Code M 1.2
Sci-Fi
Read the first chapter to Code M here. Enjoy!
I didn’t open my eyes when the door slid back. They spoke about me, exchanging details of the day’s experiments. I assumed it had been a day. They were careful to never mention a date or time. The lights never dimmed; the bland food never varied. I never ate it. I didn’t need to.
It was the blonde one again. She had an odd lisp, softening all her S’s. It would have been cute if she didn’t hurt me so much.
Not that she was sadistic. She was always strictly professional. I could tell some of them enjoyed it. This blonde woman always watched with an expression of slight distaste as I retched.
“How are you feeling?”
I ignored her. It used to break the monotony to play their psychological games. I finally realized they wouldn’t understand. Maybe they couldn’t. I didn’t remember how it felt to be like them.
I smiled, remembering her lips on mine. She made me feel human again. Weak, hot, eager.
The blonde woman directed her aides to hook me up to a machine. Twenty-seven electrodes, a sort of metal-mesh helmet. The Collar was never removed. It hummed continuously, a warning of the consequences of resistance.
I was never sure what they were looking for. Sometimes they would ask me questions. Sometimes they would show pictures. They had taken enough of my blood to end the donation crisis.
I smiled again, a very different smile, imagining if they were foolish enough to inject my blood into some poor fool.
“You are amused?”
Why not play?
“Yes.”
“By what?”
I only shook my head, unable to describe why I thought it would be amusing to watch a catastrophic hemolytic reaction. Another thing they wouldn’t understand.
I opened my eyes to see them watching me. Their wariness was boring. I couldn’t do anything. If I tried, I would end up where I always did, paralyzed with pain, sobbing, retching, begging for release.
That was what they were looking for, I realized. Why. Why I liked to kill people and why others didn’t.
Feeling obtuse, I smiled again, this time menacing. They took a small step back. Satisfied, I closed my eyes and let them do their tests.
I certainly didn’t know.
I hadn’t been like this, before. Those memories were hazy, a long time ago, both temporally and emotionally. How many years had it been? Sixty? Eighty? How long had I been buried here in this prison?
“What day is it?”
The guard outside my cell didn’t look up from his book. He was a hulking sort of chap, all sinews and bulging veins. Were they trying to intimidate me or reassure themselves? If I did try to escape, this pathetic cretin would hardly be a deterrent.
The Collar hissed warning. Was it sentient? Could it feel my rebellion, the kick of hormones as I contemplated my escape?
I would come back. All I wanted was to see her one more time. Hold her, kiss her, convince her I loved her more than anything.
I wished I had told her. Let her see the monster I was, let her rage and storm, let her beg me to change. I would have, for her.
I turned over on my bed so they couldn’t see my anguish. Every scream the Collar dragged from me was nothing after seeing her wide eyes, the shock and revulsion on her face.
How she had backed away. The sharp motion of her hand, the gesture of refusal. The curve of her neck when she turned for the doors. I had almost gotten the barrier down.
Would she have given me that chance? Or would she have done exactly the same? Perhaps it was better this way. She was safe from me.
There was a noise. I sat up. The guard looked at his watch and placed a bookmark. He stood, stretched, and left.
I stayed still, listening for any clue. They never left me without a physical guard. A test? They staged some paltry scenarios early on, making it appear I could breakout. Did they think I would forget the Collar so easily, the obvious cameras not quite concealed in the walls. Did they think I was stupid?
There was a noise further down the corridor. The plexiglass was a hand thick, but the small airholes at the top allowed some sound to filter through. I stood near the barrier, trying to see around the corner.
My knees hit the floor, breathless. She came to the barricade and stood looking down at me.
I hated all of them. If I ever got out, I would kill each and every one of them for this. Her eyes sparkled, lips trembling as the tears threatened to fall. She said my name, a whisper, the motion of her lips like dance.
“Please,” I begged her. “Please, I –”
I stopped. Something was wrong. Was I asleep? Was I hallucinating? My body screamed at me as I reached for the Collar. The warning shock convinced me I was awake and lucid.
The woman said my name again, worry spiking her tone. Lies, all of it.
I dragged myself off the floor, leaning into the wall to keep my feet. The woman was still talking, making a mockery of me with her gentleness.
“Shut up,” I snarled at her. She drew back. A flash of something in her face told me I was right. She recovered at once.
“Nolan, what -?”
The flex of the barrier under my fist was satisfying. The expected pain did not deter me, not this time. This woman who dared pretend she was Jung would suffer for tormenting me. They all would suffer for this.
An alarm keened over my screams of rage. I must have reached the limit of the Collar. The blinding pain of it dragged on my limbs. The barrier still fell, ripped from the wall with a metallic shriek.
The absence of pain was as shocking as the height of it. I staggered, coughing bile as I gasped for breath. They stood before me, a silent tense mob.
“What have you done with her?” I hardly recognized my voice, hoarse from weeks, months, of screaming.
“Stand down,” a commanding voice rang out. “Return to your cell.”
They had copied her so exactly – but, how? If she was a prisoner, hurt… dead…
It was afternoon, a warm summer day, when I broke through the wall into the outside world. Bullets skipped around me as I ran. I slipped on the pavement, leaving a crimson smear as my foot skidded out from under me. Their blood stank; I needed to find a body of water to rinse it off.
I was a fool, but I could not care. If anything could put her in danger, it was this. They must have her closely monitored.
The Collar was surprising brittle, snapping in my hand. Its hateful lights winked out. I had to stop, leaning against a truck as I crushed the pieces under my foot. The relief made me weak.
They were still chasing me. It felt so good, using the strength I hadn’t been able to tap down in that hell. Glass sparkled in sun as the truck slammed into the pavement. I hadn’t been aiming to crush them, but wouldn’t be sorry if any of them had miscalculated their scramble to safety.
She wouldn’t want me to hurt them. No matter how much I wanted to.
They had no hope of catching me once I got to open ground. I doubted there was a tracking chip. The Collar would have shorted it long ago. I just needed to find a pace to hide, somewhere to blend in.
Drenched in blood, wearing only loose cotton pants, lost who knows where.
Now this was an interesting game to play.
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