by Alex Fall
I felt my consciousness waver. Stupid concussion. Lori reached out and helped me sit up straight. "What happened to the back of your head?"
"...Shrapnel."
"It needs stitches," she replied.
"How can you be so nonchalant about your condition?" Reggie asked.
"The Directorates spent six years tampering with my healing properties."
"Wait...really? Like, this isn't sarcasm?" Wyatt inquired.
"No, it isn't," Vick answered for me.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "How do you know?"
"I didn't know, but I believe you. You whimper in your sleep."
I felt my face flush. "How...when did you see me sleeping?" I shouted. "Do you just watch random women in their beds?!"
"Captain, I need you to be still," Lori inserted.
"Uh...we DO occasionally come in to wake you up on the ship, captain," Reggie explained. "I've heard it too."
My eyes flicked back and forth between them, then over to Lori, who nodded as if it say "Well...it IS true." I rested my frustrated gaze on Wyatt, who watched somewhat wide eyed.
"Well...this is awkward," he commented.
"What all did the Directorates do to you?" Lori asked inquisitively.
I returned my gaze to her.
"...I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask that."
Silence filled the space between us for a couple seconds. However, I was frustrated, and the stitches hurt, so I decided to answer, in order to shock them.
"In the third year, fourth month, ninth day of adjusting my body's healing properties, they wanted to test the healing properties of my bones. So they brought me in a room, tied me down, and performed an artificial shearing break on my ulna."
The silence became heavier after I said that. Lori even stopped the stitches. So I continued.
"It mended in under two months, but not to full integrity, so they tied me down again, cut my arm open and performed advanced reconstructive surgery. After four more months of adjusting me, they tried again, on my other arm. This time it mended fully, in under two months."
"Didn't that...hurt?" Wyatt asked shyly.
"There were drugs at first, but the Directorates were not concerned about my pain. However, they WERE concerned about the effect of my skeletal healing on my smaller bones, such as finger joints."
I paused. "Does that answer your question?"
"They did that... To everyone they abducted?" Reggie asked.
"You already know the answer to that." I looked off in the distance. The memories of the Directorates had my body tingling. I felt anxious, and not to mention slightly angry. I wanted sleep pills for my nerves.
Lori resumed stitching. Reggie too pensively watched the distance. Vick seemed quiet, but kept driving. Wyatt however, shined again as the loudmouth.
"Well I guess the Directorates got the results they wanted!"
His statement dragged my mind from the clouds back to my broken and burnt body. I have no idea what he intended to mean with that statement, but my mind interpreted one way: They successfully made me a Program. He echoed someone. Wyatt echoed HIM. It made me...
ANGRY!
I didn't even realize that I stood until Lori stood with me.
"Captain! Erin! He didn't mean it!" She pleaded. Lori could see the anger in my eyes.
Wyatt turned around lightly to see me, but shoved off of his seat in fright at the sight of the new and infuriated me.
"What did you just say?" I growled from the depths of my wrathful emotions.
"Holy crap! I uh, uh," he bumbled.
Vick watched Wyatt, then me. Suddenly, he put a hand out. "Captain! Gar only meant that they got what they deserved!"
"Oh really?" I asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"What did I say?" Wyatt asked nervously.
"Captain, please sit down. It's not safe to stand while-" my female crewman began to say.
"Back off of me!" I shouted at Lori.
Turning to Wyatt, I gripped his seat so I wouldn't collapse. All this anger was exhausting my body out. "Do you know what they called me in that prison?!"
"Uh...right to stay silent, please?"
"Don't answer that," Vick said to him.
"Captain, you're about to...um..." Reggie's quieter, more nervous approach fell on deaf ears. That is, until he pulled something out from the floorboard that I was almost standing on.
"Wait...what is this?" He asked to himself.
The cello!
My mind swirled and buried emotions broke free. Anger was pushed aside and mixed into a medley of feelings, but the strongest one, the one that motivated me to action, was sentiment.
"Give me that!" I yelled as I forced the case from his hands.
I sat back in the chair and kept the case clutched against me. I returned to staring off in the distance, but this time, I could only think of him. My mind is a warzone. The Erin that I am, the one I've been for years, thrashed and took vengeance on everything, especially HIM. But the cello held a special place in my heart. I don't know why. It was the only physical representation of him that I have. Normally, I would have destroyed it. But some part of me wouldn't allow it. This new Erin protected the cello, cherished and treasured it. It was like proof that fairytales are real. It gave me hope. This new part of me held HIM in high esteem. It left me staring in the distance, fantasizing with the happy memories we shared, and condemning my recent actions with the most vicious, self cutting remarks one could think of. Words didn't particularly bother me, unless they came from this side of me. This is the side of me that cries.
This side of me also left me looking like an emotional little idiot in front of my crew. I didn't dare speak or face them. It was too embarrassing. I just want to be left in silence. I could hear Vick conversing with Wyatt, and Wyatt asking for clarity into what just took place. I could feel Reggie staring at me in confusion. I felt Lori's mood sink, and also the sting of resuming her stitches. They are a good crew, but none of them understand me, not like the way HE did. Part of me craved his gentle, loving, playful nature, especially right now. Part of me hated him for it. My mind was a warzone. I tightened the grip on my cello. I can get along fine without anyone. Yet...It hasn't even been two days, and I think I miss him.
It made me angry…
* * *
Where is it? I can't find any! I need sleep medicine, NOW! The nightmares won't stop. The voices keep me awake. The sounds make me twitch before I can slip away to unconsciousness. Being stuck in this clinic is making me stir crazy. My stupid dweller girl gave away all my sedatives, and the people here removed any kind of knockout drugs from the clinic. All that's left is benadryl. Benadryl! Lots and lots of benadryl!
I pulled open one of the last remaining cabinet doors. It was filled with extra pillows, like a bad joke. I slammed the door shut and braced myself on one of the beds. My breathing was shaky and I had cold sweats. Was I making myself do that, or have I really become that addicted? I could just kill them all and find my medicine. Rod probably has them. I'm going to kill him for this. I need something now. All I have is useless play pills! I threw the bottles of benadryl on the bed in disgust and sat down on the floor.
But they called to me. I couldn't just ignore this need for sleep. Something has to be done. Benadryl is a downer, right? Maybe it could work... I tore the lid off one of the bottles and filled my hand with little, pink pills. How much downer is in a benadryl compared to sedatives? I poured the entire handful into my mouth just to be sure. After gulping water down, I leaned my head back on the cabinet and reflected on just how desperate I had become. The pills hit my stomach like an indigestible rock. I ran numbers and side effects through my head after considering just how much benadryl I took. I'm going to feel so terrible when I wake up. And yet...I craved more. I craved sleep. I grabbed the bottle and turned it up, as if I was drinking the pills. I gulped water and pills like a starved animal, which sent me into a coughing fit. Anything to make the nightmares stop...
My eyes
cracked open. I found myself in a cot, inside a tent, back at camp. I'm so groggy this morning. How many sleep meds did I take yesterday? Inwardly, I thanked myself for not trying to get a fix using benadryl again. Sharon slept quietly on a cot of her own across the tent. Though I had just awakened, I was thirsty and craved sleep meds yet again. I reached over and grabbed three white pills. Then another. And another. But six will make me pretty sleepy... Meh, I can deal with it. I took all six pills and sat for a moment, rubbing my face. The cello stood opposite of my bed, as if to greet me good morning. Yeah, yeah, good morning to you too.
The new campsite was in the back lot of what appeared to be some old sales place for vehicles, boats perhaps. The lot was abut to a large concrete drainage ditch. The sides of the lot were embraced by grass and wild shrubs. This area felt much more open than the last. I made my way over to the edge of the drainage ditch to begin my morning stretches and conditioning. Now that I have clean, adequate clothing, the early dawn air didn't chill me anymore. My healing processes had already begun to dull the pain, and with my gash sewn up, medicine in my system, and my bones set, the pain would only continue to lessen. And now that I was on sleep meds, my mood was much more mellow.
I need to begin mental map building soon. I already saw at least two lookout points on the way in. It would be helpful to find a quick way up to them. I also need to start keeping food with me, in case something like yesterday happens again. Speaking of, I need to eat so I can take some more medicines.
Once I found myself in the cafeteria tent, I remembered how dull the meals were here. Besides, I wasn't feeling very patient. A couple of small, light burns to myself later and I had made a quick breakfast of some sort of sausage, fruit, and hot tea. I used the remaining hot water for something called "instant grits." It supposedly had corn, but we'll see how it tastes. Perched atop the sales building, I began sorting out my medicines while eating. This sausage is too tough, but I'll force it down anyway. Let's see, I'm going to need some pain medicine, heavy metals cleanse, autoimmune support, and at least three different multivitamin blends. And...maybe some more sleep meds while I'm in here. Ugh, this fruit tastes like it's been bathed in chemicals. Where did they get this stuff?
I took a handful of mixed pills, gels, and shots. Just to make sure I don't vomit it back up or get some crazy heartburn from the blasted PyrPlasm, I need to pile some more food on my stomach. I wolfed down everything else, but stopped when I hit the "grits." It was aptly named. I forced the mouthful down. Gross! What is this stuff? This isn't corn!
I leaned against the parapet wall of the roof while sitting and drinking my tea. It was the only part of my meal that didn't taste like *cuss.* And quit telling me not to cuss!
Whoa. Sleep...
Despite enjoying a caffeinated drink, the sleep pills in me dragged my conscious mind down. I think I took too much sleep medicine. I need to get off this roof before I fall asleep up here. Soon I was back in my cot, sleeping unnaturally hard for me, but beautifully silent and noise free.
And even still, the nightmares wouldn't let go. I dreamt of Usurpers. In fact, there was a particular one I dreamt of; a bolt. The one that tried to kidnap...what was her name? Tish? I had him on the ground. I beat him senseless. I beat him until he was bloody. I felt his nose give under my fist. I felt the pain in my hands. I beat him badly, even I knew that. But the anger. Even through all of the sleep meds, even though it was a dream, I began to relive that anger. I remembered why I attacked him so much. Was it protection? Retribution? No, it was vengeance, partly for the girl, but mostly for myself. It made me angry.
My eyes snapped open again. My blankets had been rustled and my pillow was crooked. Based on the grip of my fist, I could tell I had been wrestling them in my sleep. Besides that, my sleep was rather meaningless. I was still groggy, but I couldn't tell if it was because of residual sleep medicine or the nightmares. I rolled over to check the time, but noticed Sharon sitting in her corner, watching me, along with two Rebels peeking in my tent with curious faces. They were watching me in my sleep?!
"Get out of here before I beat your teeth out!" I yelled at the onlookers.
They left in a hurry, whispering things that felt hurtful amongst themselves. I let an angered breath flow out of my nose before looking to Sharon.
"Why didn't you tell them to leave?" I said in a raised voice.
"I'm sorry!" She automatically responded, shoving her laptop aside and bowing onto the ground.
"You KNEW it would make me mad! You just let them watch me?"
"I'm sorry!"
"Who does that? And you were watching too! What the *cuss* is wrong with you?"
"You're right, I'm sorry!"
"Stop just saying 'I'm sorry' over and over again!"
"I'm sorry! Sorry, I mean, uh..."
I glared at her while she watched fearfully from her corner. Stupid girl. She makes me angry. I tossed my pillow at her. "Get out."
The little girl snatched the laptop and dashed away without words, acting quick to obey my command. I stepped out of my cot and cussed myself from one end to the other for mistreating her. But she has no right to let people take a peek show while I'm sleeping! Stupid girl...stupid everything!
I kicked my cot aside, which sent a shock of pain into my shin. I cursed the world yet again.
I kneeled down into fetal position and bit my arm to distract myself. Anger is returning. Make it stop!
"Adjustment session eleven. Halogenated As-"
"You seem troubled," Rick's voice rang.
"What is it with people walking in on me!?" I shouted. "Is it so boring around here that you have to come and stalk me?"
Rick let a face of disappointment take over. "Perhaps now is not the best time..."
I closed my mouth and held my breath, slowly depressurizing through my nose. Almost reflexively, I reached for the sleep pills. Just three this time.
"What is it?" I asked, now a bit calmer.
Rick sighed. "I heard about what happened yesterday from Nicolette. I came to ask if you would mind not getting involved with our missions from now on."
I choked a little on my water. I'm going to need a fourth sleeping pill for this.
"How many of those do you take a day?" He asked.
I set my glass down aggressively. "You don't bar someone from your business then try to jump into theirs..."
"I also heard about your attitude..."
I narrowed my eyes. "Meaning?"
"I'll let you know what it means after I've seen a little more," he warned. He turned to leave my tent, but my irritation got the better of me.
"You want me to leave, don't you? Why? So you can find the Big Man and take his place as the local town tyrant?"
Rick turned around and examined me for a moment.
"Do you even have a power?" I asked.
"I do. I am a flyer."
"Makes sense why Nicolette does all the work."
"If your attitude is as I think it is, it would be to my advantage to conserve resources and leave you and your crew behind."
"Sure, and lose the biggest combative advantage you've ever had."
Rick shrugged. "Not necessarily true. If you weren't here, I'd have two prime soldiers out of intensive care." I felt my aggression rise a little. Perhaps it showed in my eyes, because Rick looked away and began to leave.
"And maybe you wouldn't be mistreating children," he added on his way out.
"Screw you!" I retaliated. Returning inside, I opened the basic dresser in my tent and pulled out a long sleeve shirt to wear, but unwisely looked in the mirror before changing. I saw a blue eyed piece of garbage looking back. I felt like breaking the mirror, so I broke my gaze instead.
The cello.
Fine. I've got nothing better to do. I shouldered the case and grabbed my pack. Sneaking out of the camp, I made my way to the drainage ditch and then under the first road bridge I could find. I set up the cello, leaned against the wall and played out a tune.
It sounded scratchy and slow. I was out of practice. It was frustrating, but I played on. Eventually the notes smoothed out, but every time I hit a sour note, I stopped playing and had to convince myself not to sling the instrument into the wall. I rested the bow on the strings again and strummed a couple more notes. The vibrations and sounds felt strange inside of me. It was as if the notes were clashing with my emotion and blending with it. I wanted to let my mind wander and express how I felt through this thing, but I wasn't good enough to do either. It was so frustrating that when I hit a sour note, and I raised the bow to break it across the neck of the instrument.
Don't break it. It's too rare.
I let out a sigh of frustration and picked up playing again.
"Captain? Is that you?" Reggie's distant voice said.
I immediately stopped playing and began to put the instrument away, effectively hiding it. Reggie's face appeared over the edge of the drainage ditch.
"You ARE down here. Was that sound coming from you?" He asked.
"No!...maybe. Just leave me alone for a while."
"Um...you OK?"
"Yes! Just...go away."
"Sorry I asked.." He said as he left.
Once he was well out of earshot, I pulled the instrument out again and began to play. If this is so frustrating, why do I keep doing it? It's all his fault. Get out of my head! I'm better on my own. I'll figure this stupid instrument out by myself!
Part 21
"She's scary."
"She looks horrible."
"She's trouble."
"It's not safe to be around her."
Their whispers landed on my ears and hurt me. They reminded me of a kinder version of how I talk to myself, but coming from someone else, it had much more weight. The whispers of the Dwellers frustrated and saddened me. How many of them did I shock? I just killed someone in front of them. I knew I needed to leave for their safety, but I didn't want them to know it. Those people would be back for them. They aren't safe in this building anymore, and it's my fault. I just signed the eviction notice on their home.
"It's not safe here anymore."
"She's one of them."
"Be quiet!"
