by Chris Ramos
“No bedtime stories for you kiddies,” the tall one said with a wicked grin.
“You monsters! Leave us alone! We didn’t do anything!” Emma began to stand. Cole reached his hand up weakly to stop her.
The Collector’s club swung over to Emma, the end planted firmly on her neck. Nothing happened. With his other hand he reached out and grabbed her face. His large gloved hands were large enough to smash her eyelids down, clench her jaw shut and have her clawing at his forearms to breathe.
“Looks like we have a runaway. Are you part of the futile resistance? Playing out your dreams?”
“You are corrupt,” Emma said through clenched teeth. “We will not stop until you are destroyed.”
“Strong words for an insect.” He looked over at his companion, who had his forefinger pressing gently on the side of his vocal cords, silently moving his mouth and talking, but no words could be heard. There was a small microphone implanted into his neck, adjusting and translating his movements into words for the listener. He then transferred his finger to the back of his ear to listen to the response from the other end. His head was nodding in approval before he removed his fingers.
“What are we doing with them?”
“This comes from the top,” the ugly one began. “Keep the boy. Kill the girl.”
“No problem.” Without pause, the tall one twisted Emma’s arm back and bent her down over his knee, face up. Emma tried to struggle, looking for some way to wiggle out of the iron grip. She kicked her legs and tossed her shoulders, to no use.
“NO! Let her go! Emma, fight him!” Cole cried out.
The Collector’s right elbow rose up over his head, hand clenched, forearm muscles tensed, and came crashing down on Emma’s torso. A sharp tree-cracking sound echoed around the alleyway as Emma’s ribs shattered. Caught between his immovable leg and the thunderous crushing blow, her chest buckled inward and her spine snapped. Emma’s arms raised from the force, and her struggling ceased.
Cole shouted in denial as he watched Emma’s body slide off of the Collector’s knee, her face a frozen mask of surprise and pain. She hit the ground limply, arms and legs falling in a cluttered bloody heap, all life fading from her eyes.
NEW EDUCATION
Cole jumped awake. He was leaned up against a smooth wall, sitting with his hands tied behind his back. As the rest of his body slowly regained strength, he realized his muscles ached horribly, and he was too exhausted to change his current position. Cole managed to turn his head slightly to take in the rest of his surroundings. He was in a small room.
If he were able to stretch out, Cole guessed his feet could touch the wall opposite him. There was very little light, bleeding in from a small opening high above. Cole stretched his head up but was unable to see the ceiling. It was impossibly tall. He tried to stand. His head was throbbing, and the room began to spin. He fell back to his knees and fought to keep himself from passing out. Where am I? Where was Emma?
Then he remembered, and Cole broke out in a sob, letting her memory fill his thoughts. However, he quickly turned his mourning to anger. Anger directed at LifeSpan.
Why would they want to keep me? It’s my fault Emma is dead.
The door slid into the wall, and light poured into his small room. Blinding light, forcing Cole to close his eyes. He barely made out two figures standing in the doorway.
In walked a stout man with large, hairy arms and a slow, steady gait. Cole tried to see his face, but the backlight was too intense. The man peered around the room, then looked down at Cole.
“Hello, down there.” His voice was cold. “Have you awakened already?”
The room suddenly seemed smaller, for there was no pity in this man’s voice, no hope of reprieve. Cole knew this was not a place to recuperate.
“Where am I? What do you want from me? Why would you—” Cole began, and his intensity increased as he became more frantic.
“We are here to help you, of course. My name is Galen.” The man bent low, close to Cole’s face. “You have lost your way, child, and I can show you the path.”
His breath smelled like old cheese, and his flabby cheeks wiggled when he talked. His brow seemed to be frozen in a continual furrow.
“Where is Emma? She . . .” Cole dropped his voice, and all strength left him. “She died.” His eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, she is alive,” Galen replied casually, watching Cole’s expression light up, his eyes filling with hope. Galen reached down and untied Cole’s hands. “You can see her when you are better. Now go to sleep. We will begin in the morning, after warm coffee and a cinnamon roll.”
Galen turned his back and started towards the door.
“What will we begin in the morning? I want to see Emma now!” Cole began furiously.
Galen turned abruptly. His head snapped back to look at Cole so forcefully that his jowls had to swing across his neck to keep up. His eyes squinted in rage.
“I’m sorry, but I told you to go to sleep.” Galen’s hand flew out from under his robe, wearing a white glove. He spread his fingers wide, locked his arm open and extended the palm facing Cole. He could see a palm-sized white disc mounted in the center, with a series of wires running up the fingers, connecting to each fingertip with a smaller white disc. The wires’ light grew in intensity and Cole felt a pulse run through his body. His head became heavy, his stomach knotted. The air became thick and his muscles sluggish, like being dragged under water. He put his arms out and felt that the plastique wall was close. He leaned against it for support.
Another pulse pounded him, and his eyes closed as his limp body hit the floor.
“Goodnight, boy,” Galen hissed. He lowered his arm, and the glowing faded from his glove. With a sneer, he turned and exited the chamber, leaving Cole where he fell.
Cole awoke the next morning. At least he thought it was morning. Light was coming in through his window far above. He stood quickly in his cell. Too quickly. His head throbbed from sleeping in such an awkward position. He stumbled to the door.
I think my nanos are on vacation. Cole felt terrible.
“Hey! Can anybody hear me out there?” Cole croaked out from his dry throat, yelling at the solid door. “What do you want from me?”
He walked back to his bed and sat down, collecting his thoughts.
Let’s look at this from a calmer point of view. At least I am not tied up anymore, Cole said to himself, taking small steady breaths. “Emma was not who she said she was. I ran with her, for some reason. I jeopardized my career, my entire life for her. And she goes and gets killed by a Collector. LifeSpan knows about the Movement.” Cole couldn’t even keep the story straight in his head, it was all so mixed up.
The door slowly slid into the doorframe, revealing Galen standing in the hall. He was smiling and holding a tray of steaming coffee and a dome-covered plate. As he stepped into Cole’s small room, a guard was behind him, carrying a plush chair. He placed it immediately inside the entrance and stepped back into the hallway. Another guard brought in a tall stool and placed it on the opposite end, obviously intended for Cole. He left the room. The door swished closed with a muffled clank at the end.
“Good morning, Cole. I trust you slept well?”
Galen stepped farther into the room, placing the tray on the edge of Cole’s bed. He looked up and smiled again as he lifted the cover on the plate, letting the aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls fill the dank, stale cell.
Despite himself, Cole leaned forward to take in the aroma. Looking up at Galen, he wondered if this was some sort of ruse. After his harsh treatment last night, how could Galen be so kind to him now?
“What’s the matter, boy? Not hungry?” Galen pointed to the food. “It’s a brand new day, time to start it off the right way. Let’s discuss your daily agenda.”
“You wouldn’t let me talk yesterday. Why would I want to sit down and have breakfast with you?” Cole responded warily.
“What happened yesterday was a lesson for you. You wi
ll have many lessons in the upcoming days, when you—”
“I want to leave here, and see Emma,” Cole interrupted.
“Well, your first lesson will be not to talk when I am talking. I could leave that as a warning, but unfortunately I will have to give you one demerit.”
Galen sat his large bulk into the chair the guard had carried in. His body settled into the corners of the seat, his obese torso rolling over the arms. He seemed quite comfortable.
This left only the four-legged stool for Cole to sit on. The stool was a little too high for him to get comfortable. His feet only reached the ground if he slouched and pointed his toes, and then only barely scraping the floor.
“I don’t care about being polite. I don’t even know where I am, or why you’ve decided to keep me here, and until I find out or talk to my family, I won’t be eating, reviewing agendas, or exchanging pleasantries with you.” Cole thought himself clever.
“Well, then, I would guess our time is up for today.” Galen rocked himself back up to a standing position and retrieved the serving tray with the rolls and steaming coffee.
The door opened and two guards came in, removing the chairs and the food. One guard took out a small white plate and placed it on Cole’s bed. They left, leaving the door open.
“Before I take my leave, we still have to settle your one demerit.” Galen fished in his vest pocket and took out a small red pill with two white stripes running vertically down its middle. He placed this on the plate.
He took a step back and stared at Cole.
Looking down at the striped pill, Cole was thoroughly confused. Obviously, he meant for him to swallow the pill, but to what gain?
“I’m not swallowing that. I don’t even know what it is.” Cole wrinkled his brow.
“You will eat this. It will cause you great pain,” Galen replied.
Cole snickered out loud. It was a forced chuckle, meant to show defiance, but only affirmed to Cole’s mentality that he was not in control here. Galen was so calm, his posture emanated total domination. Strained laughter seemed the only way to respond.
“Now that you told me, what the frag would I take it for at this point? If I’m being held captive, I sure wouldn’t willingly allow you to hurt me.”
“Because you need to learn something. You currently have your facts very misplaced. Number one, you have forgotten the greater good that LifeSpan causes in your life. I am here to help you remember the debt you owe to them. You are not my captive. You are here for reprogramming.
“Number two, you will do exactly as I say, when I say it, or you will only prolong this process, and further prolonging Emma’s reprogramming.”
Cole leapt to his feet. “You have Emma here too? Where is she? She wouldn’t put up with this.” Cole’s mind was racing. From what he knew of Emma, she didn’t mesh well with authority. That was an understatement. She would be fighting harder than anyone he knew. She probably already knocked out a few of the guards, maybe even Galen himself. But, that couldn’t be. He saw her fall, he saw her body break under the Collector’s massive blow. Even so, if there was a small chance she was still alive . . .
“You are a monster. LifeSpan is corrupt for sanctioning your actions. She’s just a girl. Why would you hurt her?”
“Cole, my dear boy, I am not hurting her. You are.”
“Oh? And how is that?”
“For every demerit you earn, she is given two. For every demerit you refuse to take, she is given four. So, let’s relax and get this over with. Take the demerit, Cole, and I will see you at your next meal.”
Galen left the room. The door swished shut behind him, leaving Cole staring down at his plate and the lone red pill.
Why would I take that? Because I think Emma is still alive? I saw her fall. I saw her eyes. I’ve never seen anyone dead before. I don’t know anyone who has witnessed a real death. Everyone has his or her expiration, but apparently Emma was outside of that. She lived without an expiration. What did Mr. Stratus say? She had already expired? Her name was Jennifer. If she had already expired, how could she still be alive, unless there was a break in the system, unless LifeSpan was wrong. Of course something was wrong, or I wouldn’t be in a place like this.
Hundreds of possibilities ran through Cole’s mind.
Cole was pacing the room, looking back at the pill.
If there was a small chance that Emma was still alive, why would I want to cause her more harm? I do love her, and to save her any pain beyond what they have already done to her, I should take this pill.
Cole picked up the striped pill, rolling it between his fingers, and took a silent oath.
Whatever happens, Emma will be safe. When I get out of here, I’ll tell the world. I’ll stop LifeSpan, no matter the cost.
Cole tossed the red pill into his mouth.
He braced himself against the coming pain, and at first, nothing happened. He let his guard down ever so slightly, and then it arrived.
A wave of throbbing he didn’t know could exist overwhelmed him. Worse than the Collector’s baton, worse than anything his mind was anticipating. He fell to his knees, arms stiffened and hands clenched into fists. His skin burned, his head throbbed, and his stomach heaved. The small amount of food from the day before came up into his mouth, and he exhaled roughly to force the horrible tasting bile through his clenched teeth, drooling it onto the floor of his cell.
The pain lasted beyond his capacity to register time, and he slumped to the ground, his body stiff as a board. He felt himself pass out, then jolted awake, the nanos unwilling to let him give in so easily. So, as the time passed, Cole was cognizant of only varied levels of pain that ranged from stiffness, to shock, to convulsing and back to stiffness. Finally, mercifully, he passed out.
Cole stood along the pier, watching the water swirl around a floating stick, lapping along its side, trying to pull the stick under. They tugged back and forth, fighting each other continually, neither giving ground. Stick versus water. Cole took his eyes away for only a moment as a hand ran along his shoulders and down his arm. Emma wrapped her arms around him, looking for warmth. He could feel her breath on his neck. Cole moved up and pulled her closer. Turning, he looked into her eyes. The moonlight fell across her skin. Emma. Find me.
Cole jolted awake by the hissing swish of his cell door day after day. Galen and the two guards set the room. Cole fought back. Galen left a demerit for him.
Galen came in at night and gave Cole a thick blanket.
Galen took the blanket away before the next night.
Cole awoke, yelling Emma’s name. Galen walked in, silver tray in hand, holding a brilliant white bowl, so white it was glowing in the poor lighting, blending into the smooth ivory walls. There was steam pouring out of the bowl, and Cole felt himself drawn to the contents. No matter what they were, his hunger was overwhelming. The only disarming feeling was the smell, or the lack of it. Cole wasn’t sure he had full use of all his senses, so in the end, he dismissed the anomaly.
“Good morning, Cole. We have a long day ahead of us. Breakfast is here, nice and hot, just how I like it. Do you like your breakfast hot?” Galen was calm. His voice soothing and conversational. He glanced up the wall, towards the ceiling, completely oblivious to Cole. Or so he thought.
“I like my breakfast at home.” Cole formed a fist, thinking to lash out, now when Galen was preoccupied. Now. Do it. Cole’s mind screamed for action, and yet he continued to sit.
“Well, this is your home. You sleep here, you wake here, you are staying here. What else needs to be accomplished for you to call this your home?”
“Your home is where you choose it to be. I did not choose this place,” Cole said defiantly. Now. Jump at him! Jump!
“Ah, yes. So, does a newborn child choose its home? Does the lost traveler choose his sanctuary?” Galen stared at Cole, waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question.
Cole shook his head, trying to dismiss where this conversation was going.
�
�You have chosen this place as your new dwelling, just the same as a baby would choose where to lay its head at night. More like the lost traveler, you have gone astray. It was brought upon him, as to you, by circumstance. You decided to act wrongly. We very kindly stepped in and brought you to a new safe haven. We are your new parents, giving you a roof over your head and food on your plate.” Galen seemed quite proud of himself, but the mere mention of food sent Cole’s stomach in a loop. He stood and walked over to the tray, reaching for the steaming rations.
“Not so fast, Cole. We have a few items for discussion first. Please, take a seat.”
The guards brought back the stool every day. Cole sat.
This time his feet rested flat on the floor.
“Wasn’t this stool a little taller?” Cole asked.
“Yes. You looked uncomfortable. I can give you comfort,” Galen said.
Cole looked up at Galen. “Thank you.”
“That’s better, Cole.” Galen leaned in. “See? We are making progress. Well done.”
Galen handed him his breakfast.
OFFENSE
“We need to send a search group. We have to find out what happened. Something is wrong! Send anyone, send me!” Tym cried out to the ceiling, his head bobbing around in excitement.
“We cannot jump to conclusions,” the Father exclaimed loudly enough for all in assembly to cease their separate conversations and whispers. How could he keep this group from running off in their own directions? He was experienced enough to see desperation sink into their tough exteriors.
The Movement was restless after a week of worry. Without fail, Emma had checked in with the underground group every night for years. She was meticulous in her reports and frequently sat to discuss her observations with the Father. Yet, she had not been seen for over ten days.
