A Hundred Whispers Make a Howl

Chapter 25

My first conscious thought is that my head hurts. The kind of intense, splitting pain that makes my vision swim and stomach turn over. When I try to rise, I find that moving makes it worse. With a tiny cry of agony, I shut my eyes against the throbbing in my temples, overcome with nausea. I vomit violently, shoulders shaking and eyes watering as my entire body heaves with sickness. My stomach purges everything, splattering the floor with partially digested food until I'm left hollow and weak. Trembling, it's all I can do to roll away from the putrid puddle I've created, gasping for breath through a soured mouth. Somewhere in the back of my brain I rationalize that I'm likely suffering from side effects related to a sedative.

There are tears in my eyes, blurring my vision. I'm quaking with such force that it takes me several attempts to wipe them so that I can see. The first thing that comes into view is the floor; cold, bare concrete. Slowly, one by one, my senses start to come back under my control. Following vision, touch comes next. There's an unsettling numbness in my extremities. Though with some effort I can move my arms and legs, I have almost no sensation in my fingers and toes. As I experimentally run my fingers up and down my body looking for signs of injury, I discover that I've been draped with a blanket made of thick, grey wool. It itches slightly, but it's warm and smells clean. Like detergent and dryer sheets. However, as my sense of smell sharpens, I notice that there are other scents present in the fabric, and in the air. Chemicals.

It smells like I'm in a Chemistry lab; warring scents of sour acids and chalky bases, overlaid with smoke from Bunsen burners and, most disconcerting, organic material. Struggling to gather my strength I force myself off the floor despite the protest of my roiling stomach and pounding head, to better examine my surroundings. My legs shake, and I wobble like a newborn fawn.

My initial hunch proves accurate. I'm in some sort of home-made lab, in what looks to be a basement. Like the floor, the walls are the same bare concrete. There are no windows, and the only source of light comes from the exposed, florescent bulbs flickering above me with an eerie, electrical hum. The walls are lined with shelving units and work benches, all filled with scientific tools. Some things I recognize; a fumigation hood in the corner, a centrifuge sitting on a countertop next to a microscope, bottles of what appear to be staining solution, and an ancient looking autoclave machine. There are beakers and agar dishes, and other glassware neatly arranged on a repurposed bookcase.

All in all, the lab appears clean and well-organized, though well used. It looks like any home lab really. Nothing in particular screams 'mad scientist'...except for the prison cell that takes up nearly a quarter of the space. A cage in which I currently find myself. The bars that encompass the cell are nearly as thick as my forearm. Between them is a mesh like a chain link fence.

True fear begins to set in the more aware I become; an icy fist gripping at my heart and lungs, making it difficult to breath, let alone think or rationalize what I'm seeing. There's no way to tell time down here, so I have no idea how long I've been gone. Hours, days? There was still food in my stomach when I vomited so It couldn't have been too long. But where was I? And where was Shay?

Oh God, Shay.

What had happened to her? Was she safe?

I begin to panic in force now, scared for both myself and my mentor. I've woken into the disarray of a real nightmare. How? How could this have happened?! My memory is spotty at best, images of running with Shay, and spinning stars bleeding together into a haze darkened by mounting terror. I feel like my lungs are about to collapse, and my heart might give out. I can't think my way through this, lost to the instincts of 'fight or flight.'

Flight wins out. The all-consuming urge to flee.

Despite my tremulous stance, I suck down a lungful of air and back away from the bars of the cage, pressing my back against the far wall. Adrenaline surges through my blood stream, spurred on by mounting waves of fear. Every muscle in my body is tensed, ready to spring, as the effects of the sedative begin to fade. Baring my teeth, I prepare to charge the door of the cage, determined to ram my way through the bars, and escape to freedom.