I woke up in a different place, strapped to another medical bed, naked except for a thin strip of coarse white fabric that ran across my breasts and another that covered my hips. Hundreds of thin cords pierced deep into my skin. There was mild throbbing from where they had been inserted, and any movement made the throbbing worsen.
The rest of the room was utterly dark. I could only see what was slightly illuminated by the large screen that hung above my face. I tried to piece together what was happening but had no recollection of ever being in this room before. I imagined the tiny cords were connected to nerve endings that would be inflicted with pain as Hammon asked me to give up the location of the files, so I prepared my mind for that possibility.
I heard a door slide open and the footsteps of someone entering. I never saw who it was, just the person’s gloved hands as they came at my face from behind and secured a thick, heavy strap across the length of my forehead and another across my chin, holding them down against the bed.
Something buzzed beside either ear, and in my peripherals I could see a small object headed toward my eyes. My heart lurched as the tools, which resembled claws, lowered. The gloved hands attached them to my eyelids and the fleshy bags underneath my eyes. The claws then widened, yanking my eyes open an uncomfortable amount. They started to dry out immediately as the mystery person left, the door sealing shut and the footsteps fading away.
I couldn’t move an inch, every part of me restrained, my eyes forced open. Then the room came to life, the illuminated screen above me so wide it was all I could see. It was static white to begin, then an image came into focus: Olivia standing at the edge of a forest line, her mouth moving but without sound, only static. My heart surged at the sight of her, and as it did the tiny wires connected to my nerve endings tightened.
The pain was excruciating, unlike anything I had ever experienced. As though every molecule in my body was being set on fire. My heartbeat quickened and the pain grew. The movie continued as bullets slammed into Olivia’s chest, and she fell to the forest floor. My pulse flared and the pain increased. Higher and higher until I couldn’t breathe, tears rolling down my cheeks.
The screen went black, and my heart began to mellow, as did the pain. Then the screen came back to life with the same image, the same painful sequence. My heart reacted.
Over and over, my emotional reaction to the same image was followed by pain that I thought would kill me. I tried to practice the methods I’d been taught to withstand the agony, but I couldn’t focus enough to do so. The all-encompassing screen was overwhelming. It consumed my mind, and I couldn’t do anything to shut it out.
As I watched Olivia’s murder again and again, I knew eventually I would become numb to it, but then the images changed. Now Zoe was strapped to a medical bed, being pumped full of electric waves, her screams ringing in my ears. My nerve endings were throttled with pain. My entire body shook in agony.
The images multiplied. Olivia’s death, Zoe’s torture, then more painful memories captured on film. The punishment of other Grantham “numbers.” The others like me. My only friends. Faces I knew, but images of them I hadn’t seen. Physical beatings, screams from their solitary confinement, nights of endless crying and near drowning. Anything that would evoke an emotional response and in turn engage the wires tucked deep within my flesh.
Feeling was reinforced with pain. Pain reinforced with feeling. It was cracking my resolve. On and on. Over and over, my emotions were under siege. The part of me that was Lucy was being attacked. The part named by a woman I cared for. A woman I loved. Now my humanity was being used to manipulate my mind.
Hammon was forcing me to choose between turning it all off or enduring the endless pain. I could feel myself breaking. I could feel the desperation for relief, the dare to feel nothing. My brain was being reprogrammed to associate my humanity with suffering.
I couldn’t let him win. I couldn’t let him take what Olivia had given me. But my heart was numbing and my body was dying. I was losing the battle with my survival instincts.
Hammon was killing Lucy.
TIME LOST ALL of its meaning. All there was, really, was the pain and the momentary escape from it. The natural dulling I couldn’t avoid any longer. I fought as long as I could, but getting glimpses of what could be had become too tempting to refuse. Freedom from the agony, too alluring to deny.
I wanted to be stronger.
But I wasn’t.
Now I longed for the darkness.
No grand gesture or dramatic moment marked the point when my mind exploded and everything changed. No. It was simple. Something that was programmed into me already. Something I was wired to do. Like flipping a light switch. One moment there was pain, and the next there wasn’t. One moment I was Lucy, and the next I wasn’t.
Images flashed and nothing happened. I saw them as clearly as before, but this time I only saw outcomes of situations that were outside of me. Like the insides of a clock, all the small pieces rotated together in perfect harmony. I understood differently than I had before.
The room I was in became brighter. The machine I was hooked up to went silent. People entered, disconnected me from the device, clothed me, and carried me to a cell. My body was numb and broken. It would take a while to heal, my strength depleted from fighting what I now saw as a hopeless war.
Director Hammon came to me. He asked me questions and seemed pleased with my responses. I understood I was betraying Olivia and Lucy. I just didn’t care anymore.
After thanking me, the director administered a shot in my upper left arm, and Lucy died.
TWENTY-NINE
ZOE FOLLOWED CLOSELY as Seeley and McCoy traversed the forest terrain. More than thirty hours had passed since McCoy shot two agents on the outskirts of the Xerox property line. Thirty hours of traveling across a state line to recover Seeley and then back as quickly as they possibly could. Thirty hours too long, Zoe thought.
What if Lucy was being tortured? Mangled, manipulated, or worse—killed. What if they were too late and she’d broken, given Director Hammon what he wanted, and he no longer had need of her? What if they were walking into their own demise and Lucy was already dead?
McCoy had rambled on to Seeley about marking the two agents he’d shot as active perimeter duty, meaning it would be a little longer before anyone noticed they were missing. McCoy had been checking in for them, using their access codes, which he’d somehow acquired, in hopes to delay suspicion even further. Zoe didn’t understand all the specifics. She was hardly listening as they moved. She was just trying not to lose her strength and collapse after the events of the last forty-eight hours.
They’d been trekking through the hilled terrain for the last hour, after driving up as close to Xerox as McCoy and Seeley felt comfortable with. They left the Jeep in a concealed location for their escape, and Seeley recommended that Zoe mark the trees so she could easily get back on her own if they got separated.
The fact that the idea, although a good one, had come from his mouth made Zoe want to throw up. She still couldn’t look him in the eye without thinking about punching him in the face, and she still wasn’t sure this wasn’t a setup, but she had zero other options.
That’s not true, the familiar small voice kept telling her. She could run. But that wasn’t an option she was willing to take. Against all her trauma-shaped instincts, she was staying. She was saving Lucy.
But that didn’t stop the fear. As they moved through the trees, Zoe sticking long pieces of blue painter’s tape to tree trunks every couple yards, she acknowledged that she was headed back toward the place where she’d been imprisoned and fried. Led by the same man who’d led her there the first time.
By choice. Maybe insanity was passed from generation to generation?
Seeley dropped to a squat at the edge of a tree line. McCoy and Zoe followed suit.
“The main underground water tunnels are grated off on both sides of the campus,” Seeley said, pointing down to the edge of the property. Th
e stone structures that made up the Xerox campus occupied a plot of hillside that stretched a half mile west to east and north to south. Nearly a perfect square, as though God himself intended for the hidden government site to be placed exactly where it was. Surrounded by thick Ozark forest, hidden from view. Unless you knew what you were looking for.
“We’ll use the southwest tunnel,” Seeley continued. “You sure that thing can cut through thick steel?” He pointed to the small handheld blowtorch that McCoy was carrying.
“Absolutely,” McCoy said, like a boy picked to prove his dodgeball skills. He flicked the machine to life to show off its mighty stream of fire, and Zoe rolled her eyes.
Seeley ignored him. “There’s a blind spot a yard up the south side. If you slip in as the security cameras rotate, you should be able to get up to the grate undetected. Use the ledge for cover while you cut through. Once you do that, give the signal.”
“Got it,” McCoy said.
“Once inside we move quickly. We have to coincide moving into the subbasement with the guard shift. We have one shot, otherwise we’re stuck in the tunnel till second exchange at first light. Once inside the subbasement you and Zoe head down the far back hall for the old breaker room. East corner, quickly. There’s a shaft inside that rises to the main building’s ventilation system.”
“And you’ll head to see Waller,” McCoy said.
“What if he doesn’t help?” Zoe questioned.
“He owes me his life,” Seeley said. “He’ll help.”
“And what stops him from turning you in once he does?” Zoe continued.
Seeley and McCoy looked at each other and then at her. “Loyalty,” McCoy said.
“And if I go down,” Seeley said, “I take him with me.”
Zoe shook her head. This felt like grasping at straws, and they were talking about Lucy’s life here. She wished the plan felt more solid.
“We’ll meet in the southeast storage room,” Seeley said. “Lower level one.”
“Lower level one.” McCoy’s tone was unsure.
“You said you knew the main building well,” Seeley hissed.
“Yes. Well-ish.”
Zoe exhaled and dropped her head. They were definitely going to die.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get us there,” McCoy said, trying to bolster Zoe’s confidence and failing.
“We shouldn’t be splitting up,” Zoe said.
“We have no other choice,” Seeley replied.
“Why not?”
“I work faster alone, and then you’ll be set up to move once I get what we need,” he said.
“I don’t trust you.” She shifted her gaze to McCoy. “We shouldn’t trust him. He wants to go in alone. How do we know this isn’t him setting us up?”
“You don’t,” Seeley cut in before McCoy could answer. “Do you have a better plan?”
Of course she didn’t. She wanted to say something that would make him feel small, but she had nothing.
McCoy placed his hand on her shoulder. “Splitting up is the only way.”
Seeley didn’t wait for her to acknowledge McCoy or respond. “We’ll use this tree line as cover, moving south. Stay way back in the trees. We can’t risk being seen by the security cameras but can’t wait till nightfall.”
He nodded at them and then moved after they agreed. Seeing the buildings before them, knowing what they were about to attempt, Zoe felt a pit open up in her stomach. She ignored the tremble in her fingers and followed the men as quickly as she could, mindful to stay hidden, tucked behind tree trunks. She abandoned the now empty roll of painter’s tape.
Down the hill, under the cover of dense branches, and through the shadows they moved, until Seeley pulled up to a stop, McCoy directly behind him.
“Through the trees at one o’clock, flat against the wall,” Seeley started. “I’ll signal for the camera shift and then down to the corner grate.”
McCoy nodded and stepped forward, then turned back for one moment. “See you inside.”
Seeley nodded and McCoy crouched, moving quickly to the spot at one o’clock. He pressed his back flush against the stone wall and waited for Seeley’s signal from the trees.
Seconds ticked by, Zoe’s anxiety spiking. Then Seeley released his fingers in a “go” motion, and McCoy didn’t hesitate. Still crouched, he scampered along the wall until he disappeared under the ledge over the domed water grate.
Now they just waited and prayed that blowtorch was as powerful as he assured them it was. Time slipped by in slow motion. Zoe’s lungs began to burn. She had been holding her breath without realizing it.
Seeley was close enough that she could feel his breathing brush her neck. Even through her disgust she couldn’t ignore the way her heartbeat quickened. She nearly asked him to back up when a birdcall came from the southwest corner, confirming McCoy had done what he’d promised.
“On my mark, stay close,” Seeley said.
Zoe didn’t argue. Her palms were sweaty even though she felt cold, and a chill was running down her spine.
“Nearly there,” he whispered, eyes watching his spot like a vulture. “Ready.” He paused one final moment. “Now.”
And they were moving, Seeley like wind, Zoe trying not to stumble. They reached the wall and tucked as close to it as they could, Zoe’s shoulder scraping the brick as they continued without pause.
The overhang in sight, Zoe held her breath again. She tried not to imagine the camera turning and catching a glimpse of her before she was tucked away, and then she was under the ledge and breathing like she’d just run a marathon.
“Nicely done,” McCoy said, “as promised.” He motioned to a midsized circle cut from the grate and wiggled the blowtorch proudly. Seeley fondly tapped his shoulder, and the three climbed through the opening.
They stepped down into water that rose across the tops of their feet and tried to move quickly but silently, which was hard to do. They traveled without speaking, each focused on their own movements, until they reached a side ladder that rose to a circular tunnel exit.
Seeley yanked the ladder’s end and it extended down toward them. He glanced at his watch, waiting for the perfect moment to move. They stood, letting silence surround them as the seconds ticked, and Zoe tried to keep her mind clear.
“Southeast storage room,” Seeley said. “Lower level one.”
McCoy nodded. Seeley glanced at Zoe as he placed both hands on either side of the ladder. It must be time. He held her eyes for a moment in the dark and maybe thought to say something in case this went south and they never spoke again, but then just offered a shy grin and began his climb.
McCoy was next, up the rungs one after another, Zoe following. Up through the opening into a dark hallway that smelled of mold. It felt like they were wading through wet, heavy air as they started down the hallway.
The corridor felt endless, and Zoe thought she could see the outline of a door ahead. The breaker room, she hoped. They were nearly there when an agent stepped into the hallway from an adjacent passage.
The man paused, hand to his weapon, then squinted at McCoy’s face. “McCoy?” His hand eased. “What are you doing down here? I thought you, Palm, and Sever were on outer perimeter duty.”
McCoy shrugged and took a step toward the newcomer, letting a nervous chuckle pass his lips. The agent was tensing again, but McCoy moved quickly, engaging the man, yanking him forward, twisting him around, and wrapping the inside of his elbow around the man’s throat. The agent struggled and McCoy took several steps back, meeting the stone wall with his spine and using the leverage to clamp harder on the man’s neck.
The agent’s struggle began to lessen, then he was limp. McCoy slowly released him and the man slumped forward. He slipped his hands under the man’s arms.
“A little help,” he whispered, and Zoe sprang back to life.
She hoisted the man’s legs and helped carry him toward the door at the end of the hallway. She set his ankles down, moved to open the door, and
resumed her position as they carried him inside and shut the door.
McCoy put the agent in a corner and searched for something to secure his hands. Zoe saw a clump of long black zip ties on a nearby shelf, grabbed one, and handed it over. McCoy anchored the agent’s hands around a pipe as Zoe tied his ankles together. They stood back, heaving, and glanced at one another.
“They’ll notice him missing eventually. We need to move.” McCoy yanked a steel ladder from the corner. He crawled up, unhooked the air shaft cover, and hoisted himself inside. “Come on,” he said, motioning.
Zoe went up the ladder and accepted his help into the uncomfortably small air vent. On their hands and knees, they moved left, which McCoy assured her was the correct direction. She couldn’t shake her nerves. They rattled her arms and made them feel like jelly.
They encountered several forks. Each time, McCoy hesitated, and each time, he assured Zoe he knew where he was headed.
She felt as though they would be crawling carefully through the tiny air shaft for eternity, when McCoy stopped, lay flat to peer through a slotted air vent, then smiled back at Zoe. He lifted the vent, managed to turn so his feet exited first, and dropped from view.
Zoe crawled to the edge and saw McCoy had dropped to the ground and was extending his arms to catch her. She swallowed, and before she could talk herself out of it, dropped down and landed in McCoy’s arms.
He lowered her to the ground and smiled. “One southeast storage room, lower level one, as promised.”
Zoe glanced around the dim space. It was a very large storage room. “Now what?” she asked.
He cleared his throat and glanced around. “We find cover and wait for Seeley.”
THIRTY
SEELEY SLIPPED DOWN the subbasement hallway, around the first corner, and across the small adjoining hall to a stairwell door. He pushed into the stairwell, slowly closed the door with only a soft click, and climbed the stairs.
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