“I don’t know yet,” I respond.
“Mom, Lydia,” he says, leaving my embrace, going to theirs.
I look over to see Mar and Zac coming our direction with smiles on their faces. They both give me a hug but shortly move on to my mom and Lydia.
Jake, Leah, Magi, and Shawn stand up but don’t come towards us. Instead, I walk towards my family. When I get to them, Jake grabs me, pulling me in close.
He leans down, kissing me hard and long.
“I love you, Liz,” Jake says in his deep voice and kisses me again. “I didn’t know if they were going to let me see you or not. I was going to come looking for you.”
When we pull apart, I notice my mom walking our way.
“Mom, this is Shawn,” I say, pointing at each person as I come to them. “He is from the R9,”
“Really? Who were your parents?” she asks.
“Yeah!” I say, changing the subject. “And this is Leah, she is my age, and Magi, she was the nurse at The Force, she helped take care of all of us when we were sick.”
“Thank you,” my mom smiles.
“And this is?”
“Jake?” My mom interrupts.
“Yes,” I say, blushing again.
“My daughter speaks highly of you.”
“This is your mom?” Jake looks at me is surprise.
“Yes!” I smile back. “It’s a long story, but yes this is my mom and my youngest sister, Lydia.”
Jake crouches down eye to eye with Lydia
“Hi Lydia, my name is Jake, I am Liz’s friend.”
“Hi Jake, you’re not Lizzie’s friend, you her boyfriend.” Her nose crinkles when she laughs.
“Yes, that I am,” he says with a smile.
“Call me Dia, otay.” Her chubby lips curl.
“Why Dia?” Eli asks.
“Well brudder, you get to be Eli and Elizabeth gets to be Liz, so I’m Dia now.”
“Okay, Dia, I’m Jake. It is nice to meet you. And yes, I am Lizzie’s boyfriend.”
Dia smiles from ear to ear with her newfound acceptance and name.
It is so crazy how in a moment, a five-year-old could be so changed. Being introduced as Dia to a group of strangers means she has chosen to be someone new, a new form of the person she used to be.
After all, this child has gone from her father dying, her sisters and brother being taken by The Force, her dead father showing up, to coming to this place just to find out Shae is in danger. If any of us get to change, she does.
“I like it a lot,” I say as I ruffle her hair.
She smiles at me with the most genuine smile I have ever seen.
Together, we sit down at the dinner table. It is amazing to see all the food they have for us. Back at the R9 we were starving, and at The Force, we were on rations. Here, they seem to not care how much you eat.
The room is huge, but like the room before, it is bright white. There are at least thirty large tables in this room. They are all different shapes and sizes, but they are all painted white. That seems like an odd choice for a place where food is eaten, but it must have a purpose.
I begin to look around at all the people in the room. Everyone, I mean each person in this room apart from me, is wearing white. The cups and plates are white, the chairs, forks, knives, spoons, all of it… White.
“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Jake whispers in my ear.
“It sure is.”
“They will make you go to the Bath House and change your clothes,” he begins. “They expect us to be cleansed.”
“From what?”
“Any impurities.” He grimaces. “And let me tell you that it was not fun in the least.”
I sit for a moment thinking about what all this could mean. Each of my friends and family are wearing white, but for some reason, their complexions look off. Almost too pale.
“They call all the members here souls,” Magi chimes in a hushed tone.
“Yeah,” Zac says, “and they talk about something called The Cleansing which we have done, and The Purifying which, we don’t know what that is yet.
I look at each member individually.
“This place supports The Elected,” I say. “And, the man in the suit says his name is R. J. Timothy III.”
They all look at me in shock.
“We haven’t seen him since the stadium,” Leah says. She is rocking back and forth a bit, as if her life has flashed before her eyes.
“Guys,” I say, “he says we won’t be leaving this place.”
I look at Eli about the time I see him slide a white handled knife off the table into his pocket. Jake must have seen him do it, because he does the same. I follow suit.
Moments after the knife is out of sight, a hand touches my shoulder. I look back to see a tall thin woman standing behind me. She is heavily guarded.
“Elizabeth, my name is Rebekka Jonni, please come with me.”
“May my people come too?” I ask.
“No, they have already been through The Cleansing, there is no need for them to go again, it would kill them. I will return you to your family pod after you are finished.”
I reach over to hug Jake, hoping he has the same idea I do. He must know exactly what I am thinking, because he reaches into my pocket mid hug, transferring the knife into his own pocket. He then lets go of me, and I follow Rebekkah out of The Mess Hall, into the large common room, and into the Bath House.
When inside, I am instructed to take off my clothing and put it into the fire.
Somehow even the fire looks white. It has little white flames dancing over opaque stones. Reluctantly, I remove my brown tank top and camo cargo pants. I remember putting them on the day we left The Force. I feel as I let them burn in the fire that all parts of The Force are being burned away.
I also remember throwing away my clothes the day I was taken to The Force. Perhaps this is a sign of change for each stage of our lives.
I walk into the next room, following Rebekkah, her guards, and two other women that appear to be working the Bath House. They take me to a room with what looks like a huge bathtub set into the floor. It appears to be a perfect square, large enough for ten people to use.
Without saying anything, one of the women motions for me to enter the pit in the floor. I walk down the steps and enter the pit. My feet hit the ground in the pit, which is full of tiny grates everywhere, making it uncomfortable to stand. It feels like my feet are being cut as I walk.
“Please move to the center,” Rebekkah says.
I do as she says, but as I do, I am wondering why all the specifics. Here I am, completely exposed to everyone around me, standing in a pit with perhaps the sharpest floor I have ever been on.
As quick as a blink of an eye, a metal grate falls around me, crashing down in all directions. Panic rises in me, and I begin to run around, looking for a way out, cutting my feet as I go, but there is no way out. The cage is all around me. I reduce myself to standing still as to not hurt my feet anymore.
“Induce The Cleansing,” another woman says as she hits a button on the wall.
At that very moment, the worst pain I have ever felt hits the entirety of my body as acid-like water pours down on top of me, taking layers of skin with it.
Chapter Thirteen
My body feels like someone has taken sandpaper to it. All my pores feel exposed. As I look at my body, I see blood coming from open places all over the surface of my body.
“What was that?” I croak.
The cage raises, and I try to run towards the women with rage, but I can barely walk, let alone run. Two men dressed in white pants and t-shirts come towards me, carrying a white chair. I cover my chest, hoping to gain some sort of modesty, however I don’t think they see it as a problem. After all, I think they have probably done this many time before. At least they are smart enough to be wearing shoes in this pit of doom.
I am starting to feel dizzy.
The men reach me in just enough time, covering me in
a white cloth, soon dyed red, helping me into the chair. Together, the two of them carry me into yet another room. Blood drips down my face, blinding me, and I know I must look disgusting.
One of the men wipes my face with the corner of the cloth, making it easier to see, but causing the cloth to look more grotesque. In this new room there is a box laying in the middle on a table. Again, everything in sight is white, crisp, and clean. The box looks more like a coffin, but square and bright.
Without a word, the men leave the room. I remain sitting in the chair, not sure that I would get anywhere if I were to try to get away.
The two women that were with Rebekkah come into the room.
“Pardon Rebekkah, Miss, she had to go handle a soul search,” one of them says, “she may see you in a bit, but if she should miss you, she wishes you the cleanest of days.”
“Okay… I think,” I say.
“This is the second part to The Cleansing,” she says.
“Let’s do it,” I say, “after what I just went through, how bad can it be?”
“You might be surprised,” the second woman says with a painful smile.
They help me to my feet as one of the women hits a lever lowering the table closer to the ground. Together, the three of us get me into the box. A lid is slid over the top of it, making it as dark as the room I was in at the beginning of the day.
How bad can this be? I think to myself.
A buzzing sound omits from the box, causing a blinding intense heat to radiate around me. My skin feels like it is as dry as shoe leather and about to its breaking point. When I start to feel small pinches against my arms, even more pain fills my body. I suddenly realize that needles are coming out from all directions of the box, puncturing every inch of my skin.
The bottoms of my feet, the top of my head, every inch of me is being prodded.
With each second, the pokes come at a greater speed and intensity. Moments drag as my heartbeat is drowned out by my screams. I am going to die, I know it. I now know how it is possible that the others might die if they have already been through this once.
At the moment I think I can’t take another second of this torture, the buzzing ends, and the needles go back from where they came from. Moments pass by without any sound or actions. No one removes the lid, and nothing more happens. I can feel the blood draining from my body in an odd sensation of pain and pleasure.
A side panel slides off the box as a slight bit of light floods into the box. I was right, there is blood everywhere. For someplace so white, there is sure a lot of red.
A hand reaches in from the side of the box, grasping my right wrist, pulling it out into the open. My arm follows, but with no control from myself. Whoever the hand belongs to, has complete control of my movement, I couldn’t move now if I tried.
Suddenly, my wrist receives a small pinch. It hurts at first, but not as bad as the needles did. The hand pushes my arm back into the box, but they leave the panel open, allowing my eyes to become adjusted somewhat to the minimal light coming in. I try my hardest to see what is on my wrist. I can still feel whatever it is there.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a needle in my wrist with a tube of red liquid connected to it.
“Blood,” a voice calls out from nowhere.
“Why blood?” I respond to the mysterious voice through a raspy tone.
“Look up,” the voice instructs.
I look up at the lid. There is a foot by foot panel on it, there is a screen where I can see the two women standing at a bank of computers.
“Why blood?” I squeak again.
“You need it after all the blood you lost during the first two parts of The Cleansing,” the one on the right says.
“What is all of this for?” I ask.
“It removes your Methrodine dependency,” the other one says.
“For good?” I ask curiously.
“We think so.”
“You think so?” I croak.
“Yes, we have done this to all our members and about three hundred others have bargained us too,” the first woman begins. “It has worked on all of us.”
“And we have only lost three people during the process,” the other woman says, proud of that fact.
I can see why some people could have died during this horrendous process.
“So, no more Methrodine?” I ask. “For any of us?”
“This is true. We know some of the members of your group were given a defender which woke them up from the drug,” the first woman says.
“But that only woke them up and defended them against death, not got rid of the drug dependency all together,” the second woman finishes.
“So, you have got to strip me down, take my skin from me and my blood, and put someone else’s blood into me, but you haven’t once told me who you are!” I say, sternly. “How does that work? You know my name and every inch of me.”
“This is true,” the first woman says. “My name is Rita; I am a Bath House nurse at The Facility.”
“And I am Cloe,” the other woman introduces herself. “I am a nurse in training,” she smiles.
“Nice to meet you Rita and Cloe, well not nice to meet you, but anyway, what can I do?”
“Is there something wrong, miss?” Rita asks.
“Is there something wrong?” I begin to raise my voice. “Is there something wrong? You mean besides me laying here half dead with someone else’s blood coming into my body. Not to mention all of this was against my will! Not one person asked if I wanted to do this. And on top of that, it confuses me that if you guys are a part of The Elected who is putting Methrodine into us, why are you taking it out?”
The nurses who have been nice to me this whole time speak to me with gentleness, yet there must be some sort of anger behind the surface somewhere.
“First,” Cloe starts, “it isn’t someone else’s blood, it is yours.”
“Huh,” I huff, not comprehending.
“The acid shower took the dirt and grime off your skin,” Rita begins, “it cleansed you for the second process which took needles to take your blood, putting it into a tank under the table.”
“What happens in the tank?” I ask the women on the screen.
“Your blood is aerated with a mix we call Metho Agent, it is a solvent designed in our lab and approved by The Elected, that takes the Methrodine out of your blood.” Rita smiles.
“Then we hook a tube to the tank below you, insert it into your arm, and put your blood back in at the very moment you are about to run out,” Cloe smiles. “What blood is left in your system is so little it purifies on contact.”
“I see,” I say with a decrease of temper. “That just leaves, why this was done without my permission and what is the point if you are part of The Elected and they pumped us full of the stuff to begin with?”
“It is a requirement for all members who live here at The Facility,” Cloe says. “We are not The Elected, nor a part of them, we just support them, especially now that The Force is part of them. They allow us to do the process to all members who are going to live here or who have something to trade for our services.”
“Oh,” I say. “What if you don’t intend on living here?”
“Everyone that enters either lives here, has traded us something for our services, or takes part in The Purifying if they are a lost soul.” Cloe responds. “Besides, you’re important. You will find out soon enough.”
Rita gives Cloe a sideways stare at her mention of The Purifying and being a lost soul. I don’t say another word. I am not sure I want to know what The Purifying is, or what they think would happen if you left “The Facility” without permission or making a big trade.
I lay still, letting my blood reenter my body. Little by little, I feel stronger than I have felt in years.
I must lay quiet for enough time that Rita and Cloe see fit to turn off the screen. I don’t know if this is an indication they are done talking to me, or the next step is coming.
A hand reac
hes into the panel on the side of the box, pulling my arm out and removing the needle. This time, a glass panel is put in place, making the light shine in, but the glass panel has holes in it. Little pin pricks are everywhere in the panel. As I examine the holes, I can see a green fog fill the box. It comes slow at first, and then suddenly, it seems the whole box is being filled.
I don’t feel like I have time to panic. I try to scream, I try to lift my arms to push on the box, but there is nothing I can do. No bodily function at all.
Slowly, a sick feeling sweeps over me as I begin to drift off to sleep, leaving all reality behind me and me at the mercy of The Facility.
Chapter Fourteen
I wake up in a white room that feels to be below freezing. I try to move but with no use. I can’t see anything but the skylight overhead and a white cloth to either side of me.
As I try to move my arms and legs, I am panicking that I can’t get them to move in any direction. I try to roll one way or another, but there is something stopping me.
“Stop fighting it,” a voice calls out from nowhere.
“Who’s there?”
“Rebekkah”
“What is this?” I ask.
“The last step of The Cleansing.”
“What is the last step?” I ask yet another question.
“You are wrapped in a white gauze that has been soaked in Metho Agent and a healing matter called Peroxide Solvent Number Four.”
“It heals the skin,” I declare.
“You are correct.” I can hear the smile in Rebekkah’s voice. “The wrapping process is painful, that is why we put the souls to sleep before we take them from the box.”
“Why do you call us souls?”
“You see,” she begins, “humans have souls, and so we use that term for all members who enter The Facility as a polite way of reminding them that they matter.”
“That’s a load of garbage,” I declare.
“Why is that?” Rebekkah asks, but this time she allows a tone of anger to come out. For a moment, she reminds me of Samantha.
“Because no one can make all people feel like they matter all the time. Calling me a soul doesn’t make me feel like you care one bit for me, it makes me feel labeled. It makes me feel like you are trying to make me belong.” For good measure and now that I know she is already perturbed, I add in, “and what is The Purifying?”
THE ELECTED (Fighting Freedom Book 2) Page 7
