The blast from the gun sounds louder than any noise the car horn was making and my eyes stay glued to Rob lying lifeless on the road.
I don’t know how long I stand there. A few seconds? A few minutes? An hour? I’m not sure. There are still no cars on the road, and I know Dean and I have to get away from here before someone shows up. I’ve just killed a cop. I can’t even contemplate that.
As I step around him, swallowing the acid taste building in my throat, I focus on the overturned car. I need to get to Dean and then we have to get to New York. If the girls didn’t make it out of there, then I don’t know what we’ll do.
In the full moon, I easily see a body resting awkwardly against the ceiling of the car and realize it’s unlikely either cop thought to put Dean’s seatbelt on. When the car toppled over, Dean slammed into the roof.
“Dean!” I call out to him, hoping to hear something back. I crouch down in front of the car where he is eerily still.
“You okay, buddy?” I call out again, moving to the front door which is still open from where Rob had gotten out.
I climb in and although I can’t see a lot, I can make out a lot of blood.
“Dean?” I whisper, fearing I’ve failed to save him.
He doesn’t answer me.
ZOE HOLLOWAY
Chapter 5 – The Tests
Unknown Location
February 22nd
Ringing in my ears is the first thing I notice. It sounds like a bell is being rung far away, but it’s slowly moving closer to me. As I envision it getting closer, it gets louder. I want to shield myself from it. I need to keep the ringing away from me, yet my body is stuck. I pull at my arms and legs, however something is stopping them from moving. I struggle until pain starts to radiate over my body.
When I moan, my throat is sore and raspy. I need water. I feel so thirsty. A headache forms and, opening my eyes, the only relief I find is that there is no blinding light attacking me. I’m thankfully somewhere dimly lit.
Flashes hit me of the past few days and I struggle further to move. I recall losing Charlie and Will, and our mission to break into The Core to get their location. I swallow passed the death and destruction we caused there, knowing I can’t allow myself to be bogged down in that guilt now, and then remember our new mission.
We’ve tried to break Charlie and Will out of where they were being held. It was unsuccessful, and I watch the last image I remember play out in my mind; being knocked out by Stan. If he has me, then chances are he has Rose, too. None of us would have escaped if it meant leaving someone behind. We failed, and now he has all of us. Unless Blake was able to escape, and for Dean’s sake, I hope he did. He’s the only chance of Dean surviving being murdered.
I blink away the sudden tears that hit me from my situation—from not knowing what is going on—and having no idea what our future holds. We’ve beyond failed at everything. Not only could we not survive being on the run, we’ve been recaptured and possibly separated forever. I might never see the others, and our future working for P.A.G.E. is sealed. How can we ever get away now?
I wince as my heart pounds heavily in my chest and my breathing deepens. I think I’m having a panic attack, and the fact that I definitely appear restrained—unable to move an inch—doesn’t help deter it. Tears fall fast and freely down my face as I allow myself to wallow in misery before I register the pain I feel from my face. It throbs and grows worse the more I flinch. What is wrong with me?
“I see you’re awake, finally.”
I look up and see a blurry silhouette standing in the doorway to whatever room I’m in. With the artificial light from behind them lighting the room, I realize I appear to be strapped to a bed inside a room not unlike that of a hospital. Machines surround either side of me and a reflective surface faces opposite me, which I believe might be a long mirror.
“Where am I?” I rasp out. I’m either severely dehydrated or I’ve screamed my throat raw. I hope it’s the former, but without any memory of what happened after that punch I received from Stan, I fear it’s the latter.
Martha steps fully into my room now, and my heart misses a beat, or eight. It’s painful. I instantly remember the look on her face as she pointed a gun to Joel’s head and pulled the trigger. This woman is pure evil, and I’m trapped in here with her.
“You’re in a private room in medical.”
“Why?” What have they done to me? I recall those images of the people locked in their rooms, bandages around their heads. I fear maybe they’ve tried to brainwash me, too. Isn’t that what they did to Charlie?
“Because we needed to dose you with a heavy sedative, and my husband didn’t take your small size into account. You’ve been unconscious for a couple of days.”
“But you haven’t done anything to me?” I sound unsure and scared. I wish I could find my anger right now, but I’ve lost it under my fear along with the exhaustion bubbling under that, waiting to take hold of me again.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that.” Martha grins at me and I notice her eyes drift down to my arm.
I follow her gaze, and while it’s too dark to see any bruises or other abuse there, I do see a bandage is wrapped around my forearm.
“What is that?”
“It’s a precaution. We’ve inserted tracking devices in all of you. Only a skilled surgeon can remove it without causing permanent damage to the nerves in your arm, and without risking you hitting a vein. You won’t be getting away from us again.”
My breath catches and I know my heart has stopped beating properly again. How on earth can we get around that?
“Where are the others?” I ask breathlessly, my throat still aching from using it. My whole body is prickling in fear. I need for her to say that they’re safe. If I hear anything different right now, I won’t be able to stop the panic attack still pushing on the edges of my sanity.
“They’re safe, for now.”
“Meaning?” I feel her leading me with her threat.
“We are going to run some tests on you and, if you behave, you will be allowed to see them. If you cause us problems, I can’t guarantee they will stay that way. I also can promise you that I won’t allow you to see them ever again.”
I feel tears wetting my face again, but I don’t care that Martha can see them. I focus on the fact that she is telling me that they’re safe. That is the important thing for me to take from this.
“What tests?”
I hold my breath when Martha steps even closer to me, her face darkening from the angle of the light. I can’t see her at all. It gives me shivers that her eyes are staring at me, yet I can’t see her expression.
“We never got the chance to do the tests we wanted at The Windmill. We’re going to start them now. I expect your full cooperation. You will be given a cocktail of drugs to help you to dream, and we will monitor how you react to them.”
“What kind of drugs?”
“The kind that will help you dream. If you can do this without causing problems, then I will be open to discussing your training here and you seeing your friends.”
My mind flashes to Charlie; I desperately need to see him. It’s strong enough that I’m willing to beg.
“Please, let me see Charlie. I’ll behave, I promise. Just let me talk to him.”
“No.” Her voice sounds resolute; there will be no bending her to do what I ask. “I will return soon, and if your doctors tell me that you so much as refused one meal, I’ll make sure you never talk to Charlie again.”
I watch her leave, my vision blurry as my tears obstruct my view. Then she closes the door on me and, as the door clicks shut, my devastation overwhelms me.
They do have us all, and they’re running tests on me. Probably all of us. Even given Martha’s threat, I struggle with my restraints. I know that, if I did actually get free of them, I couldn’t leave this room. I can’t risk not seeing the others again. So even though it’s pointless, I still pull and strain against the straps holding me down, and cry
harder at the bruising grip keeping me against the bed. I keep going until I’m worn out, only stopping when all my energy has been zapped.
As I close my eyes, my face feels cracked and wet from my tears, both fresh and dried. The pain still radiates from my cheek, but I assume now that it’s the injury from where Stan hit me.
I focus passed my soreness, passed my panic and over the fear at what is going to be done to me. Instead, I think about Charlie, desperate to force myself to have a dream of him. Fake or real, I just need to see him. Fortunately, I get my wish; a fake dream lulls me to finally calm down.
“Charlie, I’m not sure I’m ready for this.” I watch myself standing in a hallway in front of a dark brown, wooden door. Beside me is Charlie who looks equal parts nervous and happy. Again, I feel like an imposter is stealing what should be my life, even if it is just my imagination and it’s all fake. If things could have gone differently, Charlie and I could have had a normal future together.
“Trust me; you’re going to love it.” When Charlie takes her hand, I see the love in his eyes as he gazes at her.
Seeing him again makes me miss him so much more. I stare at him, aware that if I could be seen, I’d be considered incredibly creepy right now. He looks close to the age I know him, and I’m breathless when he smiles at her. His face is without fear or pain as I try to take in his handsome features. If I’m never going to see Charlie again, then my fake dreams will be all I’ll have, so I try to pretend that he is looking passed the imposter, and is looking at me instead. I try to imagine that everything is going to be okay.
“What if this doesn’t work? What if we fight all the time, or if we’re rushing this? This was meant to be your place, not ours. Are you sure we’re ready for this? Are you sure you want this?” She sounds afraid and panicked. I watch her wringing her hands out in front of her, and I think I even see a slight tremor run over her body.
Charlie’s eyes soften immediately while I watch as he wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly to his body. I’m instantly jealous I don’t get to feel his arms around me.
“We’re ready for this. I know we are, and I can’t wait to start our lives together here… unless you don’t like it.” Worry cracks through his own voice now, and I watch as their roles reverse.
“I’m sure I’ll love it.” She lifts her hand to brush it against the side of his face, moving it through his hair in a way that has me looing away. My hands burn, wanting to be able to feel Charlie. I try to focus on something else before I decide this dream is a nightmare merely set on torturing me.
I stare at the hallway we’re in, not having a clue where my fake dream is set. It’s a hallway like countless others around America, and most likely the world. They’re standing in front of a closed door that has ‘14C’ on it. I watch Charlie turn away, seeing just the last part of their embrace as he places his keys in the lock and turns them. It clicks open and he leaves it ajar, turning back to her.
“Are you ready?” He takes hold of her hand. She has hesitation in her eyes, so does Charlie. “Do you think we’re ready for this?”
“I love you, I love us and I love that we’re taking this step. I just appear to be having a problem communicating this to my legs.”
He laughs and then suddenly leans over and, in the blink of an eye, he has her in his arms.
“What are you doing?” she shrieks, obviously not expecting him to do that. She wraps her arms around his neck and he grins down at her.
“I thought maybe your legs were feeling a bit traditional.” He then steps them into the apartment, letting the door hit the wall as he pushes them through. “Now I’ve carried you over the threshold.”
“I think that you’re supposed to do that when you get married, not just moving in together.” She rolls her eyes at him, but stays standing close when he lets her down.
“Tell that to your legs. So what do you think?” He grabs hold of her hand in his and leads her down the hallway. I follow behind, looking at the empty walls as they enter the first room, situated to the left of us.
The room is bare except for a queen-sized mattress sitting on the ground without any sheets on it. A quick peek into the walk-in-closest shows that to be empty, too. While she gushes over the room and decides where to place the dressers they apparently bought the day before, I stare out of the large window at the view they have. It’s not one that is familiar to me, and I wonder where I’ve decided to set this fake dream.
I get lost in staring at the unfamiliar buildings. It’s only the pull I feel to follow them that leads me out of the bedroom. I see one more empty room, a small bathroom and then the apartment opens up to a large kitchen, which overlooks the dining and den area. All three are mostly empty except for the TV hanging on the wall in the den, a large bean bag resting in front of that and three small boxes marked with ‘electrical’ on the sides.
“Are you sure we can even afford this? I haven’t gotten a job yet,” she asks doubtfully.
“I’m sure. What do you think?” He turns her so they face each other.
“You love this, don’t you?” she asks, watching his face carefully.
“I do, but I love you, too, so if you don’t like it then we can keep looking. I can get out of the lease.” Charlie’s disappointment bleeds all through that. I know there is no way she can say anything that’ll hurt him because I couldn’t do that. So I’m not at all surprised by her response.
“Are you kidding? I love this place. Let’s go downstairs and grab our things.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I volunteer you to carry in the heavy stuff,” she jokes.
“Only if you let me watch the game tonight; its game two and I can’t miss it.” Charlie’s love for basketball stays true in this fake dream.
“Sure, if that’s what you want to do with our first night here. I was under the impression that it brings good luck to christen all the rooms of a new residence, but if you want to reward yourself with watching basketball, then that’s fine, too.” She has a sassy grin on her face and it feels weird to watch myself flirting.
“I think you’ll find that is the case when you buy your own place, not renting.” He grins back at her and wraps his arms around her, bringing her in closer.
“What can I say? My body gets things a bit confused when it comes to traditions. Don’t worry; you watch your little game and I’ll get an early night,” she teases some more, freeing herself from his grip.
“Now hang on a second.” He tries to retake her arm, but she moves too quickly, and soon he’s chasing her down the hallway. I watch her duck into the main bedroom.
I’m pulled along to follow, glancing around the corner, hearing them laughing as Charlie manages to tackle her onto the mattress.
Then, as easily as the dream came on, it starts to shake and a piercing pain in my head causes the image to fade away completely.
“Ms. Holloway?”
I open my eyes, but the room is too bright so I close them quickly.
“Ms. Holloway, my name is Doctor Meredith Pratt. I’m taking you to get some scans,” a calm voice soothes, however the feeling of movement causes my fear to spike, and my eyes to fly open again.
I’m being carted away while still strapped to the bed. I have no idea how much time has elapsed. I try to speak, but my voice is still gone. Even if it had been sore from screaming earlier, this is definitely caused from dehydration now. My lips feel cracked and it hurts to swallow.
We stop moving inside a new room and I turn my head, seeing a large machine that is easily recognizable from TV as something you lie down in to get your head or body scanned. The name eludes me, though.
“I’m just going to get you out of these restraints.” Doctor Pratt pulls at my arms, which causes even more pain to radiate through me. “Oh my, you’ve been struggling in these I see.”
I look down at myself, finding dark bruising around my wrists. My eyes focus on the bandage over my arm, and the knowledge that I’m tru
ly trapped here this time.
“Agent Goodings informed me that you wouldn’t be a problem. Please don’t make me tell her otherwise.” Doctor Pratt sounds like she’s begging me.
I look at her closely. She is young, maybe in her very early thirties with dark skin and light brown eyes. They plead with me to behave, and I almost feel like she has fear in them. I don’t understand why, but I welcome the good feeling I get about her. She might be working for P.A.G.E., however she isn’t going to purposely hurt me; I hope, at least.
I nod, trying to convey that I won’t cause problems. My voice is still gone, and my eyesight begins to blur as I sit up in the bed.
“Good. I need you to just lie down on here. I promise you this won’t hurt you. You just need to keep still and listen to my instructions, okay?”
I nod again, letting her help me off the bed and onto the new platform when my legs won’t hold my weight. I see Harold in the corner, eyeing me carefully. I shiver seeing him again. I haven’t seen him since The Windmill, and I don’t like the calculating look he has as he gazes at me.
He doesn’t say a word to me, though, and Doctor Pratt wasn’t lying, the scan is painless.
***
When I’m allowed back in my room, Doctor Pratt gives me water to drink, which I greedily gulp down, with some soup to eat. When she also leaves my restraints off me, I’m more than grateful. I’m obviously not going anywhere—not when Martha is my only ticket to see the others—after I’ve been threatened to be good. My wrists and ankles ache, although my face looks far worse. From the mirror across from my bed, I see the wound Stan inflicted on me. My cheek is split by a nasty red line from where the skin is broken, which runs along a purple and yellow angry looking bruise that spreads out across my entire cheek to just under my eye. It is slightly swollen, giving me the look of having a black eye. My entire side is sore; the slightest pressure sends jolts of pain directly into what feels like my brain as if a needle is stabbing me.
Taken By Choice (Taken Trilogy Book 3) Page 3
