The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither (12 page)

It
is a medical light, round and domed, like what you see on TV.  My
mom used to have a thing for watching reruns of ER.  As I look
around I see several machines that look vaguely familiar.

“And
what rights do you think you still have?”

I
turn my head to the right and glare at a stern looking man.  His
temples are flecked with white against his cropped graying head of
hair.  Lines mar his face, streaking his forehead.  His
eyes are dark and cold, demanding.  

A
green uniform encases the man, tailored to perfection right down to
his shiny black shoes.  A colorful array of medals dangle from
his chest. He must be high ranking to be decorated like this.
 Perhaps a general or commander of some sort.

“I’m
an American citizen. You have no right to detain me.”

His
throaty laugh grates against my frayed nerves.  Beside him,
three soldiers snicker behind their hands. A doctor, with a
three-quarter length white lab coat shifts uncomfortably.  He
wears a matching uniform beneath his coat.

As
I look beyond him I see that I am in a darkened room that stretches
out before me.  The ceiling is metal and domed.  It looks
like an aircraft hangar that’s been converted into some mad
scientist’s lab.

I
am in a long row of chairs, each with its own light, heart monitors
and web of tubing.  Men and women sit in the chairs,
emotionless, unconscious.  

I
turn to glare at the man, knowing he is in charge.  “This
is wrong.”

“No.”
 The humor in his eyes vanishes instantly as he steps forward.
 His arms cross behind his back and he leans over me.  “What
is wrong is that my men are dying out there trying to save your sorry
ass.  Trained soldiers, good men fighting for freedom are being
cut down by the scum that thinks they own this city now.”

“I’m
not one of them!”

He
rises back up and appraises me coolly.  “You’re
right.  You’re part of the cure now.”

He
turns on his heel and starts away.  “Wait!”

The
man pauses but does not turn.  I grit my teeth, blowing out a
breath before I speak.  “I had a friend in the city.  She
was in danger, needed my help.  I have to get back to her.”

The
general doesn’t respond, doesn’t make a sound as he
resumes his march away from me, leaving me helpless and hopeless.  I
lower my head as tears sting my eyes.

“I’m
sorry,” a voice whispers beside me after the resounding echo of
the door slamming fades away. I lift my head to see the doctor is the
only one who remains.  “About your friend, I mean.”

“Then
help me escape.”

He
shakes his head.  I notice his hands are small for a man. His
stature not nearly as imposing as the others.  This man has most
likely never seen a day of real battle, certainly not hand to hand
combat.  He is a doctor.  A man who might still have a
conscience.

“She
was only a girl, a teen who went into labor,” I press, praying
that I can reach his humanity.  “She started bleeding.  We
tried to stop it but she just got weaker....”

He
closes his eyes.  His head lowers as he shakes his head.
“Please,” I beg without apology.  “I have to
help her.”

When
he raises his head, I see evidence of his compassion in the curve of
his lips but then he turns aside.  His fingers work the buttons
of the machine beside me and I watch the IV drip increase.  Another
increases the flow of blood trailing from my arm.  As the doctor
silently works, checking my feeding tube and monitoring the output of
the catheter snaking out from beneath my hospital gown, I begin to
feel weakness anew.

Finally
he stops and turns to look at me. My head presses heavily against the
headrest.  His lips purse and he shakes his head.  “I’m
truly sorry.  I’m sure you cared for your friend, but she
was probably dead long before you were even captured.”

He
turns and starts away, my file tucked under the crook of his arm.
“He’s going to kill me.”

The
doctor pauses.  “No.  I won’t let that happen.”

My
eyes slip closed as the sound of his footsteps retreats.  Tears
stream down my cheeks as I mourn the loss of the only friend I’ve
truly had in a long time. Eva wanted nothing from me.  She
extended friendship for the sole purpose of being nice.  That is
rare in my life.

I
have no way to monitor time as the hours pass.  Lethargy comes
and goes.  The doctor returns twice to readjust the machines.
 Neither time does he truly look at me. Not like before.

The
silence seeks to drive me crazy.  I call out from time to time,
knowing that no one can hear my hoarse cries over the steady droning
of mechanical beeps filling the air.  None of the other captives
move or wake.  Why have I not been sedated again like them?

My
vision grows fuzzy, my eyes ache from peering into the dark in search
of an escape route.  For all intents and purposes there are no
walls to this room.  None that I can see or hope to reach.  

Just
as I’m about to drift off again I hear a sliding footstep
against the floor.  A burst of adrenaline shoots through me,
waking my senses as I wait for another shuffle or the moan that I
fear might come.  Surely they have Moaners here as well.  The
commander said he is losing men.  That can’t only mean by
bullets.  

“Hello?”
I call out and wait, straining to hear.  Another sound. Followed
by cautious footsteps.  I can just see movement in the shadows
beyond the borders of my light.  They move with stealth, far too
fluid for a Moaner. “Who’s there?”

“Shit,”
a husky voice breathes out.  A pair of boots enter the ring of
light first, followed by a lean waist, broad torso and strong jaw.  I
lift my gaze and blink rapidly, sure that I’m dreaming.

“Cable?”

He
pauses at the foot of my chair, his gaze flitting over me.  He
looks intense, perplexed and rigid.  “I thought you got
out.”

I
bark out a laugh and my head falls to my right shoulder. He rushes
forward and helps me lift it again.  My chest rises and falls
with exertion.  “Not all that different than last time,
huh?”

His
expression tightens in light of my attempt at humor. He glances back
over his shoulder.  “I have to get you out of here.”

He
starts to reach for the straps holding my arms down and then
hesitates.  He glances all around.  “Why are you
here?”

“I
got lost looking for the bathroom,” I croak, rolling my eyes.
 “Why do you think?”

“No.”
 He says in a hushed voice as he peers back over his shoulder
again.  “I mean here, in
this
room.”

My
attempt at a shrug comes off as more of a slump.  “They
didn’t exactly give me the grand tour when I arrived.”

Cable’s
gaze narrows in on a chart hanging next to my IV pole. He steps
carefully around my feet and grabs the papers, flipping through.  I
roll my head to the side to watch him.  The effort is
exhausting.

I
wouldn’t have thought it possible but his expression darkens
further.  “You’re a candidate.”

“For
what?”

When
he looks up, I can tell that whatever it is, I really don’t
want to volunteer.  He places the chart back down and steps to
my side.  “Getting you out of here won’t be easy.
 We’ll need help.  My men won’t be back from
their patrol until tomorrow.  We will have to wait until then.”

“I
can’t wait that long.”  Panic pinches my voice,
making me sound like a terrified mouse.  “That creepy
general guy wants to take all of my blood.”

Cable’s
head snaps up.  “What?”

“I
heard them saying they wanted to take more.  A lot more.”

He
wipes his hand over his mouth as he blinks rapidly.  “But
that doesn’t make any sense.  You’re a universal
donor.  They should let you rest so you can generate more blood,
not steal it all and risk killing you!”

I
close my eyes, feeling a heavy pounding in my head.  “Maybe
you need to admit the fact that your boss isn’t such a good
guy.”

I
sound sleepy.  I feel sleepy.  I surface only when Cable
presses his palm against my cheek.  He leans in close.  “I
won’t let them hurt you.  I promise.”

They
came for me in the middle of the night.  I heard their heavy
march first, followed by the shouted commands to prep me.  I
remember my arms feeling like lead when they finally removed my
restraints.  My arms fell over the sides of the chair, like
useless limbs, but still I couldn’t resist.  My legs were
no better.  I had no energy, no will to fight back, even as I
was placed on a stretcher and taken from the room.

I
have only a blurry memory of a biting cold hitting my exposed skin as
I was carried from the hangar.  The whirling sound of helicopter
rotors filled my mind as we passed by and entered another building,
this one white and exceedingly sterile looking.  

Hands
jostled me as I was placed on a soft surface.  A mask was placed
over my face, though there was no need for medication to knock me
out.  I was barely lucid as it was.

Now
I am awake.  I feel stronger, though only slightly.  My
surroundings have changed.  I sit propped up against a white
wall on a small cot in the corner of an empty room.  There is no
other furniture save for a porcelain toilet in the corner.  A
large pane of glass lies on the wall before me. I’m being
watched.  I can feel it.

A
new team of doctors monitors me now.  None of them speak to me.
 None of them look at me, beyond a general perusal of my
physical condition.  They are cold, callous.

With
my knees tucked into my chest, I stare at the tube feeding into my
wrist. They no longer take blood from me. Now they seem to be giving
it.

My
hospital gown is gone, replaced by long white pants and white cotton
top, the sleeves drawn up to allow access for the IV.  My hair
has been washed and falls in waves about my shoulders, frizzy from
air drying. My skin smells of lightly scented soap, clean and blood
free. The remnants of my wounds have been cleaned and bandaged.  I’ve
been sterilized too.

My
questions fall on deaf ears.  The two-way glass is my only
connection to the outside world and a reflection of the only thing I
have left to depend on: myself.

I
have not seen Cable in what feels like days and know nothing of his
whereabouts.  A part of me hopes that he is trying to find a way
to fulfill his vow. To save me from this cage.  Another part of
me believes that I will never see real daylight again.

During
the endless hours I’ve spent beneath these brilliant
fluorescent lights, I’ve begun to question Cable’s
intentions.  I knew he worked for the government, even suspected
them of being corrupt after speaking with Eva about the missing
children, but is it really a coincidence that he stumbled across me
in the blood bank?  How did he gain clearance for what was
obviously a secured room?  He is a familiar face, someone that I
might be inclined to trust.  Has he been swayed to betray me?

“How
are you feeling this evening?” a voice calls through a speaker
near the door.

I
turn and look at the silver box, then lower my head again. I do not
recognize the voice. It is feminine. The first I have heard since
arriving in this god forsaken place.

“I
expect you have questions.”  The clank of a lock captures
my attention, as does her thick, foreign accent.  I place my
feet on the floor and curl my fingers around the cot’s frame as
the door slides open.  Just beyond her in the hall I see two
soldiers with guns at the ready.  

A
tall brunette enters, her heels clacking against the tile floor.  Her
hair is piled in delicate curls around her face.  Her eyes bear
a hint of eye shadow.  The overwhelming scent of her floral
perfume makes me wipe my nose as the door closes behind her.

I
scan her button down dress shirt, the white a near perfect match to
the walls behind her.  A tight, navy blue, knee length skirt
hugs the curve of her hips.  Four inch heels carry her toward
me.  As I stare at her, I can’t shake the feeling that
I’ve seen her before.

She
pauses a few feet away and clasps her hands before her.  Up
close I notice a thick sheen of foundation pasted onto her skin.
 “You have nothing to fear from me.”

“Why
do I think
that’s
a lie?”

She
ignores my sarcastic remark and motions to the end of the bed. “May
I?”

“It’s
your bed.  I’m just visiting.”

The
bed creaks under her weight.  She curls her legs back under,
crossed at the ankle as she shifts to look at me.  “We are
not your enemy, Avery.  I realize that all of this might seem a
bit extreme, but it’s for your own good.”

“Really?”
I turn my torso to look at her.  “Cause I’m pretty
sure kidnapping an innocent person, stealing her blood and then
performing experiments on her is still all sorts of fucked up, even
in this new world.”

The
corners of her lips twitch, almost hinting at a genuine smile.  Her
hands lay one over the other in her lap.  I notice that her nail
polish is cracked, the glossy tips recently colored over.  Upon
closer inspection I realize that my first impression of her Barbie
doll exterior was wrong, though I’d give her points for trying
to pull off the look.

“Rough
day?”

She
blinks.  “Excuse me?”

“You
have bruises on your arm.  Kinda look like mine.”  I
raise my forearm to show her a nearly identical set of marks, bearing
evidence to the manhandling I received when I was brought here.  “My
mom used to date some pretty nasty guys.  Always had a knack for
finding the beaters.  I know a thing or two about cover ups and
yours is pretty decent.”

The
woman’s gaze darts toward the glass then falls to the floor.
She clears her throat and straightens her spine.  “You are
a very special girl, Avery.  We have no intention of harming
you.”