by Aaron Hodges
A groan came from the opposite bed as Sam rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head.
“God,” Chris’s voice came from her other side.
Liz turned to face him. “What?”
He blinked and shook his head. “Your neck, no wonder you couldn’t breathe. It’s a rather attractive shade of purple.”
Liz lifted a hand and touched a finger to her throat, but flinched back as the muscles spasmed. She bit her lip, swallowing the pain. “I’ve had worse.”
Chris shivered, but said nothing.
For the next few minutes they sat in silence, listening to the growing crescendo of Sam’s snores. Finally, Ashley stood and moved across to his bed. Taking a hold of his blanket, she tore it away, exposing his half-naked body to the cold. His curses echoed from the walls as Ashley retreated to her bed, bringing Sam’s cover with her.
Liz chuckled as Ashley spread the cover over them, trying to ignore the burning from her throat. “Thanks, I was getting cold,” she grinned at the other girl.
“Hey!” Sam was sitting up now, blinking hard in the fluorescent light. Lifting his pillow, he tossed it across the room. Chris caught it easily and placed it behind his head.
Liz smiled as a little of the weight lifted from her heart. Wriggling her backside, she snuggled in beneath the blanket, and basked in the warmth from either side of her. Together, they grinned as Sam found the shirt he’d discarded the night before and pulled it over his broad shoulders. Liz watched with a tinge of disappointment as he covered himself.
“Hey, my eyes are up here, ladies,” Sam laughed.
Liz snorted. “Like I’d be interested in a city slugger like you, Sam.”
Ashley giggled and Chris chuckled while Sam rolled his eyes. Then the clang of the outer door echoed down the corridor, plunging the room into silence. The smiles fell from their faces as they shared sad glances, the weight of yesterday’s guilt returning.
“What happens next?” Chris murmured.
Sam’s eyes flickered towards Ashley. “After we… survived, you two showed up,” Sam replied with a shrug. “You know the rest.”
Beside her, Ashley shifted on the bed. “Yesterday, on the training field, the doctors were talking,” the girl spoke in a low voice. “I overheard a bit. They were talking about things moving ahead. So who knows what comes next.”
The bed shifted again as Chris pulled himself up. A pang of sadness touched Liz as his warmth left her side. He moved to the bars and glanced down the corridor. “Well, whatever comes next, at least breakfast is on its way,” his words were spoken with a false lightness, failing to hide the strain beneath, but Liz appreciated his attempt to brighten the gloomy discussion.
Sam groaned. “Don’t suppose it’s something other than that gruel they call oatmeal?”
“Sure, what’s your order? I’ll give them a shout.” Chris laughed.
“I’ll take some eggs with a side of bacon. Maybe some hash browns. Oh, and a burger. You got all that?”
“How about a television while you’re at it, Chris?” Ashley put in.
Shaking his head, Chris returned to the bed and slid in beside Liz. “Ah, bacon. I can’t even remember the last time we had that at home.”
As his warmth touched Liz she found herself sliding closer, until her side pressed up against him. A tingle ran up her arm at the touch, and she held her breath, waiting for him to pull away. When he did not move, she smiled, only then recalling his words. Her grin spread. While the food on the ranch had not technically been theirs to eat, her family had made an art of pilfering extra supplies whenever they were available. Bacon had been just one of the many luxury food items she’d enjoyed.
“Oh, I don’t know, back on the farm we had bacon and eggs for breakfast most days. It gets a little old.”
She chuckled as the three of them turned to stare at her. Unfortunately, the laughter was too much for her throat, and she broke into a coughing fit. It was a few minutes before she found her voice again.
“Country secret,” she croaked at last, and the others groaned.
The screeching wheels of the breakfast cart came to a sudden halt outside their cell. The guard banged his rifle against the bars while the other opened the grate through which they passed the food.
“Come and get it.” The guard with the gun laughed. “Big day for you I hear.”
Chris retrieved the four bowls of oatmeal, much to Sam’s chagrin, and they sat down to their meal.
Afterwards the four of them sat back and waited, listening for the sound of the outer door. Closing her eyes, Liz did her best to ignore the agony that was her neck. Her good mood quickly fell away as the pain beat down on her. Silently, she cursed the doctors, the guards and their guns, even Joshua for his vicious attack.
“What do you think he meant?” Sam asked after an hour, addressing the room at large.
“Nothing good,” Chris offered unhelpfully.
“Well, they need us alive for something,” Ashley put in. She had joined Sam on the other bed now, surrendering her bed to Liz and Chris. “Whatever this place is, its top secret. My parents weren’t the most connected of individuals in the government, but most things reached the rumour mill at some point. I don’t think this place was ever mentioned. As far as the media are concerned, the children of traitors were…” her voice trailed off, and Liz felt a pang of sadness for the girl.
Without speaking, Sam reached up and placed an arm around Ashley, drawing her into a hug. Watching them, Liz’s sadness grew, rising from some lonely chasm inside her. The last two years had been long and hard, and more than once she had found herself craving the touch of another human being. Licking her lips, she glanced at Chris, then gave herself a silent shake. Drawing up her knees, she hugged them to her chest.
Movement came from beside her, but it was just Chris rearranging himself on the bed. He spoke into the uncomfortable silence. “Maybe it’s the same with our families then. Maybe they’ve been taken someplace else,” there was no mistaking the tremor of hope in his voice.
As the others nodded, Liz closed her eyes. The others might still cling to the hope their families were alive, but hers were gone.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Sam replied with false cheer. “We can all have a reunion someday, share torture stories around the campfire–”
“Shut up, Sam.” Ashley pushed him away and looked at Chris. “We can only hope, Chris. Although my sister…” she bowed her head, eyes shining. “She got in the way. They never gave her a chance.”
Before any of them could respond, a loud clang echoed down the corridor.
The four of them shared a long glance.
“Showtime,” Sam whispered.
18
The soft screech of iron rollers carried down the corridor as the door to a cell slid open. Together, the four of them jumped from their beds and pressed themselves up against the bars. Head hard against the cold steel, Liz peered out into the corridor, straining to see what was happening. The faces of their fellow inmates appeared behind the bars of the other cells, eyes wide and staring.
At the very limits of her viewpoint, Liz could just make a group of doctors clustered around the cell at the end of the corridor, talking quietly amongst themselves. Beside them, guards were shouting at the occupants of the cell. They carried steel batons now, instead of the familiar rifles of the past few days.
As Liz watched, the guards disappeared into the cell. The raised voices of the prisoners carried to them, followed by the muffled thud of steel on flesh.
Retreating from the bars, Liz looked at the others. Sam and Chris stared back, their eyes wide, uncertainty written across their faces. Ashley only pursed her lips, her eyes roaming the cell.
Liz turned back to the bars as a girl’s scream carried down the corridor. Looking along the rows of cells, she watched the doctors gathering around a steel trolley. One of the doctors was leaning over an open drawer on the side of the cart. Reaching inside, he drew out a packet of syrin
ges. Vials of a clear liquid quickly followed, as he handed them out to the other doctors. Together, they turned and followed the guards into the cell. Another shriek echoed down the corridor, a boy’s this time.
“What’s going on?” Chris asked from behind her.
Liz glanced back at the others. “It’s some sort of injection. They’ve got syringes and a trolley loaded with God knows what else.”
As she finished speaking, a long, drawn out screeched erupted from the cell at the end of the corridor. Liz flinched, pressing her face hard against the bars, straining to see. It was the girl again. Distantly she remembered the faces of the two captives: a young girl with blonde hair, a boy with black dreadlocks.
The girl’s scream slowly died away, but before it ceased the boy’s voice joined in, carrying the awful notes of agony to the four of them in their little cell. Liz shuddered, fighting the urge to cover her ears. The shrieks rose and fell, twisting and cracking, almost inhuman in their anguish.
Turning, she saw the blood draining from the other’s faces, felt her own cheeks grow cold with an awful fear.
Slowly the screams died away, leaving only silence.
And the screech of trolley wheels on concrete as the doctors made their way to the next cell.
“What do we do?” Chris repeated his question from earlier.
“We fight,” came Ashley’s reply.
Liz turned and stared at the girl, heart thudding hard in her chest. “What?” from down the corridor came the rattle of another cell opening. “What about the collars–” she broke off as a cough tore at her throat.
Staggering past the others, she fumbled at the sink and turned the faucet. As she drank, Ashley continued to speak.
“Those batons, why do they need them?” her voice sounded calm, as though they were discussing the weather. “They haven’t used them before now.”
“It’s like you said before,” Sam mused. “They don’t want us dead. They’ve been saving us for something. For this.”
“Really?” Chris snapped. He waved a hand. “Because I’m pretty sure they just killed those two.”
“They’re not using the collars,” Liz croaked as she re-joined them. The realisation had come as she pressed her mouth to the faucet, making the collar dig into her neck. “No guns or collars.”
Sam grinned and cracked his knuckles. “In that case, I agree with Ashley.”
Liz leaned against the pole of her bunk bed, drawing reassurance from its icy touch. She looked at the others, fear fluttering in her stomach. Sam looked more alive than she’d ever seen him, his eyes alight with a frightening rage. Chris stood beside him, tense and ready, one eye on the door to the cell.
And Ashley… just looked like Ashley – cool, calm, collected.
She pushed past the boys as another scream rattled the walls. As they took up station near the door, she crouched between the beds, and lifted a piece of railing which lay wedged against the wall. Liz blinked, realising it was the safety railing for her bed, the one that had given way and sent her crashing to the concrete.
Ashley moved across to Sam and offered him the bar. Teeth flashing, he took it and held it up to the light. The three parts of the rail formed a distorted U-shape, with two short piece of steel jutting from the longer centre piece.
“Work at the joints, see if you can break them apart.”
As Sam set to work trying to separate the bars, Ashley moved to the front of the cell and resumed her watch. Liz joined her, and together they followed the doctors slow progress through the prison.
“They’re done with us,” Chris whispered behind them.
Outside the screams continued, at times slowly fading, only to resume as the doctors reached the next cell.
“No,” Ashley whispered. Her eyes took on a haunted look. “I think they’re only just getting started.”
“Here.” Liz turned and Sam offered her one of the smaller bars. He grinned. “Just pretend they’re city sluggers like me.”
Liz smiled back. Silently she reached out and squeezed his arm. He nodded and moved across to Ashley and Chris, offering them the other two bars. Ashley took one, but Chris shook his head. His eyes did not leave the corridor, but he spoke from the side of his mouth.
“I’d prefer to keep my hands free, thanks.”
Outside, the doctors had reached the cell directly across from them. Its only occupant stood at the bars, watching as the doctors drew to a halt. His eyes were bloodshot and tears streamed down his face.
“Please, I never did anything wrong,” his voice was feeble, barely a whisper.
He retreated into his cell as the guards slid the door open. Before he could so much as raise his fists they were on him, batons flashing in the fluorescent lights. A few seconds later they had him pinned to the bed. Without preamble, the doctors entered the cell. As the guards held the boy down, one doctor pulled down his pants, while another prepared the needle. The injection was given, then the doctors and guards retreated from the cell, slamming the door closed behind them.
Liz flinched as the boy screamed and began to writhe. Then the guards moved between them and the other cell, and there was no more time to consider their neighbour's plight.
Gripping the bars of their cell tight in her hands, Liz watched as the guards gathered near the door. The pain in her throat had strangely faded away, leaving only a dull ache. Blood pounded in her ears as she tensed, readying herself.
“Stand back, drop those,” one of the guards ordered, eying their makeshift batons.
When they didn’t move, he turned to look at the doctors.
“What are you waiting for?” Doctor Radly’s voice carried into the cell. “Get in there and take those off them. You know we can’t use the collars. We can’t have any interference with their nervous system.”
The guard nodded and reached out to unlock the door. The others gathered behind him, seven in total, their batons held ready.
A strange calm settled over Liz as the door slid open, the terror of the past few days falling away. Whatever Ashley thought, this was it. This was their only chance. If they failed, she knew in her heart they would be lost.
As the first of the guards moved into the cell, movement came from beside her. She turned in time to see Chris lunge forward. The guard grinned and raised his baton, but Chris was faster still. Leaping lightly from the concrete floor, he twisted in the air to avoid the man’s blow, and drove a kick into the side of the guard’s head.
Liz gaped as the man’s eyes rolled up in his skull and he collapsed to the ground
Chris landed lightly in the doorway and retreated back to re-join them.
“Six to go,” he grinned, his smile infectious.
Shaking her head, Liz gripped the metal bar tighter and tried to hide her shock.
Outside, the remaining guards grabbed their fallen comrade by the feet and dragged his unconscious body out into the corridor. One of the doctors crouched beside him and placed a stethoscope to his chest. Radly glanced down at the man, then back at the guards. Each of them dwarfed even Sam’s large frame, but still they stood hesitating in the hallway. The fate of their comrade had given them pause.
“Well?” he snapped. “What are we paying you for? Get in there!”
The guards shared a glance, then approached together. Pushing the sliding door wide open, they entered as a group this time. They paused for a second in the entrance-way, hefting their batons, then came forward in a sudden rush.
Liz tensed as the first guard came for her, his steel baton flashing for her face. Ducking back, the hackles on her neck tingled as it swept over her head. Then she lifted her own weapon and drove it into the man’s midriff.
The blow caught him as he was moving forward, and his own weight drove the air from his lungs. As he staggered to a halt, Liz lifted her bar to strike him again, then threw herself to the side as another guard swung at her. Steel rang out as the baton left a dent in the bunk bed behind her.
Recovering, she turn
ed and found the first guard already straightening. Now the two of them bore down on her, forcing her away from the others.
Liz gripped her makeshift weapon tight, knowing she was hopelessly outmatched. Snarling, she threw herself forward anyway. They grinned, raised their batons. Then a body stumbled backwards into them, sending them stumbling forward. Seeing her chance, Liz swung her pole into the face of the nearest guard.
As the man staggered sideways, she leapt for the gap he’d left, eager to re-join the others. But as she moved, the other recovered and stepped in to block her, baton already in motion. The blow caught her in the stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs and sending her staggering backwards into the wall.
Groaning, she tried to straighten, but a fist caught her in the side of the face. Her feet crumpled beneath the force of the blow, and she slid sideways into the crook between the wall and the bunk. Coughing up blood, she tried to regain her feet, but a heavy boot crashed into her back, pinning her to the ground.
Head ringing, Liz twisted on the ground, desperate for a glimpse of the others. But the fight was already over, the guards’ weight and numbers making short work of the four prisoners in the narrow confines of the cell. Sam lay immobilised on his own bed, a guard’s knee pressed between his shoulder blades. Ashley was similarly restrained on the floor nearby, while Chris still stood, his arms held by a man on either side of him. The last guard was just getting to his feet, a nasty bruise on his forehead.
“About time,” Radly’s sarcastic voice came from somewhere out of view. “Would you like something easier next time. Maybe some toddlers?”
The guards were silent as the doctors filed in, carrying their assortment of vials and syringes. As the doctors prepared themselves, Radly looked around the room. His eyes settled on Liz. “Get her up.”
Tears stung Liz’s eyes as a rough hand grasped a handful of her hair and pulled. Screaming, she drove a fist into the man’s side, but the blow hardly seemed to faze him. A tearing pain came from her scalp as he pulled again. Kicking and screaming, Liz found herself hauled to her feet.
