zaul?”
“Fine,” I answer, though the creaking in my joints has become more exaggerated with each step. One thing this tunnel is missing is the temperature control of the Facility. The cold seeps into my bones, making it a little more strenuous to move. I imagine that in the outside world overhead, winter is just around the corner.
“My desire is for more physical activity to be introduced during recreation hour,” Tran says. “Over one hundred years ago, when it was a prison, the inmates would exercise in an open field just north of the Facility. They would play games, like baseball. If I could get Director Ortega on board with the idea, I’d like to start using that.”
“I doubt it,” Krecker says, breaking his firm silence. “Ortega won’t let any containees out of the Facility, unless it’s a transfer – or for your little monthly science experiments, Doctor. Also, I don’t think the few citizens of this city would appreciate seeing an open field of Ugg…” Krecker cuts himself short when Tran turns his head slightly. “Seeing an open field of Hybrids playing catch, with only a fence to keep them in.”
“Perhaps,” Tran says.
“Our Ma once told us that we used to run on a big field when we were kids,” Walt mentions. “Throwing a ball at each other, trying to get it from one side to the other. She said it was something called football. We’d play it with the neighborhood kids.”
“Until the other kids’ parents found out you were infected,” Krecker interjects.
“Yeah,” Rich says reflectively. Then a simple grin comes to his face, and he playfully punches his brother. “Ma said we were good at it, though.”
“Football would be a nice exercise to test during Rec,” Tran says. “It has a goal-oriented focus, requiring cooperation, communication and teamwork. The game has many different positions, each utilizing different skills and strengths. Seeing as how large you two are, I imagine you could play offensive or defensive tackle.”
“Tackle?” Walt asks. I myself am unfamiliar with the term, but have little curiosity in its definition. A large portion of the magazines left behind in my basement were devoted entirely to sports, and the humans’ bizarre obsession with it before the world was nearly destroyed. They didn’t hold my interest then, and they don’t now. Walt takes a couple steps closer to the front w
here Tran is. “What’s a tackle?”
“It means you stop the other players, by using your strength and size to push or run at them,” Tran says, as we arrive at the other end of the tunnel. He hesitates for a moment. “Maybe football wouldn’t be the best exercise for Hybrids.”
We board another elevator to go up, and this time I make sure to put some distance between Opha and I. I don’t trust her promise to refrain from touching. But it also puts me next to Alice. Even though she’s the exact opposite of Opha – keeping all hands, words and thoughts to herself – squeezed into such close quarters with a female is unnerving.
The scent a female Hybrid emits is different than a human woman. But it’s still feminine, and it most certainly still stokes my Lust. Though I love Genny, and I think about our kiss often, the hormones that kept her Hybrid transformation at bay also suppressed her pheromones, the ones she would emit if she had begun the human menstrual cycle other girls her age had by that point. This confuses my thoughts with my urges, and my desires with my emotions. If I indeed have a heart, it belongs to her. But I cannot deny the pull a female of my own kind has on my body, by someone like Opha.
Or even Alice. Her lips are ever silent, but her scent blares into my nostrils like a roaring storm. The elevator jolts as it ascends, causing my arm to brush against hers. The sensation tingles, and feeds the fire my Prisoner dances around. I breathe through my mouth, and hope that a few Mortetine pills are in my near future.
And luckily they are, because Tran reaches into his pocket, retrieving a small plastic cylinder. From it he hands three Mortetine pills to Rich. “There are a lot of humans where we are going, Zaul. Your level of restraint is most impressive, but it’s always best to err on the side of caution.”
“Huh?” Rich says, tossing the pills in his mouth.
“I understand,” I say, taking the Mortetine and quickly ingesting them. Right now it’s not the flesh of humans I’m battling, but what the females in this crowded metal box taunt my Prisoner’s Lust with. The chemicals slide down my throat, down into my gut. It feels as if the surface of my skin is icing over. Mortetine saves the day again.
