Every so often a sob shakes my body and a brutal ache spreads through my bones. I stare, unfocussed, at the rip in the curtains with the image of Dad’s eyeless, dead face etched into my memory.
***
I’m not sure how long I have been lying here, but it can’t be long as my body is still wet. I hear the door open and quick footsteps approach the curtain. It is drawn back, and a pair of black boots comes into focus. I know it’s Adam. His feet move quickly, and I watch how the grey material of his trousers ruffles where it has been tucked into the boots.
He opens a locker, removes a towel, and rushes back to me. His warm hands lift me into a sitting position. My top half is exposed, but he quickly covers me with the towel, and then lifts me into his arms.
He carries me to the benches, allowing my head to loll onto his shoulder. I watch his face under the helmet; he is angry, his lips tightly pursed. He stands for a moment, letting me lie against him, before setting me down on to the bench.
Crouching in front of me, he wraps the towel tighter around me, and lets his hands rest on my knees. “What has he done to you?” he asks, shaking his head.
I tilt my head as I look at him. How do I explain any of it to him? I can’t make sense of it myself. Adam takes another towel and starts to dry my legs and feet. I watch him, not wanting to stop him. His hand cups the bottom of my heel gently, and our eyes meet. He is beautiful.
“Thank you,” I say. My voice comes out hoarse.
His brow furrows. “Don’t you dare thank me, I should have stopped—”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “There is nothing you could have done. If you reveal yourself, you will put other people in danger.” I mean Dr Simmons, but I don’t want to risk saying her name out loud. “Anyway, we shouldn’t be talking like this in here without the showers on,” I whisper.
“I don’t care,” he says, helping me into some scrubs. “Look at what he has done to you. When I heard you scream my name—”
“Adam,” I whisper. “Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll get yourself out of here. Just go and don’t look back. You have a real chance of getting out.”
He steps forward, scooping me up into his arms. I think about resisting, but I am exhausted and happy for him to carry me. His arms are strong, and his neck has a sweet, musky scent that is comforting.
“I’m not leaving here without you and the others, so you need to resist Roscoe for a bit longer, okay?” he says into my ear.
I curl in tighter to him. “Too late,” I say. “Conditioning starts tomorrow.”
I feel the sag of his chest as he exhales.
***
The gentle bobbing motion as he walks has its own rhythm, and I press my head against his chest to listen to his heartbeat through his uniform. It’s the first time I have been allowed proper physical contact with someone since I arrived. The calm that I feel at just listening to a heartbeat or an intake of breath is enormous. I can’t remember ever listening to Dad’s heartbeat or understanding the importance of his hug. I remember how he looked during the hallucination and I fear that image is seeping in and replacing every image of him in my memories. I don’t want to forget his face or the sound of his voice, even if remembering hurts like hell.
“What can you remember from your conditioning and memory manipulation?” I ask, quietly.
“Not much. Dr Simmons has manipulated the conditioning memories, so I don’t experience them. I’m remembering bits and pieces of my life before all this, but nothing that I understand. I know my parents are dead, but I don’t remember them or know how or when they died- it’s almost worse than not remembering at all. Then, there is a huge hole of nothing until I saw you lying on the floor in solitary.”
He enters the cell and lowers me onto the bed. Adam is warm and safe and the bed feels cold and unwelcoming. I climb inside the sheets in an attempt to warm up the icy emptiness in my chest.
“I don’t want to forget. All I have are my memories. Will you end it for me before it gets that far? I’d rather die than forget. Can you do that for me?” I ask.
He stops at the door and turns to me with a look of disgust on his face. “I’m not talking about this with you,” he says.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I awake to movements in the dark and a freezing hand on my arm. It’s smooth and heavy and shakes me fully awake. Torchlight flickers around the cell. Yana, Haydn, and Dr Simmons stand at the foot of the bed. Golding sits on the edge with his gloved hand still around my arm. The fleeting relief that it is not Roscoe subsides, and my brain registers what is happening.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Golding shrugs, pulling me to my feet, and Dr Simmons beckons us to follow her.
The corridor is in darkness with the noticeable absence of TORO. We make our way along the corridor using the wall as a guide. Golding is just ahead of me, so I grab the back of his scrubs for stability. He doesn’t object and offers me his gloved hand.
“I’ve cut the power,” says Dr Simmons. “Roscoe is not on site, but we haven’t got long. I ordered the TORO to go and sort it. You need to remember this route, visualise it in your heads.”
“What about the air supply?” I whisper. I can still hear a hum in the darkness.
“The air supply is controlled above ground on a separate system,” she replies.
Left, right, and right again. We round a corner and come to a stairwell. Dr Simmons leads the way and we follow her down one flight of stairs. Following Golding’s outline, I step one foot after the other. He slips down a couple of steps and I jar my shoulder trying to steady him, but I don’t let the cry leave my throat.
Dr Simmons opens a small door to our left. It doesn’t have the same dominance as the therapy suite or cell doors. We pile inside and I close it behind me.
The chill in the air brings my skin out in goose bumps, and a musty, attic smell fills my nose. Dr Simmons clambers around in the dark, turning on the torch again. We recoil from the light as she shines it across the walls. It’s a fairly large store room with shelves of towels, sheets, red scrubs, and boxes of toiletries. White, linen bags filled with laundry are piled next to what looks like a serving hatch.
“This is the supply room,” says Dr Simmons. “Can you remember how to get here? At noon tomorrow, Facility One will experience a power short again. This means that all electronic doors will be immobilised, and the lifts to the upper levels out of operation. However, Roscoe will be on site during this time along with any TORO on duty. You will be in your cells and I will make sure that you can get out of those rooms. We need to make our way here whilst the cameras are down. Once here, we will climb into the dumb waiter one by one and make our way up to the laundry room of headquarters, which is two storeys above.” She says it as if reciting a fire safety speech.
What I had thought to be a serving hatch is a dumbwaiter lift. She shines the torch on the small metal door. It is going to be a tight fit for me, let alone Haydn and Golding. This is it, this is our great escape. Isaac has to be behind this.
“Why?” asks Haydn. His eyes are protruding from his head like fear filled orbs.
“You want to get the hell out of here, don’t you?” she snaps.
The same swell of confidence I felt at the mention of Isaac’s name rises in my chest.
“Yes, but I don’t want to be killed in the process,” he says.
It’s understandable the beating and the incident in the therapy suite has rattled him. Yana squeezes his arm affectionately, and I see now why she is happy to be his crutch. Their eyes meet and his face relaxes. It must be the first time they have gotten to properly touch each other.
“If you don’t prove you’re a grade three tomorrow night you will be killed anyway. And if you do, then you’ll be turned into TORO. The choice is yours,” Dr Simmons says, matter of fact.
Golding groans at her words. I take his hand again, holding it against my stomach to calm the churning feeling.
“So, you are c
oming too?” Haydn asks her.
“I can’t very well stay here,” she replies.
“Roscoe wants to create EVO-TORO,” I add, repeating Dr Simmons’ words to me. “He needs to prove we’re grade three before he can start the process of turning us into those things. He got the evidence he needed from me this morning.”
Dr Simmons nods. “And if I refuse to use my manipulation I’m dead,” she says.
“She is one of us,” I say. “Memory manipulation is why the TORO are the way they are.”
The three of them stare at her with their mouths a gape.
“But we’re not grade three,” says Haydn, gesturing at Yana and Golding.
“Then, you are worthless to him,” says Dr Simmons. “Noon tomorrow we meet here, okay?”
“And once we’re in the laundry room, then what?” he asks.
“I’m still working on that.”
My confidence in her is quickly replaced with trepidation.
Haydn scoffs. “You can’t expect us to just follow you blindly into the lion’s den?”
“You’re already in the lion’s den. Roscoe is right- you really are a wet blanket, aren’t you,” snaps Dr Simmons. “I know about you, you know. How your Daddy beat you as a youngster, and how you literally jumped at the chance of coming here. By all means stay, but you’ll be dead by midnight tomorrow. That’s not a guess that’s a promise.”
“Hey, that’s enough,” I snap at her. It appears we all have our demons. “We all have a history. Rubbing it in our faces won’t help.”
“I’m just saying that he should stop looking a gift horse in the mouth. Do you know how much I’m risking getting you out of here?” she says.
Golding steps forward, slapping Haydn on the back. “We have more chance up there than we do down here, mate” he says, breaking the tension. “I’m in. We can do this. After all, we’re EVO baby.” His voice is light and cool, and he leans back against a shelf. “Jesus, what is that?” he shouts, jumping forward.
I take the torch from Dr Simmons and shine it to where Golding had been leaning. It’s a trolley with a large white bag on it. It’s not laundry. I don’t know what it is. I lean closer, pulling at a draw string until it unties. Inside, something is wrapped in plastic. An ominous feeling grips at my gut. I slowly peel back the plastic and an eye stares up at me. Staggering backwards, I fall to the floor and see that there is a second white bag pushed under the trolley.
Dr Simmons picks up the torch, pulling the liners back fully. “Oh my god,” she gasps.
Yana lets out a strangled shriek. Golding helps me back to me feet, and I stand opposite Leon’s lifeless body. His eyes are open, but glassy, and a bullet hole sits in the centre of his forehead. Haydn holds Yana as she sobs into his chest, with a hand clamped over his own mouth. Dr Simmons examines Leon’s face, her hands trembling.
“Trina,” I say, pointing to the second bag. I hadn’t realised that I am digging my nails into Golding’s forearm.
Snapping out of my shock, I help him pull the second bag out. It is light, and the delicate shape of a female body is outlined in the fabric. Dr Simmons covers the plastic back over Leon’s face, re-ties the bag, and then dropping to her knees, she unties the second bag. Brown hair spills out in a tangled mess and she moves the strands to reveal Trina’s grey face. Trina’s eyes are closed. She could pass as sleeping if not for a bullet hole that matches Leon’s.
“They can’t have died more than ten hours ago.” Dr Simmons says to herself. “How did I miss this?”
“They haven’t died,” says Yana. “They were murdered. Why would anyone do this?”
“Because they were grade ones,” says Golding. “It’s us tomorrow if we don’t get the hell out of here.”
Dr Simmons ties up the bag, and I help her slide Trina back under the trolley. Yana lets out the occasional whimper, but sticks close to Haydn. Being in here with two dead bodies sends an eerie chill through my spine. I need to get out- I need air.
“None of you are to talk about this. Everything is monitored here. And Teddie be careful with Adam. He’s getting complacent and is drawing attention to himself,” says Dr Simmons.
“Who the hell is Adam?” asks Golding.
I ignore him. My heart is pounding in my ears and a panic churns my gut. “How has he drawn attention to himself? Is he okay?” I ask her.
“When you were under the hallucination he forgot himself for a moment. It didn’t help that you screamed his real name.” She raises an eyebrow at me in accusation. “I had to send him away and make an excuse to Roscoe that his VIDI screen was malfunctioning. I think we got away with it, but Roscoe has asked me to up his manipulation. He’s your TORO, Teddie. Roscoe is going to be watching everything and everyone around you like a hawk. I’ve put him down for TORO maintenance tomorrow to try and keep him out of the spotlight.”
“Have you explained the plan to him?” I ask. She doesn’t reply, and the silence presses on my shoulders like a lead weight. “You are going to tell him, Doc?”
“Yes of course,” she says. I don’t entirely believe her. “And please, call me Yvette.”
I need to get out of the cupboard even more now. The walls and the death are creeping in on me. Yvette tells Yana to keep quiet, and then she opens the door. I’m the first to follow her out. It’s hard not to press her more about Adam, but we need to move in silence.
We run as quickly as possible in the darkness with Yana helping Haydn along behind us. We arrive at my cell first. I don’t even say goodbye. Yvette locks the door behind me, and I can hear their footsteps disappearing down the corridor. It is going to be another sleepless night for me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
We eat breakfast in silence. I daren’t open my mouth in case I say something to jeopardise the plan and I’m guessing the others feel the same. Haydn and Yana sit as close to each other as physically possible without drawing attention, and I flash tentative looks at Golding.
I’ve got an uneasy feeling.
TORO 21 stands where Adam usually stands. I recognise him from the hallucination. He is one of the TORO who doused me. I wonder what Adam is doing right now and if Yvette has spoken to him. Last night she was keeping something from me, but why would she manipulate Adam to help me, and then not clue him in on the plan?
Yana stares at my hands. I’m ripping a napkin into shreds. Balling up the pieces, I drop it into my bowl and sit back from the table. The suspense is killing me.
The bell rings and the TORO drag us from the table. I miss Adam’s gentle touch as TORO 21 digs his fingers into my bicep.
We walk down the corridor, and Yvette hurries into the lift. She doesn’t make eye contact. The knot in my stomach tightens some more. Golding looks back at me, but I ignore his gaze and chew the hell out of my lip.
Yana and Haydn are escorted into the shower block closely followed by Golding. My TORO grips my arm tighter, pushing me further down the corridor.
“Hey, where are you taking me?” I say, pulling back.
Golding rushes out of the shower block with his TORO close on his heels. “What’s happening?” he shouts. His TORO grips his arms, wrenching them behind his back, until he drops to his knees.
“Your station is ready in the therapy suite,” states TORO 21.
“My station, what do you mean?” I ask.
“Your conditioning station,” he says, pushing me forward.
“No, no this isn’t right. I don’t start conditioning until this evening.”
“You start now.”
I fight to loosen his grip. The only thing I can focus on is freeing myself from him. I grasp at his fingers in an attempt to prize them from around my arm. He is strong and grabs my other wrist, bending it back on itself until I shriek in agony. I have no idea why I’m fighting him, there is nowhere to run. It is the fight or flight scenario and my survival instincts are kicking in.
My skin starts to tingle with the familiar charge of my telekinesis and I have to squeeze my eyes s
hut to control it. I can’t be sedated, not now.
TORO 21 spins me around, handcuffs my hands behind my back, and then lifts me into a fireman’s lift. Golding is lying face down, groaning in pain with his TORO’s knee pinning him to the floor. The space between us widens as TORO 21 marches quickly down the corridor to the lift that Yvette has just disappeared into.
***
The door to the therapy suite is open again, and Roscoe’s repulsive laugh hangs in the air, along with the chatter of a man’s voice. A TORO stands at the doorway, and once we enter, he shuts the door behind us with a resounding thud.
In the centre of the room is a strange looking set up of monitors, IV stands, and a metal bed. It is my TORO station. It looks out of place in the otherwise white, blank room. I can’t be strapped into that contraption. I flay my legs wildly in a desperate attempt to injure TORO 21, but he clamps his free arm around them, pinning them against his body. I scream out in frustration.
“Here she is, the one and only EVO 6,” says Roscoe’s overly cheery voice.
I’m thrust face down onto the hard bed, and the hand cuffs are removed from my wrists, so I can be strapped into the bed restraints. As soon as my arms are mobile, I push myself off the bed, punching out at the first person I find- Roscoe. He falls hard and scrambles away from me. TORO 21 comes up behind me and I plant an elbow in his ribs with little effect. He manoeuvres me into a head lock, squeezing until I can barely breathe.
“Use the collar. Sedate her!” shouts a familiar voice. Towley rushes forward to help Roscoe to his feet.
“No, that won’t work,” Roscoe says, wiping at his bloody nose with a hankie. “We need her coherent. Where the hell is Yvette?”
I can use my telekinesis and put an end to the conditioning, but for how long? If I’m sedated, I’m out of control and I can’t risk that. The thought of what they might do to my unconscious body or what they are about to do once I’m strapped into the bed makes it harder for me to fight down the temptation.
EVO Nation: EVO Nation Series: Book One (science fiction/ urban fantasy) Page 7
