by Sara Daniell
The taxi driver says something to Plath in Thai. Plath sits up straighter and replies. I stop trying to listen to their conversation and try to read their expressions.
I look at Plath and ask, “What are you two talking about?”
“We are here,” Plath says as the car stops.
We get out, and Plath looks around. I start looking around as well and notice the taxi driver brought us to the middle of nowhere. I feel for my gun just to be sure it is still in my messenger bag.
“It’s too quiet,” Plath says as he continues to look around. He nods at the taxi driver, who then drives quickly away.
“What do you mean it’s too quiet?” I nervously ask.
Plath flips open his cell phone to see what time it is. He scratches his head and says, “It’s the correct time.”
“What do you mean it’s the correct time?”
He closes his cell phone and places it in his pocket. “I mean it’s the right time. The portal to the Sphere only opens at a certain time of day when the moon, sun, and stars align in a certain position. Look at the time for yourself.”
I take my cell phone from my bag and notice it isn’t working. I look at Plath. “It isn’t working… How am I supposed to know what time it is?”
He smiles. “Exactly. Nothing electronic will work when the time is right. Now, I need to figure out why it’s so quiet.”
“Is it not supposed to be quiet?”
He shakes his head. “No. This place is usually filled with Sphere Hunters. They guard the perimeter.” That’s logical.
I immediately grab my gun and click the safety off. “Well, I’m ready if they decide to come.”
He laughs and says, “Your gun will not protect you.”
Plath takes my gun from my hands and throws it on the ground. He takes my hands and pulls them forcefully behind my back. He forces me to the ground with his foot on my shoulders.
“What the hell!” I scream, and then, I feel something go across my mouth.
I frantically look around and notice we are swarmed by Sphere Hunters. My heart speeds up to an unhealthy pace, and I’m sweating profusely. I would look to Plath for help, but he is the one who has me bound.
A Hunter, who appears to be extremely old, walks in front of me. Looking at Plath, he says, “Good work.”
I pull and try to free myself but can’t. Plath laughs and says, “It wasn’t easy. But here she is, Nikolai.”
What? It wasn’t Nikolai who I killed? Plath has played me this whole damn time! How could I have been so damn stupid? I start fighting to the best of my ability to free myself, but Plath is too strong.
Nikolai kneels down and looks into my eyes. I stare directly into his, and it’s like catching a glimpse of hell. I struggle against Plath’s grip with no success in freeing myself.
“I have heard rumors of you. Strong but so naïve. I’m glad you are still alive and did not get yourself killed. You see, they want you alive. The Hunters have been after your friend, and I hear they were successful at killing her. We needed her out of the way. It brings me joy to know you fell right into our trap, Little One. Did you really think someone could feel something for you? You are different, Orion. I’m sure you figured that out a long time ago.”
Nikolai puts his long, bony fingers against my cheek. “Shhh, child. It is important to remain calm. I do have some advice for you before I bring you to them. Answer their questions. Don’t fight them. It is a matter between life and death. And, you want to live, don’t you?”
I would spit in his face if I could. I try to pull my arms and kick my legs but become still when I feel a needle stab into my skin. I begin to feel woozy, and the laughter from the men around me sounds distorted. The world around me fades until it becomes black and silent.
When I open my eyes I can’t see clearly. I go to rub my eyes to clear them, but my hands don’t move. They are restrained by metal cuffs attached to a table. I try to raise my head to look around, but my head is also restrained. I shift my eyes to look around. I notice white walls, and it’s completely silent.
I hear someone breathing. A figure comes into view above me. I try to make out the face that is looking down at me but can’t. Then I hear him talk; it’s Plath. His voice sounds different, and every movement he makes is slow and exaggerated. I want to scream at him, but my tongue is heavy. I can’t get it to move to speak.
“Orion. I have to go before they catch me in here.”
He looks behind him, and I blink my eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning. He looks back at me and continues talking; the drugs are causing his words to sound slurred, and I’m having a hard time understanding him.
“Don’t tell them a thing! Especially, how you caused the Hunter to remain still before you stabbed him in his heart! I would rather you die than you become one of them!”
And then he’s gone. Just like that. How could I have been so naïve and trusted Plath? Now, I’m alone in an unfamiliar place. I’m bound to a damn table and intoxicated with some sort of drug. I close my eyes and fear what will happen next.
I hear footsteps, and I can tell that the effects of the drug are wearing off. Things are clearer, and the room is no longer spinning. The footsteps sound less exaggerated and steadier. I hear a few whispers, and then white gloves release me from my restraints. I move my eyes around, trying to catch of glimpse of who is freeing me.
My tongue no longer feels like a brick, so I try to speak. “Are you letting me go?”
The person in white does not reply and continues removing the metal restraints. They hold out a hand to help me sit up. The person has on a complete white suit that is fitted to their body. Their face is covered with the same tight-fitting material. They help me down off the table, and it takes me a minute to steady myself. I look around and notice others are strapped down to tables like I was. My heart starts racing when I realize I’m not being freed.
“Where are you taking me?” I demand as I look at what I’m wearing. I’m clothed in a white fitted shirt and pants. I also notice all of my tattoos that were once on my arms are gone.
“Where are you taking me!” I scream and abruptly stop my feet from walking.
Several white suits form a circle around me.
The same white suit from earlier grabs me firmly by the arm and makes me keep a close pace with them.
We walk into a large room with people sitting in a straight line behind a table. I blink my eyes a couple of times, hoping to wake up from this dream. I’m forced into a chair where metal restraints are immediately clasped firmly around my hands and feet. The white suits leave, and I sit here, alone, in the middle of a large room with ten pairs of intense eyes staring at me.
I startle when a man, voice deep and strong, begins to speak. His voice seems to bounce off the walls as he says, “Orion, welcome back to your Sphere.”
“Who are you?” I scream.
The ten men look at one another and laugh. The man who spoke a second ago silences them and looks back at me. “Orion. We are about to offer you two choices. You are different, and there are not many like you. These two choices will be a decision between life and death. Are you prepared to make your decision?”
I scoff. “Does it matter if I’m prepared or not?”
He laughs. “No.”
I intensify my expression, full of fury, and anger I say, “What are my choices?”
He claps his hands, entertained by my anger. “We’ve made her angry.” He laughs and looks at the men sitting beside him, who are also laughing.
Looking back at me, he says, “First you must know who we are, dear. We are the Constable. The ones who keep the Sphere running smoothly.”
I start laughing which causes him to leave his seat and come stand directly in front of me. He bends down so he is eye level with me. I spit in his face. He lifts his hand in the air and slaps me across my face.
“Don’t you dare disrespect me, child! Now, do I need to call for more drugs, or do you think you can spe
ak to me with the respect that I deserve?” He asks.
“Let’s just get this over with.” I glance into his violent, dark eyes.
“Like I said earlier, you are different. You are not like the other Dwellers. We thought we bred out your kind generations ago. It is funny how Dwellers like you slip up every once in a while.” He looks deep in thought for a moment and then continues. “How did you keep your abilities a secret for so long? I must know!”
My face becomes flushed, and I’m completely baffled by his question. “I have no idea what you are talking about!”
“Don’t lie to me!” He demands.
“I’m not lying to you! I have no idea what you are talking about!” I reply, my voice full of frustration.
“Mind control! Your ability of mind control!”
I replay the words Plath spoke to me when I was still drugged. I don’t know if that was a dream or reality. I don’t think I can trust Plath, but I also know I can’t trust the man who stands in front of me.
I stutter as I try to speak. “I-I think you have the wrong person, sir. I have no abilities.”
“Why do you think killing the Sphere Hunters came easy for you?” He asks.
“I’m not sure,” I admit.
“Orion, I’m trying to be patient with you. I will ignore your attempt to play dumb and proceed with my offer.”
I look around and notice all of the men are now standing from their chairs. Their eyes fixate on me, waiting to hear my response.
“Orion, I’m offering you a great opportunity. We would like for you to join us. You can either accept or decline. If you decline, you will be executed immediately. If you accept, you will be taken to training immediately.”
I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t know what being a part of them entails, but I do know that I don’t want to die. What if they are really good, and Plath lied to me? But I know better. They can’t be good. What if dying is better than agreeing to work with them? And what is this talk about abilities and mind control? My mind is racing with questions.
I look up at him after debating and say, “I accept.”
The men begin to applaud my decision, and I’m freed from my restraints. The white suits come in and instruct that I follow them. I don’t know what accepting their offer means, but it sounds better than death. I follow them out, leading me to my unknown fate.
I’m shivering uncontrollably in a corner of a large gray room. I am engulfed in an all-consuming cloud of fear and anxiety. Every movement I make is jittery and awkward. I close my eyes and open them again, trying to get them to focus. Nothing is staying still, and I don’t know if it’s just me going crazy or if everything is actually spinning and changing shape.
I shift my eyes to the lights, wondering why they keep going on and off. Or maybe they’re not. I place my head in my shaking hands and close my eyes. In exactly sixty seconds I will black out again. 29, 28, 27… I am not sure what day or what time it is. All my days have consisted of is counting down the seconds until I will be submerged in complete darkness again.
The shrill ringing in my ears is the first indicator that it is getting close, next, breaking out in a cold sweat. Last, there is the feeling of tiny bee stings all over my body. It’s as if my whole body has been lit on fire—the most unimaginable pain.
I open my eyes and begin the countdown again. My neck is sore from the constant twitching and looking fearfully from side to side.
What have they done to me?
3, 2, 1…
I SLOWLY OPEN my eyes and blink as I look around. I’m no longer in the safety of my corner. I’m lying flat on a bed. I have tiny wires hooked to various parts of my body. Thankfully, the shivering has subsided, and my vision is clearer. I see a woman completely absorbed, reading a screen while moving the wires strategically around.
“What’s happening to me?” I ask but realize I never opened my mouth to speak. I have been locked in that gray room for so long I forgot what it is like to actually talk to someone. This time, opening my mouth to speak, I ask her the question.
She turns to look at me, her slick black hair covering half of her pale face, and says, “They are breaking you.” Her voice sounds uniform, like she’s been asked this question a lot and replies with the same answer each time.
I look down at my body and realize I am completely naked. I immediately take my hands and try to cover the areas that should be covered.
“Why am I not wearing clothes?”
Her shadowy eyes shift from the screen and look at me. “It is part of the process. Now calm down and lie flat or we will have to use restraints.”
I do as I’m told. “Why are they breaking me? And what does that even mean?”
“Things can only be fixed once they are broken.” Her cryptic response only confuses me more.
I’m about to reply with another question when I suddenly feel paralyzed. I can think, but I can’t control my body. Not even my mouth. I try to shift my eyes in her direction, but not even they will move. I begin breathing rapidly from the anxiety the feeling of being stuck in my own body is causing. I hear sounds and see the white suits working above me. It’s as if I’m bound by my own body, stuck in a cage that I cannot escape. I scream, but no sound leaves my lips.
I feel intense burning all over my body. I’m pleading silent cries for them to stop. Everyone who is above me has their eyes covered by a white mask. I wish I could at least gauge their expressions to get a clue as to what is happening to me. The woman said “breaking” me. But what does that mean?
The white suits are speaking so quietly that it sounds only like a quiet breeze. I wish I knew what they were saying. Shouldn’t someone have informed me of what I would be going through?
The pain is unbearable. I wish I could move my mouth to at least clench my teeth. Maybe Plath was right. I should have chosen death. But, in that moment, death sounded like an undesirable option. I wish I could rewind time. My body would have been laid peacefully to rest. Instead I lie here with intense pain radiating throughout every part of me and no clear explanation of what is happening.
I OPEN MY eyes and realize I must have finally fallen asleep. Or maybe they felt sorry for me and put me out? I slowly move my fingers to make sure I’m really able to move. To my relief, I can. I move my hands over my body and feel that I am now fully clothed.
I slowly pick my head up. When I feel confident, I sit completely up. I’m in a white room and on a white leather couch. What is their obsession with white? I run my hands over my face and through my hair. For what seemed like eternity, my body went through hell. Now I feel…good. Like really good.
I jump when I hear the doorknob jiggle and quickly stand up. My legs are a bit shaky, and it takes a moment to steady them. I watch as the door cracks open and stiffen as a white suit walks towards me. His voice deep, he says, “Orion, it is time for your test. Come with me.” He starts walking, expecting that I follow. I hesitate before walking behind him.
We enter a long hallway that looks like a clear tube. I can see things going on around us and below us. I also see that there are tubes all over the building, weirdly resembling a hamster cage. Everyone is wearing white. Including me.
“Can you please tell me what I should expect during this test?” I ask, but he shakes his head no and continues walking.
We walk into a room with a table and three chairs. Of course everything is white. I’m instructed to sit down on the far end of the table that is secluded from the other two empty chairs.
“They will be here in a moment,” the man in the white suit announces.
My voice demanding, I ask, “Who will be here?” My breathing picks up when he doesn’t answer and leaves the room.
My eyes fixate on the two empty chairs, and I shift around uncomfortably. I hear the door open and quickly sit up straight. I fold my hands in front of me on my lap and look straight ahead. One man wearing a white shirt and pants sits down in one chair. His hair is shoulder length and blonde. I
look down at my feet when the next man walks in. Only he is in jeans and black boots that are very familiar. Oh shit…
I quickly look up at Plath who is discretely shaking his head and demanding with his eyes me to remain calm. Is he crazy? The blond-haired man starts speaking. That is the only damn thing that just saved Plath from me kicking his ass.
“Orion, we have a series of questions. We need to know if the past few months have done anything. If not, we must repeat the process until successful.”
Months? I went through that hell for months? I furrow my eyebrows as I look at the man and then to Plath who is still shaking his head. “Proceed,” I say through a clenched jaw.
“Do you remember anything before accepting the Constable’s offer?”
I’m about to scream yes but notice Plath shaking his head no again. He intensifies his expression. I think he wants me to play dumb.
“No…” I sound a bit unsure and notice Plath looks semi-relieved. I sit up straighter and with more confidence, I say, “No. No I do not.”
He looks over at Plath. “You have no remembrance of this man sitting beside me?” His eyes find me again.
“No,” I lie again.
“Are you sure?” The blond-haired man’s forehead creases as his eyes search mine for the truth.
I nod my head. “I am sure.” Plath is sitting unnaturally still and staring directly at me.
“Next question.” He pulls something from a folder in his lap and sets in it front of me. “Please look at this photo and tell me if you have any remembrance of it.”
I hesitantly look down and almost gasp. Plath has made it clear to play dumb. The picture is of Sage, dead. I take a deep breath and do my best to remain calm.
“This picture is of a girl. Dead. Am I supposed to remember her?” I’m proud at how convincing I’m being, but this act could end any second. I’m on the verge of breaking, and if this isn’t over soon, I’ll lose it for sure.
The man’s mouth remains in a hard line as he places the next photo on the table. It takes every ounce of strength I have to not completely fall apart. It’s my father. Dead.
