The Prisoner of Cell 25 (24 page)

“Nothing, sir. I didn’t do anything.”

“Precisely.” He shook his head. “After all I’ve done for you . . . all I asked for was a simple demonstration of loyalty and gratitude and this is how you thank me.”

Taylor was terrified. “But he fell . . .”

Hatch tapped his glasses. “I can see when you use your powers. Tara decided to step in for you. I will deal with her later.”

“She was only trying to protect me.”

“Yes. And deceive me.”

“It’s my fault”

“Yes, it is. If you had acted with integrity none of this would have been necessary.” He opened the door to expose a large, dark room.

“I’m so very disappointed in you, Taylor. I extended a hand of friend-ship and you bit it. I had sincerely hoped we could do this the easy way. I guess I was wrong.” He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the room.

“You’re hurting me,” Taylor said.

“You have no idea what hurt is. But you will. Nichelle, Miss Ridley needs a little lesson in gratitude—about an hour’s worth to begin with. Oblige me.”

A sadistic smile lit Nichelle’s face. “I’d be happy to.”

Nichelle stepped inside the dark room and Hatch shut the door behind the girls. He could hear Taylor’s screams even before he reached the other end of the corridor. 

33. The Lesson

Taylor was curled up on her side, shaking with pain. Her clothes were soaked with sweat and her face was streaked with tears. “Please stop,” she sobbed. “Please.”

“I’ll stop when Dr. Hatch tells me to stop.”

“You’re one of us. How could you do this to us?”

“It’s what I do.”

“You hurt others?”

“We all do what we were born to do. Out there, I’m no one. If it weren’t for the academy I’d be flipping hamburgers somewhere. But in here, I’m a VIP.”

“You’re a sellout.”

Nichelle sneered. “Aren’t you the saint? In the end, everyone sells out. Even the saints.”

“You’re wrong,” Taylor said, her voice strained. “Some people would rather die than hurt others.”

“Well, you might just get your wish.” She walked over and slapped Taylor on the head. “Did I hear you’re a cheerleader?” She cleared her throat. “Were a cheerleader.”

Taylor didn’t answer.

“I hate cheerleaders. Stuck-up, shallow imbeciles.” She crouched down next to Taylor. “Don’t you know how stupid you look out there shaking your pom-poms?”

“At least I’m not hurting anyone.”

“No? How about all those girls who wanted to be cheerleaders and weren’t pretty enough or popular enough? You think you’re so good. It’s easy to be good when everyone’s kissing your feet—when you have perfect skin and teeth.” She grabbed Taylor by the hair and lifted her head. “In here you’re no one, cheerleader. You remember that. You can’t even walk unless I say so. If they let me, I could drain you like a bathtub and watch you die. So how about a cheer for me?  Because in here, I’m the star quarterback.”

“Until they don’t need you anymore,” Taylor said. “Then you’ll be thrown out with the rest of the trash.”

Nichelle yanked Taylor’s hair. “Don’t push your luck, cheerleader,”

Nichelle growled. “I don’t always stop when they tell me to.” She let go of Taylor’s hair and Taylor fell to the ground. “Oh, they’ll always need me. As long as there’re mutants like you out there, they’ll need me.” Nichelle stood up. “And our session isn’t over yet. So just sit back and enjoy yourself.” She smiled darkly. “I know I will.” 

34. Purgatory

Taylor was still unconscious when she was taken by gurney from the holding room where Nichelle had punished her into a reinforced cell. She had no idea what time it was when she woke, or how long she’d been out. She was lying on her stomach on a vinyl mat that was too short for her.

Her head was throbbing and she groaned with pain. She couldn’t see much—the only light in the room was a series of small red diodes blinking from the security cameras—and she was even more afraid than before. She thought of her home, her mother and father, and began crying. “I want to go home,” she said to herself.

“I know,” someone close to her said softly.

She was startled by the voice. She tried to crawl away but couldn’t. She couldn’t move.

“Be still. I’m not going to hurt you.” Just then a hand gently touched her. She could feel the skin against hers and she entered his mind. It was peaceful and soft and safe.

Taylor looked up. Her eyes had adjusted some to the darkness and she could see kneeling next to her was an African-American boy. He appeared to be about her age, though he was much larger than her.

He was kneeling next to her and gently stroking her back. She could see the pale glow of his skin. He was one of them.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Taylor said.

“I won’t hurt you, Taylor. I’m a friend.”

“You know my name.”

“Yes.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Ian.”

“You’re one of them,” she said.

“I am one of you, not them.”

“Where are we?”

“We’re on Level D. This is where they put the disobedient ones.

We call it Purgatory.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“There are three of us who won’t obey Hatch. Four, counting you.

So what did you do? Or I should ask, what didn’t you do?”

“Hatch wanted me to cause an accident at the motorcycle show. I could have killed the rider.”

“That’s one of Hatch’s tricks.”

“Tricks?”

“First, he tries to buy you. He makes you feel obligated so he can manipulate you by guilt. If you’re stronger than that he tries to get you to do something wrong. Something small at first, then he increases it. Once you cross the line, he has you. He will hold it over you forever and he keeps upping the ante. You’re lucky you’re down here. Because if you were still up there, you’re a murderer.”

“My sister Tara’s not a murderer.”

“Yes she is. Tara, Bryan, Zeus, Quentin, Grace, Kylee, Nichelle, Tanner. They’ve all sold out. That’s why they’re up there and we’re down here.”

“She’s my sister.” 

“She’s your twin,” Ian said. “She was younger than most of us when they started with her. She couldn’t fully grasp what she was being asked to do until it was too late.”

Taylor tried to move but the pain made her groan out.

“Just stay still. Nichelle’s drained the juice out of you. It takes a while to come back.” He left her side, then returned with a cup of water. “Have something to drink. It helps.”

Ian guided the cup to Taylor’s lips. She drank thirstily.

When she had finished drinking she asked, “Did they do this to you?”

“Yes. Many times. But not as bad. I think they mostly keep me

here because my powers aren’t as aggressive, so I’m not as valuable to them. That and because I’m blind.”

“You’re blind?”

“My eyes are. I’m not.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can see, just not with my eyes. I see the same ways sharks and electric eels see; through electrolocation. Instead of using light waves to see, I use electric waves.”

Taylor remembered learning about that in biology.

“Electrolocation has its advantages. Like, it doesn’t matter if it’s day or night and I can see through solid objects. You can too, of course—as long as the object permits light waves to pass through them, like glass or ice; but most solids don’t. I can see through anything electrons can pass through.”

“You can see outside these walls?”

“I can see outside the school. Unless Nichelle’s around. Then I’m blind.”

“Can you see me?”

“Yes. You look just like Tara.” Ian sat back on his haunches. “I have no way of comparing my sight to yours, since I’ve never seen through my eyes. But I have a pretty good idea of the difference between your sight and mine. I can also see Glows and I can see how power is used.”

“Like Hatch’s glasses,” Taylor said.

Ian nodded. “Yeah. They studied me to learn how to make them.

You know, this place is a laboratory. They’re constantly doing experiments.”

“Nichelle said they’re going to dissect me.”

“A dead Glow does them no good. She just knows how to frighten you. It’s what she’s good at.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Three years.”

Taylor began to cry. “I can’t do it.”

“You will. You’re stronger than you think you are.”

Taylor buried her head in her hands.

“I want to introduce you to the others.”

“There’s others here?”

Ian smiled. “Like I said, there’s three of us.”

In spite of the pain,Taylor lifted her head and looked around. To her surprise there were two other girls. One was Chinese. The other was a blond with eyes blue enough that Taylor could see them in the room’s lighting. Both of them were glowing.

“That’s McKenna,” Ian said.

The Chinese girl nodded. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Taylor said.

“And that’s Abigail,” Ian said.

“Hello,” Taylor said.

Abigail knelt down next to her. “Hi Taylor. I’m going to touch you,” she said softly. “It won’t hurt. I promise.” Abigail gently pressed her hand against Taylor’s back and Taylor felt a light wave pass through her body, taking with it all her pain and fear.

Taylor exhaled with relief. “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m taking away your pain for a moment.”

“You’re healing me?”

Abigail shook her head. “No. I can’t do that. I can only take away pain while I’m touching you. But when I stop it will come back.”

“It feels so good right now.”

“I’ll do it for as long as I can,” she said kindly. “It takes effort, but maybe I can hold out long enough for you to fall asleep.”

“Thank you, Abigail.”

“You can call me Abi.”

“Thank you, Abi.”

“You’re welcome. Now try to get to sleep.”

Taylor closed her eyes and buried her head in her arms. Before she fell asleep she said, “I love you, Abi.”

Abigail smiled. “I love you too.” 

35. Breaking into Prison

We arrived in Pasadena a little after nine. I was asleep in the backseat of the Camaro, lying across Ostin. I woke when we stopped for gas and to change drivers. Wade’s eyes were bloodshot and he looked like he was about to pass out. He stumbled into the gas station to use the bathroom.

“Where are we?” I asked Jack.

“We’re in Pasadena,” he said. “I need the school’s address.”

“I’ve got it.” I handed Jack the brochure, then got out of the car and stretched. The California air was moist and warm and in spite of my worries, it felt good. I looked in the back window and saw that Ostin was still snoring, so I went inside the gas station. I got two bottles of strawberry-flavored milk and a box of doughnuts. I knew Ostin would be hungry when he woke.

Wade had climbed in the back and already fallen asleep.

“Wade was pretty tired,” I said.

“Yeah, he was. We would have been here sooner but he stopped in Lancaster and slept for two hours,” Jack said. “Are you ready?”

I was blinking pretty hard. “No. Probably never will be. Let’s go.”

Jack smiled. “Nice.”

Pasadena was lush and green with palm trees everywhere. I was eight when my mother and I moved from California and I hadn’t been back since. The city already seemed foreign to me.

“Take Colorado Boulevard to South Allen,” I said. “Then turn right.”

Jack followed my directions and in a few minutes we were on Allen Avenue. “That’s the place,” I said. “It looks just like the picture. Except for the prison fence.”

Jack parked the car at a gas station about a half block from the school. “Wade, wake up,” he said.

“Who . . .”

“We’re here.”

Ostin woke as well and habitually started searching for his glasses.  He had fallen asleep wearing them and I had picked them up off the car floor.

“Here you go,” I said, handing them to him.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“The school,” I said.

Ostin looked out at the building. “That’s a school?”

“Looks more like a prison than a school,” Wade said groggily.

“How are we going to get inside?” Ostin asked. “The fence is at least twelve feet high and there’s barbed wire.”

“And the entrance is guarded,” Wade added.

“Getting in is not going to be easy,” Ostin said. I think he meant “possible” instead of “easy.”

Jack shook his head. “He’s right, man. What are you going to do?”

I looked out at the building for a few more moments then I sighed. “Well, it’s not your problem. You got us here.” I reached into my pocket and took out the rest of the money. “Here’s the rest.”

Jack took it without counting. “Thanks. Good luck.”

“Thanks. C’mon, Ostin,” I said.

As we were climbing out of the car Jack said, “Look.”

I turned back toward the building. A white food services truck was passing through the gate. “Get back inside, I have an idea.”

We climbed back in and Jack started up the Camaro.

“What’s your idea?” I asked.

He put on his sunglasses, then pulled out into the street. “We’re going to borrow that van.”

“Borrow?” Ostin said.

“This is life and death, right?” Jack said.

“Absolutely,” I replied.

We followed the van at a distance for about six miles, until it pulled into a parking lot, where there was a fleet of identical vans.

Two men climbed out and walked into the building. As soon as they were out of sight Jack said, “Wade, follow us in the car.” He looked at Ostin and me. “Let’s go.”

Jack, Ostin, and I ran, slightly stooped, to the van. I figured we’d have to break the window to get in, but the van was unlocked and we quickly climbed in. Jack checked on top of the visor, then in the ashtray for a spare key but didn’t find one. He pulled out a pocketknife, reached under the dash, and began sorting through wires. It only took a few minutes for him to hotwire the car. “These old vans are easy picking,” he said.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” I asked.

“I’m not a car thief, if you’re wondering. My old man’s a mechanic.”

“I wasn’t wondering,” I said. “Just impressed.”

Jack drove out of the lot without drawing any attention. There was a CB radio mounted below the dashboard. Jack reached down and switched it on. “Better keep it on,” he said. “So we know when they discover the van’s missing.”