Someone had placed me in a chair made out of what I could best describe as memory foam, metal, and black fabric. Black straps secured my hands and feet to the chair, making it impossible to move. A strap across my waist practically held me down. The only part of my body not restrained was my head.
Someone had changed my clothes, and dressed me in a red shirt and black pants with black shoes to match. I looked like a walking target. Apparently, they knew what I was capable of, and they wanted me easily spotted. I was sure that everyone was still wearing white—except the man who had tried to escape and I had tried to kill.
I was severely uncomfortable in the chair with my wrists and ankles rubbed raw from the restraints. There was no IV, no bags of fluid, and no medications. All medical equipment was as far away from me as it could be without leaving the room altogether, and I was alone. The room was almost entirely bare, and fluorescent lights glared off the tiled floor. There wasn’t even a single soldier with a gun in the room. That was a small relief since I was strapped to a chair in a room that I had never seen before, and I was in massive amounts of trouble. I had tried to escape and I hadn’t seen much before I was being dragged back inside, but I had seen enough.
I tried to turn my wrists, but they rubbed against the metal painfully. I could barely move. I wouldn’t be going anywhere unless they wanted me to, and I had a strange feeling I wouldn’t be going far.
I heard a door open and close behind me, followed by the sound of shoes ranging from loafers, to high heels, to tennis shoes, to boots. My heart hammered, and butterflies took up residence in my gut. I didn’t try to turn my head. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see anything without their permission. I hated being blind to the things happening around me.
I wanted to move, and I wanted to be able to see who had just walked into the room, but I couldn’t, and that caused even more panic. Forcing my breathing to slow down, I inhaled deeply to calm myself. I couldn’t let them know how scared I truly was.
I was hard, cold, unmovable, and dangerous as far as they were concerned considering the restraints. That was a status I was comfortable with, but I could assume it put me smack in the middle of their radar.
Rubber soles sounded, coming around to the front of my chair, but I continued to look forward as if I wasn’t interested in who was in the room. A very familiar face came into view, and Dictator Emerson King came to stand in front of me, hands folded together in front of him and feet spread apart.
Dictator King always dressed in a crisp black suit, a white shirt, and a blood red tie. His black dress shoes were so shiny that the lights bounced off them, reflecting back at me with blazing clarity. I was certain I would be able to see my reflection in the leather if I stood close enough. His dark hair was slicked back, his face was clean-shaven, and his nearly onyx eyes bore into mine—even from a distance. He had a toothpick between his lips that I could tell had been thoroughly chewed. That was a part of him he never let the public see on camera. I was getting an inside glimpse of the man everyone was so afraid of.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled a wicked smile, as if making sure I glimpsed the monster underneath before he uttered a word. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here,” he said with a condescending tone to his voice.
He was excellent at making me feel as small as an ant, but I acted as if I was a giant. “Is this where I’m supposed to ask you why you’re here, or was that a rhetorical statement?”
I am a giant. I am a giant. I kept thinking that to myself to keep my fear and panic pushed down inside of me where I could barely feel it.
His smile grew, and his laughter floated and echoed through the large room—all without him having to remove the toothpick from between his lips. Obviously, my perceived invincibility entertained him. On the inside I was a frightened little puppy, but I hid it well.
Practice makes perfect.
He walked toward me, leaned down, and placed his hands on the metal restraints holding my hands in place, making sure the pressure was uncomfortable. He didn’t relieve the weight, even when I whimpered in pain.
“I am here because of you, Mila.” He stood and turned his back to me, taking a few steps away.
He turned back around to me, holding the toothpick between his fingers, but still close to his mouth as if he was going to put it back between his lips. “I have been told that you have a fascinating and useful ability. I decided I had to come down and see it for myself.” He motioned someone to come forward with a wave of his hand, and there was a click of heels as Doctor Aserov came into sight.
“Hello, Mila,” she said, opening a pack of electrodes that didn’t have any cables on them. She stepped toward me and placed four under my shirt to read my heart rate, blood pressure, and respiration. Then she opened another pack of smaller ones and put them on my forehead to read my brain waves. Once the last one was in place, she asked, “Are you in any pain?”
I nodded in response.
“What kind of pain?”
“A headache,” I said. At that moment in time, she didn’t seem to be in my corner, so why even ask or offer me any relief? Would it impact my performance for our tyrant?
She moved out of sight and then returned with a clear glass of water, removing a small blister pack of pills from the pocket of her lab coat. As she opened the pack, my eyes moved to Dictator King. He was carefully watching me as if everything I said or did was a piece of living artwork. I was a masterpiece he could gawk at and appraise, and that was exactly what he was doing.
I let my gaze move back to the doctor as she moved to place the pills in my mouth and then held the glass to my lips so I could wash them down. She backed away from me and turned to the dictator after I had gulped down half of the glass.
“This is a faster-working version of Triolex. She should be ready in less than five minutes.” Her voice was even and void of any emotion, but her brown eyes seemed to be glistening with unshed tears from behind her glasses as she glanced back toward me.
I hoped I was the only one who noticed. She had to play a role in front of government officials like King, but she wasn’t fooling me. She wasn’t cold and uncaring. She was the exact opposite.
The pain began to melt away as the medication worked its way into my system, and I leaned my head back against the seat, letting out another breath. King was still studying me. He hadn’t moved since Doctor Aserov had given me the two white pills. She moved to begin working on something behind me, and I could hear the others murmuring as I sat there, scrutinizing King just as he was studying me.
How many people are in the room besides, King, the doctor, and me? How many people am I putting on a show for?
Angst began to flood back through my body like an unstoppable force as I tried desperately to remain calm. My nonchalance was just for show. I could have my breakdown in my cabin, if I saw that room again.
Doctor Aserov came around with a rolling metal table, the wheels squeaking as it rolled across the floor. There was an assortment of instruments on the table that I only assumed could be used to display the vast array of my skills. The handgun left a lump in my throat, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. I knew King saw that I noticed it. My eyes flitted from the doctor to the gigantic smile plastered on his face when he saw my unease. Along with the gun, there was a large beaker full of water and another filled to the brim with what I could only assume was blood, along with ball bearings and long darts.
Doctor Aserov rolled the table over very slowly to keep the blood from sloshing out of the container, but if they wanted me to do what I thought they did, it was going to end up there anyway. My only question was where they had gotten so much blood from. I swallowed hard to keep the stomach acid that I was beginning to taste from spilling out of my mouth.
King walked over to the table as Doctor Aserov pushed the brakes on the wheels down to keep it from rolling away.
“We are going to do this in stages.” He pointed to each container while explaining it
s contents and what he expected of me. “You are going to show me what you can do, Mila. First, with the ball bearings. Then you will redirect the path of the long darts when thrown in your direction to hit that target.” He pointed with one elegant finger toward a lonely target on the far wall. And, because we studied the two you nearly killed, you are going to boil the beakers full of water and,” he smirked, “blood.”
The gun was still a mystery to me until he picked it up and pointed it toward the ceiling.
“Then, we will conduct a genuine test of your skills. I will fire this gun in your direction, and you will redirect the bullet away from yourself and into the same target as the long darts.”
Doctor Aserov came to stand in front of me, her hands working the restraints. Once they came free, I could see that my wrists were rubbed raw, and there was a trace of blood smeared on my skin as well as the cool metal. I hissed as I removed my hands from the restraints and fought the urge to rub them. The skin had been almost entirely rubbed away, a slight tinge of green bruising underneath the blood. She backed up enough for me to be able to stand. My legs were stiff as I straightened, a pleading look in her eyes as she watched me. She was asking that I did whatever they wanted without hesitation. I would suffer if I didn’t, no doubt.
I turned to look at the others behind the chair, spying four people watching me with dissecting eyes. Two were in white lab coats and two others in crisp white suits. Two scientists and two government officials. A large computer screen was to their left and facing them, the familiar beeping sound of my heartbeat echoing from the monitor. It was steady, despite the anxiety of an audience.
Ryder stood to the side, gun firmly in his gloved hands. He was watching me intently, terror and pity in his stunningly green eyes, which was a surprise.
Doctor Aserov rolled the ball bearings across the floor, and I focused my energy on pushing them to the epicenter of the room. There were so many of them that I knew the trick I had planned would be impressive.
The metal slid across the floor with a scrape as they rolled. I raised my hand a little bit farther up, and the ball bearings started to build upon themselves. The metal on metal sound was calming as I watched them ascend along one another to create a tower that almost reached the ceiling. I concentrated on them and held them so they wouldn’t topple over. To show just how much control I had, I let the tower tilt at a forty-five-degree angle and then moved it to do the same in the opposite direction. I then laid them to rest inside of their container on the metal table Clapping echoed through the room once the last bearing was in the container.
I breezed through the task of the long darts and causing the water to boil and steam. The next two were the hardest, and I held my breath as Doctor Aserov moved the empty glass that had once held water. Two soldiers stepped into the room to place the large transparent container of blood on the floor in the center of the room. One of them put plastic sheeting beneath it to keep the floors pristine. I wasn’t about to tell them that it wouldn’t do any good.
I took a steadying breath. I had never seen my power’s effect in a scientific way, except when I had attacked the man with electricity flowing through him, Jones, the man on the plane, and the family cat all those years ago. The cat was an accident, and I hadn’t seen how far my power could truly go. I had caused a small rivulet of blood to coagulate on Jones’s face. On that small of a scale, I knew I could handle it, but I wasn’t sure if I was okay with seeing it on that kind of a scale. I tasted the acid in the back of my throat and had to force it down as best as I could, taking breaths to steady myself. The beeping coming from behind me began to slightly increase as I stood there, watching the setting of my stage.
I raised a shaky hand in the direction of the vat and pushed my power into it. I felt a flutter in my stomach as the blood began to bubble, steam rising as the water inside of it evaporated. The blood had been thick already, but it became even more solid and began to turn black as the cells died. Some had even spilled over the edge, congealing on the plastic sheets in a dark and sickening puddle. The sharp and distinct smell of iron moved through the air, and I even heard a few people behind me cough and gag. I swallowed again, trying to keep myself from doing the same.
I dropped my arm to my side once the blood inside of the container was nothing but a black congealed mass of dead blood cells. Sweat had broken out on my skin, and the climate control of the room caused goose bumps to break out underneath the fabric of my clothes. King was pushing me to see how far I could go and how long I could use my power without stopping. I still felt strong, but I was beginning to feel the edges of fatigue in my muscles. I fought the urge to take a seat in the chair I had woken up in. I had never pushed myself that hard, but even I knew I could only take so much. At least it was almost over. Just one more show to put on for them and I was finished.
King came forward and took the gun in his hand then walked to the wall on the left side of the room. There was a large smirk splashed on his face. He could tell I was wearing down, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of me asking for a break. I was a giant, and he was the ant, not the other way around. And I had to continue to remind myself of that. With my feet planted firmly on the floor, I braced myself for what I was about to do. I knew that if I used the opportunity to kill King that I would soon follow. No matter how tempting it was, I had to concentrate on making sure that bullet hit the target and nothing else.
He pointed the gun at me, and I heard everyone’s sharp intake of breath as he did so, like they could feel the tension in the air. There was no shock about it. That was pure and unadulterated awe. They were about to see something even more awe inspiring once King fired the gun in my direction. King wasn’t shy either. As soon as our eyes met he pulled the trigger. The shot rang out and echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and back at us in all directions. It happened so fast that I barely registered it as I heard the gasp and then clapping and cheering.
I looked at the target and saw that the bullet had hit. Bull’s eye. Even I began to smile, and a laugh escaped me as I let the anxiety roll out of me and filter into the room. Doctor Aserov was standing by the chair, clipboard in hand, pen poised above the paper, and her mouth open in disbelief and amazement. Ryder hadn’t moved. He had seen my power to that extent and wasn’t impressed. I wasn’t even sure if I could do anything more than what I had just shown them. I had never fully explored it until now. King moved forward and placed the gun on the table and made his way over to me, hand out as if he wanted to shake mine. The smile fell away from my lips, and I became silent, but people were still celebrating far away from us. Once King stood before me I had a feeling there was something more waiting.
King took my hand in his, leaned into me, and whispered, “Don’t think I have forgotten your escape attempt.”
My body went rigid in that instant, and the beeping behind me increased. I could even hear the rush of my blood pumping in my ears.
He chuckled and walked to the center of the room, his arms outstretched like a good showman. “Now, I have a surprise for our dear Mila.”
Everyone fell completely silent and stared intently at our fearless dictator as he spoke. I already severely disliked surprises, but I was sure I was going to hate his even more. King didn’t do anything nice for the sake of it. He was vindictive and vengeful. I had made a fool out of them all, and he was going to show me that there would be consequences.
King motioned to the door I had barely noticed. I heard the door open and close, and three pairs of shoes squeaked across the floor. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him, but then I caught something out of the corner of my eye that I would never forget. Cato was being escorted to stand beside King by two soldiers. My breath caught in my throat at the sight. He was about to force me to do something I knew I couldn’t. Or I assumed he was.
Cato wouldn’t look at me. He just stared at the floor as they guided him in. Standing next to King, he seemed intimidated and afraid while the dictator remained as imm
ovable as always.
“What is this?” I let the fear penetrate my voice as I stood there.
King’s stare shot to Cato and then back to me. I could see the menace behind his onyx eyes and my whole body began to shake. He placed a hand on Cato’s shoulder, and Cato flinched, brown eyes wide and terrified. A silent tear fell down my cheek that had barely burned around the rims of my eyelids before falling. I crumbled to my knees, shaking my head as if that would make a difference in what he was about to say.
“I believe you need a push, Mila.”
I let those words echo in my mind, ricocheting like a loose bullet inside of my skull.
Chapter 19
Cato wouldn’t look up, and I could see him shaking, making the sleeves of the shirt move slightly as his body did. The loose fabric was hovering just above his tan skin. My heart was breaking for him as I watched him. It seemed he had been severely beaten and left to recuperate on his own before they brought him into the room. How long had I been unconscious? A few hours? A day? Two? If they had done that to him, had they also harmed Julius and Nero? I was scared to know the answer.
A black eye peeked through the hair that had fallen over his face and bruises covered what I could see of his arms. There was no telling what the white t-shirt was hiding, but I could make out splotches of blood spreading from what I could only assume were open wounds. His chocolate eyes focused on the ground, and his jaw clenched so tightly I could have sworn he would crack a tooth if he hadn’t already. There was even a small rivulet of blood at the corner of his mouth and it looked as if they had broken him.
Rage flared inside of me, replacing sadness and darkness with bright fire, burning my soul until there would be nothing left but black. I was almost a giant again but still felt as small as an ant ready to be smashed by King’s shiny black shoes.
The Harvested (The Permutation Archives Book 1) Page 12
