Shades of Gray (7 page)

“Okay folks, I’m gonna go over the assignments again so we can get the hell out of here.” John picked up another paper from the desk.

My mind drifted off as he read through the watch and rescue rotation for the week. Thankfully I’d been able to force Ben away and replace him with thoughts of Gus, who was probably going crazy upstairs waiting for me. After I heard my name called for watch duty, I pushed myself out of the chair, said goodnight to everyone, and headed up to see my little buddy.

* * *

“You two go ahead and relieve the watch. See the rest of you in the morning,” Michael said, dismissing Abby and Jonah to the wall. “Mia, hold up a second.” He reached out and touched Mia’s arm as she and Jake were about to call it a night.

Mia caught Michael’s eye, then turned to Jake. “Catch you in the morning.”

Jake glanced between John and Michael with pursed lips. “Alright,” he said and strode out of the room. John followed and pulled the door shut. He kept his distance though, not wanting to crowd the already-aggravated brunette.

“What’s up?” she asked.

She was nearly as tall as Michael, five-foot-seven to his five-foot-ten, so she didn’t have a problem staring him down. Michael in turn crossed his arms and leaned back against the desk, studying her for a long moment before finally confronting her.

“I’m not going to ask what your problem is with Kasey for two reasons. One, I don’t care. Two, you’re going to work it out.” His voice was level and his face was deadpan, which any other time would have been pretty damn funny. In this case, it was pretty intimidating. “We can’t afford infighting, so if we have to have this conversation again, there’s going to be some changes made. Understood?”

Mia flared her nostrils before answering, trying to decide if kicking him in the balls would be worth it. In the end, she decided it wouldn’t. This time.

“Yeah, understood. Is that all?”

Michael nodded. “Get some rest. You got a long trip in the morning.”

Mia bobbed her head and turned on her heel, stomping past John and throwing the door open. John watched her leave, craning his neck and making sure she was out of earshot before turning back to Michael. He casually walked over to him, arms crossed and head down, then peered at his friend from under lowered eyebrows.

“Something’s going on, and I don’t like it.”

Michael shifted his weight against the desk. “Yeah, but they’ll work it out. Whatever it is. I mean, I think I know, but trust me, it won’t be an issue.” He met John’s gaze and noticed the big man was frowning.

“I didn’t mean here.” John jerked his head toward the window. “I meant out there.” He let this sink in before turning and heading toward the door. Just before he stepped out he called back over his shoulder, “Makes you wonder now why Waters always gives us the run-around when we ask to visit the prison.”

Michael watched John leave, then leaned against the desk and chewed over his friend’s last statement for a long time before heading upstairs to bed.

November 19th: Pency, West Virginia

“You know the drill, Caleb. Hands front.”

A man wearing a biohazard suit stood in the doorway with an odd set of handcuffs in his hands. The light from the hallway spilled over him and into the dark cell, outlining his silhouette and making him look like an astronaut. Caleb stood where he always stood; in the corner with his back against the coolness of the wall, his arms crossed over his massive chest, shoulders squared, and his knees always slightly bent. A man never knew when the chance for escape might present itself.

“And so do you. I want to see my wife,” the man called Caleb said, his deep voice graveled from thirst.

He knew these people wouldn’t let him die of dehydration, or starvation for that matter. They needed him too badly. He also knew the punishment for disobedience; he’d been disobeying the dirty bastards since Day One. A couple of days locked in a dark cell without food and water was worth it.

A mechanical hiss emanated from the suit as the man inside let out a breath, his hands lowering and clipping the “handcuffs” to his side.

“You’re predictable if nothing else. See you tomorrow.”

The Suit turned to leave, pulling the cell door shut behind him. Caleb launched himself from the wall and made a mad dash for the exit. The Suit was almost too slow this time. He had both hands on the lever, pulling and grunting, trying to slam the door shut on the prisoner’s strong hands. Caleb jerked and pulled with all the strength he had left, trying to force the door to open just enough so he could slip his shoulder between it and the jamb. No words were exchanged between the two, only heavy breathing and grunts of exertion. Sweat popped out along Caleb’s forehead, the muscles of his upper arms bunching and burning, his fingers turning white from the force of his pull. As always, his weakened state was slightly more than that of the Suit. Caleb let his fingers slip from the door just before it was jerked shut.

“No! Nooo! Let me out of here! I swear to God, I’ll kill every last one of you! Do you hear me?! I’ll kill you!” Caleb screamed until his throat was raw, knowing the man on the other side was long gone, unable to stop his fists from pounding against the cold steel separating him from freedom.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, until finally his legs would no longer hold him and he collapsed into a heap on the floor. His throat was so sore he could barely cry, his hands red and aching from his assault on the door. He shifted his body until he leaned against the door, letting his head fall back with a thud. Caleb winced and pulled his knees towards his chest, supporting his weight with one big palm pressed to the cold floor. His breath came in ragged gasps, tears and sweat pouring down his face and bare chest. The only thing those savages would allow him was a pair of hospital pants, the thin kind. Otherwise he was bare, even down to his feet.

He thought about his wife as he sat there trying to regain control over his pain-wracked body. Memories of his wife, his son, and two daughters. The first two were stuck in this hellhole with him, whatever this hellhole was. He had yet to see the entire complex, his working knowledge of the facility being restricted to the tiny cell he occupied during “punishment,” another cell that was only slightly cleaner and cozier than the “punishment” cell, and the quarantine room he’d spent time in when he and his family had first arrived. His youngest daughter was missing; he hadn’t heard from her since that First Week. His oldest daughter was out there somewhere, too. On the outside. On her own. Thinking about them, his little girls, fighting the things they had run away from, brought a whine from his hoarse throat.

He coughed and ran a hand over his face. He had no doubt they were still alive. Had no doubt they were still fighting. If nothing else, at least he had that. He might be stuck in Hell, being forced to submit to invasive tests and blood workups every few days, forced to listen to the screams coming from what he assumed was the laboratory, forced to accept that he was helpless to save his wife and son, but at least his girls were free.

“I have to get out of here,” he said to the emptiness around him.

Except he knew he wasn’t really alone. In the far corner, close to the ceiling, the red light of a security camera blinked rhythmically. They were watching him, whoever they were. He had his theories, about who held him and his family captive, and what they were doing to all those innocent victims they had corralled over in the north section of the facility.

Caleb had lost track of how long he’d been separated from his family. Days, weeks? All sense of time disappeared inside his small cell. The only thing he was sure of was that his wife and son were still alive the last time he saw them. He was determined to find his way back to them, no matter what it took.

“No matter what it takes,” he whispered in affirmation, his eyes moving slowly towards the corner. His head and body remained still.

“I know you can hear me.” The corners of his mouth twitched, forming a menacing smile. “Yeah, you can hear me, alright.” After several minutes, he tore his eyes from the camera, squeezing them shut. Caleb set his jaw and curled one hand into a fist.

“No matter what it takes.”

* * *

“I take it he’s picked the hard way again today,” said a large man dressed in plain civilian clothes. He’d been lurking a few feet from the doorway, leaning against the wall, arms folded over his barreled chest.

One of the new security guys they dragged in
, the scientist in the suit thought. Out loud he said, “Nothing for you to worry about. Don’t you have something you should be guarding somewhere?”

The security man caught the other by the elbow as he was passing by. “I can take care of that scumbag. Give me two minutes with him.”

“No. It’s fine.” The scientist was afraid of this man, rightfully so. “Leave him alone and get back to work.” He jerked his arm free and forced himself down the hallway, away from Caleb’s cell and away from the intimidating menace smirking behind his back.

“Have it your way,” the guard grumbled.

He watched the scientist scurry around the corner, shaking his head and wishing he hadn’t been stuck with such a bunch of cowards. While his duties at the CC suited him perfectly, the people running the place were turning out to be no different than the crew he’d sabotaged back at Blueville Correctional. As a matter of fact, the whole situation was eerily similar.

“Out of the oil, into the frying pan,” he mumbled.
I won’t let it happen again. This time will be different.

* * *

“Kasey,” said a voice somewhere far away.

I couldn’t make out who it was, but I could tell it was female. It was so dark I couldn’t see anything, even though I knew the spotlights should have been casting some sort of light through the curtains of my bedroom window. I also noticed I was very tired and disoriented.

“Kasey,” that voice said again.

“Where are you? I can’t see shit,” I answered. I felt hands on my shoulders.

“Kasey,” the voice said, then the owner started shaking me.

What the hell?
Am I asleep?

To test that theory, I tried blinking my eyes. That disoriented feeling made it hard to focus. It took several seconds for me to realize what I was looking at. Something was right in front of my face.

When it said my name for the fourth time, it also dripped slime on me.

“Holy shit!”

I tried kicking myself away from the deadhead on top of me. It had a death grip on my shoulders and was trying to shake me senseless. It was drooling spit and blood all over my chest, pieces of its teeth fell out onto the quilt with each snap of its jaws.

“Kasey!” it said again, this time so loudly it sprayed blood and thick mucus all over my face. I kept kicking my feet, trying to scoot away, frantic to wipe its infected crap off me.

“You can’t talk! No, you can’t talk!”

It pushed me down against the bed so hard, my body simply reacted. I drew my right arm back and belted that damn thing as hard as I could in the mouth. It fell backwards and hit the floor with a hard thump.

Two seconds later I realized my mistake.

“Christ!” Mia yelled, wiping blood off her chin and staring up at me from the floor.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes trying to make sense of what just happened. I felt so slow and incoherent, but the disorientation was starting to leave.

“Was that a dream?” I asked myself. Gus was licking my ear and whining. That explained the zombie slobber.

“What the hell, Kasey?” Mia yelled again, still on the floor.

“Jesus, Mia, I’m sorry. I must have been dreaming.” I flipped the covers back. Mia was on her feet before mine could even hit the floor.

“Ya think?!” she said and slapped me. Once on the right cheek. “Are you awake now?!”

Even though my hair was hanging in my face from the force of her slap, I could see she was still bleeding. I sat on the edge of the bed and didn’t say a word until I knew she was in control of herself again. Plus, that slap had made me a little dizzy. After she stomped off into my bathroom, I brushed the hair away and rubbed my cheek. I heard the water being turned on, then Mia as she rummaged through the linen closet. My t-shirt was damp with sweat, most likely caused from another night terror. I could call them nightmares, but they were much worse than that.

Gus jumped off the bed and paced back and forth between it and the bathroom.

“Get dressed,” Mia barked, stomping back in and patting her face with a towel. I skipped over her order and apologized again.

“Mia, really, I’m sorry,” I said and slipped out of bed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Let me see it.”

She held her hand up to stop me. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

She lowered the towel and tossed it in the hamper. Her lip was split, though it didn’t look too bad. Gus positioned himself between us, his head bouncing back and forth like he was watching a tennis match.

“Damnit.” I took another step toward her. She held her hand up again.