“You won’t get away with this,” I spat.
“I believe I already have,” King replied, standing to his full height. He turned his head, having somehow noticed Nero’s approach. “Nero, so glad you could join us. Please escort Ms. Hunter to the procedure lab. Let’s get this show on the road. We’re close now.”
“With pleasure,” Nero said.
He walked into the room, sidestepping King while cracking his fingers, then his neck. I attempted to back away, but had nowhere to go, leaving me to face his wrath. My power had abandoned me because of the serum, an empty feeling in my belly that felt hollow and cold. I had no way to fight back besides the few skills I learned in Myrtle Beach, but I had a sinking feeling they’d do me no good here. I was weak — defenseless. King walked out without a second glance just as Nero reached me, his hands coming down like sinister puppets being controlled by King. Shrinking into myself, his grip was rough as he jerked me to my feet. My body lit up with pain, especially where his hands gripped my arms, causing me to cry out at his fiery touch.
Gray eyes stared down at me. Eyes that reminded me so much of his brother’s, but filled with vitriol.
“Come on. We don’t want to keep the good doctor waiting, now do we? That would just be rude.”
“Bite me,” I barked in his face.
His eyes darkened, and he sneered down at me, fingers digging into my arms.
“Now that’s just mean,” he began.
His open palm struck me — my cheek lighting up with stinging pain. I nearly fell, but he jerked me up so that I could look him directly in the eye.
“Keep it up, and you’ll wish you were dead. Got it?” he spat.
I didn’t reply. Didn’t utter a single syllable, my breathing heavy and labored from his abuse. Nero turned me toward the door forcefully, giving my back a harsh push that would’ve caused me to sprawl on the floor if I hadn’t somehow caught myself. I was still disoriented from the seizure, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be my last while in their captivity. I began to wonder, no matter what Cato saw, if I would survive this.
Chapter
SEVEN
The electricity that moved through my entire body was relentless, sending shockwave after shockwave up and down my spine like a ricocheting bullet. My heart burned in my chest and screams poured out of me and into the air. They echoed off the walls and equipment. Each pair of eyes in the place showed discomfort, cringing every time my shrill cries split the atmosphere. I couldn’t stop them no matter how hard I tried.
Once the serum was injected, I lost all sense of self and all control as it affected my mind and body.
This time, I was awake when the seizure took hold, and it was just as it had been before. The only thing missing was the absolute nothingness of unconsciousness to shield me from the excruciating pain as my mind buzzed and my body bucked against the restraints.
I saw everything – the rush of medical personnel, the way King watched with fascination, Nero’s pleasured stares, and Doctor Tee’s scientific observations while writing on his metal clipboard. Wearing a mask over his nose and mouth. Always wearing a mask like the others. I was forced to watch it all, my eyelids forced open by muscle contractions I had no control over. I wanted to close them – silently begged for relief – but it never came.
As quickly as it came, it was over, and exhaustion rolled over me – my head lolling to the side. I wanted nothing more than for this to be over. Whatever King had planned for me could come now, and I wasn’t certain if I would fight it. A part of me knew I would, but the rest? The rest knew that if I had to choose right at that very moment, death was a welcome end. My vision blurred, turning all white objects into ethereal phantoms, Doctor Tee sheathed in light blue to stand out as a doctor within the hierarchy.
“Kill me,” I croaked past dry lips and painful gasps.
My ribs were on fire, so far past the point of agony I wasn’t sure what word properly described the sensation. He leaned toward me, my face reflecting in his eyes as my vision cleared just enough to make it out. They glowed a brilliant, terrifying blue – the same color of the serum they had now injected me with twice.
“What was that?” he whispered, placing a hand gently on my upper arm.
I would have said it was comforting if his previous actions hadn’t completely contradicted the idea. He was a man of science. He worked for Fuji-O’Hara Industries and, by extension, Emerson King.
“Kill me,” I whispered again, my voice coming out strangled and parched. “Please.”
His chocolate eyes brimmed with moisture, filling with the same conflict I had seen from so many during the entire struggle – from the Spartan Compound to this very moment. I could have been mistaken, but I highly doubted it. We were all in an impossible situation, leaving each of us to do things we weren’t comfortable with. That shared fact didn’t make things any easier. If anything, it made this a much harder pill to swallow. The conflict in his eyes only deepened, causing his brow to furrow and what I could see of his face above the paper mask to twist with a frown. When he spoke again, his voice shook slightly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
A small whimper left my lips before I could stop it, barely audible over the beeping and whooshing sounds of the machines. He backed away, turning back into a ghost — a wisp of a human being as dread flooded through my veins. Nero’s lean, muscular form came into crystal-clear focus as he neared me, all words a jumbled, muffled tangle of noise past the remnants of the seizure. When he leaned down, his gray eyes met mine — as hard and as cold as diamonds. Nothing like his brother’s. All warmth and capacity to love left the moment Cato left this world. I still battled myself over my involvement, but he didn’t care about that. Only my actions counted.
Something rough and thin draped over my body — a hospital gown — and my restraints set me free with a loud, metallic click that echoed.
“Back in your cage, little mouse,” Nero taunted.
When his hands clamped down on my arms, I didn’t have the energy to fight him. Not even as he took me in his arms and carried me, the entire route back to my holdings a blur of motion filled with glaring metal, pinpricks of light, and searing white. The door slid open with a screech, my entire body shuddering with the sound as my eyes squeezed shut involuntarily. Pain lanced through my head and neck. I moaned, only hearing Nero snicker at the sight of my suffering.
Before I could register his movement, I was airborne, my body slamming hard into the rough, unforgiving floor. I felt the textured metal cut miniscule slices into my fingers and palms, each previously stitched wound pulling painfully — almost to the point of screaming. Nothing ripped open completely, and I barely noticed the tiny trickle of blood down my side from my bullet graze. They didn’t bother to attempt to heal me, my suffering a sideshow I was unwilling to put on for King and his men. I rolled until my back met the so-called bench I had been using as a bed during bouts of interrupted sleep.
“You’re an asshole, Nero,” I slurred, coming back to one of our very recent conversations.
I wanted to hurt him back, but my mind was too much of a jumbled mess for anything more intelligent and coherent. He turned to leave, only looking back at me long enough to say one thing before leaving me to my own devices.
“Shut up and sleep,” he stated with an intimidating smirk. “You’re going to need it.”
With that, he was gone, the wall sliding back into place to hold me firmly in my prison.
With a deep, reedy breath, I muttered, “Jerk.”
I moved to sit up, but my entire body ached so badly it was as if my muscles refused to move. Pouring every ounce of will-power I had left in me, I groaned and used both hands to push myself into a sitting position, not even caring about the fact that my gown slipped down off my shoulders a little. All modesty was gone considering how many pe
ople had seen me completely naked since the beginning. Every part of me screamed while I sat there, staring at absolutely nothing, my mind fuzzy. I wished I could say everything would be all right, but I wasn’t so certain anymore. I was a caged animal, being kept by King and his monkeys to poke around and have fun with – all the while watching it squirm.
I shivered, pulling the gown up around my shoulders and tightening my grip on it. It did nothing to warm me. Only reminded me of how truly cold it was in the room.
Nero had stated I would need to sleep, which made me believe it was because of the injections. Did it help with its process inside me somehow? If that were the case, I didn’t want to sleep. I’d fight to stay awake as long as I could just to avoid the finalizing effects of the drug – whatever it was. I knew what it was for. It would concentrate my power and make it much easier to extract it, but I had a feeling it went much farther. There was a reactor that King had spoken about in the videos sent by John Baker – who I now actually believed to be on our side of the war.
Was that reactor meant for me? Was the neon blue serum that made my eyes glow and my body tremor a part of the entire thing? I raised my hand in front of my eyes, and it shook uncontrollably. From exhaustion or the serum, I wasn’t certain. Of course, I wasn’t certain about much anymore.
My senses were dulled, the acrid smell of my sweat barely noticeable as well as the sensation of the metal floor underneath my flesh. Even the cuts from it that should have stung, didn’t. It was as if they didn’t exist. Looking at the palm of my hand, there were a few small cuts. Nothing to cry over, but one bled more than the others. One directly in the center of my palm. Blood, deep crimson against my pale sun-deprived skin, ran from the very edges of the cut and down toward my wrist. It drew attention to the artery just below. The one that could end it all if I wanted it to.
There was a loud click, and then a voice came over the microphone through the speakers.
“Miss Hunter, you must sleep. If you do not lie down on your own, we will have to force you. I’m certain you don’t want that.”
I didn’t recognize the voice that said the words. I didn’t care to. I didn’t care about much of anything, and at that point in time, I would have been perfectly content with my demise. I had been through enough and if I could spare everyone else my fate, I would.
Exhaustion caused my eyes to droop, but my tenacity kept them open. As always, I wouldn’t go quietly, even if it only meant a fitful slumber.
“Do whatever you want. Not like I’ll be alive much longer, anyway,” I slurred.
The click and voice came again.
“You don’t want to make this any harder than it has to be.”
A very miniscule part of me wanted to survive — take the easiest route so I would have a chance. The same part of me that resisted in the Spartan Compound, continued to persist — driving my actions. I had experienced so much at their hands in a short span of time. If they truly wanted this to be easy, they’d find another way to make this process much easier on themselves than they had by continuously drugging me from the start. No, they had wanted me conscious as often as possible, only using the drugs when absolutely necessary, which made me think of what their reasons were.
“Yeah, that’ll make it better,” I sighed. “Do what you have to. I won’t fight it.”
There was no clicking sound. No beseeching voice asking me to make this process better on me. There was no such thing and anyone who thought there was, was delusional.
The only noise to greet me was a metallic whirr of the vents, and a soft hiss as the gas worked through the ducts. It floated, pink and ethereal, into my cage and down to the floor — spreading out toward me like an intelligent being. Seeking me out.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, and took in the sickly-sweet scent of the drug that reminded me of vanilla and caramel. It brought my mind back to Christmas at home when I was a child, sitting around the tree overflowing with presents. Candles would flicker around the room, spilling the scent of pumpkin spices and gingerbread into the air. I smiled, letting my shoulders relax as the pleasant images filled me with hope for a better future, even if I weren’t around to see it.
Chapter
EIGHT
When I woke up, it was because something hit me. Nothing hard. Soft and malleable, like cloth. I opened my eyes, still past the point of collapse, and glared at Nero as he stood in the doorway of my cage. He had something else clasped in his hands, but, because of the angle, I couldn’t tell what it was. A white shirt, white pants, white bra, and a pair of white cotton panties slid down my body as I made a move to sit up – slowly. Every part of me was stiff from lying in one position for so long, especially considering the seizure I’d had the night before. Night. Day. It all mixed together into one long, drawn-out menagerie of torturous images. What time it actually was didn’t even matter anymore.
The sensation of the coarse white fabric moving against my skin made me cringe with the remembrance of my first moments with King and his men on the plane – on our way to the Spartan Compound. I shivered, but did my best not to let it show as Nero eyed me suspiciously.
“Was that really necessary?” I asked, my speech and mind much clearer since I had slept.
He shrugged and threw a pair of matching shoes in my direction. They came to a stop in front of me, rolling until landing perfectly on their slick and tan rubber soles. I looked at them, then back up to Nero, hating him even more as I watched the smug expression cross his face – gray eyes gleaming with malice.
“Get dressed. We’re going for a ride.”
He smirked and crossed his arms, spreading his feet out to plant them shoulder-width apart. Taking the clothes into my hands, I left the shoes where they landed, and rose to a standing position. Every joint creaked and popped, but it was more uncomfortable than painful.
“Aren’t you going to at least give me some privacy?” I asked, motioning toward him with the clothing still grasped in my hands.
His eyes turned into narrow slits, and then he opened his mouth, making me wish I never asked the question. I already knew the answer.
“No. We have to make sure you aren’t up to something so, like a good soldier, I’ll be watching you to make sure you don’t do something stupid,” he replied with a smart grin.
“Lovely,” I muttered while rolling my eyes. “Fine. Not like I can get my hands on anything to do something stupid with.”
“You can never be too sure.”
I laughed, “Yeah. Sure.”
We stood there for a heartbeat of moments, just watching each other – neither one of us moving. I was sincerely hoping he would just turn around, but that was a pipe dream. He would do what was asked of him. Like he said, a good little soldier. It made me sick and angry just to think about.
“You’re really going to stand there and watch me change like a pervert?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yup. Like a pervert.”
“Oh, God,” I said with a cringe, turning my back to him.
I knew I was already showing my entire backside because of the gown, cool air moving over my flesh from the open door. It smelled much fresher out there than it did in my little room. That smell would be one of the few reasons I left that room. That and the fact they’d force me regardless if I fought. I could go easily, or do things the hard way. The glimmer of hope in my heart voted for easier. At first. Maybe even take the first opportunity that presented itself to make a break for it. I may make it. I may not. I wouldn’t know if I didn’t at least make the attempt. Only then would I truly know if all was lost.
I glanced over my shoulder, noticing that Nero watched far too closely for my liking. There was nowhere to hide, and he had already seen me in my entirety.
“Do you have to hover?” I snapped.
After a second, he didn’t reply which, as far as I w
as concerned, was just as good an answer as any. Shrugging, I looked at the wall in front of me and removed the paper hospital gown, stepping into the panties and bra as swiftly as I could without falling. The shirt and pants quickly followed, the cotton scratchy and long sleeves constricting. It all transpired in relative silence other than the whisper of fabric against flesh. I turned around and eyed Nero suspiciously, taking one step to then slip my feet into the horribly cheap shoes that offered no protection from the elements.
With a jerk of his head toward the open doorway, he stated, “Let’s go. King’s waiting.”
I did as I was told. As soon as I came to stand beside Nero, his fingers gripped my upper arm tightly, his fingers digging into my flesh painfully. I held back the hiss that threatened to escape, swallowing it down along with everything else I felt.
We began to walk, and I almost couldn’t keep up with his pace, my feet stumbling and tripping over invisible barriers in the quest to stay with him as he pulled me along. What I saw stunned me. The Fallen Paradigm’s Kiawah Island headquarters had similar tech, but still lacked some advancements as far as I could tell. While it still resembled the other government planes I had been on – even Fairbanks’ stolen model – there was so much more packed in the space that it was nearly impossible to take it all in. Large, flat computer screens shone in Technicolor, and scientific machines whirred, their operators going about their business as they hurried along with shuffling gaits.
The urge to use my ability was there – to save myself – but its lack of presence left an empty black hole in my gut and in my chest. Normally, it emanated such heat when anxiety or fear caused it to flare to life. Now nothing could bring it forth. Not even a threat to my life, it seemed – which everything around me was. The walls were forged from what seemed to be medical-grade stainless steel. Of course, that was only an assumption considering the obvious purpose of the plane itself.
The Clash (The Permutation Archives Book 5) Page 5
