Steel Horizon

Chapter Three

 I don't know how long they had me asleep. The Scrapper's drug clung to my insides, never quite letting me go. Like being in a weird waking nightmare.

The realization was still unreal. I knew I was no longer in the woods. I knew I was no longer free. There was a trembling in my muscles that lingered—from fear or the cold, I wasn't sure.

My coat had been taken away, so I was left only with my T-shirt and jeans. They were wet, whether from sweat or something else, I couldn't tell, and my hair clung to my face in a sweaty mess despite the temperature.

I willed myself to open my eyes. I blinked twice and the room slowly came into focus, plunging me into the unwanted place.

I tried to move my arms but found I couldn't. Cold metal shackles clasped them together crisscrossed above my head. The sharp edges chafed against the skin of my wrists, and my eyes stung with coming tears I would never let escape. Not even now.

The circular room around me was made entirely of metal, matched with a high metal grated ceiling where a dull light filtering through, splattering patterns over my body. The room was filthy with something smeared on the floor and walls, already sticking to my jeans. It was oil or grease—I couldn't tell which.

There were two doors; one straight ahead and one to the right of me. I was sitting down, my back already sore from sitting against the wall.

Everything was quiet. The eerie silence almost too much to bear other than my pounding heart and heavy breathing.

Then when I did hear something, I wished I didn't.

It came from far away, echoing off walls which made it only more creepy.

Somebody screaming—a man or a boy, I couldn't tell. Screaming out in pain. Agonizing pain.

A cry broke from my lips unwillingly. I thought of all the people who came here before me and wondered if they went through the same thing. I tried to ignore the sound, not wanting to recognize my near future and not wanting to give into the panic building in me.

The echoing screams stopped, and the silence returned.

I took in a shaky breath, letting it out slowly through the narrow crack in my lips. I couldn't believe I was here. It was everyone's nightmare and now I was living it.

Nobody left this place.

It was quiet now, and it could only mean one thing; whoever it was, was now dead.

It would be me next.

I was alone in the room, but there was evidence of other people being there recently. Chains and shackles hung idly, spaced between the two doors and stains where their backs pressed against the walls.

The Scrappers were trying to accomplish something. We had no idea what it was, but it seemed they weren't making any progress because they were still taking people. It made it clear they wouldn't stop until they achieved whatever they were trying to do.

Time passed slowly. I leaned my head against the wall and stared without seeing. Everything was an abyss. A hollowness formed inside of me, like everything I was made of had already left me here to die alone. Being alone was something I was used to. It was something I was comfortable with.

But not here. Not now.

Click. I closed my eyes, wishing the sound away with tears clinging to my lashes. Click. I squeezed them tighter, wanting this all to be a dream. Click. My hands shook in the cuffs. Click. The door on the other side of the room opened.

Since the other human had just died like the millions before them, it was now my turn. I thought I would be ready for this moment. I knew it was coming but it still surprised me, making me realize I was never ready for it, even from the beginning. How could someone be ready for death? It was impossible.

The two Scrappers who entered the room—dressed in normal human attire—were not the ones who brought me here. The Scrapper with a metal leg, which made a soft click every time he stepped, came over and crouched in front of me. His hand came up and clasped it firmly around my jaw, forcing me to look into his eyes. His irises were black. All of them had black eyes. Eyes I would never forget.

"It is your time now. Are you ready?" he asked me as if he actually cared for my answer. It was almost laughable.

"Stop wasting time and bring her," said the Scrapper near the door, completely unconcerned.

The Scrapper who held my jaw studied me as he brought his other hand to my face, brushing my hair aside. "Such a waste."

He cocked his head slightly, his finger brushing over my cheek. I was frozen against his touch, barely having enough courage to breathe. The one thing I was thankful for was that the hand was flesh and not cold steel. In my last moments of living, I didn't want to be touched by the metal they seemed to love so much.

A noise echoed down the corridor and into the circular room, disturbing the eerie silence. Both of their heads snapped back towards the hall, the slightest confusion written across their faces. Which was odd in itself. They're never surprised.

"I thought you said he was dead."

The Scrapper near the door seemed unsure for the moment. "I said he wasn't breathing. I assumed he was." His voice was on the curious side of dull, the most interesting tone their voices I'd ever heard.

"You did not stay with him to make sure?" Even though he spoke to his companion, he still looked at me. I wanted to back away from him. I wanted to scream for help but I knew no one would hear me. Being in their presence was like being in the presence of death itself.

His partner started walking briskly down the hall in the direction of the noise. The Scrapper dropped his hand from my face. "You will not be forgotten," he said. "I shall return soon, and then we will continue what we have not yet started."

I said nothing as he walked away, his mechanical leg clicking as he latched the door behind him. They left, giving me a few more precious minutes of life. My body started to shake again and I gasped for air, like I was holding my breath the whole time.

Unnatural sounds echoed from behind the door. Things smashing and falling to the ground. Metal on metal. Something that sounded like cement cracking.

Then everything stopped.

My breath was sharp and short, on the verge of panic. I wanted to cry, to scream, to do anything but sit here and wait to see what would become of me. I tried pulling at the metal cuffs again but there was no give.

Then there were footsteps. Fast and growing louder. Like someone running.

The door burst open and someone stumbled into the room, closing the door quickly behind him.

He quickly turned and he headed for the opposite door. Then stopped short when he saw me. His eyebrows knitted together, his chest heaving.

I stopped breathing. Maybe I was in shock.

I expected to see lifeless eyes staring back at me.

But the eyes looking back at me weren't black. His hair was plastered to his head, the same as mine, and that also surprised me. Scrappers didn't sweat. They also didn't breathe heavily, as this one was doing now. He was just as frantic as I was, and his eyes were also just as fearful and wide.

He was human.

But his arm wasn't.