The floor is padded and uneven. I roll away from the TORO, and as he charges me, I stick out a foot, tripping him. He struggles to right himself, so I use the opportunity to throw myself at him. Ripping off his helmet, I claw at his face with my nails. I punch once, twice, and then a knee meets my already painful ribs. I’m no match for him.
“Use your telekinesis, EVO,” coaxes Roscoe. The irritated tones in his voice give me a sudden rush of pleasure.
The telekinesis makes my body throb with power, like my skin carries an electrical charge. It is there to be used; a burning ball of erratic strength in my chest. I want to use it desperately, but I will never give him the satisfaction. It surges as another knee meets with my stomach, forcing bile to rise in my throat. However, I keep my focus and the urge wanes. For the first time in my life, I have controlled it.
Roscoe lets out a crazed roar, sending the monitor soaring from the trolley. The collar beeps to let me know it is activated once again, and a sudden wave of accomplishment ripples over me as I lie immobile on the floor. At Roscoe’s growl, the TORO stops his attack and resumes position.
“I’ve told you I can’t control it,” I say, spitting out a mouthful of blood.
Roscoe wrenches the device off my head- flinging it across the room- a clump of my hair with it. “You controlled it alright, but that wasn’t the idea behind this particular test. Don’t get cocky, EVO. I will break you.”
CHAPTER NINE
After being shoved back into the cell, I camp out in the bathroom with a cold flannel to my lip and cheek. My scrubs are covered in blood that has dried to a dark brown, and I self-consciously touch the bald spot behind my ear.
I crawl across the cool tiles, heave myself into bed, and lie in nothing but my underwear. The lights come on meaning the day shift has started. I hope TORO 61 will appear soon to get me some painkillers and clean scrubs.
“Teddie,” he whispers.
The sound of my name leaving his lips is a welcome one. It’s nice to feel familiar. I push the covers off and allow him to see my face. He holds the bloodied scrubs in his hands in confusion. His mouth falls into an O shape, but no sound escapes.
“You took your time,” I mumble. It hurts to speak. “Can you ask Dr Simmons for some painkillers, please?” I stand in just my underwear. My older bruises are now covered in fresh, purple ones.
His eyes survey me and turn cold. “Who did this to you?” he asks.
“Painkillers first,” I say, wincing. “And some clean scrubs, please.”
He storms out of the room, taking the dirty scrubs with him. Shouts erupt from outside, causing my tummy to knot. I pray he hasn’t done anything stupid.
An incredibly deep, male voice rings out. “What the hell was that, Alan? Is that what we do now, huh? She’s just a kid!”
“Admittedly, it didn’t provide the results I was looking for, but you saw the footage for yourself. You can’t deny that she can control it. Her kinetic output flew off the chart and back to zero in the space of a few seconds, even if the results were inconclusive,” Roscoe replies, calmly. “That is no kid in there. She is a grade three EVO and will be treated as such. Sergeant Major Towley agrees that we need to start pushing boundaries with all the EVO, her especially.”
“So, is that why you chose the middle of the night to do it? I can’t be a part of this,” the man says, his voice raging.
“Think about what you are saying, Sergeant Boyd,” Roscoe hisses, and then footsteps disappear down the corridor.
Dr Simmons enters the cell with TORO 61. Relief is an understatement. The muscular government official from the canteen glances in, catching sight of me as the door closes. His expression is a mix of pity and horror that burns into my soul.
Dr Simmons checks me over, and then hands me an ice pack for my cheek. It has swollen badly and I can see it in my peripheral vision.
TORO 61 gives me fresh scrubs. “I don’t know how to react to this,” he states, returning to position.
“You don’t react,” I urge him. “You do the TORO thing- nothing.”
“She’s right. Now is not the time,” Dr Simmons’ says to him. “Teddie, can you keep this up for just a bit longer? You mustn’t give Roscoe what he wants. You must keep control of your telekinesis. Can you fight him?” Her voice is quiet, but full of panic as she hurries me into my scrubs.
“That man will not get anything from me. He can kill me trying,” I say, and I mean it. “What is it that he wants so badly?”
“I learnt something in the meeting yesterday. He wants to see if you are viable for programming. Roscoe wants to create an EVO-TORO. Certain government officials want that too, but he must prove you’re a grade three first. He missed his chance when you first arrived. He didn’t activate the collar in time and lost out on a reading, but he knows that you are powerful. Roscoe’s looking for more grade three EVO and above as we speak. You’re the only ones who can make it through conditioning and T.M.S with your ability still intact. Not to mention, the memory manipulation. Lesser EVO’s lose their abilities when they lose their minds.”
“How do you even know that?” asks TORO 61. He knows better than to look involved in our conversation and stares at the wall opposite.
“Because we’ve attempted it,” she says under her breath. “The higher-grade EVO was the only TORO to retain his ability.” Her pager beeps and she jumps away from me, grabbing her medical kit.
“Which TORO?” I ask.
She glances at the cameras nervously. “I need to go before Roscoe gets suspicious,” she says, heading for the door.
“I don’t think so, Doc. You need to give me something more than that.”
She casually drops a file on the floor beside my bed and bends to retrieve it. She waits for me to follow her lead, and both TORO 61 and I start to gather the leaves of paper.
Her hand rests on top of mine briefly. “Isaac told me to tell you that he will see you soon,” she says.
The pager beeps again, and this time, it’s me who jumps out of my skin. She knows Isaac. She knows who I am. Fire ignites in my stomach and I feel wide awake. It isn’t hope I feel; hope is a fluffy notion. I feel confidence.
“Tell him to hurry up,” I say, as she leaves.
I’m alert. I’m waiting for something to happen, although I’m not sure what or when. The fact that we’re underground, in what I guess is an impenetrable compound, tries to creep into my mind, but I push it back. I can’t think about that. I want to bask in the confidence I feel.
I suppress a smile, and TORO 61 studies me with an amused look on his face.
“How are you doing today?” I ask.
His light expression switches to one of steely grey. “I’m remembering,” he replies.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“I guess so. Not that it makes any sense.”
I scoff. “Life doesn’t make any sense, TORO.”
“I have a name, you know?” he says, repeating my own words. “It’s Adam.”
***
I hobble into the canteen, hunched over like an old witch. Yana sits alone, playing with her porridge, her mind elsewhere. I startle her out of her reverie and she surveys my face, yet isn’t as taken aback as I thought she’d be. It’s clear she has been crying, and I take her hand under the table.
“They pulled Haydn out of bed last night,” she sobs. “Our cells are side by side, and when he came back, I could hear him crying. They hurt him, and now, they’ve hurt you too.”
“Have you seen him?” I ask, sick to my stomach.
Automatically, I look to Adam who also looks concerned. He shrugs slightly to let me know he doesn’t know any more than I do. Yana shakes her head and wipes her nose on her arm.
“What about Golding?”
“No, just you,” she says. “Why is this happening? It didn’t happen before you—” She stops herself and swallows hard.
“It’s okay, you can say it,” I say. “It didn’t happen before I arrived.�
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She nods a little and squeezes my hand tighter. “I didn’t mean it like that. It feels like Roscoe’s changing the rules now you’re here and it scares me. Can I tell you something?” Her eyes search my own. “It’s something I’ve not told the boys... not this version anyway.”
I twist in my seat to face her. “Of course.”
“I signed up for this place,” she bites her lip, judging my reaction. “I sought Roscoe out, but hear me out before you judge me,” she pleads.
“I’m not in a position to judge anyone,” I say.
This seems to satisfy her and she continues. “I came to England when my Grandmother died. I thought it would be a new start, but I ended up working in a sleazy bar and living in a squat. One of the guys in the squat, Ian, was EVO- a Pyrokin. It was only when he walked in on me using my ability that he told me about himself. It was a relief to finally have a friend, and he took me under his wing.” Her eyes light up momentarily at the mention of this friend.
“I had only been in the squat for seven or eight weeks when a man came knocking for Ian. It was Roscoe. I eavesdropped on their conversation. He told Ian that he knew what he was, and that he ran a facility to train and research EVO. Roscoe was convincing, or at least I thought so. It sounded better than how we were already living. He left his card, and the next day, Ian was gone. His room was empty, and none of the other guys in the squat knew where he went. I thought he had taken Roscoe up on his offer, so I found the card, went to a payphone, and dialled the number. Obviously, Ian hadn’t taken up Roscoe’s offer; he had the sense to run.”
“You weren’t to know,” I say, stroking her hand under the table.
Her attention turns back to her uneaten porridge. “Can you believe I actually asked to come to this place? We’re never getting out, are we?”
I don’t know how to console her. I want to tell her what I know, but it’s impossible here. All I can do is sit, and eat, and pray that Haydn and Golding are doing better than me.
Yana asks her TORO to take her straight back to her room. I think she hopes to see or hear from Haydn. I say goodbye to her, and although I’m tired, I need a shower. Dried blood sticks to my hair in clumps and I feel dirty.
***
Adam and I are alone in the shower block, so I take advantage. “I need a razor,” I say, turning on the shower.
He shifts awkwardly. “I will have to watch you.”
I nod and pull the curtain to undress. The towel is small and doesn’t leave much to the imagination, but I don’t feel confident enough to shave naked in front of him. Especially, looking like a punching bag.
Taking the razor from his outstretched hand, I beckon him closer. “I need you to find out what has happened to Golding and Haydn,” I whisper, painfully propping my leg on the wall, and gliding the razor over my shin.
His eyes follow the movement my hand makes from my ankle to my knee, but he averts his gaze and clears his throat. “I’ll see what I can find out. Are you sure we can talk here?”
Nodding, I rinse soap off of my legs. “Yes, if we talk quietly. The shower drowns us out.”
“Who is Isaac?” he asks out of the blue. “I saw what it meant to you when Dr Simmons mentioned his name.”
I stop, catching the towel before it falls. “He is my biological father. The first I heard about him was the night Roscoe brought me here. I think it was Dr Simmons who informed him that Roscoe had found out about me,” I say.
“She has to be in contact with him,” he says. “The question is why?” His eyebrows lower over his eyes, like they do when he is thinking. I like it, thinking suits him.
“Escape maybe? Do you think she can help Isaac... help me?”
“I think I’m the one who is supposed to help you,” he says.
I know he is right. I am the reason Dr Simmons unlocked his memory. He is the inside help. I look back to my legs and resume shaving. His stare is intense.
“Although,” he continues, “if she warned Isaac, why are you even in here?”
“Roscoe must have approached my mum sometime after Isaac had got in touch with her and my Dad. I think she couldn’t stand that my Dad was actually listening to Isaac. She poisoned herself with drink and it warped her mind.” A chill spreads over my skin, and the image of Shana’s shaking hand holding out the sleeping pills seeps into my mind. “She drugged me that night, so Roscoe could come and take me without fuss. Now, my Dad’s dead, and I’m here. I hate her for what she’s done.”
A sob cracks my voice and I feel angry at myself for letting her affect me. My tears should be for Dad, not her. Has she been laughing at me all this time, or worse, feeling sorry for me? Well, she needn’t because I’m happy to call Rob my Dad. Another cry catches in my throat, and Adam shifts uneasily on his feet, raising a hand to my arm.
I thrust the razor into his hand, stepping away from him. “What are you doing?” I scold. “You’re a TORO, remember.”
He draws back from the cubical, a flush on his cheeks. “You’re right, that was stupid. I’m not good at dealing with emotional girls.”
I should feel sorry for him, but the ‘girls’ part jars with me. Why does it grate on me? Of course, he sees me as a girl; he’s about three or four years older than me. I also know that I’m being stupid in the scheme of things, yet it still bothers me.
Adam stands outside the cubical, his eyebrows low again. He is thinking; more than likely thinking about me and how I’m an emotional mess. Feeling exposed, I pull the curtain around me, drop the towel, and stick my face under the stream.
“Teddie,” Adam says, quietly. “Emotion doesn’t make you weak. I’ve felt nothing for a long time, I should know.”
“What is it like... not feeling?” I press my forehead against the cold tiles and wait for his reply.
“You may as well be dead.”
“I’d give anything to take this pain away,” I say.
I hear him sigh. “Why do you think we feel pain? It’s so we appreciate what amazing feels like. Someone told me that once. I wish I could remember who.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Where do you go at night?” I ask Adam.
He hands me my tea tray and is about to leave for the night. A new TORO will take his place on night duty and I hope it’s not the TORO from last night.
“Top Site,” he replies. “The TORO barracks are directly above here along with Team O.R.O headquarters. I’ve got news for you. I’ve seen Golding and Haydn on the monitors.”
“And?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
“They both look like you,” he says. His eyes narrow as he surveys my injured face.
I turn my face away and start eating my tea of tasteless vegetable stew. I feel self-conscious about how I look. If I look anything like I feel, then I look like crap.
Every time I look at Adam, he looks a little different- more alive. His eyes are no longer dead, and his once dull stare, is now sharp and precise. My thoughts come back to Yana, and worry spreads over me like spilling water.
“Are you worried about tonight?” he asks.
I shake my head, meeting his eyes. “Not for me, but I’m worried about Yana. She’s the only one who hasn’t been through this –whatever this is that Roscoe’s doing.”
“Roscoe is not on site tonight, so you can get some sleep,” he says, leaning over me to pick up my tray.
Being up close is the only time I can see the whole of his face clearly through the helmet screen. Our faces are just inches apart, so my breath fogs the screen. He smiles from his eyes and his face softens. I’m seeing the real Adam. Although there is still part of him missing, I feel like I’m being witness to something secret, like he is sharing it, whatever it is, just with me. Or I’m just being stupid. Yes, I’m definitely being stupid.
“I mean it, get some sleep,” he says. His voice is low and soft. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I smile. “You know where to find me,” I say, regretting it as soon as the words leave my mouth.
He smiles to himself and leaves.
I bury my face in the pillow until I feel the blush leave my cheeks. Then, rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling until I drift off to sleep.
***
Seeing Golding and Haydn sets my teeth on edge. Golding’s jaw has ballooned to twice its size, and Haydn’s TORO has to lug him around due to a gross amount of swelling in his knee.
We leave the shower room, and Adam’s screen flashes with information. The TORO lead us down the stairwell to the therapy suite. My heart hammers in my chest at the sudden change in Adam’s calm attitude.
He makes sure we’re the last in the line. “Roscoe has returned to site,” he whispers, barely moving his lips.
This is bad. This is really bad.
The door to the therapy suite stands open, and Roscoe waits inside with the skinny official from the canteen. The man wears smart, military uniform and drums his fingers on the trolley. A large, wheeled vat of water sits beside him, and an ominous feeling ripples through my chest. The man smiles as we enter, but it’s not a kind smile. It’s more of a ‘you have no idea what you are in for’ type of smile.
“TORO, stay in close proximity to your EVO for the duration of this session,” says Roscoe.
Adam tenses beside me, and I pinch his arm. “Do not react to anything that happens in here,” I say under my breath.
He neither agrees nor disagrees.
I step into line with the others, and Adam stands behind me in line with the TORO. Roscoe hands each TORO the same device he forced on my head during my beating. My hand instinctively moves to the tender, bald spot behind my ear.
Adam turns the device over in his hands.
“Is there a problem, TORO 61?” asks Roscoe.
“No, Sir. I thought the device was damaged, but it appears sound, Sir.” says Adam, his voice flat.
I exhale and give him a wary look. He is gentle as he places the device on my head, and although the spines pinch, it’s nothing compared to when Roscoe wrenched it onto my scalp. My bald spot is tender and I try to keep his hand from touching it. My fingers brush his, and he inhales at my touch, sending a wave of something bubbly through my stomach.
EVO Nation Series Trilogy Box Set Page 5
