by Aaron Hodges
4
“What about me?” Liz croaked. “My parents are gone. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Halt’s eyes turned towards her and his scowl deepened. “Elizabeth Flores.” He paused, looking her up and down with a sneer. “Vagrant, beggar, fugitive. You have escaped justice for long enough. After what your parents did, did you really think we would not come for you? That we would not hunt you to the ends of the earth?”
White-hot fire lit Liz’s chest, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and swallow the screams building in her throat. She wanted to deny the accusations, to curse him and the others, but she knew there was no point. She had tried that once before, when they had first come for her. But one look at her ragged clothes, at the curly black hair and olive skin, and they had dismissed her words as lies.
Her shoulders slumped as Halt looked away. Wrapping her arms around herself, she staggered to the back of the cage and sank to the floor. She wasn’t giving up, not yet, but she knew when silence offered the better course of action.
Unlike her fellow prisoner.
“What is this place?” Christopher’s voice was soft, as though if he whispered, the answer might offer some sort of mercy.
Liz glanced across at him, and watched as he lost his battle with the tears. Despite herself, a pang of sympathy twitched in her chest. She knew what it was like, to lose her parents. She would not wish it on anyone.
“This is your redemption.” Halt spread his arms, including them both in the gesture. “This is your chance to redress the crimes of your parents, to contribute to the betterment of our nation. The government has seen fit to offer you both a reprieve.”
“How generous of them,” Liz muttered from the floor.
She shivered as Halt’s eyes found hers. They flashed with anger, offering a silent warning against further interruptions. Pursing her lips, she gripped the wire tighter. It cut into her fingers as she willed herself to contain her anger.
“My mother was not a traitor,” came Christopher’s response. “How dare you–”
Halt waved a hand and the guards who still waited at the rear of the room came to life. They marched past the silent group of doctors and approached Chris’s cage. One produced a key and a second later they had the door open. Moving inside, there was a brief scuffle as they tried to get their hands on the boy. One staggered back from a blow to the face, before the other managed to use his bulk to pin Christopher to the wire.
When they both had a firm grip on him, they hauled him out and forced him to his knees in front of Halt. The doctor loomed over the boy, his arms folded. He contemplated Chris with eyes empty of compassion, like a spider studying a fly trapped in its web. Liz watched on in silence, hardly daring to breathe as Halt nodded to the guards.
The one on the left drew back his boot and slammed it into Christopher’s stomach. He collapsed without a sound, his mouth wide, gasping like a fish out of water. A low wheeze came from his throat as he rolled onto his back and strained for breath. It came in a sudden rush, before the boot crashed into his side, almost lifting him off the ground.
A scream tore from the young man’s throat as he rolled into a ball. But the other guard only grabbed him by the back of the shirt and hauled him back to his knees. The two of them looked back at Halt then, waiting for further instruction.
Smiling, Halt approached, one finger tapping idly against his elbow. Softly, he continued as though nothing had changed. “As I was saying, you have been given a reprieve, but the crimes of your parents still stand, as does the sentence on your lives. That makes you dead in the eyes of the state. You are no one, nothing but what we permit you to be. If you’re lucky, you might find yourselves worthy of our work here at the Praegressus Facility.” Liz shivered at the name. It sounded Latin, though she had no idea what it might mean. “More likely though, you will die. But know at least your deaths will have advanced the interests of our fine nation.”
Chris still knelt on the ground between the guards, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Halt eyed him, as though weighing whether his words had sunk in, before continuing.
“In the meantime, you will come to respect and obey your betters,” Halt spoke. “Soon, you will be shown to your new accommodation. But first, I want to be sure you understand the gravity of your situations. Christopher Sanders, why are you here?”
On the ground, Chris looked up at the doctor. His eyes shone, but no tears fell. Turning his head to the side, he spat on the concrete and scowled. “She’s a terrible cook,” he coughed, then continued, “but I’d hardly say that makes her a traitor–”
The guard’s fist caught him on the side of the head and sent him crashing to the floor. A boot followed, and for the next thirty seconds the room rang with the thud of hard leather boots on flesh, interspersed with Christopher’s muffled cries. When the guards finally pulled back, the young man lay still, a low groan the only sign of life.
“Get him up,” Halt commanded.
Together the guards hauled the boy back to his knees. This time Halt leaned down, until the two of them were face to face. “Well?”
Christopher’s shoulders sagged and his head bowed. A soft sob came from his mouth, and for a second she thought he would not speak. Then he nodded, and a whisper followed. “Okay,” he croaked, “okay... My mother… was a traitor.” He looked up as he finished, a spark of flame still burning in his eyes. “Does that make you happy?”
The doctor eyed him for a long while, as though measuring up his admission with the show of defiance. Finally he nodded, and the guards grabbed Christopher by the shoulders and muscled him back into the cage.
The clang as the door closed sent a thrill of ice down Liz’s spine. She stared down at the floor, sensing the eyes of the room on her, and waited for Halt to address her.
“Ah, Elizabeth Flores,” his voice snaked its way around her, raising the hackles on her neck. “You have run for so long. Surely you at least must admit to your parents’ crimes?”
Looking up, Liz found the cold grey eyes of the doctor watching her. She suppressed a shudder and quickly looked away. Taking slow, measured breaths, she beat down the rage burning in her chest. She took one step, then another, until she reached the front of her cage. Leaning against the wire, she looked down at the doctor and raised an eyebrow.
“What would you like me to admit too?” she whispered.
Halt took a step back from the cage, but she did not miss the way his eyes lingered on her. She gave a little smirk as he growled. “Disgusting girl,” he spat. “Admit that your parents were monsters - that you aided them, that for years you have run from the law, hiding from justice.”
A tremble of rage raced through Liz. She bit her lip. Closing her eyes, she sent out a silent prayer for the souls of her parents. Their faces drifted through her mind – smiling, happy, at peace. They had been kind and sweet, only ever wanting for her to be happy, to have a better life than the one they’d lived. For years they had scraped and saved their every penny, so they could send her to boarding school. The day she’d been accepted, she had never seen them so happy. And for three years, she had suffered the taunts of her peers in that school to keep them that way.
But they were long gone now; they did not care what was said about them. There was no need for Liz to suffer now, to bleed for their memory. Not now, when there was no hope of escape. But silently she made a vow to herself, to bide her time and conserve her strength, until an opportunity showed itself.
When she opened her eyes again, she found the cold grey eyes of Halt looking back, and smirked.
“Fine, I admit it. My parents were monsters. What of it?”
She almost laughed as the doctor’s face darkened, an angry red flushing across his cheeks. He clenched his fists and made to approach the cage before stopping himself. Flashing a glance over his shoulder at their audience, he shook his head and smiled.
“Very good,” he eyed the two of them. “So, we understand one another.”
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nbsp; 5
Chris gripped the wire of his cage as Halt eyed the two of them. Clamping his mouth shut, he ignored the voice in his head that screamed for answers. His jaw and back ached where the guards had struck him, and he was not eager to repeat the experience. The ugly thugs were grinning at him now, as though daring him to give them another chance. Instead, he bit his tongue and waited to see what came next.
His mind was still reeling, struggling to put together the pieces of his scattered memories. Images from the night flashed through his mind – the Chead on the television, the men in his house, his mother falling.
Ice wrapped around his throat as Halt’s words twisted in his mind.
Traitor.
A tremor ran through him and he suppressed a sob. The sentence for treason was death. Often just the accusation of such a crime was enough. And now his mother had been taken, stolen away by the woman in the white coat.
Holding his breath, Chris struggled with his fear, his terror that she might already be gone. That he might now be alone, an orphan in a harsh, unforgiving world.
With a low moan, Chris took a great, shuddering breath and shook his head. That was the least of his problems. Whatever his mother’s fate, he could do nothing for her now, trapped in this cage.
Opening his eyes, he looked across as Halt spoke. “Now that we have an understanding, we must prepare you for the project.” A thin smile spread across his lips. “Take off your clothes.”
A chill spread through Chris’s chest as Halt folded his arms. Behind him, the guards shifted, edging close, wide grins splitting their faces. A sharp intake of breath came from the other cage, but otherwise the girl did not move.
Chris shrank back from the wire. “Why?”
Halt took a step forward. “Now, Christopher, I had hoped we had moved past this. The dog does not question his master when he is told to sit.”
Clenching his fists, Chris shook his head. His eyes travelled past Halt, to the audience of doctors. They lingered on the face of the woman, the doctor called Fallow. “This isn’t right,” he breathed.
Letting out a long sigh, Halt waved the guards forward. They approached the cage, shoulders hunched, moving with a cold proficiency. Chris hesitated as they reached the door and fumbled with the latch. Then he began to unbutton his shirt, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Outside the guards paused, looking back at Halt in question. The doctor nodded curtly, and they retreated to their positions behind him.
In the cage, Chris quickly stripped off his clothing piece by piece, shivering as the icy breath of the air conditioner brushed across his skin. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as he pulled off his last strip of clothing and tossed it to the floor. Turning sideways, he bowed his head, struggling to cover himself.
Then, reaching up he unclipped the chain that still hung around his neck. It came away easily, the little pocket watch falling into his hand. He clenched it in his fist, a tremble of grief washing through him. Flicking open the metal catch, he looked at the faces of his mother and father, at their kind smiles, and then closed it again.
Struggling to hold back his tears, he placed the pocket watch gently, reverently on his pile of clothes.
Standing, he felt the eyes of the doctors roaming over his naked flesh, examining him, seeking out his every secret. A deep sense of helplessness rose in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. Cheeks flushed, he stared hard at the ground, fighting to ignore the world.
“Very good, Christopher,” Halt’s voice was patronising, and Chris almost choked on the shame that rose in his throat, “and you, Elizabeth?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Chris caught movement from the other cage. Turning his head, he watched as Elizabeth approach the front of the cage. Her lips were pulled into a smirk, but her blue eyes flashed with a barely concealed anger. She pressed herself against the wire and stared across at Halt.
“Come and get me,” she growled, her voice threatening.
Chris’s eyes widened. After her earlier acquiescence, he had not expected her to resisted.
In front of the cages, Halt gave a slow shake of his head. “Bring her,” he hissed.
The guards marched passed him and yanked the door to the cage open. Elizabeth retreated from the door, watching as the first of the men pushed their way inside. Then, with a wild shriek, she leapt. At maybe one hundred and twenty-five pounds, she was dwarfed by the guard. Even so, her sudden attack caught him by surprise and sent him tumbling backwards into his comrade.
As the two of them went down in a heap, Elizabeth leapt for the door. She made it over the threshold before the first guard managed to stagger upright. His arm swung out, catching her by the leg, and she slammed into the concrete outside the cage. With another screech, she kicked out with her free leg, catching the guard in the face. He gave a muffled curse, but held on.
In seconds the other guard was up. He strode across to where Elizabeth fought to free herself, reached down, and wrapped one meaty hand around her hair. The girl gave a pained cry as he lifted her up and held her off the ground. She kicked feebly at empty air, her hands batting at his chest. Her mouth gaped as the colour fled her face.
With a contemptuous flick of his arm, the guard tossed her aside. Elizabeth crashed hard into the concrete. She struggled to regain her composure, but a heavy boot drove down onto her back, sending her face first into the floor.
Halt walked across and knelt beside the girl, a cold smile on his snakelike lips.
“Elizabeth,” Halt’s voice was laced now with honey, “be a good girl now. You cannot join the project with those reminders of your old life. Remove your clothes.”
Chris shuddered as the man stood, his grey eyes flashing as he watched the girl lift herself to her hands and knees. One trembling hand reached for the buttons of her shirt and began to pluck them open. Closing his eyes, Chris looked away, unwilling to participate in her shaming.
He glanced back up a few minutes later as the sound of metal striking concrete rang through the room. His eyes were drawn to the object now lying on the ground between Halt and the shivering girl. The thick steel links of a chain lay between them like a snake, the silver metal shining in the fluorescent lights. For an instant, he wondered where it had come from, but his thoughts quickly turned to what it was.
A collar.
6
“Put it on,” Halt’s voice slivered through the room, cold, commanding.
Elizabeth flinched away from him, but the guard’s hand flashed out and caught her by the hair. Dragging her forward, he shoved her back to her knees in front of the collar. A tremble went through the girl as she glared up at Halt, her eyes flashing. For a second, Chris thought she would resist, but then with a trembling hand she reached out and picked up the collar.
Elizabeth’s mouth twisted with disgust as she held the steel linked chain in front of her. Her eyes closed, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in a breath. Chris waited, his own breath held, aware his turn would come soon.
“This is what you want, you disgusting–” the girl broke off as the guard’s fist sent her reeling.
A low groan came from her lips, but she straightened on the ground, the collar still in hand. She looked at Halt, and then away again. With trembling hands, she lifted the collar to her throat. The click it made as it fastened echoed loudly in the concrete room.
Halt smiled and clapped his hands. The guards grabbed Elizabeth by each arm and hauled her back up. With a few shoves they had her back in the cage, and the steel door swung shut behind her. Then Halt’s grey eyes turned towards Chris, where he still waited naked inside his own cage.
“I suppose it’s my turn then?” He asked with false bravado.
Halt stared him down, the grey eyes piercing him through. Horror curled its way up Chris’s throat as he felt his cheeks warming. His eyes drifted towards the other doctors, who still stood in silence. Outside, the guards approached his cage. Watching them, he saw that one carried a bundle of ora
nge clothing, the other a steel link collar identical to the one Elizabeth now wore.
“Move to the back of the cage,” one guard ordered.
Clenching his fists, Chris stumbled back from the door as the guard flicked the latch and pushed it open. His body ached from his beating, and in the narrow space he didn’t like his chances of besting the two men. He had already watched the girl take that approach and fail. He would have to wait, bide his time until an opportunity arose.
Inside the cage, the first of the guards collected his clothes and replaced them with the orange bundle. The collar was placed on top of the pile, and then the two men retreated, swinging the door shut behind them.
Chris looked across at Halt, waiting for an order. When none was forthcoming, he moved across to the pile and picked up the collar. Raising an eyebrow, he tried and failed to suppress his sarcasm. “What are we? Your pets now?”
Halt smirked. “Would you like another lesson, Christopher?”
Letting out a long breath, Chris shook his head. He squeezed his fingers, letting the cold metal of the collar dig into his flesh. His heart pounded hard in his chest, screaming a warning, that if he obeyed now there would be no going back.
Dimly, he remembered a story his father had told him when he was younger. It had been almost ten years since the cancer had taken him, but he could still recall his father’s voice with crystal clarity. His rough baritone drifted up from Chris’s memories, as he described how the Mahouts in Thailand had once tamed their elephants.
The Mahouts had placed chains around the legs of young elephants and attached them to heavy pegs in the ground. Whenever the elephants tried to escape, the chain would contract, cutting into the elephant’s leg, making it bleed. Eventually the elephant would realise the futility of trying to escape.
As adults, the same chain and peg were used to restrain the giant creatures. And though they then possessed the strength to escape the peg and chain, they never tried.
